#grow the FUCK up and get on with your life

[4ngel-inc]

DEMON SLAYER + S/O WITH A HIGH SEX DRIVE ಇ

tags / notes — [ 18+ ], my first demon slayer post eeeek you guys i think i'm in my demon slayer girlie phase !! :'>

word count — 300 words each. only two characters cus i'm still working on my characterization sob :')

RENGOKU wasn't experienced at all before he met you, so making love to you was like being submerged into a completely unfamiliar, ethereal world—every second of his first time with you was so beautiful, so comfortable. the first time you two made love, he cried a little afterward. he was worried you'd be turned off, but you simply cradled him in your arms and cried with him. you're the only person kyojuro has ever had sex with, and he honestly doesn't think he'll ever need anyone else if this is what it feels like to fall in love. anything you want, whenever you want it—his goal in life is to make you happy. the pleasure you give him is so fucking euphoric, kyojuro absolutely loves fucking you—sometimes, he even surprises himself with how much he wants it. he's still a little shy about coming onto you first, so he'd never say it aloud, but he suspects his own sex drive may be even higher than yours, though you're under the impression you've always wanted it more than him. every once in a while, he does get a little antsy—those are the days he makes the first move, returning home from a mission, all of his dirty fantasies about you over the past months spilling over once his eyes are on you, his cock aching the moment he pulls you in to kiss you. he wraps your legs around his waist and hoists you up to carry you to the bedroom—"it's been too long, my love. i need to fuck you now, i can't wait another moment. . . i've nearly gone crazy dreaming of your touch." overall, your high sex drive is completely matched by his—though it takes him a while to grow comfortable expressing it.

SHINAZUGAWA is no stranger to sex—he definitely enjoys it. however, it isn't until he falls in love with you that he comes to realize how intertwined emotion and pleasure actually are for him. every time you're together, he fucks you so deeply, so passionately, he thinks he might actually go insane from how good it feels, from how much of himself he's giving to you—the way you whine and beg for him every second he isn't touching you just lights his soul on fire. there's just something inside him that awakens when he's with you, as though his only purpose behind closed doors is to make you feel wanted, seen, adored."f-fuck, you want it again already, love?" he climbs back on top of you when he feels your delicate hand tugging on his shoulder, a needy little whine escaping your lips as you do. your eyes are glossy as you instinctively grind your wet pussy against his still rock-solid cock. he shudders at the sensation—"your clit isn't too sensitive for that? god, baby, i can't fuck you enough to make up for the time i was gone." he kisses you like he'll never see you again, because he doesn't know if, or rather, when, his duty to the corps will tear him away from you again—he only knows he wants to make this moment last a little longer. the little world of bliss he hides in with you is utterly perfect—he never wants to leave your side, never wants to stop touching you and satisfying your carnal desires. "gonna make you cum as many times as you want, baby—never gonna stop fucking you, not until you're satisfied, that's my job, yeah?" protecting you, loving you, and fucking you—that's all sanemi needs in this life, really.

#— love notes: [demon slayer] ୧ ‧₊ #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer x y/n #demon slayer x you #rengoku x reader #kyojuro x reader #shinazugawa x reader #sanemi x reader #demon slayer headcanons #demon slayer smut #demon slayer fluff #kny x reader #kny x y/n #kny x you #kny smut

[peachesofteal]

Simple Math / Part Fourteen

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 4.1k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI. Discussion of child loss/miscarriage and domestic violence. Oral sex - fem receiving, face sitting, Johnny is a menace as usual, Simon talks you through it, dirty talk, brief daddy kink, pet names. Nurse!reader, medical inaccuracies, feelings of fear and anxiety, PTSD. Dialogue heavy. Bunny making progress. What's in a name?

When you were a child, you got caught in a storm.

Getting caught in a storm as an adult is a normal thing. It’s not frightening and foreign like it is when you’re young. When you’re a child, storms feel like hurricanes. They feel life altering, life ending. With no concept of larger, or smaller storms, it’s hard to understand how you’d make it through the to the other side.

You remember this one vividly. Your mother was on her way to work, her night job, and you were clicked into the backseat, barely awake, staring out the rain pelted window. The wind was so strong it shook the car, blew it all over the road, your mom’s fingers like rebar gripping the wheel. It was terrifying. It was like you’d never be safe, like the wind would pick your entire world up and send it crashing down into a farm field that stretched a million miles long.

It felt, somewhat, like this moment, and hundreds of moments before it. Small thorns in a life that no longer felt like your own. A far cry from the dreams you had when you were that little girl.

The thorns, the storms, had twisted you into this version of yourself, this stranger, and that’s how you feel as you stand in front of Simon, cold panic crackling through your bones.  

Your mouth opens and closes without sound coming out. You’re a fish out of water, lips parting just to swallow dry air, eyes wider than saucers.

Penny cries in your arms, but Simon doesn’t move. Johnny doesn’t breathe, and you stand alone in the silence, baby vomit on your clothes, trembling in fear.

They won’t understand. They’ll know you’re a liar. They won’t trust you. 

They won’t want you.  

“It’s not… I arranged it months ago.” You blurt, words strung together in a stream of consciousness. “It’s not like, you can just go out and buy a new passport. It takes a while, and connections, and lots of hoops and money and I-“ Simon holds his hand up.

A signal to stop.

“Give me the baby.” He says, stepping forward, arms out, and your hands shake as you pass her over, avoiding eye contact until he tips your chin back. “Take a deep breath, go upstairs, get cleaned up. When you come back down, we’ll talk. Okay?” He looks to Johnny, who nods, and then back to you, expectantly waiting on your answer.

“O-okay.”

Simon still has the passport.

It’s in front of his knee, on the coffee table, but within arm’s reach, close enough he could snatch it up in moment’s notice.

“Were ye goin’ to leave us?” Johnny whispers, and you shake your head.

“No, I… it takes a while. I arranged it months and months ago, before I even met you.” Simon frowns.

“This is not a fake, it’s a real passport. How did you get it?” Oh, fuck. Your throat is as dry as paper, scratchy and stiff, and you force yourself to spit out a coherent sentence.

“I bought it… from a guy.” Brilliant. You sneak a glance at Johnny, who’s watching with a pink sheen on his cheeks, knuckles white against the arm of the couch. He looks upset, and guilt swamps you, worry over making him feel worse in his state eating away inside your heart.

“You know a guy who can get his hands on government issued documents?” Simon holds himself very still. Nearly a statue, his eyes never leave your face, and you move your hands under your thighs to try to stop their trembling.

There’s a familiar feeling building in your chest. A twisted, gnarled root of fear, growing deep. “I… it’s… no, he’s… I was referred to him, by someone else. He doesn’t even know my real name, I’m careful, I’ve-“

“Done this before.” Simon finishes, and your heart stops in your chest.

“Yes.” You whisper. How are they going to feel when they realize you’ve been lying to them about your name? You spiral, imagining the hurt flashing across their faces, the disappointment from Simon, the sadness from Johnny. “I use a new identity, when I move around.”

“Your name…”

“Isn’t my real one.” The admission stings, but that person doesn’t exist anymore. You haven’t been that happy, fulfilled, carefree girl in too long. You don’t know her. You don’t remember her.

She’s dead.

She’s a ghost.

“Will ye tell us? Yer real name?” Simon is thoughtful from where he sits on the chair, focused, as Johnny looks hopeful. They’re both looking at you with trust heavy in their eyes, and it gnaws, burns in your bones all the way through until your real name is slipping free with a whisper.

“That’s beautiful, bun.” Johnny murmurs sweetly, and they exchange a look, something stern etching across Simon’s brow before it drifts away.

“Do you want us to use it?” You shake your head.

“N-no, I… I’m not that girl… anymore. She’s long gone.” The room is silent, and you mull it over, toss it back and forth in your mind. You’re so disconnected from the person you were when you last felt whole, when you last felt real. How will you ever feel that way again?

Something flickers in Simon’s gaze. Something severe and almost sad, a storm in the middle of a sea, a little boat with nowhere to hide, and you get lost in it, lost in him, a million lives and a million emotions clouding the space between your bodies.

He swallows, and it’s gone.

“How does that work with your nursing license?” You blink, but you’re not surprised he knows to ask the one question that will undoubtedly unravel the rest of the threads. The biggest piece of the puzzle.

“I…” Fuck. Are you really going to do this? Are you doing this? 

Do you trust them? 

It’s not a question now, you know the answer. Know why it is you’ve been sleeping in their bed, helping with their baby, living in their house.

It’s more than trust.

“I had a friend in college. Dean.” You’re really doing this. “He was really smart, and really kind, and going places. We were on different paths, but we stayed in touch. As best we could… my ex didn’t really like me talking to… anyone.” Johnny’s fingers slide across the couch, hesitantly brushing your thigh, and it grounds you, calms you. “He became a fancy, big time lawyer. Like, really big time. One of the best in Texas,” Simon’s eyes narrow, head tilted as he stares at you, before it all flits away, and he returns to stasis, “possibly the country. He… he helped me.” You pause, unsure, and Johnny nods encouragingly.

“Helped ye how?”

“I’ve been running, had been running, for a while. Years. At one point, Dean got a judge in a different state to agree to change my name, my identity, everything, and then seal the record. It gave me a chance to disappear, a fresh start to build from. Or, I thought it did, anyway. My ex is… very determined, it didn’t take long for him to catch up.”

“So, your license…”

“Whenever I get a new job, I refer the HR department to my big fancy lawyer in Texas, and he makes sure my license is accepted and they understand the circumstances. I manage the rest… on my own. The turning over of a new identity- identification documents, passports, housing, everything.”

“Do they know anything about this?”

“No. I think they probably think I’m in witness protection or something, and per the court order, they can’t discuss the discrepancy with the name on the license to anyone in the hospital. Dean makes sure of that.” You laugh weakly, but Simon doesn’t, he only studies you, laser focused. “I can’t really have contact with him anymore, because it leaves too much… out in the open, but he’s a really good friend. The best.” Tears blur your vision as you think about Dean, remembering the way he stared at you the night you turned up on his doorstep.

You were so young then. So stupid. But he gave you best chance he could, and you’d always be grateful.

Johnny reaches for where your hand is shoved beneath your thigh, and lightly tugs until it’s in his grasp, warm and safe.

“An’ ye change yer identity every time?” You nod, lips tucking in over your teeth.

“That’s what the passport is for. In most places, a passport counts for both a birth certificate and identification card, so they don’t ask for a secondary. It’s the easiest to use.”

“You were preparing to run.” Simon murmurs.

“Before Johnny became my patient, I was getting ready to, yeah.”

“Why?” You take a deep breath, but your chest feels too tight. Fear is still dripping down the back of your throat, making your stomach sick, your hands tremble.

“I knew he was here.” The words break apart into a sob, and your eyes slam shut.

The next thing you know, you’re breathing into Johnny’s warm chest, a hand running up and down your back slowly.

“I don’t want to be scared anymore.” You cry, gasping. “I.. I’m scared all the time. I run all the time. I d-don’t even know who I am, without it. I don’t know how to be here, or be a normal person, or have a normal conversation.”

“Shhh, yer alright, pretty girl. It’s okay.” Johnny hums, and you feel his diaphragm vibrate as he soothes you.

“I want to be with you… but I don’t know how. I’m terrified he’ll come here and- and hurt you, or Penny. That it will be my fault, like everything else has.” You cry harder, chest aching, Simon’s hands closing around your shoulders and pulling you back to tilt your face up to the two of them.

“It’s not your fault, bunny. None of it, ever, has been your fault. Do you understand?” You shake your head no, because you don’t. You’re good at running, at hiding. You’ve made a new life over and over again by doing it, and getting caught is your fault, no matter what they say.

You slipped up. It could happen again. 

“You don’t understand. I… I should have left, after he found me in my apartment. I should have left.” It sticks in your mind, playing over and over again. “I sh-should have left, I shouldn’t be here, I-“ your vision tunnels.

“Okay, okay. Easy, sweetheart.” Simon tries to settle you, but everything is bubbling up and you feel like you’re going to explode, like your skin is too tight, like you’re falling apart, all at once.

There’s nothing left inside of you, nothing left to do.

You break.

Millions of miles of denial and fear and agony splinter, shattering into shards that destroy you from the inside out.

“He’s going to kill me.” Johnny curses something thick as you sob, palm flat over your racing heart. “He t-took everything. He made me into… into this, and it’s only a matter of time. He’s going to find me again, and he… he’s-“ He cups your cheek.

“Shhh, bunny. We’re here, we’re right here.”

“No, he’s not. Listen-“ you try to pull away but Johnny stops you, holding you firm as Simon ducks into your line of sight. “Listen to me. He’s never going to touch you again, do you understand? We will never let him near you, ever again. We promise.”

“You can’t pr-promise that.”  

“We can,” Simon vows, “but… we need to know everything. What we’re looking for, who he is.”

No. You don’t know why, but there’s a barrier around Phillip’s name. Like you can’t force your tongue to make the sound, and you can’t tell them.

If they know, they’ll look for him. They’ll try to find him; you can already tell.

They’ll get hurt, or worse.

You can’t let that happen.

“I can’t.” You whisper. “I can’t.” Johnny pulls you back into his arms, and you curl up against him, his chin on top of your head. They look at one another, long glances you can’t interpret, before Simon takes a deep breath, his hand gentle on your knee.

“Bunny… do you have a child? Someone you’re trying to protect?” Your eyes slip shut, and despair grips your throat like a vice.

“No.” You croak. “No, there would have been one but…” you drag the truth into the light. “I lost it. He didn’t want it so… he got rid of it.” They both freeze.

“Sweetheart.” Simon whispers, Johnny’s arms going rigid, and you shrug, slipping away from this moment, from them.

“It was a long time ago.” You pause, keeping your eyes closed. “I’m fine.” Johnny scoffs.

“The hell ye are. And ye shouldnae be.” You shake between them, exhaustion settling into your bones like it belongs there, and they linger in silence with you, in the moment, letting it stretch long before Simon murmurs something and brushes his fingertips against your cheek.

“We’ll wait, until you’re ready.” You relax with a small sigh. “But if we don’t know who we’re dealing with, that means no more coming and going. I don’t want you outside this house without me, do you understand?”

“I’m going back to work.” You refute immediately.

“When you’re ready to go back, we’ll come up with a plan to keep you safe.” He says sternly, and you swallow, eyes wide.

“We jus’ want to keep ye safe, pretty girl.” Simon tugs your hand into his, and murmurs lowly.

“I know you’re independent, and you’re used to being on your own, but we’re here now. You don’t have to do this alone. We’ve got you.” Tears burn at the corner of your eyes.

You should tell them no, but you can’t.

You should be angry, or nervous, or even scared, but all you can feel is relief.

You don’t have to do this alone.

The house is quiet when you wake up the next morning.

It’s odd now, opening your eyes to an empty bed. All you’ve known for years, is being alone. All you’ve relied on for so long, was yourself.

But now, when your arms and legs spread wide between the sheets and you come up empty, panic flutters in your heart. “Johnny? Simon?” When there’s no answer, you stumble over the side, loping steps hauling you down the stairs and into the living room.

Johnny’s half-awake on the couch in his boxers, flipping idly through television programs. You breathe a little bit easier, and he cracks a smile. “Morning, pretty.”

“Morning.” You bend in front of him, swooping down to press your lips to his. “Where’s…”

“He took Pen to swim. She’s in classes and then has a playdate at a friend’s house after. Busy wee one, our Penny.” Fingers idly rub against the skin beneath his ear, tracing down to his collarbone.

