#its the eyes and its the pose it gets me so fucking badly

[jikagu]

FERRIS WHEEL

pairing: bachira x fem!reader

summary: you guys went to the local festival/fair with your guys' best friends. who knew that this festival would get you fucked against tinted glass?

notes: uhh semi-public? oral (m), oral (f), choking, picture taking, unprotected sex, praise and degradation, fingering etc, mature audiences only.

SHORT DRABBLE

"i wanna go on that ride!" bachira points at the biggest ride that there is, everyone shaking their head quickly.

"no." chigiri frowns, hitting bachira on the head.

"well, then what can we do?" the short male pouts, looking at you.

"um, i don't know, ask isagi, maybe he has an idea?" both you and bachira turn to him as he hums.

"hm, what about the ferris wheel?" he proposes with a shrug. to be honest, you guys did everything at this festival already except for the ferris wheel.

"sure, i'm game." bachira said, coming behind you with a hug.

you guys agreed that isagi and chigiri will go in one, and you and bachira will go in the other. there wasn't really a line that you'd expect from a huge festival and it really only took you all 20 minutes to get in.

"i've never been on a ferris wheel before." bachira said, looking out of the tinted windows. "i can barely see anything." he squinted his eyes.

"pretty big box." his kept talking, i guess this was his way of starting conversation.

"hm, now that you mentioned it, the windows are pretty tinted." you looked around, not really able to look out. i mean, it was dark but you'd expect to be able to see the lights from all the rides.

he sat with you instead of the opposite, laying his head on your thighs. it was kind of an awkward position for him but you thought it was fine.

once the wheel started moving, bachira sat back up straight, looking out of the window. that's when you noticed bachira's hand snaking up to your inner thigh. maybe wearing a skirt was a good idea after all...

"bachira.." you grinned, alerting his attention and as he looks back at you.

"huh? what's goin' on?" he smiles innocently, retracting his arm. as you were about to speak, the ferris wheel jolted and stopped in its place. both you and bachira tried to see what was going on, but—that attempt was more than futile.

you got a quick message on your phone from isagi saying, "ferris wheel dwn, they said like 25/30 min wait lol"

"damn." bachira frowns, acting sad. you knew it was just a facade and he had ulterior motives, but since it was down, why not have some fun with this? you grabbed bachira's hand and put it back on your thigh.

you were obviously embarrassed by this as you looked away and your face was flushed brightly. you were almost certain bachira was going to say something snarky.

"huh, you want me that badly?" he teased, his hand trailing dangerously close to your wet bundle of nerves.

"y—eah." you choked out, involuntarily spreading your legs a bit more.

"hold on baby, back against the wall." he said, moving you so you were facing towards him, legs spread on top of the seat.

"oh fuck, i—fuck." he stuttered, covering his mouth. his eyes widened looking at you.

"can i—take a picture?" he asked, eyeing your wet, dowsed panties. the pose you were in was very provocative with a bitten lip.

you nodded slowly as you heard the shutter and as he eyed the picture he took.

"you're so sexy baby, and i have you all to myself." he looked at you, and then the picture.

"you have the picture forever, but—this is a now moment. please—just hurry up and fuck me." you whined, begging.

"just wait baby, i'll get there." he grinned, it was almost like his eyes had changed to something more of lust.

he took off your panties with a low groan, looking up to you to see what you want. you quickly nodded, almost as if telling him to hurry up.

"my baby just so hungry for my fingers, aren't you?" he looked at you, opening your mouth with his thumb, putting his ring and middle finger in your mouth.

"show me what you can do." he commanded as you immediately covered his fingers with your saliva, sucking on them like you were his personal slut, only existing for his approval and validation. you moaned through his fingers, looking up at him.

"fuck, i need another picture—you look so good sucking my fingers like that like a needy little whore." he bit his lip, taking another picture.

he eventually took his fingers out of your mouth, plunging them into your pussy.

"mmh, even with my fingers you're still so tight." a groan escaped his mouth, curving his fingers inside of you making you turn your neck to the side.