“You eat breakfast?”

“Was waitin’ for ye.” Something dark and hungry glints in his eyes, and your knees go weak.

“Oh, w-well I can make you someth-“

“No.” He traces down the inside of your thigh, where he’s eye level, and then up, backs of his fingers stroking over the front of your panties, thumb skirting along the seam between your legs. “Not hungry for food, bun. Just for ye.”

“O-oh.” His thumb presses, just enough pressure brushing against your clit, and you gasp, hand shooting out to steady yourself on the arm of the sofa, where his head is.

His lips touch to the inside of your wrist, and he grins. “C’mere Bunny.”

“You’re still recovering.” Your fingers twist in the hem of the t shirt you grabbed off the floor, one of theirs.

“My face isn’t.” His hands wrap around the backs of your thighs, tugging you closer. “My face is the perfect seat for ye, pretty girl. Let me make ye feel good.” Everything tightens, your chest, your heart, each blood vessel stitched throughout your body. Your clit pulses, knot in your stomach tying so tight it makes you lightheaded, agony and arousal singing together in perfect harmony. It’s a song with perfect pitch, swirling around the two of you in euphoric polyphony.

You want this. Want him. Want to let it all go. 

“Johnny.”

“Got a seat for ye,” his fingers trace over his lip and down his neck, where his throat bobs with a swallow. You can’t pull your eyes away. “Right ‘ere.”

It doesn’t take more coaxing after he tucks his fingers into your underwear and rolls them down your thighs, giving you a light pat just under your ass, shifting and arranging until you’re perched across his shoulders.

“What if you can’t breathe?” Your voice hitches on a panicked note, and he rubs your legs soothingly.

“Then I’ll die a happy man.” You choke. “Just kiddin’ bunny. Ye cannae hurt me, I can breathe just fine.” His eyebrows crinkle and crease, soft expression puckering down to where his lips part.

Let go. You can do it. You want this. Just let go. 

“I- I’m not very good with…” You gulp, chest heaving. “With sex, I uh. I don’t have good memories of it, and I’ve never… I’ve never done this.” It’s the best you can explain, in this moment, and you pray it’s enough, that he’ll understand.

“We’ll go slow.” He promises, still rubbing circles into the backs of your legs, grabbing fistfuls of your ass and thighs, pressing long kisses into your skin. “Ye tell me to stop, if ye dinnae like it or ye want to stop, promise?” You nod. “Say it, pretty girl.”

“I’ll tell you… to stop.” He smiles, and urges you forward, palms still curved around your cheeks.

“Cannae wait to taste ye,” you move slowly, hesitantly, and he encourages gently, patting and rubbing patiently, eyes locked your face the entire time, “have been dreamin’ about it, since that day ye didnae wear any panties to work.”

“Johnny!” you hiss, playfully scandalized, heart trilling. He’s turned a miserable memory, a scary memory, into something not so bad, so easily. It means a lot, means more than you think he knows, and you’re just about to tell him when you feel heat slip across your skin, thumbs stroking down the seam of your cunt. He jerks you forward completely, until the bottom half of his face is missing, and all you can see beneath your legs is a crop of mohawk.

The first touch is heaven. He’s warm, and safe, and you melt onto him, indulging in the feeling of it all. His arms wrap around your hips, anchoring you in place, mouth sloppy against your pussy like he’s trying to devour you whole. You jerk, falling forward at the waist, one hand against the couch, the other fisted in his hair, trying to create space for him to breathe.

“No.” He growls, slamming you back down, nose bumping against your clit over and over as his tongue dives into you, curling up into your body.

You close your eyes. You need more friction, but you don’t know what to do, don’t know how to get it, and the longer you try to figure it out, the more you’re slipping away, kicking and fighting in darker waters.

Stay present. Stay here. With him. You’re safe. Let go. 

Your breath stutters in your chest. Two factions fight one another, one trying to catapult you towards an orgasm faster than you’ve ever gotten there in your life, and the other, trying and failing to stem the memories and anxiety that bleed freely from your brain. The pleasure is mixed with pain, with nightmares, and your muscles turn to rock, eyes slamming shut.

A big, warm hand settles between your shoulder blades.

You jolt away from it, but when your eyes snap open-

You see Simon.

He’s on his knees at your side, part of your thigh now pressed against his chest. He watches you intently, sweeping over your features and down to where you’re sitting on Johnny’s face, half relaxed, half coiled tense.

“You’re in control, sweetheart.” Even kneeling, he’s tall enough that he’s nearly eye level with you, and Johnny’s free hand searches for him when he hears his voice. Simon gives him a squeeze, and then lovingly strokes some of his hair from his forehead. “Our sweet boy just wants to make you feel good. Do you want that?”

“Y-yeah.. but I don’t… I don’t know how.” You squeak, burning with embarrassment, still clutching the couch. He pulls that hand free, into his, and rubs a thumb over the back of your knuckles, before placing it back against the armrest. It’s comforting, and reassuring, and he keeps the other one anchored at your back.

“Just relax.” He murmurs above your ear, now cradling your hips. “Hold onto the couch with both hands, like that- good girl.” His grip tightens, and then slowly, he starts to move you. “Find what feels good, take your time.” You roll your hips slowly, looking for the right amount of pressure, the friction you’re desperate for, and Johnny moans beneath you, his own hips flexing. “There you go, does that feel good?” Simon’s eyes are nearly black, and you nod hungrily. “Ride him just like that, don’t stop.”

“Oh my god.” You moan, tilting back. Each time Johnny’s nose or tongue rubs against your clit it’s like lightning striking in your blood, and warmth crackles around you like a blanket.

“Fuck,” Simon growls, palm pressing against your lower belly. “Look a’ the two of you, all mine.” The possession shivers across your skin and you moan, head heavy. Johnny’s tongue finds your rhythm, and then he’s flicking across your clit like he’s plucking a string, a perfect note.

“Johnny, ah…” He groans something in response, the vibration shooting straight to your brain. You tip to the side, face pressing into Simon’s neck, and he supports your weight, keeping a hand on your hip, now spread over where Johnny holds you. You're in a frenzy now, panting, chasing, rough pace only increasing with desperation.

“Good girl, rubbing your little pussy all over our sweet boy’s face. Is he going to make you cum? Can you show daddy how pretty you are when you cum?” Daddy. The word makes you dizzy, strikes you dumb. Simon’s lips press to the crown of your head, and all you can do is gasp and whine, hips jerking across Johnny’s nose and mouth, slick, lewd noises coming from between your legs.

“Oh, oh- fuck,” you gasp, fingers now tightening in Johnny’s hair, electricity sparking through your muscles like fireworks, “I’m gonna- I’m-“ You drag yourself across him, chasing the edge of oblivion, white light crackling behind your eyes as you clench them shut with a near shout. Your orgasm shoots through you, exploding every cell in your body into star light, everything heating together as your eyes roll backwards and your hips shake. Johnny grunts, still anchoring you down onto him, aftershocks rattling through your bones to your teeth. Simon pries him lose, keeping a hand on you, and him, as he pulls you back to reveal Johnny’s face.

He's soaked. Neck, chin, cheeks, stubble all coated in you, and your eyes goes wide, wicked pleasure at the sight curling in the pit of your stomach.

You did that. Your boy.

Simon chuckles like he’s reading your mind, tucking you into his chest before pulling you free and placing you in the space next to Johnny on the couch, laying down. He kisses him slowly, softly, running his tongue over his cheeks before returning to dip back into his mouth and pulling away. “Stay, ‘m gonna go get a towel to clean you both up.” He says quietly, kissing your nose before rising and slipping off into the kitchen. Johnny tries to tug you closer.

“How was that?” You can hear the smug smile and his face as he breaks the silence, and your cheeks burn.

“Really good.”

“Hmph, I was shooting for amazing, so I guess we’ll just have to try again.”

“That’s not… it was!” He laughs, and then gives you a half hug with his good arm.

“Ye were perfect, bunny. We’re so lucky to have ye.” Tears burn and threaten to spill.

“I’m the lucky one.” You whisper, and you don’t know if anything could be truer. It’s more than luck now, more than a chance meeting, a chance occurrence. It’s something bigger, something all consuming, something stronger than anything you’ve ever known.

Something bright, like the sun.

Something like… love. 

#simple math #peaches writes #ghoap x reader #soap x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x soap x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #john soap mactavish #simon riley #ghost x reader #ghost x reader x soap #johnny soap mactavish

[rabidfoxes]

im so normal about kevin day i swear to god. imagine your mom invents a sport, imagine you grow up with this sport being your entire life, you get abused and punished and shoved into the spotlight from a young age, all for this sport. you don't know anything else. it's all you've ever done and all you've ever been. you have to be the best at it. and one day you get punished for that too, and this sport you've poured everything into gets ripped right out of your hands by the boy you've grown up forced to consider your brother. you have to learn it from zero with your non dominant hand. you have, in an incredibly short span of time, to get as good at it as you were before the injury. of course you're fucking obsessed with it to the point of being unsympathetic sometimes, of course there's no other choice. the pressure is unimaginable. you cannot afford to be anything but the best. you cannot afford to relax and let go of it even for a second. you left the cave but the shadows are all you've ever known

#kevin day #all for the game #aftg #the foxhole court #tfc #the raven king #the kings men #probably not a good use of the cave allegory #who cares

[hqbaby]

twelve — i think you do

mess it up — gojo x reader & sukuna x reader

⁀➴ when i told you i’m fine, you were lied to. when the love of your life falls for someone else, you decide to move on—by pretending to date your best friend, the campus fuckboy.

previous — masterlist — next

word count. 2k content. profanity, naoya’s annoying, reader and sukuna suck at feelings

You probably should’ve known the way this day was going to unfold with how it started. How did it start, you ask? Oh, with the most appropriate of things: A broken elevator.

It didn’t help that you also had absolutely no time for this shit. You had woken up late after spending most of the night tossing and turning and thinking, against your will, about the kiss you shared with your best friend just yesterday. The stupid kiss that came out of nowhere, the one you did not expect at all, the one you… actually liked.

But never mind that. You can think about that later. All you know is that the shitty domino effect of events has led you here, running into your class’ lecture hall—the class that you’re not quite sure you’re going to pass—only to sit at the very back, where there’s absolutely no way you’re not going to doze off.

“Oh, look at the odds.”

You turn to look at the guy sitting to your right. Fucking Naoya.

He’s looking at you with a wide smirk on his face and it’s taking everything in you to not just punch it off. 

You’ve always hated the guy. Ever since you and Satoru started dating and he introduced you to his housemates. You liked the other boys. Suguru, Yuji, and Yuta. They were all sweet and they were all kind to you, the initially nervous girlfriend, so much so that you all ended up becoming friends. You liked Satoru’s housemates. All of them except Naoya.

You don’t know what it is about him that you hate so much. Is it the snarky remarks? Is it the annoying way he keeps showing up in your classes? Is it the fact that he always had something to say about you and Satoru’s relationship? Is it the—

“I heard about you and Sukuna.”

You glare at him. Fuck Naoya.

“Unlike you, I’m actually here to learn,” you tell him quietly, unlike him and his disregard for the people around you. “So if you would just shut up, that would be great.”

You’re able to catch a few of the professor's words, quickly jotting them down on your tablet, before Naoya is leaning over onto your desk and reaching for a strand of your hair. You grab his hand before he touches it.

He just grins at you, all smug and absolutely shitty. “You’d be prettier if you smiled.”

“I will break your wrist.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

You throw his hand away and shove him off of your desk. “Leave me alone, asshole.”

“You sure do have a thing for bad ideas,” he muses aloud, a few of the people in front of him glancing backwards because he is just talking so loud. “You’d think after Satoru, you’d learn your lesson. Guess athletes really aren’t that smart.”

You swallow the lump in your throat. You know he’s just being himself, his obnoxious, mean self, but some part of you can’t help but believe his words. They’re stupid, you know that, but they manage to get to you.

They always do.

You look at him and purse your lips. “I just wanna get through this class,” you say. “I’ll listen to your bullshit after. Just let me actually pay attention so I don’t flunk out of here.”

His grin grows wider. “Okay,” he says, leaning back in his seat. “Who am I to stand in the way of your education?”

The lecture doesn’t last long enough. You usually find these classes to be too much, too tedious, too endless. But today it ends fast and it ends soon. You’ve barely just started to scribble down as much as you can before the professor ends the class, leaving you to pack your things as quickly as possible before Naoya can hold you to your promises.

You’re too slow and his arm wraps around your shoulder as he leads you out of the classroom, like the two of you are just old friends having an absolute blast.

“I have another class to get to,” you tell him, trying to shove his arm off of you. Much to your dismay, Naoya’s stronger than you are, and once he has his grip on you, he has no intentions of letting go.

“I’ll walk you to class,” he chirps. “I wanna hear more about your life. Mai mentioned you were injured at your last game.”

You sigh. There’s no way you can shake him off now. “A sprain,” you tell him. “I’m heading back to training tomorrow, so it’s all good now.”

“A sprain,” he muses before turning to look at you, all giddy and terrible. “You know, that’s how I found out about Sukuna. Mai mentioned that he was there when you went down, had a staredown with Satoru and all.”

“I bet you tormented that information out of her.”

“What does it matter?” Naoya hums. “Sukuna though. Interesting choice.”

You turn the corner and make a beeline for your classroom, forcing Naoya to drag himself along with you as he laughs.

“If I were your boyfriend, I’d be really offended by the fact that you don’t want to talk about me.”

You scoff, finally freeing yourself from his grasp as you lean on the door to your classroom. “Well, it’s a good thing you’re not my boyfriend then.”

Your (fake) boyfriend in question is sitting in a classroom on the other side of campus. Contrary to popular belief, Sukuna isn’t all always out and about, drinking and fucking random girls. For a good chunk of his life, he actually finds it in himself to go to class and not totally suck at them.

Back in high school, he didn’t care so much about doing well in life. He was perfectly fine just coasting by. He’d wonder why that all stopped—replaced by an overwhelming urge to do something with himself, actually be a useful member of society—but he already knows. Somewhere between that one afternoon when he went up to the rooftop of his high school building and now, he’d found his life intrinsically intertwined with yours.

And he hasn’t found a way out since.

“Where are we studying?” he asks Choso, getting up as the professor bids farewell to the class and reminds them of the paper they have to turn in before finals.

The other boy shrugs. “We can go to Mahito’s.”

“That place is gross.” Sukuna wrinkles his nose. “You wanna check out the library? We can just do it there.”

Choso slings his bag over his shoulder. “Yeah, sure.”

They make their way out of the classroom and into the frenzied hall. Around them, students run over to classes, cry to their friends over a low grade, ask each other where they’re going out to drink later that night. It’s a familiar chaos, this chaos. One that Sukuna didn’t think he’d ever come to terms with before.

“I wanna go home,” he grumbled as you dragged him through the quad.

It was the first week of classes and Sukuna really did want to go home. His packed schedule and unlucky pick of horrifying professors was getting to him, and he knew it was only a matter of time before he decided to call it quits.

He’d tried college. Maybe it just wasn’t for him.

But you just tutted and pulled him along. “I have something to show you.”

Sukuna frowned. “I’ve seen everything there is to see. What is—”

“Look!”

The two of you stopped in front of the pond behind the science building. There was a crowd gathered around the water and, in the darkness of the growing night around you, a steady stream of lanterns began to float onto the surface of the pond.

In a matter of seconds, the whole thing was alight with lanterns.

You grabbed his hand and grinned at him. “Magical, right?”

He found himself staring at you as you happily pointed out a few lanterns shaped like lotuses. You were like a kid discovering life for the first time. 