"oh—baby—right there." you whined, bucking your hips and arching your back.

"fuck, fuck!" you moaned, his fingers hitting deeper. god, you forgot how long his fingers were. "so good!" you cried, gripping onto bachira's shoulders as he fingered you.

he kept curling his fingers, plunging them in and out. he knew what he was doing and it felt so good.

"good job baby, little bit more." he said, continuing for a solid minute before you came on his fingers.

"fuck! so good," you mumbled, eyeing him and his buldge.

"m' wanna make you feel good too." you panted, still recovering from your high. your chest heaved in and out as you got on your knees, you and bachira basically swapping places.

you pulled down his shorts and boxers to reveal his cock, your hand holding it in place.

"i'll make you feel good.." you sigh out before taking his cock in your mouth, toying with the tip.

"fuck baby, come on—stop teasing me." he growled, moving his hand on your head, pushing it down slightly. he didn't want to hurt you, but god damn were you such a brat sometimes.

"good job—keep going.." he encouraged, taking his cock whole now. your saliva dripped out of your mouth as you kept sucking, dedicated to make him feel good.

the way his whines escaped his lips made you almost euphoric. "mmh," you moaned, the vibrations effecting bachira, almost immediately making him cum.

you lapped up everything that came out with a smile as it dribbled out of your mouth.

"god—photogenic aren't we?" click, another picture. "god, i want to fuck you so bad." he eyed you like a predator does prey, pushing you back to the wall once again.

"yeah? then fuck me." you said, using your hand to spread your pussy open just for him, a sight for sore eyes truly.

click

he let out a guttural growl before hovering over you and pushing his cock inside of you. you let out a loud moan before bachira fucked you senseless. your eyes rolled to the back of your head, biting your lip tightly.

"fuck! h—arder!" you whine, still bucking your hips. he was going so fast on you, manhandling you. the grip he had on your thighs as he held them above your head made it to where he could hit spots you could never do alone.

you guys kept going like rabbits in heat, literally making the cart shake until bachira's cock starting twitching inside of you, a grunt coming out of his mouth.

"cu—mming!" you and him both cried in unison before bachira filled you with his cum, never feeling empty even when he pulled out.

"um, so, how do we clean this?" he panted, looking at you and your sex-drunk lewd face.

"mmh, napkins—skirt pocket," you close d your eyes, getting your breath back. as soon as you guys finished, the ferris wheel fixed itself. what perfect timing.

—

"hey guys, how'd you enjoy the ride?" isagi snickered. he more so insinuated the stop in the ferris wheel but you two turned into a stuttering mess.

#bachira #bachira x reader #blue lock smut #bachira x reader smut #bllk smut #bllk x reader #bllk bachira #bllk headcanons #oh my god please raw dog me bachira #wrap it before you tap it

[hyperactively-me]

NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO PLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASE LISTEN TO ME PLEASE

141 Task Force + Ale and Kö with a ballerina civilian wife. THEN!!! (NO PLEASE THIS IS SO CUTE LISTEN) They came back from a mission without warning and they go to a presentation bcse they never actually saw one AND!!!! Their wife almost pass out in the middle of the stage by seeing them there (they look at her all in love and proud UGHHH).

THIS IS HELLA CUTE BYE-

BESTIE I'M LISTENING. LOUD AND CLEAR. this is so cute omg!!! also, i've never written for anyone other than ghost, and i don't have the confidence to write for anyone other than simon, so please don't be upset but i will be writing this only for ghost. (although, i genuinely want to get some practice in writing for all the other COD men, which i am trying to somewhat do through my king!ghost au, i just don't wanna fuck up their characters too badly haha. if at any point i decide to write for the others, i will totally come back to this prompt!). also, i wanted to make this more into a oneshot rather than blurb/headcanons soooo! yeah!