He realized he wouldn’t get sick of the sight any time soon.

“Yeah. Pretty fucking magical.”

“You’re quiet.”

Sukuna snaps out of his daze. “What?”

He doesn’t know how, but he and Choso have already found their way to the library. They’re sitting at a table near that one fan that always conks out. There’s a couple basically making out on the table beside them, a boy with his head face down on the one in front, an empty spot behind them.

Choso furrows his brows. “You good, man?”

I don’t know. Am I?

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Sukuna says. He flips through the textbook in front of him and finds that he has no idea what he was supposed to be reading in the first place. “Actually, I think I’m pretty fucked.”

Choso looks at him now with amusement. It isn’t every day that he gets to watch Sukuna be more than a little out of it. Who is he to turn down a free show?

“What’s up?” he asks. “You jerk off a little too much?”

Sukuna scowls. “Fuck you. I’m studying without you.”

Choso laughs, prodding at the guy from across the table. “I’m just kidding,” he says. “What’s the matter though?”

Now, Sukuna’s been trying very hard to not think about your kiss. At first, he managed to brush it off as a little mishap. Maybe something you’ll both awkwardly address the next time you meet before things go back to normal. It’s not something he has to worry himself about.

But here he is.

Worrying.

“You promise not to tell anyone?” he says, and he immediately feels stupid. What is he? A middle schooler with a crush? As if.

But Choso indulges him anyway. “‘Course,” he says. He’s used to people coming up to him with stupid ideas. Granted, “people” usually just means his younger brother who has a buttload of stupid ideas, but he’s gotten pretty good at keeping them to himself. “So, what is it?”

“It’s a girl.”

“It always is.”

Sukuna groans. Why is this so fucking hard?

“I dunno. I just—I kinda kissed her.”

At that, Choso can’t help but snort. He can’t help it. He’s heard all about Sukuna’s conquests, he knows more than he wants to know about the nasty details of these encounters. So it tickles him pink to hear Sukuna worrying about a kiss.

“What’s so funny?” Sukuna demands. He shakes his head and looks away, all flustered and embarrassed. “Y’know what? Never mind. Let’s just study graphs or whatever.”

“It’s not funny,” Choso says, laughing, “it’s just I never expected you to be all worked up because of a kiss. That’s all.”

Your best friend sighs. “It wasn’t just a kiss,” he says. “It was who the kiss was with. We just… have a lot of history.”

“Ah, so it was a kiss with feelings. Now I get it.”

“It wasn’t feelings.” Sukuna makes a face, but he soon reverts back to his uncertainty. “Was it?”

Choso shrugs. “Well, I don’t know the girl and I don’t know your history,” he says simply. “But chances are, the reason why you feel so weird about it is because there are some feelings involved.”

Sukuna leans back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest. He considers the thought for a moment. He considers why he did it in the first place. He considers the way you looked, all confused in front of him. He considers the urge, the pull he felt that just dragged him forward. He considers how he kissed you, and considers how you kissed back.

He considers how soft your lips felt against his. He considers how you touched his shoulders, gripping onto him in that scared and nervous way of yours. He considers how he held you. He considers how sweet you tasted, your lip gloss sticking to his lips even after he pulled away.

“You think I have feelings?”

“Yeah,” Choso says, chuckling as he turns back to his book. “I think you do.”

notes. this chap is pretty tame, just a lil look into the aftermath of the kiss 😌 i think this is gonna be chillest chap for a while though 🫣 there are also a few hints of what’s to come if you squint real hard

#hqbaby.miu #hqbaby #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #gojo #gojo x reader #sukuna #sukuna x reader

[doumadono]

MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST

The war was over, but the scars it left behind were far from healed, both physical and emotional.

Bakugo lay in the hospital bed, his body covered in bandages, his mind foggy from the painkillers.

The room was quiet, the beeping of machines the only sound as you sat beside him, waiting for him to wake up. Your heart was heavy with the knowledge of the painful news you had to deliver when he woke.

Slowly, Bakugo's eyes fluttered open, confusion and disorientation clear in his gaze. “Where... where am I?" he muttered, his voice hoarse and weak.

You leaned closer, taking his hand in yours. "You're in the hospital, Katsuki.”

His eyes narrowed as he tried to sit up, wincing in pain. "What happened?"

You took a deep breath, holding his remaining hand. "Katsuki, there's something you need to know."

His eyes, still foggy, tried to focus on you. "Spit it out," he muttered, impatience tinged with a hint of fear.

"Your arm," you began, struggling to keep your voice steady. "They couldn't save it. It was too damaged."

Bakugo's gaze darted around the room, panic rising as he tried to move his right arm and found it wouldn't respond. "What the hell?" he gasped, looking down at the empty space where his arm used to be. "What... What the fuck!"

Tears filled your eyes as you squeezed his remaining hand. "I'm so sorry," you whispered, barely moving your lips, tears welling up in your eyes. "They did everything they could."

Bakugo's face contorted with a mix of disbelief and rage. "My quirk... it was in my palms. How am I supposed to be a hero now? No... no, no, no!" he shouted, struggling to sit up, only to fall back onto the bed, his body too weak to support him. "This can't be happening!"

You tried to hold him, to calm him, but he pushed you away with his remaining hand, his eyes wild with fear and anger. "Get away from me!"

"Katsuki, please," you begged, tears streaming down your face as you reached out your hand to place it on his shoulder. "I'm here for you. We can get through this together. We’ll find a way…"

Bakugo screamed, his voice breaking. "Don’t touch me! I'm useless! I'm fucking nothing! And you want to find a way?" he scoffed, his voice rising. "There is no way! I'm useless without my quirk!"

His words cut deep, but you refused to give up on him. "You're still a hero, Katsuki. You're still the strongest person I know…”

He turned his face away, tears of rage and frustration streaming down his cheeks. "Just leave me alone, woman. I want to be fucking alone. Get the fuck out!”

You left the room, your heart shattered and tears streaming down your flushed cheeks, but you vowed to yourself that you wouldn't give up on him.

Days turned into weeks, and Bakugo's anger only seemed to grow. He lashed out at everyone, pushing away those who tried to help. Bakugo's mood grew darker as he struggled to come to terms with his loss.

He spent hours in physical therapy, not to regain strength, but to punish himself for his perceived weakness.

One evening, you found him in the hospital gym, punching a bag with his remaining hand until his knuckles bled. 

"Katsuki, stop!" you gasped, covering your mouth with curled palm.

He ignored you, his breath coming in ragged gasps, tears mingling with sweat. "I can't... I can't do this," he panted.

You approached him quickly, and grabbed his arm, forcing him to look at you. "You're destroying yourself. This isn't helping."

"And what do you think you know?" he spat, his eyes wild. "You still have both your arms. You still can live and enjoy your sweet life, goddammit!”

“And I want to live it with you," you said fiercely, refusing to let go. "But you need to let me in. You need to let me help you."

His anger gave way to despair, and he sank to the floor, covering his face with his hand. "I don't know how."

You knelt beside him, wrapping your arms around him. "We'll figure it out together. You're not alone, Katsuki. Not ever."

Slowly, painfully, Bakugo began to accept your help, allowing you to be his support as he navigated this new reality.

Everyone, including you, his parents and his friends stood by his side through it all, offering support, encouragement, and love.

The therapy sessions became less about punishing himself and more about finding a way to live again.

Slowly but surely, Bakugo regained his confidence, finding new ways to use his quirk and his skills to remain a hero. He still had moments of doubt, moments where he cursed his fate and his limitations.

Those moments became less frequent, replaced by a determination to rise above his challenges.

"I love you," he said one morning, out of the blue, as you approached him in front of the classroom, bringing him bento you’ve prepared for him.

You turned to him, surprised but pleased. "I love you too, Katsuki."

He smirked, a shadow of his old self shining through as he leaned forward and placed a tiny kiss to the top of your head, accepting the box. "I know. And I'm gonna prove to you that I'm still the best damn hero around."

You laughed, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "I never doubted it for a second."

Bakugo found solace in the realization that he could still be the hero he always aspired to be.

#mha headcanons #bakugo headcanons #bakugo fluff #bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugo angst #mha angst #bakugo x you #bakugou x reader #bakugou fluff #bakugou angst #katsuki bakugou #bakugou headcanons #mha fluff #bnha headcannons #bakugou x you #mha x reader #anime angst #anime headcanons #angsty headcanon

[first-time-fanfic-writer]

König and bondage

Warnings: bondage (könig is tied up), female reader, riding, p in v, pain during sex

A/n: if in real life a guy doesn't slow down or be gentle when you ask, DUMP HIM

König can't bring himself to not rail you during sex, once he is inside you he can't hold himself back. He fucks your pussy raw until you are sore for days. It feels good for both of you, but not so much the next day. So one day you both decide to tie his hands to a headboard so you can go slower but things don't quite go according to plan.

With könig restricted to the headboard with fluffy pink handcuffs, you begin stripping at the foot of the bed while könig watches.

"fuck baby, stop teasing me" he growls out as you strip to slowly for his liking when you are fully naked, you make your way to his naked, exposed form. Usually könig would have you pinned and stretched around his cock by now, it's nice to have control and go slower. You jack him off while sucking on his tip gently, enjoying giving him pleasure without hurting your throat.

"take- take it deeper. Now" könig growls and thrusts up into your throat, getting antsy when he can't fuck your throat.

"patience baby" you hum, pulling your mouth away and climbing up higher. To be entirely honest, the power feels nice, being able to control a giant military man is good for the ego. You rub your heat against his throbbing cock, not putting him inside yet. Just when he goes to complain, you begin pressing hit tip into your cunt, groaning softly when it pops into you.

"just, fuck schatzchen you feel good, take it deeper, take it all the way. now" he growls out, partially using his military voice to command you on his cock. The handcuffs scrape against your headboard as he pulls on his restraints. This is more agonizing than any form of torture he's experienced in his many years in the military. He wants, he needs to rail you into the mattress and he can't.

At this moment you realize just how big his dick is as you struggle to impale yourself on him. The sting isn't as pleasurable as usual and your thighs shake and cramp at the strain of hovering over his length.

"kö I can't, fuck" soft whimpers leave your mouth as you try and fail to sink down on his length. You find yourself begging him to take you, despite knowing he can't grab you. He tries to fuck into you, but can't find the leverage to sink into you as deep as he needs.

"princess, need you to sink deeper. Drop onto me girl, I know you can" he finds himself growing impatient as his cock is uncomfortably cold, your slick dripping down his exposed dick. The sound of wood scraping and creaking fills the room. In your desperate haze you can't quite place what's happening until a loud snap resonates through the air.

"there we go princess, can finally fuck you how you deserve." His chained hands grip your waist and slam you down on his length. He plants his feet on the mattress and fucks up into you as you moan and keen in pleasure.

Sweat lays hair down on königs forehead from excursion as he fucks you from underneath you. His hands squeeze your waist as he slams you down on him, your ass meeting his thighs with each thrust. He feels you so deep his pubic bone grinds against your clit. One of his hands travels down your body to circle your clit and bring you closer to your release.

"cum on my dick schatz, be a good girl and cum for me." He circles your clit faster as his hips begins stuttering their thrusts as he gets closer. After some more rough fucking, you cum on his dick. As your pussy spasms around him, he is pushed over the edge and cums inside of you.

"that's it princess, yeah cum on my cock" he fucks you both through your high. After you both come down from your intense orgasm, he cradles you against his chest to hold you close. As you both pant with him slowly softening inside of you, the realization that your bedframe is broken causes you to sigh.

"and now I need a new bedframe." However you can't bring yourself to be upset after that good fucking. You cuddle into his chest, deciding to deal with the bedframe issue another day.

#cod #konig x you #könig fanfiction #konig cod #konig call of duty #konig x reader #konig smut #cod smut #könig cod #cod fanfic #cod x reader #fanfiction #fanfic

[hairyjocktf]

Could you turn me into an absolute beast of a man?

I want to be the largest bodybuilder in the world. Totally covered in body hair and just oozing masculinity. The bigger and dumber the better!

I beg you! Please grant me this wish! I’ll give you anything.

Yea bro? I can do that for you. In fact, it’s already starting. Feel that tingling sensation in your hands? You can already see them thickening, expanding into calloused man hands. Hair is poking out of your knuckles and the backs of your palms too, dark and thick. Your forearms swell with muscle as the forest of hair surges up your arms, burying them in this fur. Your biceps and triceps explode with size and itch as hair pushes out of them. Next up are your shoulders, earning the true title of boulders as they pack on size and get similarly coated with hair. You can help but groan as your arms thicken, but the sensation keeps spreading. Your previously flat chest grows sore as huge pecs push outward, growing bigger and thicker until calling them pillows would be an understatement. You wince as abs etch themselves into your stomach, before expanding into a thick muscle roid gut. The itching catches up as thick hairs crop up first around your nipples, before spreading out like wildfire. Your pecs nearly vanish beneath a dense rug of hair, growing longer and thicker every second. It crawls up over your collarbone and onto your neck and races down over your thick chiseled stomach, burying your new abs under a thick layer of fur.

The hair surges down beneath your straining waistband, and you pull it out to see a jungle of pubes erupting from your groin. You groan again as the sensation of follicles pumping out hair after hair floods your body with pleasure. You watch as the hairs keep pushing out, growing thicker and darker and curlier, tangling into a solid bush that extends up above your waistline now. The hair spreads onto your thighs too, which immediately start bulking up, quads straining against your skin as they explode with size, hamstrings and calves following moments later. The hair rushes down to your growing feet, which have burst out of your shoes without you even noticing. Thick hairs pop up from the tops of them as your toes push farther out. 

You look up into the mirror and notice your shoulders getting broader, lats growing intensely as your back widens considerably. You’ve got that bodybuilder look now, and you flex to test out your new muscles. You raise up both arms, biceps pumped and looking huge. Exposed now are your pits, which have sprouted thick tufts of dark wiry hair, significantly more than you’d had before. You look so good flexing though. You love it, the muscles, the hair. Your body continues to push out, more muscle in every corner, growing taller and wider. Your traps inflate and hide most of your neck. Your jawline hardens as stubble creeps up your neck and covers your face with a dark beard shadow. That shadow quickly erupted into a massive black beard, thick and dense and coating your entire face. Fuck you look good. You hike up the legs of your shorts to better show off your legs and pose again. Better get used to this! Your new life will revolve around the gym, as all you can do now is lift. But man do you love it.

#male tf #hairy tf #hair growth #hairy #hairy chest #hairy pits #beard #my writing

[whatsnewalycat]

mindfuck

Dave York x f!Reader

Summary: Dave hypnotizes you.

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Word Count: 2.8k+

Warnings: hypnokink, not entirely good praxis of hypnosis, humiliation, implied infidelity, praise, smut, unprotected piv, D/s dynamic, dom dave, literal mind fucking so like a bit of body horror get into it

Notes: For @iamasaddie kinky May writing challenge. Prompt was hypnosis + Dave York. I found a lot of inspiration for this from a post in r/EroticHypnosis about mindfucking (can find again if anyone wants the link - lemme know!). Posting this in a hurry bc I am late to a thing so hopefully not tooooo many missed mistakes. OK THANK YOU FOR READING!!!

[ my masterlist ]

-------

All your life you wished you could turn off your thoughts at will. 

Growing up, on those nights where your crowded head wouldn’t let you sleep, you would imagine twisting off the top of your skull like a jar lid and plopping your brain on the nightstand. It even worked sometimes, too, if you tried hard to convince yourself. When reminders of an upcoming math test or images of that cute boy in class crept into your purview, they had nowhere to go. They evaporated, and you slept. 