As the soft notes of The Sleeping Beauty Suite filled the dimly lit theater, you stood backstage, your heart racing. You sat on a spare box, fastening your pointe shoes on securely. The spotlight beckoned, the hushed whispers of the audience creating a palpable tension in the stiff air. The curtains were about to rise, and you were the prima ballerina. As you finished fastening your pointe shoes, you stood, brushing out your tutu. The weight of anticipation bore down on you, but you stood tall, chin up, back straight. You had practiced this routine a hundred times. It was just another night, another ballet. Nothing you weren’t used to. 

Except it wasn’t. 

You didn’t know your husband had just slipped in through the doors. He was still in his uniform, except for his mask and tactical gear. He never wore the mask around you. 

You had no idea that tonight would be different. All you knew was that Simon was not supposed to come back home for another three weeks. He had been deployed for three long months now. Your heart ached just thinking about how long you’ve been without him, the loneliness and longing that came with being a military spouse weighing heavy on you. 

The sudden sound of the orchestra snapped you out of your daydream, and the curtain began its ascent. Your delicate tutu billowed around you as you took your first step onto the stage, your body moving with the grace and precision that only years of training could produce.

But then, in the midst of your pirouettes and arabesques, something caught your eye in the sea of dimly lit faces. A figure, tall and strong, standing in the back of the theater. The world around you blurred as your heart leapt into your throat. It couldn't be.

Simon.

The shock of seeing him in the audience was enough to make you falter, to disrupt the airy balance of your performance. You stumble over your feet slightly, your knees shaky from the sudden interruption. 

You recover as best you can, continuing to dance. Your eyes locked onto his, you wanted to cry. He was home early. And he was here to watch you. His expression was one of awe and pride, like a lovesick puppy gazing at his beautiful wife.

You pranced and twirled, lost in the music and the whirlwind of emotions coursing through you. It was as if the two of you were the only people in the world, the stage your sanctuary.

As the final notes of the music filled the theater, you struck your final pose, your breath ragged, your body trembling. The audience erupted into applause, their adoration washing over you like a warm embrace. But your eyes remained locked with Simon's, who was clapping with ferocious fever. His eyes never left yours. You flash him a teary, wet smile.

As soon as the curtains closed, you fell from your pose, taking in a ragged breath. 

Your fellow ballerinas had come up to congratulate you on a beautiful performance, but all you could do was say a rushed “thank you” before you were running through the backstage area. The backstage was a labyrinth of bustling dancers, stagehands, and dimly lit corridors. Your heart raced as you rushed to find a way out into the audience to reach Simon. The echoes of applause still reverberated through the walls, but all that mattered now was him.

Finally, you burst through a side door that led to the theater’s lobby. And there he was, waiting for you, his eyes shining with unbridled love and pride. His dark uniform was a stark contrast to the delicate pink of your ballet attire.

Without a word, you threw yourself into his arms, and he caught you, lifting you off your feet. The world around you ceased to exist as you held each other, tears of joy streaming down your face. His calloused hands wrap around you, squeezing you tight against him. 

“I can’t believe you’re here,” you whisper into his ear, your watery voice filled with pure happiness. 

“I missed you so much, love.” Simon placed you gently back on your feet, his hands cradling your face with care, wiping away your tears. 

“I missed you, Si,” you take in a shaky breath. “So much.”

“I– I can’t believe you’re here, how did you know?”

“I would never miss my wife’s performance, now would I?” 

A mixture of laughter and tears escaped your lips as you leaned in to kiss him, a deep and passionate kiss. It felt like a dream come true that he was here, watching you perform. It had been ages since he was last able to come to one of your performances, and his support meant the world and more to you. You pull away from the kiss, shoving your face into his neck.

“I’m so proud of you,” he whispered, his voice reverberating in your eardrums. “You looked beautiful, look beautiful.” 

You pull back, looking at him with a huge smile, rubbing his back gently. "Thank you, Si."

He pulls you back into a tight embrace, wrapping you in his warmth and burly arms. More tears welled up in your eyes, and you clung to him, feeling the weight of the months apart melt away.

His words warmed your heart. You rested your head against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. The two of you held each other close, savoring the moment as long as you could.

#*ੈ✩ simon “ghost” riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #simon “ghost” riley x reader #simon “ghost” riley x you #hyperactivelyme #hyperactivelyme requests

[og-danny-dorito]

[ VOYEUR : GOJO X M!READER HEADCANONS & BLURB ]

[ A/N ] : came to me in a moment of clarity while i was scrolling through content for him on tiktok. this is my design (gay men kissing)

[ CW ] : MDNI 18+, AMAB!reader, he/him pronouns for reader, established relationship, pet names, degradation, all parties are consenting

its a SERIOUS ego boost unsurprisingly LMAO

no im being so ffr rn i cannot possibly explain to you how much he's into the whole being watched while undressing/getting off thing

gojo isn't stupid; he knows you like watching him from the way your eyes linger on him while he's getting ready for work in the morning to how he always finds your gaze straying to him when you're in public

and honestly? it's comforting to him, a way to add fuel flame of his nearly insatiable need to be wanted, to be desired

but he didn't know you'd like watching him like this

well, he had a hunch you would at least. he figured it out when he first caught you watching him while he was jacking off in the shower after a long day of work, having decided to let off some steam while he waited for you to get home

he could hear you come in, but didn't bother to stop considering he thought you'd get flustered like you normally do and just go about your business as you waited for him to get out

only he heard you stop at the door to listen to him, trying not to do something as simple as breathe so as not to disturb him. he can feel you watching steam surround the cloudy room as he cums, grunting out your name under his breath

it was almost fascinating to him how much you seemed to enjoy it, unable to hide a grin at the sound of you suddenly darting off once he turned off the water, making a move to get out so you wouldn't get "caught"

so he keeps doing it. taking off his clothes to change at an agonizingly slow pace, bending over and posing himself in compromising positions as if he's trying to rile you up on purpose (he is)

there's no way he couldn't have known, really; his six eyes makes it almost impossible to sneak up on him anyway and he's almost surprised that you didn't put those dots together earlier, but he doesn't mind keeping up this little game between you two at all

he likes having the power in his hands to tease you, some power quiet and unspoken in a way that holds much more weight for him than anything he could be doing deliberately

but he pretends like he doesn't for the sake of the game. he waits until you're home, putting on a show for his not-so-secret admirer

like bro's arching his back, moaning your name- he's going the whole mile dude. he's trying to get you as worked up as possible

and when the time finally comes and he can feel you getting close he stops suddenly, going "who's there?" like he doesn't know damn well it's you

as soon as he finds you he grins like he's won some sort of competition you didn't know you were participating in, calling you a perv and saying "If you wanted to watch me get off so badly, why didn't you ask?"

his favorite thing is to catch you and then make you sit down on the opposite side of the room while he continues getting himself off, scolding you and degrading you when you move to touch yourself- or him for that matter

his version of a punishment for your "bad behavior" is just to tease you to see how long you'll last before you're begging to suck him off or have him fuck you or just touch you, really, finally relenting after he too gets impatient

he'll smile and "begrudgingly" agree too it, meanly calling you a "desperate slut" the whole time and making an effort to push you to beg for release

he's almost always going to make you thank him for it once he's done, too, making you cum hands free or finishing in your mouth and getting a sick grin on his face when you whine "thank you" with sensitivity and desperation lacing your tone