Dave says you’re too smart for your own good. Sometimes when you’re lost in thought, he tells you he wants to empty that pretty little head of yours. Not in a condescending way, although you can see how someone might interpret it like that. 

What he means is that he wants you to be with him when you’re with him. What he means is that he wants you to be present. Not thinking about the past or the future. Not reminding yourself of deadlines or analyzing the data stored in your brain or wondering what you mean to him exactly. 

The first time he suggested hypnosis, you balked. Even after he explained how it worked, you were hesitant enough for him to drop the subject. 

When he brought it up again, though, your skepticism swayed. You asked him for more details, so he dispensed the pros and cons and the step process. He could do it for you, he said. He knew how. He said he could rattle the bees from your buzzing honeycomb brain. All you had to do was trust him with this power. 

So you did. 

And you do. 

Your valiant beekeeper meets you at this hotel every other Tuesday night, except on holidays. This isn’t the only one-on-one time he dedicates to you, but it’s by far the most reliable. He doesn’t always hypnotize you, either. 

Regardless of whether he puts you in a trance or not, this standing date always starts the same. He slips you the keycard at some point throughout the day, only after he’s adorned it with a vase full of seasonal blooms and laid out something for you to wear. 

Tonight he left you lilacs and matching lingerie. Intricate floral appliqués embellish the pastel nightie he laid out on the bed. 

Opulence becomes you when you slip it on and pour a glass of champagne from the bottle Dave left to chill on ice. You mosey around the spacious high-end suite, sipping frosty bubbles as you admire the birds-eye view of downtown, the tall buildings and bustling city life all drenched in golden light from the setting sun. 

As the time nears eight o’clock, you empty your champagne flute and make yourself comfortable on the plush bed. Crystals hanging from the chandelier fragment soft white light into dazzling tiny spectrums, sparkling rainbow when the door to the suite opens, then closes. 

Dave enters the room with an air of authority that makes you straighten your spine and draw back your shoulders. After chucking off his jacket, he empties his pockets on the dresser and loosens his tie, then turns around to meet your gaze. 

His stern expression melts as he looks you over, seeming to appraise how your body fills out the lilac nightie. Heat sparks in the middle of you when he greets you, “Hey beautiful.” 

“Hi.” 

He approaches your side and takes a seat at the edge of the bed, rolling the sleeves of his dress shirt, “Comfortable?” 

Nodding, you sit up to pull him in for a kiss. His plush lips respond without hesitation, firm but generous as he slips a wide palm around your body and brings you even closer. 

When he pulls back, he asks, “Are you ready?” 

“Ready.” 

He cradles your jaw, searching your face with blatant admiration before separating his body from yours. You lay back into the soft embrace of the pillows and wiggle around until you find the sweet spot of comfort while Dave drags an armchair to your bedside and sits down. Once you’re both settled and still, he begins. 

“Close your eyes.” 

You close them. 

“Take a deep breath in…”

You take in air until you can’t. 

“…and slowly release it.” 

You exhale, rationing your metered breath through a straw-sized ‘o’ formed by your lips. 

“Good. Take a deep breath in… two three four… and slowly release it. Deep breath in… two three four… now slowly release it.”

Behind closed lids, you concentrate on the rhythmic ebb and flow of your lungs contracting and expanding. His warm voice surrounds you. Envelops you. 

“That’s it. Keep breathing just like this. Each time you inhale, draw the life from your breath, and exhale the rest. Notice how cleansing it feels to let it go. How the tension melts from your muscles every time you take a deep breath in…”

You inhale. 

“…two three four…” 

Hold it. 

“…and slowly release it.” 

Then exhale.

“Perfect. Keep doing that. Now imagine that every time you take a deep breath in, a warm wave washes over you… and as you slowly release it, the tide carries away tension, allowing your muscles to soften and relax…”

Each big lungful heats the tar holding your body together. You dissolve into the mattress as Dave’s deep, honeyed voice resonates through you. 

“Again, take a deep breath in as the warm wave of relaxation washes over you, two three four… and slowly release it as the tide carries away your tension, allowing your muscles to soften and relax. Concentrate on my voice. Recognize it as a touchstone. If your mind starts to wander, have it return to the touchstone, return to my voice, and relax even deeper.” 

Trees tower above you, stretching high into the pale blue sky. The moss-covered rock before you glows as he speaks. 

“Notice how relaxed you feel. Notice that every time the warm wave of relaxation washes over you, two three four… tension melts from your body as you allow yourself to sink deeper and deeper into the sensation. Allow the relaxation to seep from your muscles into your bloodstream… to course through your veins and calm every cell in your body.

“Focus on your face. All those tiny little muscles in your forehead and around your eyes, notice how relaxed they are. Notice how the relaxation melts the muscles in your cheeks and jaw, letting your mouth go slack. You might feel as though you want to speak, but find yourself so relaxed that you can’t. That’s ok, because it feels good and safe to let the words dissolve on your tongue. Doesn’t it?” 

When you try to respond, your lips don’t move. This fact doesn’t bother you. It feels good and safe in the forest, staring up at the treetops. 

You realize you’re floating in a pond. You hear birds peacefully chirping and know it’s just you and them and the touchstone for a million miles. 

Everything feels profound, but simple. You are small and big like a speck of dust or a galaxy. You are safe. You are at peace. 

“Doesn’t it feel so good to relax, darling?” 

Your fingertips rest against the soft moss of the touchstone. 

“Yes, it does,” you tell it. 

It glows with a satisfactory hum that vibrates through you.  

“Perfect. Continue to focus on my voice. Soon, I will ask you to open your eyes, then close them. When you close your eyes, you’ll notice a warm wave of relaxation washing over you, turning knots into snarls and snarls into strands, every muscle in your body gently untangling as you allow them to go limp and heavy…”

You understand and follow his instructions. 

“Open your eyes and take a deep breath in, two three four… and slowly release it, closing your eyes, letting the warm wave wash over you and pull you in deeper. 

“Soon, I’ll ask you to open your eyes again. When you close them, you’ll notice the warm wave of relaxation wash over you even stronger than before, pulling you even deeper. 

“Open your eyes, two three four… and close your eyes, sinking deeper and deeper. Good job. We’ll do it one more time, and when you close your eyes and relax, sink as deep as you can, all the way to the bottom. Open your eyes, two three four… and close your eyes.” 

You’re lying in a meadow of wildflowers outside the forest, looking up at the serene blue sky. The earth beneath you is solid and brings you an immense sense of comfort. 

“I want you to think about desire. Think about that warm, lush longing inside you. Concentrate on how good this sensation feels in your body, pleasure swelling thick at the center of you.”

His voice surrounds you, but you don’t see its source. The soothing timbre resonates from the wildflowers and the earth and the sky, from everywhere and nowhere all at once like how you imagine God sounded to Old Testament prophets. 

You bring your focus to desire. It does feel good. Amazing, actually. Tangible like a glowing ball of heat between your thighs that throbs with each syllable he speaks. 

“Allow the sensation to grow. Let it stretch and pulse and heat your skin. Let your mind empty of everything except this arousal. When thoughts arise, you let them fall away and arousal fills the empty space. You’ll let this happen over and over again until your head is empty of everything but arousal. Do you understand? You can speak now, darling, go ahead and answer.” 

“Yes.” 

“Try it for me.” 

You acknowledge the cognitions that populate your mind. When you think about how you need to put gas in your car, you imagine the reminder dropping away, then imagine the warm wanting glow of desire branching up through your body to take its place. You think about a work project, but it loosens and falls into an abyss. Desire floods the space in its wake, a thick hot liquid that glows with light like lava, spreading to each new vacancy with ease as the thoughts drop from your consciousness. 

“How does it feel?” 

“Good,” you breathe, voice faint on your tingling tongue. 

“Do you like how it feels, being horny and mindless?” 

Your husband’s face appears, taking up your whole mind, then falls away. Rich, bubbling pleasure surges through you to fill the gap. You have to suppress a moan to respond. 

“I like it,” you nod, “Fuck, it feels amazing.” 

“Good girl. Now, you might notice something interesting happen when I ask you a question. You might notice that when I ask you a question, you’ll try to form a thought to answer. When you do this, you’ll feel my cock enter your mind. It’s bigger and harder than you’ve ever seen it, swollen and thick and so fucking ready for you, darling. When you try to form a thought, it pushes forward into the wet hot folds of your brain, severing the connections that typically allow you to think, preventing a response from forming. My cock pulls out, and slowly thrusts forward again, pushing out the thoughts, over and over for as long as you consider a response to my question. It becomes impossible to focus. You might notice that this penetration feels like it would in your pussy. My hard cock rutting in and out, sending waves of arousal through your body, fucking the thoughts from your head. Every time my cock moves, you’ll try to respond but cannot make yourself focus. It feels amazing. You give in to the sensation, allowing it to overtake you completely. When you’re fully saturated with arousal and nothing else, my cock pulls out of your mind.” 

Your skin feels static and warm when you imagine him pushing his smooth, throbbing length into your brain. A shaky whimper croaks in your throat. Your heart thuds heavy within your chest, circulating desire, warm and wet, to every cell in your body. 

“You might notice that when I ask you another question, any attempts at thought or sensations that come up except arousal will be fucked from your head until you surrender to the arousal. It feels good to be dominated in this way. To let pleasure consume your entire being.” 

Licking your lips, you nod to show you understand.  

“Now when I ask you a question, you’ll allow your subconscious to follow my instructions. Are you ready, darling?” 

“Yes.” 

“How was your day?” 

When you try to recall your day and formulate an answer, the tip of his cock pierces the equator of your brain, splitting the hemispheres. He drives forward slowly, steadily, making you moan as he stretches you apart and tears all those delicate tissues that generate thought. Still, you try. 

My day, how was my day…

He drags his cock out, then drives it deeper inside you. 

Day… how was…

Your nerve endings buzz as he pulls out, gooey arousal shines on the shaft of his thick cock. He plunges forward into the hot center of you. You work your hips and whine. You can’t remember what he asked. It doesn’t seem as important as the pleasure clinging to your insides as he fucks you, so you give up. 

His cock pulls out of your mind completely. 

“What’s the weather supposed to be like tomorrow?” 

You consider the question. The tip of him breaches your brain, forcing out forecasts and clouds and sunshine. Fragments return as you attempt to answer again. 

The weather tomorrow…

He pumps in and out of you, obliterating whatever it was he wanted to know. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters except the insatiable pleasure thrumming through you as he rubs against all your hungry nerves, giving them what they want. 

“Oh my god,” you hear yourself gasp. 

“How often do you think about fucking me?” 

Seeds of embarrassment sprout the tender beginnings of thought, then he fucks them out of your head until you’re rolling your hips, moaning and nodding for more. 

“Do you make yourself come when you think about fucking me?” 

Only a loading screen appears before he’s inside you again. His perfect, thick cock pumps you full of this throbbing heat. You wish it would never end. You want to feel this and only this forever. 

“That’s it, that’s my good girl. So horny and mindless for me. Letting my cock push deep and hard into the folds of your brain, fucking out all your thoughts, leaving your head empty to stuff you with arousal until you’re swollen and ripe, nothing else left but how fucking horny you are.” 

“Sssooooo fucking gooood,” you slur. 

“How would your husband feel if he saw you like this? In this hotel room, all dressed up in lingerie I bought for you, moaning and writhing on the bed?” 

A thought starts, and he pounds it out of you, merciless in its rhythm as each thrust pushes you higher and higher. Horny and mindless, that’s all you are. Nothing matters except this.

“Do you really think we’ll run away together? Do you really think I’d leave my wife for you?” 

A rotten sensation tingles in your chest before you feel him enter you from both ends, the cock in your mind working in tandem with the cock in your pussy. You choke out a moan and nod, body vibrating with a thick, hot sensation you can’t find the beginning or end of. 

“Fuck fuck fuck, holy fuck—” 

He groans, rolling his hips faster, fucking your entire being so hard and fast that you become pleasure itself. It’s everything and everywhere for eternity and you gladly accept this fact, wanting to forever exist in this moment. 

“That’s so good, darling. So fucking good. You want me to let you come, don’t you?” 

You nod frantically as the edges of you start to fray.

“Go ahead, come for me.” 

His permission completely unravels you, ripping away the last delicate thread holding you together. You sob as you fall apart into a thousand pieces. His hips stutter and he moans, giving you a few deep thrusts before pulling out. 

Your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath. You float in the peaceful pond, staring up at the towering treetops that kiss the sky. 

“Now in a minute, I’ll bring you back to your normal state. When I count to four and tell you to wake up, you’ll come out of the trance relaxed and refreshed. Your mind will feel spotless. You’ll know that I adore you and hold you close to my heart.”

You hear birds peacefully chirping. You know it’s just you and them and Dave for a million miles. You are small and big like a speck of dust or a galaxy. You are safe. You are at peace. 

“And one two three four… wake up.”

#dave york #dave york fanfiction #dave york smut #dave york x reader #dave york x you #dave york x female reader #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal characters #whatsnewalycat writes

[ghoulfuckersincorporated]

If you get pregnant from a ghoul, what would the kid be like? Human? Ghoul? Some weird freakish third thing? Even Gulpers are just mutated humans so anything is possible.

(I'll put a trigger warning here for "mild discussion of pregnancy loss/premature birth", in case that upsets anyone.)

My official answer to this is: "looks human, but closer to a freakish third thing when you get down to the details".

The pregnancy certainly wouldn't be a cakewalk. Frankly, I think you'd have to have a pretty preternatural resistance to radiation to successfully conceive with a ghoul to begin with (which we see is achievable for some people; otherwise I think there would just straight up be no successful fertilization/implantation). If you were able to make it happen, I think the fetus would be quite radioactive itself early on, and you'd struggle a lot. You might be able to get away with the occasional dose of Radaway if you're incredibly sick, like too sick to function, but too much of it and I think you'd be risking unfavorable outcomes. With luck (and maybe a higher-than-average endurance), things might taper off the further along you get. I imagine the birth would be unremarkable, all other regular health factors considered, unless you found yourself so ill from the baseline radiation that you were unable to continue carrying to full term and were forced to deliver prematurely. The odds of that certainly aren't zero. Your breast milk would make a Geiger counter go nuts.

It's hard to imagine the 50% genetic spawn of a ghoul wouldn't be significantly more radiation resistant, right? Like, at minimum? Personally, I think if you had a baby with a ghoul, that kid would be constantly drawn to play in puddles of nuclear fallout, to drink from dirty sources, to want to go outside during rad storms. Radiation is healing and refreshing for ghouls, so I would imagine at least some of that would transfer, no matter how much it makes you worry. You'd probably find the kid sucking on a power core if you turned your back for too long.

I, personally, would think that a kid like that would age normally, but since we know ghouls have that super-regenerative ability, maybe there's a chance that they'd shoot through the puberty phase really quickly? I mean, that "growing" phase in adolescence is basically just a bunch of cells dying off and being regenerated/high rates of cell generation to build muscle and bone mass. Again, I'd like to think they'd grow pretty typically, all things considered, but it's certainly something to think about.

That regenerative ability could certainly prove quite...tricky at times. We've seen how quickly it can heal wounds, which is great for something like a puncture or a stab wound...but what about a broken bone? I can't help but be reminded of an audio diary you can find in Bioshock 2 that talks about the Little Sisters' insane regenerative ability and its disadvantages. At one point, one of the girls escapes from the researchers studying them and throws herself over a balcony (trying to escape or end her life, though which is unclear), shattering both of her legs. But by the time they've made it to the bottom where she's lying, her legs have already healed at a bunch of fucked up and unnatural angles, so they have to break her legs over and over again until they can set them correctly. With as quickly as we see ghouls heal in the show (and in the games), it's hard to imagine you wouldn't run into the same issue, as horrific as it is.