in short, he absolutely LOVES it and will 100% encourage it LMAO

"What, watching me isn't enough this time?" His voice comes out mean and teasing, eyes filled with some sort of affectionate mirth that almost feels out of place with the position he's in. It's dark in the room, dimly lit save for your bedside lamp and the streetlights shining through blinds in the window. His vibrant white hair is tousled and unkempt as it usually is, but the slight sheen of sweat that coats his skin and makes some of the snowy white strands stick to his skin makes him almost look heavenly. You think for a moment that despite the insatiable need for release in your gut and the tight fist you have in a near tearing grip on the chair's arm, it might be heaven to be here. Gojo is propped up on the bed with his left arm held at a 90 degree angle so he can look across the room at you, his other one draped across his hip so the grip on his shaft is just loose enough that he can stroke up and down without having to move much else but his hand, the flushing pink tip leaking a lot more precum than you saw when he didn't know you were watching. Well, 'didn't know' is wrong, you've noticed, taking into account the fact that his smile is all to wide for him to not have been plotting this all along. He makes a show of stroking himself almost as he did before, rolling the palm of his hand over the tip during the upstroke and letting out a near pornographic moan at the feeling. You know he's just teasing from the way he jolts a little bit afterwards and giggles at your tense shifting, not daring to take your eyes away from him. Not now, not at that he knows he has your full attention. You'd rather just obey than tear your eyes away from him, and even though you shift to relieve some of the white-hot pressure in your groin it isn't enough to satiate the overwhelming need to just touch him. "No.", you strain out, and he smiles wider, his hand picking up it's pace a bit. "Then why don't you just ask for what you want this time instead of being a little perv about it, hm? Go on, ask." You bite down a retort at the comment but still narrow your eyes a bit, the flush on your cheeks darkening a bit once you realize he won't relent in this teasing until you've nearly humiliated yourself for him. It's almost enough to make you want to tell him to shut the fuck up, but it isn't enough to stop you from visibly gulping down your pride as you shift again, this time nearly ripping the couch with how tightly you're gripping it. "Please let me touch you, Gojo. Please.", you rasp out, adding on the extra plea to try and garner some sort of sympathy from him. And apparently it works enough for him to laugh again, spreading his legs a little wider as he releases his dick from it's hold and motions for you to come over. He cocks his head to the side as he sits up fully now, watching you with need as you nearly lunge at him like a hungry animal, letting you roam your hands over his body as he breathily chants "Good boy." into your neck.

[ THANKS FOR READING! REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED :] ]

#male!reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x male reader #gojo x male reader #jjk x reader #jjk x male reader #gojo headcanons #gojo satoru headcanons #gojo satoru hcs #gojo imagine #gojo satoru imagine #jjk headcanons #jjk imagines #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu sorcerer #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jjk gojo satoru #jjk gojo #gojo satoru smut #gojo smut #gojo satoru x you #gojo x you

[astrum-aetherium]

Imagine…you’re a student in the Greek class and Julian asks Henry to tutor you. He’s a strict teacher 😉

this idea honestly has me torn, as i strive after academic achievement above all at all times and my pride would therefore never let me get a tutor... however, something's telling me that henry would pose the sole exception ;)

yes, he would agree to tutor you — anything to feel intellectually superior over an academic match, i'd say — but he would be so condescending about it. i'm talking that should be obvious, although maybe not to you level of condescending. snark remarks every time you propose the wrong form or come up with a false translation. he would be degrading in the slightest of ways, sometimes so nonchalant it wouldn't be entirely noticeable, but it would nevertheless accumulate to an overall ruthless picture. he would have you seated at his desk, pacing and circling you like a vulture at first so as to intimidate you and put you on the spot, and then simply ensconce himself in the nearest armchair and read whilst you translate a passage.

upon your being done, he'd rise, slowly trudge over, and lean over your shoulder so as to read. out of the corner of your eye, you'd watch him, observe each minuscule shift in facial expression — how his lips would twitch into a slight grin, alerting you that you've messed up already.

"no. absolutely not."

reluctantly, he'd correct you — explain to you to the best of his ability. not without a painfully patronizing, snobby air, of course, which would leave you feeling even more useless than you did before you started. and yet, learning from him would be quite alluring in the most antithetical of ways.

the tutoring wouldn't transpire without its benefits, of course. whenever you'd be done with your studies — and he would always make sure you've done everything and sometimes a little extra — he'd offer you a drink, and then, sometime into the night, you'd end up perched in his lap in the armchair. here, the outcome completely depends on the combination of his disposition and your academic effort: you'd either end up getting spanked for each embarrassingly wrong answer you gave; riding his thigh but being stopped by his strong grip mere moments before your orgasm would come to fruition; or with your spine being pressed flush against his chest, legs spread widely, and his fingers toying with your clit until you'd writhe and whine and beg of him to let you come. he not always would — only if you'd been sort of good enough for his standards. during it, he would make sure to lowly and silently whisper chants of degradation in your ear: how badly you perform and how much better he keeps expecting you to be, and yet you keep disappointing him, which gets you in these barren situations.

on the most special of occasions — only if you had been flawless — he would place you on the desk and drop to his knees before you to reward you for the accomplished work; actually fucking you would be even more seldom. the perfection that would take on your part, however, would be quite hard to achieve: due to your being more than distracted in his presence, you wouldn't always be able to rise to the transcendental standard he'd have set up for you. your mind would be muddled to say the absolute least, wherefore you'd be more likely to mess up — which means you'd get teased to hell and back, degraded, and on dire occasions not even treated to an orgasm instead of being pleased to your liking. however, you'd keep consulting his services nevertheless.

only for the tutoring, of course. even if you wouldn't need it that much. who knows — maybe pretending to know less than you do would get you places you wouldn't have dreamed of otherwise.

#henry winter imagine #henry winter x reader #henry winter thirst #indulgent thoughts #henry winter smut #astrum asks #he would be such a fcking asshole about it #i would fully pretend not to know shit #you just know he'd be one of those people who'd get agitated quickly #gahhhhhhhhhhhhhh #degradation station #i need him to laugh at me for how stupid he thinks i am #i would be pretending but oh well #it's for the greater good

[bonkywobble]

Kinktober ‘22 - Day 1

Day 1 - Shibari/Hair Pulling with Jake Jensen

Pairing: Jake Jensen x fem!reader

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: Language, fluff, humour, sexual content (18+ only): oral (f receiving), shibari/bondage, traffic light system, hair pulling, slight fem dom. Please heed the warnings - if this makes you uncomfortable then click away. YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN MEDIA CONSUMPTION.

Disclaimer: I do not give anyone permission to take, repost, copy or translate my stories, regardless of whether or not they are credited. This blog and all works associated with it are 18+ only. Minors please do not interact or follow.

A/N: Was going to get @slothspaghettiwrites to beta this but no, we die like men now. It’s been a hot minute since I’ve written any smut so be gentle with me. Divider by @firefly-graphics.

Kinktober ‘22 Masterlist / Jake Jensen Masterlist

“You love me, right?”

“Baby, I would take a bullet for you. Maybe even a couple of bullets. Probably couldn’t go further than that, though. Shit hurts and I’d probably pass out like Pooch did that one time in Guatemala... Please don’t tell him I said that.”

“So what I’m hearing is that you’re up for a challenge.”

There’s a faint increase of pressure on your hips as you feel your boyfriend’s body tense up from both your words and the simultaneous swing of your leg as you settle into his lap, his fingertips automatically finding purchase underneath the hem of your t-shirt.

“Is this one of those good challenges where we have the sexy kind of fun? Because that would be awesome.”

“It might be.”

Jake’s grin is a mile wide now. “What do I need to do?”

You see your smile reflected back at you in his thick-rimmed glasses, your hands coming to rest atop his. He’s always been brilliant at following orders.

His eyes widen with excitement as your hand reaches for your pocket only to crinkle with confusion as you pull out... a twenty-dollar note?

“Twenty bucks says I’ll make you leave the table at this evening’s session,” you declare. “Twenty bucks and tonight’s post-session activity. What say you, Dungeon Master?”

There’s a spark in your eye and Jake wants so badly to give in, no questions asked. His nerdy pride, however, won’t let him consider it. It’s not been easy with your character pushing his fucking buttons every session purely so you could win this unspoken competition you’ve both trapped yourselves in. With his reputation and plan for tonight on the line - he thinks you’d look so fucking sexy wrapped in white lace, posing for him, camera in his hand capturing how soaked your panties are after he’s done with you - he sucks in a breath and gives you his reply, blond eyebrows raised and tongue swiping along his bottom lip, “You can certainly try.”

It’s soothing him - you can tell by the way the rope whispers against his skin and how the resulting sighs he lets out surprise even you. Uncaring or unaware of the noise, his head lolls as you tie the next knot, the rope’s movement across his skin shushing him into a pliant state.