Can you imagine your child having to go through that because they fell playing (or fleeing, god forbid) and broke their arm, or their collarbone or something? Can you imagine having to be the person doing the breaking? What if there's no one else to do it?

I'd also assume that, as they age into their teen years/early adulthood, their aging would slow, though I think exactly how much it would slow would depend on the individual child and their circumstances. I do think half-ghoul children would be able to be turned fully ghoul through some conventional means, just maybe over a longer period of time and with much higher doses of radiation.

#cooper howard #the ghoul #cooper howard smut #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #ghoulcy #vaultghoul #fallout tv show #fallout prime #john hancock fo4 #john hancock #edward deegan #kent connolly #charon fo3 #gob fo3 #desmond lockheart #vault tec rep #hadrian fnv #harland fnv #raul tejada #rotface fnv #jason bright #oswald the outrageous #dean domino #eddie winter #fallout lore

[alienpossession]

Another take from my end on the continuation of this much-beloved story, this time solely focusing on Andrei & Mike as they meet the ill-fated Steven from the original series by @apushforfolly

Bodybuilding is a rather tight-knit global community. The people you competed back in Las Vegas would be your competitor again in Dubai, in London, yeah, you get the gist of it. So while the Prince is busy consolidating domestic power, what the Prince directed the rest of us to do is to basically get our grip within the bodybuilding community and the ever-growing and increasingly cocky finance bros as stealthy as possible. Sander handled the finance and all those podcast bros flocking to Dubai. Meanwhile, me and Mike are quite influential within the UK bodybuilding circles, and with us based in Dubai, we did leverage that to our benefit as we lured some of the aspiring talent and even several of our old friends for a free Dubai trip which would lead to the end of their life as freedom human entity. Take Rory over here, quite a rather close friend of Andrei before the Prince and then I took this British-Romanian hunk for a spin

Rory eagerly took the offer to rekindle the friendship that just severed out of a sudden as he based himself in Bali while Andrei got his mind fucked by me as I hyper-focused myself to serve the Master and enlarge his influence. I didn't like to waste my time so within the first day he landed, right after I showed him and his girlfriend around their apartment I said to be free of charge as it was still in the market anyway, I simply bitchslapped him until he passed out and then proceeded to infect his girl first, taking the delight of Andrei's fucked up mind that held grudges to Rory for stealing his first crush, her. She cried, obviously, and even harder when she could feel that something terrible is coming with my cock that somehow enlarged beyond her comprehension, because it almost doubled in length and clearly that's not normal and she knows that. As my contained sludgebros released like a damn broken faucet into her throat, her eyes rolled to the back as black sludge overflown her mouth. But she's quick to regain her consciousness and with her mind set to infect her passed out boyfriend, I simply put my sweatpants back on and left the two lovebirds to settle their business.

That's basically one example of our MO, but it's the most effective because these bodybuilders really trust each other, especially when they came from the same country. And when we reached more bodies, it means we have more field operatives to take care off potential puppets. For example, Nico, like Andrei, is Romanian, and he's been out from the spotlight for a while. But, his physique is still great and he's considered a legend among the younger bodybuilders. So, of course I utilized his eagerness to learn a thing or two to become relevant from Andrei as my entry into his tight straight cunt and basically turned him into a puppet.

The legend status he holds gives him easier access to reach the coaches and the more senior bodybuilders, not even a week and he's already turning Jerome Weeks into a puppet too, just look at that wide, slightly off-putting smile the two of them did, if people paid attention a bit more, clearly they can tell that something is a bit not right there

There's also this easily leveraged dynamic of leeching off each other or trying to be in the more influential person's good light, and Mike really milked the shit out of it. He's charismatic, he's also probably the most well-off among the others and you just don't want to mess with him as he can legitimately messed with your influencer career if you crossed him.

Olly and his older stepbrother Craig bumped to Rory and Mike in the middle of a gym, and of course they asked Mike and Rory for a quick pic. The two brothers already planned to utilize the picture for some clout but they are also legitimately looked up to Mike especially, hence the slightly tense pictures despite multiple takes.

What the two humans failed to realize was the fact that both Rory and Mike licked their lips as they watched the siblings walked giddily to the locker room after the pic sesh. They grinned to each other and decided to join the two brothers in the locker room to have some "pep talk". While Rory handled Craig, Mike sauntered the impressionable 20 years old blondie. At first excited to see his idol and tried to respectfully stand up, Olly found himself taken aback as Mike instead pressed Olly back to the seat and then smirked

"I see the potential from you, dude. You can be a jacked piece of shit in no time and fucking popular too. All you neeed to do is open up that mouth, I know you blondie want a piece of this meat,"

Bewildered, Olly tried to fight back but Mike asserted his dominance in a split second as Olly found himself unable to even stand up as Mike held his shoulder and forced him to stay seated

"Don't force me to use my strength, noob. Now, as I said before, you have the potential, just open up that pretty mouth and let me show you how to get big," Mike said with a shit-eating grin so uncharacteristic of him. His crotch just inches away from Olly's quivering lips, and from Olly's POV, he meant every single words he said. Olly still resisted, he tried to scream for help but Mike's hand quickly muffled his mouth, blocking him to even let out a sound. He simply wished that anyone will walk in and caught Mike red-handed, but it seems like it's not goint to happen anytime soon. Unfortunately for him, as his eyes wandered looking for any good samaritan that can help him out of this predicament, his eyes caught a bizarre sight as his married stepbrother bobbed his head up and down Rory's dick like a cum whore! Mike gleefuly said with sinister undertone

"Yeah, even your older brother knows it's the right thing to do. Heck, it's the only way to get big nowadays. It's time for you to also start accepting that as the truth. Now, I won't repeat myself again, open,"

Seeing the tight-lipped Olly, Mike then take the liberty to simply fish out his cock out from his workout shorts, revealing a mean-looking 7.5 incher semi-hard uncut meat throbbing with excitement. He's been going commando since this morning, and the tough workout regiment clearly caused him to accumulate quite some sweat in his crotch. Mike just grazed the tip of his meat right to Olly's pink lips before the young sophomore jock relented to the pressure. His throat felt sticky and sore from all the thrusting, but he found out that he got no gag reflex whatsoever which caused Mike to grin in the first few seconds after the entirety of his cock lodged into Olly's throat

"Ohhh fffuuuckkk you really meant to be a cocksucker bro!"

The whole facefucking lasted for about 6 minutes before Mike started to get tight and exasperated. When Rory and Craig circled around Olly, that's when Olly realized that something is not right when his stepbrother's eyes looking a bit empty and glazed. But not long from both Rory and Craig sauntered the both of them, Mike shot his copious load into the trembling Olly, his body went on a full seizure as the slug takes over his bodily system. Olly eventually regained his consciousness and the first thing he do is to cough out the sticky mess that filled his mouth when he passed out and replaced by an alien slug. He then smiled a very wicked smile

"Now, can I infect other human on my own?"

"Hahahahahah, love the spirit, but not so quick bro, not so quick,"

----

So when Steven Barnett, a bodybuilder with Mining Engineering degree, arrived in Dubai for an all-inclusive honeymoon after marrying his girlfriend for 3 years which also happened to be the daughter of a US Army General, the gym junkie decided to squeeze in several workout session since he knows some of his favorite bodybuilders are based in Dubai. Unfortunately for him, the Prince intel already put a target behind his back the moment he booked a flight to Dubai with his now-wife.

The penthouse arranged by Andrei, the tour around town with Rory, the workout sesh with Mike and Olly, everything is simply part of the plan to ensure that Steven is well-monitored 24/7 throughout his stay. The Prince believed that it's time for him to make another move after consolidating the power in Dubai, and America sounded like a solid plan. So, when Steven walked into one of the last gym that has been recommended by a lot of his online followers, it's already a trap ready to capture him to become yet another puppet in the growing collection of the Master. He's just simply oblivious to the fact that he posed with puppets controlled by mere black slug that looked like a pitch black oil he found in his day job.

#alien possession #male possession #alien takeover #alien expansion #alien transference #male puppet #male takeover #apushforfolly

[sjsmith56]

The Rules

Summary: One shot AU. A mobster’s daughter meets the love of her life but The Rules get in the way of it developing into something more.

Length: 6.5 K

Characters: James “Bucky” Barnes (at age 21, then 25), OFC (named), OFC’s parents (named), Brock Rumlow, John Walker, Loki Laufeyson.

Warnings: some cursing, rude behaviour and reference to mob life. Otherwise fluffy.

Author notes: This is my first attempt at writing a mob-themed story. Bucky is actually a sweetheart.

〰️ 〰️ 〰️

The first time Tia fell in love was when she was almost 18.  His name was James, 21, and he was one of newest men on her father's staff.  The first time Tia fell out of love was two weeks later when she saw James kissing a woman staff member and allowing himself to be pulled into her room at the mansion where they all lived.  This is their story.

Almost Eighteen

There were rules growing up in the house of a mob boss, particularly the man known as the Boss of Brooklyn, Jerome Brancato.  Rule #1, If the door to his office was open, anyone could come in.  If the door was closed, everyone had to stay out.  Rule #2, Daughters of the boss were off-limits.  Period.  No exceptions, unless the boss approved of the relationship which sometimes happened if he was approached correctly and with respect.  Rule #3, No meant no.  Other rules came up but the big three were supposed to be obeyed by everyone, staff and family.

Tia, seeing the door to her father's office was open approached it, hearing him speaking with another man.  The man, who said a lot of "Yes sirs" and "No sirs" seemed to be interviewing for a position with her father's "business," a business he took over from his father, and his father before him.  But Tia's father, Jerome, had no sons to leave the business to and daughters weren't supposed to be in that position, at least not in his narrow world view.

She pushed the door open, catching the attention of her father and the man, who rose to his feet and turned towards her.  He was tall, with short dark hair, and handsome, with eyes as blue as the sky.  Tearing her eyes away from him she looked at her father.

"I'm sorry, but your door was open," she said.  "I can come back."

"It was open," agreed her father.  "Tia, this is James Barnes.  He's here to join the security team.  Barnes, this is my youngest daughter, Tia.  She just graduated from high school."

He offered his hand, his white dress shirt peaking out from under his dark suit's sleeve.

"Pleasure," he said, in a voice that made a warmth pool deep inside her, his even white teeth showing in the smile he gave her.

Her voice squeaked a little when she answered.  "Thank you." 

Inside she groaned.  What kind of response was that?  James grinned a little.

"You're welcome."

"Why don't you give us half an hour to finish up," suggested her father.  "I still have to make James aware of the rules."

She smiled at her father but inside she felt her stomach drop.  The rules.  The fucking rules.  Rule #2, she was off-limits.  Apologetically, she returned to the door, risking one more look at the man she had just fallen in love with, then closed it and ran upstairs to her room to fall face first into her bed and cry over the rules.

It was a week before she saw James again.  James, Jimmy, Jamie, Jim ... all the variations of his name were written out on paper by her, as she signed her name with his.  Mr. and Mrs. James Barnes.  Jim and Tia Barnes.  Then she tore the pages up into tiny pieces and flushed them down the toilet because if there was one thing her already married older sisters warned her about was to not leave any trace of having a crush on any of their father's "staff," for that could cause all sorts of problems, not just for her but also for him.  In their father's line of work, that could result in serious issues for the male staff member but could also see her summarily married off to some business associate, which she didn't want.  Not at 17 years, 10 months and 2 weeks of age.  Besides, she was going off to college in a few months and the last thing she needed was a chaperone to make sure that Portia Isabel Brancato, nicknamed Tia, behaved herself.  So, she kept her face and attitude as neutral as possible, and tried to make it seem like she wasn't looking for James on the estate.  Which ended up being easy when she found out quickly that he was sent out to one of the satellite "offices," a warehouse at the docks to learn that aspect of the work. 

Resigned to not seeing him again for the foreseeable future, Tia came downstairs the one day to be driven to the salon for her usual mani / pedi appointment, only to see James waiting at the bottom of the stairs.  As she came down, he looked up and his smile lit her up inside once more.

"Good morning," he said, cheerily.  "I've been instructed to drive you to the Bronze Goddess salon.  Are you all ready?"

"I am, thank you," she replied politely, reaching the bottom step and looking up at him.  God, how could anyone be so good looking?  "Could we stop at a Starbucks for something?"

"I'm yours to command," he replied, then opened the front door for her, while somehow reaching the armoured Audi sedan first.

After making sure her seatbelt was in place, James closed the door and got behind the steering wheel.  Tia could see the coiled wire of the earpiece reaching down into his suit collar.  He checked in with his supervisor, likely Clint, then smoothly pulled out from the driveway towards the gate to the estate.

"I haven't seen you for a while," said Tia, tentatively.

"No, I've been elsewhere," he replied, pausing at the road and looking both ways before turning left, following the map on his dash display.

Five minutes later he pulled into the line at Starbucks, then looked at Tia in the rearview mirror.

"A white chocolate mocha Frappuccino, please," said Tia, handing him a Starbucks card.  "Get something for yourself while you're waiting for me."

"Thank you, I will," he said. 

He ordered a Caffé Americano, then offered them the card when they handed him the cups.  Turning around he smiled as he gave her the Frappuccino, then the card.  Ten minutes later he pulled up at the salon, then got out to open her door.

"I'm going to park then I'll be inside," he said.  "Your father was very specific that someone be in view of you at all times."

"Is there trouble?" she asked, as it wasn't a usual thing for a salon visit.

"Nothing I can't handle," he said, giving her that lop-sided smile again.  "You let me do the worrying."

He came inside, carrying his coffee, walking in like he belonged, and settled himself on an empty chair near the pedicure station, but in a position where he could see the front door.  He picked up one of the gossip magazines and flipped slowly through it.  Every person who walked into the salon underwent his scrutiny.  Everyone who came close to Tia, received even more attention.  When she was finished, he waited behind her while she paid, then took her gently by the elbow, leading her to where the car was parked, seemingly staying acutely aware of their environment.  On the drive back home, he looked at her several times in the rearview mirror.

"You planning to go to college?" he asked.

"Yeah, I've been accepted to Stanford, UCLA and Arizona State.  I wanted to apply to something in the east, but Dad thought it was safer for me to be further away."

She didn't add the qualifier "from his business interests."  There was kind of an unwritten rule that daughters were off-limits to action from his competitors but being on the other side of the country made that easier to follow.

"Did you go to college?"

He shook his head.  "I joined the army right out of high school.  Did one tour and realized I wasn't cut out for it.  My dad knew your dad from some construction work he did for him and put in a word for me."

The gate opened and James drove up the circular driveway to the front of the house.  Then he opened the door and offered Tia his hand to get out of the back.  At that moment, her father came out and called to her.  She smiled at James, then hurried to her father.  That was the last she saw of him until the next week when she went out to the opera with her father and mother.  Clint and Thor drove them.  After they entered the house, Tia started up the stairs to the bedrooms.  Hearing a sound, she looked up towards the third floor, where the staff bedrooms were and saw James kissing Sharon, her mother's social secretary.  Then Sharon pulled him into her bedroom, and the door closed behind them, the sound of the latch coinciding with the feeling of Tia's heart breaking.  Her mother, Liliana, who had also seen it, patted her daughter on the back.