The response is more than you could have wished for. 

So pretty, Jay, you’re so damn pretty, you tell him over and over. Just a little more, handsome.

Cords of dark hemp pull and twist against corded muscle relaxed by a wonderful combination of trust and lust. For fun you briefly run a hand up one, his back jumping under the featherlight contact.

You’re done nearly two minutes later, the last knots keeping his forearms securely pinned to his lower back and the remaining rope tethered to a safe point on the wall - with some slack, of course. After admiring your literal handiwork for a few seconds you circle your slightly blissed-out boyfriend, satisfaction at his current state pulling the corners of your mouth upwards. “You feeling good, tiger?”

His cock could answer that question for you. Unlike the rest of him, it’s straining against its confines, the navy cotton providing very little friction.

Certainly not enough to give him any sort of relief or release.

One deep inhale, then two, “All green here babe.”

Stepping forward you tug at the line around his waist to bring him closer, rewarding his patience with a deep kiss. You hum in restrained delight - he tastes just like the buttered popcorn from earlier in the evening. The other hand slips to the base of his skull and gently tugs the short hair there, and Jake moans into your mouth, the vibration sending shivers up your spine. You can feel his warmth seeping from his chest and the rope creaks ever so slightly as he struggles against it. Another firmer tug pries his desperate mouth from yours.

His gaze grows manic. “Please,” he begs breathlessly, “Please touch me.”

What pretty putty I hold in my hands.

“Relax, Jay,” you coo. In a swift moment you pull your dress up and over your head. You don’t fail to notice the small wet patch on his underwear. He doesn’t fail to notice your lack of underwear altogether. “You walked away,” you continue, “so now we get to play my game.”

He sniffs in pathetic indignation, “Speak With Plants and Speak With Dead cannot be used to interrogate a mahogany writing desk.”

You snort. And the dork is back.

The protest holds very little weight considering the man can’t stop staring at your bare pussy. 

Still my horny dork, though.

There’s a brief narrowing of those baby blues and you swear you can see the moment the lightbulb turns on in that pretty brain.

“Holy shit, Princess. The entire time-”

You nod your affirmation.

“You didn’t take them off at-”

A shake of the head instead.

“I love you. You’re like, my dream girl. You know that right?”

Jake Jensen I do not deserve you.

Curling a finger around the red material running up his sternum you step backward, chuckling at his brief attempt to lean in for another kiss is met with empty space. “I love you too, sweet soldier.” 

Arm extended now, you pull and he enthusiastically follows, stopping with a hiss as he feels the rope behind him go taut, preventing him from actually going on the bed. Your feet touch something plush and soft a second before your calves find the end of the bed. A cursory glance at the vanity desk shows his glasses still next to the shears - just in case.

Letting go of him, you lower yourself and seat your ass firmly on the edge of the blanket. Jake watches, enraptured, as your thighs spread further apart. Slowly, deliberately, you taunt him. He drops to his knees before you’ve got the chance to verbalise the invitation, the pillow cushioning his sudden landing.

“Green, Jensen?”

“Greener than Swedish pastures.”

Still brilliant at following orders.

Pretty pink lips don’t waste time starting, Jensen smoothly and lazily chaining kiss after kiss up your thigh. On instinct your leg lifts itself onto his shoulder and your ankle pushes the hemp bonds deeper into his muscles, politely urging him closer to your wet heat as your patience begins to dissolve. His pace, however, doesn’t change - a small challenge in protest to losing yours.

You swiftly change his mind as your hand flies out, fingers twisting blond tufts and nails digging into his scalp. The man below you grunts, teeth scraping your skin as he moves faster, closer, you’re right fucking there-

A short puff of air on your clit is all the warning you get before Jake’s mouth latches on and sucks harshly. With no hesitation your pretty little soldier boy begins working at your cunt, his tongue swirling over your swollen clit between nips as you buck against his face. 