"He asked for permission to take you out but your father said no, that you were too young," she offered.  "He told James to keep his attention elsewhere.  I'm sorry."

Rule #2 and 3, a double whammy.  With a sigh, Tia went to her bedroom and cried for an hour.  It would be four years before she saw James again.

〰️ 〰️ 〰️

Almost Twenty-Two

Rule #4, If your father arranged your marriage the correct response was "Yes sir, thank you sir, for finding me a good husband," even if the last part wasn't always true.

There were several gatherings at the Brancato estate that May, after Tia graduated from college.  Several different families who were in the same type of business as her father were invited to attend.  More specifically, if the families had an unmarried son, anywhere between the ages of 21 and 40, they were invited.  Gradually, over the month, the list of prospects was whittled down, until her parents hosted a dinner with the final four.  

Tia was officially on the market, being dangled like a carrot in order to accomplish any one of the following objectives:  settle a feud with a rival family, cement a business relationship between two families, provide a son-in-law able to take over the business from her father (because a woman couldn't do the job), satisfy a desire for grandchildren, specifically grandsons, just because that's what was expected of the daughters of a mob boss without a male heir, or a combination of several or all of the above.  What Tia wanted in a husband was supposedly considered but its importance was so far down that she knew the decision was likely already made before the dinner even started.

Did it rankle Tia?  Yes, but she had grown up as the privileged child of a wealthy and influential man.  Now was the time where she had to satisfy the needs of his business empire, more than the needs of her heart.  There was always a possibility that whoever won the "lottery" and satisfied her father's demands prior to approving the engagement would be a decent guy, one that she could grow to respect, if not love with all of her heart.  Her two sisters had done alright.  There was no reason to expect that she would end up with a creep, or someone who took the concept of marriage at its most basic, regarding her as property.  Then she met the final prospects.

Prospect #1 (not arranged in order of preference) – Brock Rumlow, an almost 40 something, twice-divorced, son of a boorish man who ran the docks.  Swarthy in appearance, with atrocious manners, and an almost permanent sneer.  No thank you.  Prospect #2 – John Walker, corrupt lawyer.  Certainly, he was handsome enough, if you liked that blonde, all-American quarterback look.  Smug, arrogant, and totally unaware that he rubbed people the wrong way.  Nope.  Prospect #3 – Loki Laufeyson.  Charming on the surface and although attractive in a European kind of way, Tia wasn't sure that he wasn't bisexual which could mean he wouldn't be demanding on her.  Certainly, he seemed to watch attractive men as much as he watched attractive women.  A supposed financial wizard, she got the feeling that her father would have to settle a significant amount on him to generate an engagement offer.  Prospect #4 – She blinked her eyes twice when she saw James enter with his father, George.  He was a prospective husband?  Yes, he had been at the other gatherings, but she assumed he was there as security.  He was staff and there hadn't been a marriage between a daughter and a staff member since... well, years.  Plus, he had broken her heart when she was 17 by going to bed with Sharon, the social secretary.  She left the job while Tia was in college, her replacement, an older woman who wore sensible shoes.

Dinner was called and Tia's father offered her his arm, escorting her to the table, where she sat to his left, while her mother sat to his right.  The prospects fathers were placed next, two on each side of the table, then their sons furthest away so that Jerome Brancato could observe them from a distance and see how they responded being grouped together.  At the foot of the table was her grandmother, the family matriarch, Maria Brancato.  She would be assessing the prospects up close, engaging them directly.

Right away the fathers, except for George Barnes, talked over each other about their sons, extolling their strengths, although only one of them said anything about how their progeny would be good for Tia.  That was George, when he did speak, who brought up the fact that James had several sisters and had always looked upon himself as their unofficial bodyguard, even though he was younger than them.

"No one even stepped up to the door to take one of my daughters out unless Bucky (he had a nickname?) approved of them first," said George.  "He kept the boys in line and made sure they were respectful of the girls and their mother; God rest her soul."

Tia's mother smiled.  "Winnie was a good woman.  She would be proud of the man James became."

Jerome gave Liliana a look, that saw her smile at her daughter, then keep eating. 

"Well, Brock would have done the same," said his father.  "Anyone who stepped out of line would see the business end of his fist.  He doesn't put up with any opposition from anyone."

That raised her father's eyebrows a little as he rarely used physical force against any of his men, and often welcomed an opposing view if it was presented properly, with respect.  Brock's father just kept rambling on about how no one intimidated his son.  Then John Walker, Sr. cleared his throat and told a story of how his son completed a complex business deal by finding dirt on one of the principals.  After setting up a honey pot situation, he managed to present the man with compromising pictures in order to sway him to their terms. 

"Made his client an extra $10 million."  He chewed with his mouth open.  "That alone was enough for his boss to offer him a partnership in the law firm.  Jumped right over several others who had been there longer.  Johnny will do what is needed to increase profits and productivity."

Her father said nothing, but Tia could tell he didn't like hearing the other man brag about it.  Yes, there were times when he employed similar tactics in dealing with certain people, but he kept his involvement in it to a minimum, as it was tempting fate to have the acts traceable back to him.  That was just asking for trouble and a careful leader kept things looking legal. 

At that moment, Tia noticed her mother looking down at the other end of the table, where her grandmother was.  There was a look between the two women that seemed to be sending an invisible message between them.  She just wished she knew what that look meant.

"Well, Loki has certainly done his share of cooking the books to improve profits and productivity," said Mr. Odinson, his stepfather.  "The magic he can perform on the balance sheet would make your head swim.  Every investigation against him has turned up nothing that can be pinned on him.  Takes a genius to do that."

"Hmmm," was all her father said to that.

"One of these days his luck will run out," she thought, wondering if her father was thinking the same thing.

The rest of the meal progressed in a similar manner until dessert was served.  Then Jerome finished his cake and coffee before he stood up, prompting the fathers then their sons to do the same.

"Gentlemen, let's go for brandy and cigars out by the pool, while my mother, wife and daughter confer," he stated. 

All of them pulled away, then James offered his hand to Tia's grandmother.

"I have enjoyed our talk this evening, Mrs. Brancato," he said, warmly.  "You've given me much to think about."

She smiled at him, then looked at her daughter, knowingly.  George Barnes saw the look then faced Liliana, offering his hand to her.

"My compliments to your cook.  That was a very enjoyable meal."

The three of them were left alone as the men filed out, and the two older women both looked at Tia.

"If it was us choosing, it would be James," said her mother, "but your father has other considerations, and his word is binding.  You will be able to go on a date with each of them in turn then provide your opinion to your father but I'm guessing he already made his mind up."

An hour later the evening was over, and they said good night to everyone.  James left with his father, being assigned to work in the warehouses that week.  He was staying at his parent's house during that time. 

〰️ 〰️ 〰️

The Dates

Rule #5, No sex on the first date.  Once an engagement was announced the couple could go at it but until that moment, any prospective husband of the boss's daughter who presumed to touch her in an intimate manner would deserve what happened to him later.

Two days later Loki Laufeyson arrived to take Tia to dinner.  He pulled up driving a Maserati, wearing an expensive silk suit.  He was polite, solicitous, and the perfect gentleman.  The restaurant was perfect also, a two-star Michelin restaurant, whose portions were so precious that Tia almost asked if they could stop at a drive thru for some burgers.  During the meal an older blond man stopped by the table to say hello, looking at Tia nervously.

"Mobius, this is Tia," said Loki.  "She's ... um ... my date."

"Oh."  The other man smiled slightly.  "Pleasure to meet you."  He looked back at Loki.  "I missed you at the club on Friday night."

"Yes, there was a dinner party at Tia's parent's house.  I was obligated to be there."

Both men looked very uncomfortable, so Tia did something kind to both of them and excused herself to go to the ladies' room.  Loki stood up as she left.  When she looked back, she could see both men speaking in whispers to each other and sighed.  Definitely bisexual with a preference for men.  Scratch Loki, which was too bad because he seemed quite nice.  In fact, later, after she returned to the table, he announced that he would be withdrawing his courtship of her but wished her the best.  They parted with a handshake.

Date #2 happened two days later when John Walker picked her up, driving a Mercedes SUV.  His suit, also silk, didn't look as good on him as Loki's did.  She attributed it to the fact that Walker was not used to working in a jacket.  It always seemed to ride up and crowd his neck.  They went to a restaurant, a steak house type, where he ordered a larger cut for him with all the trimmings and for her, a small cut, with a salad and minimal dressing.

"I'm sure you're always watching your weight," he said, eyeing her body.  "You seem to keep quite trim, and I wouldn't want you to think I don't support that."

As she guessed, he played football in college, at the quarterback position, and proceeded to regale her with his exploits on the field.  He didn't ask one question about her.  When he kissed her goodnight, he attempted to give her tongue, but she successfully pulled away, waggling her finger at him, as if he should know better.  Since a servant was already on the step, he took it with a smile, but she saw a darkness in his eyes that bothered her.

Date #3 was with James.  He picked her up in a 1994 Mustang GT, wearing a sports coat over an open necked blue shirt and jeans.  Somehow, he had told her mother his plans, so Tia also wore jeans and brought a sweater.  They talked as he drove to Coney Island. 

"This is your car?" she asked.

"Yup, restored her myself," he said.  "Found her up on some blocks in an abandoned lot.  No tires, stripped of parts but the body was good, and it kept me out of trouble when I was in high school and after the army.  It was time spent with my dad.  I've been offered good money for her, but I like driving her.  Sorry, to talk about her as if she's real but I know every inch of her."

"I like her, too," smiled Tia.  "Does she have a name?"

"Yes, but I can't tell you."  He blushed.  "It would kind of be inappropriate for our first date."

They drove a bit further then Tia looked at him again.

"Can I ask you something personal?"

"Go ahead, I have no secrets," he answered.

"My mother told me when I was 17 that you asked for permission to take me out, but my father said no."  She looked out her window.  "I saw you a week later kissing Sharon, then going into her bedroom."

He nodded his head, his mouth set in a grim line.  "Yeah.  Your father told me that you were too young and to set my sights lower.  She flirted with me, and we did kiss.  I didn't stay.  She wanted more from me that night than I was prepared to give.  I'm no saint and I have been with several women since then, but nothing serious."  He took a deep breath.  "I always liked you more.  It's why I asked to be considered as a suitor.  This time, your father agreed to let me have a chance."

"Oh." Tia swallowed and took a deep breath, trying to calm the pounding of her heart.  "What are your chances?"

He smiled a little sadly.  "Not as good as the other three," he admitted.  "My father is a construction foreman who did some work for your father, and they got along well, considering each other a friend.  But he's not well off like the other fathers, nor is he in any position of influence.  My only assets are my loyalty to your father, I'm a hard worker and like to think I do the job without letting my emotions get the better of me.  Most of all, I pledged to be faithful to you always and to treat you with kindness and respect.  I have sisters and expected the same from the men they all married."

Tia watched the beams of the streetlights come through the windows alternating between illuminating his face and leaving it in darkness.  His strong facial features had matured in the few years since she went away to college, as had his physique.  There was also a depth to him that the others didn't have.  The fact that he didn't talk much about himself impressed her.  This was a man looking for a serious relationship, not a business deal sealed with the acquisition of a wife. 

The date was fun as they went on the rides, ate hot dogs and drank beer.  He won her a large stuffed giraffe at the shooting gallery, christening it together as Walter.  When they walked back to where the car was parked and deposited Walter in the back seat, James looked at her in the dimly lit area.  Gently, he took one of her hands in his, then raised it to his lips, kissing the knuckles then turning it to kiss her wrist.

"I expect someone to be watching when I drop you off so if you don't mind a kiss here."

He didn't finish what he was saying as Tia raised herself up to kiss him, wrapping her arms around his neck.  He enclosed her in his arms, and she felt the firmness of his body pressed against hers.  His soft lips were perfect, applying just the right amount of pressure against hers, then she opened hers to allow their tongues to mingle.  It was every bit as good as she imagined when she was 17, going on 18.  When they finally pulled apart, he looked at her in a way that no man had ever looked at her before. 

"You don't know how long I've wanted to kiss you," he murmured, his eyes taking in every part of her face.  "You don't remember the first time we saw each other, do you?"

"I thought it was in my dad's office."

He shook his head, smiling.  "My dad built your pool house.  I was 16 and worked as a helper on the site.  You were still a girl, just turned 13 but I thought that you would be beautiful when you grew up a little.  I knew then that I didn't really want to look at anyone else.  Sounds a little creepy but I was willing to wait until we were both ready."

"It's not creepy," said Tia.  "We were both kids.  I'm glad you waited."  She looked down for a moment.  "Are you sure this is the life you want?  I know what my father is and the things that you've likely already done for him."

"I went into a combat zone when I was 18 so I have killed before," he said.  "So far, your dad has kept me out of that part of it.  I think he's looking to scale back that side of his business, be more legitimate.  If it means that you and I can be together, it will be worth it."

"Okay.  One more question.  Your nickname is Bucky?"

He laughed, giving her that lop-sided smile.  "Yeah, it's from my middle name, Buchanan.  That was my mother's surname."  He shrugged.  "James sounds more grownup and mature.  You can call me anything you want."

"Just the best date I've ever had," she smiled back.

They kissed again, then James opened the passenger door for her and drove her back to the estate.  Before they got out, he gave her his cell phone number, entered it as Jane so her father wouldn't know it was his, then told her to call him anytime if she needed help.  In front of the mansion, he was aware they were being watched so he gave Tia a respectful hug, handed Walter to her, then waited as she entered the house, before getting back into his car and driving to his father's house.  Although he hoped it would be enough for her father to choose him, he knew his chances weren't good.

The final date, with Brock Rumlow, was everything that Tia feared.  He showed up in a heavily customized truck that Tia needed a ladder to enter.  Although dressed in a suit he didn't wear a tie until forced to at the restaurant he took her to, after verbally haranguing the maître d’ for the indignity of his money not being good enough for the place.  His table manners were as atrocious as his regular manners, talking while chewing, burping at the table, and referring to his bathroom habits in crude terms.  Excusing herself to the ladies' room, Tia texted James.

Tia: Help! I'm stuck with a Cro-Magnon man who's unbearable.

Jane: Brock?  Yeah, he's a bit full of himself, isn't he?  Do you need rescuing?

Tia: Possibly.  I'll keep you posted.

She returned to the table where Brock was sprawled in his chair.  Tia's plate was gone as was his. 

"Good, you're back," he said.  "I've paid the bill.  Let's go to a club."

"I wasn't finished."  He looked up at her surprised.

"Oh, I assumed you went to the bathroom to uh ... you know, bring it all up.  That's what you chicks do to keep slim, right?  My exes did that all the time."

She would have answered but he stood up and headed for the door, turning around to wait impatiently for her.  With a sigh, she joined him, waiting as he tossed the valet his token.  The truck appeared and he didn't help her in, although the valet did, giving her a sympathetic eye roll.  The club, with a pounding bass that bled out onto the street was full of friends of his, whose method of communication seemed to be either a jut of their chin or a pound hug.  He requested bottle service in the VIP area, then flopped down on the couch, pulling her down with him, and draping his arm over her shoulder.  Sitting there like the king of his own kingdom, Tia had a vision of her life with Brock Rumlow and decided to end the date there.  Of course, he didn't want to and kept trying to keep her sitting on the couch with him.  Finally, she convinced him that she needed to throw up and he let her go.  Exiting out of an emergency door she went to the nearest coffee shop that was open and called James, who told her to stay there and wait for him.  He arrived twenty minutes later, entering the coffee shop with a worried look on his face.  As they hugged, he stroked her hair and vowed that no matter what, Brock Rumlow wouldn't do this to Tia ever again.

At the mansion, when he pulled up, Brock was there, waiting angrily for Tia, as was her father and mother.  He went to open the door for Tia, then growled when he found it locked.  James came out of the driver's side door and placed himself in front of Brock, staring at him in a way that showed he had absolutely no fear of him.

"Move," said the jilted date.

"No, move yourself," replied James.  "She called me to get her out of a bad date and I obliged.  Now, I'm going to finish the job and make sure she gets inside the house safely."

"Are you saying I abused her?"

"I'm saying you wouldn't let her leave until she thought she was going to be sick.  She told me you acted like a pig the entire time."

"She's lying.  The little bitch is lying."

Jerome pulled Brock away at that moment.  "What did you call my daughter?"

Liliana slapped Brock in the face.  "How dare you.  Jerome, if you even consider him suitable for Tia, I'll leave you.  I swear, I will divorce your ass and take everything you own.  It's all in my name anyway."

"No one's divorcing anyone," said Jerome, then he looked at Brock.  "You have 10 seconds to get your ass in your monstrosity of a truck and get the hell off our property.  You tell your father that if he even tries to retaliate it will be war between us.  Now get."

Rule #6, Even a mob boss with only daughters does not take kindly to his daughters being referred to as bitches.  Especially by a twice-divorced asshole like Brock Rumlow.

〰️〰️〰️

The Wedding, six months later

Rule #7, When marrying into the mob, let her family have their way.  It's easier and lulls them into thinking you'll be a pushover. 

This was it.  Her father made the decision and now Tia had to live with it.  She looked at herself in the mirror as her mother fastened the veil to her head.  A knock on the door was opened by her oldest sister, acting as matron of honour.  Her father walked in; his bow tie undone.

"Lil, can you fix this?" he asked.  Then he stopped, seeing Tia's reflection in the mirror.  "All my girls looked so beautiful on their wedding day."

"Men always have trouble with a bow tie," she smiled, turning towards him.  "Come to the window so I have better light."

While her mother did her father's tie, Tia's phone, deep inside the pocket of her wedding dress (that she insisted on having) vibrated and she went to the bathroom to answer it, telling everyone she needed some water.

Jane:  You sure you're going to do this?

Tia:  Yes, it's what my dad wants.  I'm a good mob daughter, you know.

Jane:  Yeah, now you'll be a good mob wife.

Tia:  If you mean pregnant on the wedding night, chances are good.

Jane:  LOL.  I hope you'll be happy.

Tia:  Thanks to you, I know I will be.  You'll be there, right?

Jane:  Wouldn't miss it.  I'll always have your back.

She smiled at that and put the phone away, then poured herself some water.  When she came out, her dad's tie was perfect, and her mother was standing there with the bouquet of flowers.  Grandma Maria beamed at her.  The wedding planner fussed over her while the photographer took some photos of them all, including her six bridesmaids, well matrons as most of them were married.  On the limousine over she thought of all her worries about the man her father would finally approve of.  It was easier after Loki willingly took himself out of contention, then Brock showed himself to be a total asshole in front of her parents.  She could live with the man who was chosen and make it work.

At the church, there were all sorts of photographers, some of them likely FBI plants as her father was still a person of interest, as were many of the guests.  But he did promise Tia that he intended to bow out of that type of work and build up the legitimate areas, without even using laundered money.  After all, he wanted his youngest daughter to be happy. 

The walk up the steps of the church was interrupted by calls of the photographers to pose but she only slowed down, anxious to get this part of her life over with and begin her life as a wife, then mother.  At the top of the stone steps, she looked back towards the street and saw James' Mustang, smiling that it was there.  She stepped inside and the wedding planner took over, positioning the flower girls (a niece from each side), then the bridesmaids / matrons, a combination of one girlfriend, her sisters and his sisters, sending them down the aisle.  One of her brothers-in-law escorted her mother to her pew.  She had wanted them both to walk her down the aisle, but her father put his foot down; traditionally only the father could give the bride away.  Then everyone stood up and she knew her moment had come. 

Her groom came out from the vestry, but she couldn't see him over the number of people who blocked her view.  Then Tia took her father's arm and began the walk towards the altar.  It wasn't until she was three quarters of the way down that she finally saw James, in his black tuxedo, white shirt, and black tie, with a boutonnière in his lapel.  He gazed at her with glassy eyes, then offered his hand to her when she was close.  Her father kissed her cheek, then kissed James' before lightly slapping him on the cheek to get his attention.

"You do right by her," he murmured.

"Yes sir, that's my plan."

Finally, it was just them, in front of the priest, and he began the service asking if there was anyone who objected to this couple marrying.  You could have heard a pin drop in the silence, then he smiled at them and began the service.

Rule #8, No excessive tongue in a Catholic wedding ceremony.  It's not classy and even though the people in the church for a mob wedding might be considered criminals they aren't animals.

The kiss before they walked down the aisle as husband and wife was just as good as the kiss at Coney Island.  They could both hear the sighs of delight from the women who were present thrilled at the absolutely perfect husband that Tia Brancato, now Tia Barnes had.  When they exited the church, having rice thrown at them, because that was traditional, James opened the front door of his 1994 Mustang GT and tucked Tia's dress into the front seat around her legs.  Then he went around to the driver's side, got in, and started it up, revving it a few times before he peeled away, with the sounds of tin cans rattling behind him.  On the back window the Just Married that was drawn on with washable paint soon faded away from view.  The limousine driver opened the door for the parents and the bridal party.  They would meet James and Tia at Prospect Park for the photos. 

In the Mustang, Tia looked at her handsome husband, James.

"You came," she said.  "You brought Portia."  She gestured to the car.

"I promised," he replied.  "Said I would always have your back."  He drove for another minute.  "Did you mean it, about getting pregnant?"

"I'm off the pill and I might be ovulating," she said.  "If it happens, it happens.  I'll be happy either way."

"Are you okay that we're waiting until tonight?" 

He glanced at her.  It was something he suggested once her father announced that James could propose to Tia.

"If it's anything like our first kiss I won't be disappointed."  She placed her hand on his.  "Besides, there's always Rules #9 and 10."  He laughed, having been briefed on the other rules already, especially the ones that were her rules.  "Rule #9, No matter what, we'll make it work."

"And Rule #10?"

"Whatever will be will be.  You knew when you first saw me when I was a kid that you liked me.  I knew when I first saw you in my dad's office that I wanted you.  It was meant to be."

"I love the Rules."  He raised her hand to his lips and kissed the knuckle.  "I love you."

That evening, their first dance was to Que Sera Sera, otherwise known as Whatever Will Be, Will Be.  It always was Tia's favourite rule.

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One Shots Masterlist

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #buckybarnes original female character #bucky barnes au #james buchanan barnes au #bucky barnes oneshot #mobster #mob daughter

[anameistoohard]

If you had asked me even just a year ago, I'd of never said this... but I kinda like, really want a collar

Ember and I found a website where you can design custom ones. We were messing around with the settings for a while, but it wasn't quite what we were imagining. Looking at their gallery, you can make things a lot more customized than the settings allow, so we edited the picture in Paint and...

Like??? That looks so good?? I want that. Even if it's not that exact design, I still think a collar would look good on us.

But I know others in the system would be worried about drawing too much attention to ourself. We still almost exclusively wear plain clothes and no jewelry. They need baby steps and a collar isn't that. I can't really justify spending ~$50 on something we'd only wear in our room for the foreseeable future.

Anyway, the real reason I'm making this post. I've noticed we've been opening up about our desires a lot more.

We were very reserved and passive for most of our life. Constantly feeling like we weren't allowed to want or need anything. Doing as much as possible to appear as small and unnoticeable as possible.

Some of that was from masking, some of it from dysphoria, and some of it was thanks to abuse.

I think now though, we're a part of a community that fosters exploration. We have friends that we know wont judge us. Heck, they're far more likely to encourage us. We feel comfortable and safe being ourself.

And I just... think it's really fucking cool to see so many forms of self expression that are being normalized. None of this is particularly ground braking, but it's new for us. It's weird feeling accepted.

This whole post from wanting a piece of jewelry. But when you grow up with any deviation from the norm getting heavily scrutinized and stigmatized, every act of self expression feels like it's putting a target on your back.

So I guess this is a thank you. Thank you all for starting to slowly get us out of our shell. And thank you for being awesome :)

We'll get there someday

-Konnor (he/him)

#let me know if I need to tag this with anything #I'm not usually the one who tags stuff

[awkward-tension-art]

Darkness on Umbara Epilogue (Rex x Reader)

Chapter 13.

Epilogue

cw: Rex x Reader, Reader is a medic, incorrect military procedure, crying, trauma, mentions of killing characters, Spoilers for the Umbara Arc, Pong Krell is an asshole, Anakin Skywalker's rage, reader insert, Grief, betrayal, REX CRYING, reader is gender neutral, no use of (Y/N), if i miss a tag L

In the end, Umbara belonged to the Republic.

General Kenobi's battalion routed the last holdouts of Umbarans. Which allowed the remaining 501st to also secure several sectors.

A pyrrhic victory. One filled with death, betrayal and agony. 

Gunships had arrived to pick up the 212th who joined you in the hunt for Krell. You watched Dogma get on one of those ships, intending to leave the 501st and become a Coruscant guard. 

It suits him, you think.

You were standing next to Rex, watching a 501st ARF trooper help one of the injured 212th stand. Jesse, Tup and Fives were also with you.

“What's the point in all of this?” The clone captain shook his head, “I mean…why?” 

“I don’t know, Sir.” Fives responded, looking down, “I don’t think anybody knows. But, I do know that someday this war is going to end.” He turned his head up to try and meet the captain's eye.

“Then what?” Rex turned to face him, “We’re soldiers. What happens to us then?”

I don’t know. But I’ll be with you when you reach that point. 

Silently, you grabbed Rex’s hand. You hadn’t been able to look at him since killing Krell. You hadn't entirely come to terms with the fact that you ended the General's life.

Another gunship landed and the doors opened. General Skywalker stepped off, looking around furiously. Once he saw Rex, he rushed towards your group, “Captain Rex! Obi-wan sent a transmission that something happened. Krell ordered you to fire on another battalion!?”

You weren’t force sensitive, but the air around Anakin was buzzing with worry and panic. He cared deeply for his men. 

“General,” Rex saluted in greeting, “There’s…a lot you need to know.” He motioned for Anakin to follow to the airbase center.

The Jedi knew something was wrong, judging by his stare. Rex was too tense. too stiff.

You went with him to the tower to answer questions about Krell. It was only right, as you were the one who killed the Jedi. It made sense a Jedi would pass judgment. 

Your lover had only gotten about halfway through his report when you all made it to the top. When Rex explained Krell’s attempted execution of Jesse and Fives, you noticed a growing crack in one of the windows. 

As you and the captain retold events, that crack grew until there was a web of instability through the glass. When the report reached the point of firing on the 212th, the window shattered, sending glass to the ground below.

Anakin’s anger was so thick you could taste it.

His blue eyes were bright with rage and sadness, “You…I should…” He paced, “I should have been here! I should have stopped him!” 

“General…” Your words were quiet. quieter than intended, “No one saw this coming…”

“The council should have!” Anakin shouted, “The council should have known! I should have known! Instead we were so focused on victory…” He stepped back, eyes wide, “How many…How many did he kill with his fucking plans?”

In the light, you swear you could make out unshed tears. 

You cleared your throat deciding to be honest with him, “A little over a third of the 501st is dead.”

“That can’t be!”

 “Kix and I have confirmed the number three times, General.” Your voice was steady, surprisingly since you were so close to breaking down, “A little over one third.” 

Because you failed to save them.

Anakin stumbled back, raising a hand to his face, “Krell…”

“Is dead, General.” Rex answered him, stepping forward, “He was executed after being arrested. His body is in the brig.”

“By who?” 

“Me, General.” You responded, taking the Jedi off guard, “If you see it fit that I’m punished for killing a Jedi-”

“No.” General Skywalker straightened, “No. No one is going to be punished for what happened here,” His voice was trembling. The glass of another window crackled. This time, it was undeniable, there were tears in his eyes.

He cares so much for his men…

The breath the General took was shaky at best, “Rex…I…I want the men to rest. Properly. Once we’re back on Coruscant, the 501st is going on leave, so everyone can recover,” He cleared his throat, trying to get his emotions under control, “I will need to speak with the council, but I swear, I will never leave you all in the hands of a madman ever again.”

Anakin put both his hands on Rex’s shoulders, taking the clone off guard. 

“I promise Rex. This will never happen again. Not while I’m alive.”

Your lover nodded, “I know General. The men appreciate your leadership. No one faults you for what happened.” 

“I still should have been here.” He responded, “Both of you, get some rest. I need to send a message to Obi-wan.”

Wordlessly, the both of you stepped out of the room to the lift. However, before you lowered to the ground, you heard Anakin through the heavy metal doors. 

“How could the council let this happen, Obi-wan!?”

Your lover was staring ahead, brown eyes haunted as the lift lowered to the ground floor. You notice that something in him shifted. As if a switch was just turned off. 

Umbara changed him. It changed you. Most likely changed the 501st too. 

Once outside, Fives and Jesse were waiting, “How’d the General take it?” The ARC trooper asked. 

“Did you see the second broken window?” You snarked bitterly. 

There was no response from your lover. No comment to tell you to hush. You looked over to him, worry washing over you.

Rex looked…empty all of a sudden. His steps seemed unsteady. His expression was blank.

Anakin’s arrival has brought a sense of safety. Everyone knew that the General would fight and defend the clones in his legion. Even die for them, if the situation called for it. With Skywalker here, the 501st captain didn’t need to fight so much. Everyone could finally breathe. Rex included.

Adrenaline crash. He needs rest.

“The General has commanded everyone to rest and recover from…everything that's happened.” You informed the two troopers in front of you, “He’ll speak with the Council, figure out what to do…When we’re able, we’ll be leaving for Coruscant to go on leave.” 

Jesse nodded before perking up, “Captain Rex..?”

“I got him.” You held his arm, beginning to lead him to the barracks, “Get some rest, guys. I got the captain.”

Rex was silent on your small journey to his quarters. He maintained his blank expression, looking calm to an outsider. Those who didn’t know him would think he was handling the situation well. 

But you knew him. He was finally collapsing. 

He’s been awake since landing on Umbara. While everyone else could rest, eat and sleep, he had been working. The captain, as determined and hardworking as he was, was still a human with limits. He was coming out of a several rotation long fight-or-flight episode, and his internal systems were most likely shot. 

Not to mention shock. From death. The betrayal. The trauma. 

Luckily, no one paid you two any mind as your steps lead you to the barracks. Quickly and silently, you opened the door and led Rex inside his small private room. Hopefully with some actual sleep he would come back to himself. 

You’d have to shift your services, you realized. Your focus would need to be on the mental well being of the soldiers. You do have training in psychological health, but you’d have to catch up on the latest research, speak with colleagues, maybe shadow a therapist or two…

That was for the future. Right now, your priority was the clone in front of you. 

“Rex…” You whispered his name, raising your hands to hold his face, “You’ve done everything you can to take care of your brothers. Now let me take care of you.” 

Recognition was in his eyes. He nodded, turning his face to kiss your palm, “I am yours, cyare.” he mumbled lowly. 

The captain would rarely allow himself to be vulnerable. He would always be strong and reliable, never let himself seem weak. Rex was someone who would break rather than bend.

Unless it came to you. 

He gave you his heart. He trusted you with even the darkest most vulnerable parts of his mind and soul. 

You refused to break him.

You took his helmet from his hands and gently placed it on the desk before you began to remove his armor. You started with his arms and chest, slipping the painted and scratched plastoid off his body with ease. 

It didn’t take long for you to have him in his blacks. You looked up at his face meeting his beautiful brown eyes. 

Glossy with tears.

“Oh Rex’ika…” you held his face again, using your thumbs to wipe his tears, “It's over now…”

“My brothers…” He whispered, “So many of my brothers…” His shaky hands were placed over yours. 

“I know…” you responded, pulling him to kiss his forehead, “I know, Rex’ika…” Your arms wrapped around him tightly. You stepped backwards, knees hitting the bed, getting him on the stiff mattress. 

He pulled you into a tight hug, burying his face in your shoulder. You felt the warm wetness of his tears he refused to show anyone else.

You held him, as tightly and as protectively as you could, letting him weep. 

“I got you, love.” you whispered, rocking ever so slightly to calm him, “I got you, Rex.” 

The darkness on Umbara had changed him.  But he wasn’t alone. You’d make sure of that.

#reader insert #tcw x reader #captain rex #captain rex x reader #captain rex x you #darkness on umbara #anakin skywalker #arc trooper fives #clone trooper jesse #tcw x you #tcw rex #star wars the clone wars #star wars x reader #the clone wars x reader #the clone wars

[blazethecheeto]

hi so i watched the supergirl finale. and like. what the fuck guys.

that might have been the biggest queer analogy i've ever seen without it being explicitly stated. the whole talk where kara compares how she feels like she's been trapped, how she's been hiding and never living her authentic truth to alex feeling free and joyful with her wife.

the life she wants to have. the metaphors of her not feeling ready to come out. the constant parallels to alex's journey and her wedding vows resonating with kara so deeply. CAT SAYING "most of all, i hope you choose to become your full self."

TEARS. CRYING. LIKE HAPPY PRIDE MONTH??? I GUESS???

and then, AND THEN- out of every single person, lena luthor is the one she has her last conversation with. she is the one to support her, to believe in her, like she always has. lena comparing how both of them were always being told who they were supposed to be, the roles society set up for them, and how they both defied it by becoming friends.

no, because don't get me started with how lillian said in the very beginning of the episode to lena: "live your life the way you want to live it." the insane queer metaphors and parallels with her magic being programmed out of her as a kid because 'it wasn't how the luthor family was supposed to be".

lena turning to kara in that conversation, saying she's finally living her own life and it feels amazing, inviting kara to join her and go through and take on that journey together. kara wondering how it would feel like to connect with someone as her full self NOT KNOWING THAT PERSON IS RIGHT IN FRONT OF HER? lena just responding "i think it'd be empowering" WISTFULLY? i can't do this guys i sobbed.

like TF DO YOU MEAN "i didn't get to grow up to be the person i was supposed to be, and i think it's the same for you" and "i give people speeches on how to live their best lives, but i'm too afraid to live my own".

also, ain't no way they killed off william AND made mon-el come back JUST to confirm that ship was never becoming canon. the writers really said yeah, both of them will be the only people at the wedding with absolutely no other love interests except each other!!

finally, on a less serious note, in that last cat + kara conversation, the way she said-

"i just feel..."

"bi...furcated?"

and i was like LMAO WAS CAT JUST GONNA SAY "KARA, YOU'RE BI GIRLIE."

tl;dr: that was an insane show to go through, i can only imagine how the fans reacted, but man. queerbaiting's really something isn't it. i'm gonna cry and read more supercorp fanfiction.

#oh and the whole kara vs supergirl thing theyve had this overarching story with the whole show #and how kara feels like she doesn't deserve to be human and be KARA bc the whole world's on her shoulders #and lena being the one to tell her she loves kara danvers not supergirl again and again like she's the only one (beside alex) #to see her as her true self and love her for all that she is #like “supergirl may have saved me but kara danvers you are my hero” #like r u kidftin me youve got to be joe king youre lichterally joe king #i was waiting for a she ra level ending where kara is asked what she wants not what the world wants and she chooses lena #guys please i need a catradora level fix it fic #supergirl #fandom rant #supercorp #lena luthor #kara danvers #my ships #mine #lena x kara #kara zor el #supergirl finale #supercorp canon #supercorp rant

[avewhore]

Ok I know ppl talk abt free use with a small group of people but like… completely public free use.

I wake up leashed to a platform in the middle of town, completely naked. Anyone walking by can see my tits and ass as I sit on all fours.

I can’t stand up or even get up on my knees because the leash is too short, so I can’t cover myself at all. If I did try to cover up, I’d be forced to shove my face into the ground and have my ass all the way up since my hands wouldn’t be under me. That’s objectively worse, so I sit there, being gawked at, laughed at, and shamed by passerbys.

Eventually, people realize that with nothing stopping them, they can get up on the platform with me. The first is a guy in my AP Pre-Calc class, who I always thought of as polite. He usually didn’t say much, but when he did, he was well spoken and intelligent. Now, he’s sticking two fingers in my cunt.

“Holy shit, are you wet? You fuckin’ freak,” he laughs at me, continuing to thrust his fingers in and out of me. He’s behind me, so I have no idea what he’s doing, striking fear into my gut.

By the time he’s ramming his cock into me, it’s already far too late for me to protest. Tears fill my eyes. I was saving myself for marriage. That’s what I always said. I was saving myself for the man I would spend the rest of my life with, not… this.

“Get off of me! Please, stop, I’m sorry!” I try to shout at him, turning my head back to look. My jaw is quickly yanked back forwards by my neighbor from down the road. He grins at me, spitting on my face before tugging out his cock and giving it a few strokes.

“Quit yelling and suck.”

I stare at him in horror. I couldn’t. I went to school with his kids. I babysat for their youngest. I helped his wife run errands. I went to prom with his son.

“Please- Ow! Don’t make-“ is all I can get out before he shoves his dick into my mouth. He lets out a groan that, to my own shame, makes my cunt leak onto the cock of the guy behind me. He smacks my ass and fucks into me harder, spurred on my the idea of spit roasting me.

“You have an awful lot of attitude for being a whore that got up on stage to be fucked by everyone in your town, y’know” my neighbor comments, thrusting in and out of my mouth. I try to shake my head, but all that does is make him grab my hair and face fuck me.

I’m trapped; if I try to pull off of my classmate’s cock, I gag on my neighbor’s, and if I try to stop sucking my neighbor’s cock, my classmate’s practically touches my cervix. They fuck me back and forth, one goes in and one goes out, until my neighbor is rutting against my face and spilling down the back of my throat. I cough and spit out as much of the salty, bitter liquid as I can, only to have my face shoved into the ground by his boots.

“Don’t try to waste my cum, you whore. Lick it up.”

Fearing what he’ll do if I disobey, I listen to him and lick up his sperm, swallowing it all despite my nausea. I look up at him, waiting for him to move, and he smiles at me.

“What a good girl you are. Are you done being bratty now? Are you ready to be a good slut?”

“Stop- Oh, fuck!” I moan partially through my protest, immediately trying to cover my face. Without the cock in my mouth distracting me, I’ve realized that my classmate’s fucking is so much better than my fingers ever were. I rock back, trying to get filled up as much as possible.

“What were you saying?” my neighbor asks, his boot still on my head.”

“I’m ready to be a good slut,” I mutter, hardly able to think about anything other than the growing pleasure in my gut.

“Perfect. Now you can move on to the next cock.”

#free use slvt #r4p3b4it #attention wh0r3 #cnc fr33use #degrade and humiliate me #degrading k1nk #dumb slvt #dumb wh0re #cnc free use #fr33use #humiliation kink #exhibition kink

[illubean]

Omg the zoldyck!reader hcs were so cute!! If there aren't too many requests rn can you do something where reader went to the hunter exam to keep illumi from fucking w/ Killua too much? i.e reader knows pin guy is illumi but won't tell Killua because they don't wanna get murked and is also secretly communicating w/ illumi.

Killua's Defense

Characters: Killua Zoldyck, Illumi Zoldyck Type: Oneshot, Gn!reader, Zoldyck!reader

HAHA SORRY THIS ONE TOOK SO LONG IT TOOK A LOT OF THOUGHT

Warnings: Illumi being a poopie head

Being a descendant of a well known family of assassins meant a lot of things. It meant you were destined to continue the family business, get payed by random people without questioning their motifs but also a lot of times it required you to travel. Your family got requests and offers from all over, meaning easy access to round trips is very beneficial.

Which is why you along with your twin brother decided to take the exam. He was much more serious about the whole assassin thing than you though. To him, the family and his job was what made up his entire life and in his mind there was no room for anything else. You, however, thought there was more to life and fully supported the idea of having hobbies and making friends.

Since he was so serious, Illumi decided to alter his appearance for the duration of the exam. You honestly didn't see much of a point in this, especially considering there were very few if not zero people who knew the faces and identities of the Zoldyck family. But whatever, it's his life.

Illumi's little disguised proved somewhat useful though, because your baby brother Killua happened to be there. You loved all your siblings dearly, but Killua always had a closer bond with you than anyone else. You were the only one who ever bothered playing with him while he was growing up, which naturally caused him to favor you over the rest of the family. You couldn't have been more proud of him when you found out he had run away from home. You fully supported him in taking control of his own life, hoping he'll end up finding something that really would make him happy.

Eventually, you parted ways with Illumi because his weird clown friend showed up. You kept in contact with him via cellphone, but knew you probably wouldn't use it very often.

When Killua first spotted you, he had no idea how to feel. You were his favorite sibling and he trusted that you wouldn't force him to do anything, but he still had his suspicions.

"What are you doing here? You're not here to take me back are you!?"

"No, Killua, I'm not. I just need a hunter license for a job."

He let out a sigh of relief before looking around and asking you another question.

"Illumi isn't here, is he?"

You felt bad for lying to him but at the same time it was probably best for him not to know. If he did, he would just be under unnecessary stress and it would cause an argument between you and your twin that you rather not have.

The next time you met up with Illumi was on Zevil Island. The two of you had allready collected the badges you needed and he was talking to freaky clown dude. You payed him no mind because you rather not interact with that guy.

"I take it you've seen Killua around," you stated.

"Yes, I have. And I intend to bring him back home after the exam is over."

"Stop meddling in his life Illumi. He's old enough to think for himself and if he decides he doesn't want to be at home then-"

"That's not how father raised us, Y/n. It is our job to serve our family and carry on it's legacy," he says, cutting you off while beginning to dig.

"I'm going to sleep until the deadline," he then turns to his friend. "Best of luck."

And with that, he buried himself underground. You huffed in annoyance and clenched your fist before yelling at the pile of dirt before you.

"Dad didn't raise us to be control freak manipulators either!! You- you...you gopher!!"

Your brother's jester friend chuckled at you, causing you to shoot him a glare before storming off.

As the final phase of the exam rolled around, things weren't looking too good. Killua's next opponent just had to be Illumi. didn't it? You watched with an unsettling feeling at the bottom of your stomach. Your poor baby brother stood there trembling as Illumi spoke.

"You're not cut out to be a hunter. You were born for one purpose; to be an assassin."

At this you took a step foreword.

"That's enough Illumi. Mom only wanted you to check on him, this is too far."

He ignored you as he continued his speech.

"You're a puppet of darkness, devoid of passion. There is nothing you desire, nor is there anything you wish for. As one who lives in the shadows the only pleasure you're capable of is derived from causing death. Because that's how dad and I raised you."

You grit your teeth at this before taking another step towards the ring, getting stopped by a man and reminded of the rules. If you stepped on to the ring you would be disqualified.

Before you could start screaming your head off at your deranged twin, Killua began to stand up for himself. You couldn't be prouder of him for finding out what he wanted from life.

Then Illumi starts to tear Killua down again. Some tall guy with glasses begins to yell words of encouragement at Killua. After Illumi's threat to kill Gon, you stood protectively in front of the door along with 3 of the other contestants.

"Oh what a pain. I need to acquire a hunters license right now so I can do my job. But if I kill them, I'll fail, and Kil will pass automatically. Oh no, the same thing will happen if I kill gon! Hm.....wait! I'll pass the exam then kill Gon!"

"You know you could've kept that monologue to yourself, right?" You sassed. "Even if you do pass and go after Gon, I won't let you."

"Poor, little Y/n. You've always been so soft. Your emotions is what makes you weak."

"Shut up! You're supposed to have our family's best interest in mind, right? Then let Killua go out and make friends! It's his job to decide what he wants."

The black haired man simply chooses to ignore you and continues to threaten Gon's life. And to antagonize Killua. Everything you and glasses guy were yelling from the sidelines went in one ear and out through the other as Killua gave in to the pressure of Illumi's aura and forfeit the match.

"Haha, I lied Kil. I was never going to kill Gon. That was only a test to see what your made of, and now I know for certain. You are simply not qualified to make friends. Not that you need any."

As both of them left the ring you could tell something was off with your younger brother. You glared at Illumi, your face saying 'I'll deal with you later' but he payed no mind. Right when the next match was about to begin, Killua walked up and killed the old man without uttering a single word and left the facility.

He was now disqualified.

Imagine your surprise when you saw Gon march in and demand that Illumi apologize to Killua. And how you were even more surprised that he not only managed to flip a grown man, but also break his arm.

As you watched the little green boy confront your brother and listened to the blonde one along with the glasses guy try to reason with Netero, you were happy he was able to find such good friends. Gon was a good kid with pure intentions, and the other two were willing to publicly defend him.

After the whole orientation thing, Gon and Co. approached Illumi to ask about where Killua might be as you stood off to the side. As they left you followed them, waiting until Illumi was out of earshot to call for Gon's attention.

"Huh?"

"If you want to get to Kukuroo mountain there's a tour bus that takes you to the outside of our property. You'll need to pass through our testing gates to reach the estate or else our 900 pound guard dog will kill you."

"Oh, thanks a lot! But why are you helping us?"

"Because Killua could really use friends like you guys. You're a good kid and I trust that you'll make him happy. I would lead you there myself but I have my other brother to deal with, good luck."

You stormed back towards Illumi and slapped him in the back of the head. He let it happen of course, considering he could hear your angry footsteps from a mile away. No matter how angry you were at him, there wasn't much you could do. Fighting him would be useless, considering you're both at about the same strength and skill level and verbally berating him doesn't have any affect. But you chose to do the 2nd one anyways.

"What the hell is wrong with you? You know, this is why you're Killua's least favorite. All you do is try to boss him around and control his life. Seriously, do you have anything better to do?"

"Kil is the next in line to be the head of our family, I'm just making sure that he will be able to do so without any distractions."

"Newsflash Illumi: he's 12. You're 24. If anything, you should be next so why don't you go find a wife or something. And how come you're allowed to have your fruity party clown friend but Killua can't have any? Seriously, I much prefer the boy over that creep."

Illumi stopped walking and turned towards you.

"Hisoka is an acquaintance. Not a friend."

"Yeah, yeah whatever. Defend your jester boyfriend," you say, rolling your eyes. You stepped closer to the man before you and looked him in the eyes as you spoke once more.

"Let Killua have this. If you decide to go after him, trust me you will be dealt with."

#hxh 2011 #hxh x reader #hunter x hunter #hxh #illumi zoldyck #hxh illumi #hunter x 2011 #hunter x hunter fanart #hxh killua #hxh fanfic #killua x reader #killua zoldyck #killua hunter x hunter #killua x y/n #killua x you #killua #killua hxh #illumi #illumi x reader #illumi hxh