Your arousal keeps dripping onto his chin - and the comforter - and he gleefully flattens his tongue to try and catch it all. “You taste so good, Baby,” he mumbles between mouthfuls, “So fucking good.”

Your fingers start to tighten and your legs begin to tense as you get closer to your peak, nails and heel sinking into sweaty skin and tight rope. Looking down you watch how his muscles ripple under your self-made trappings, Jake’s hands tensing instinctually - were they free he’d happily be using those dexterous digits to grope the globes of your ass. Threading your fingers in his hair still, you reassure him, “Relax, handsome. Don’t think too hard about it, you’re doing a - shitshitshit - great job.”

The encouragement seems to do the trick and what frustrated grunting was there stops, his breathing evening out. He happily presses on - in the most literal sense; Suck, swirl, flick, lick, repeat cycle. 

“Love eating this pussy so fucking much.”

You don’t mind that he can’t shut up, not when he’s telling his truth so well.

Between the sight of his baby blues staring up at you seeking signs of your enjoyment and the sensation of his lips on your cunt, it’s more than enough to push you over, a wave of euphoria rushing up and through you. You cry out and with one final grind you fall back, bouncing on the mattress. Fingertips rub firm, soothing circles into Jake’s hair as you attempt to catch your breath.

When you’re ready you sit up again and look at your boyfriend, his head to the side and resting atop you. You smile with pride. “Colour?”

His chest rises and falls - in and out, in and out. “Green.” In and out. “Best twenty bucks I’ve ever lost.”

Unable to help it, the snort escapes you, and soon you’re both chuckling, the aura around the two of you filled with satisfaction and brevity. It’s a little awkward given your positioning, but regardless you lean down and gently kiss him, enjoying the taste of you on his lips. Your gut twists uncomfortably, guilty flowing through you as the pleasure fades.

It’s a shame Maxwell wants him dead. I really like this one.

Eyes fluttering with unshed tears you pull back, hoping your expression doesn’t betray your shame. “Want out of these ropes so we can take care of your ‘pressing issue’?”

“Nah,” he shrugs, “I like a challenge, we can leave ‘em on. Besides, I’ve always had this secret fantasy of being interrogated but in a, uh, sexy way. You okay, babe?”

Pressing your forehead to his, you sigh, “Never better. Now let’s work on making that fantasy of yours come true. What are your thoughts on being hung from the ceiling?”

Jake Jensen I do not deserve you. Please forgive me.

#kinktober 22 #jake jensen x reader #jake jensen x female reader #jake jensen x fem!reader #jake jensen smut #jake jensen fanfiction #the losers fanfiction #kinktober 2022 #bonkywobble writes

[unicyclehippo]

One word prompt: splinter

this is set in an au i have been toying with for the last mm week or so. enjoy

//

ASHTON 2 might be the most talented craftsman Imogen has ever met. And once she started thinking about how many craftsmen she knows, the list was actually decently long. Growing up on a farm’ll do that for a girl, she supposed. He’s not as good coming up with a name for himself—hence his newest name, which Ashton was happy to loan for the week (anything to piss off Hexum). Ashton was going to borrow Orym’s name—who asked his boyfriend for a new name and Will suggested “Achilles” straight away—except then Fearne wanted to be Orym and no one knew how to - nor intended to - resist her pout so Ashton took their name back and now Ashton was ASHTON 2 (capital letters and all) and Imogen’s headache was knocking insistently at her temples but it was worth it to have so many friends that they could do dumb shit like this.

The issue remained, however, that ASHTON 2 didn’t have a good name for himself and, as much as he liked to fuck around and pretend like it didn’t matter, Imogen knew it had been bothering him. Which was why she was risking splinters in her ass sitting on the woodshop tabletop—gallantly dusted off for her—and trying to find a way to broach the topic that hey, she might’ve spent the last fortnight compiling an insanely extensive list of names that he might like or take inspiration from. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, she so badly wanted to help, but now that she had to explain herself and the project, she was thinking herself into knots about whether it was weird or too personal and yeah it’d been four months and he hadn’t picked one yet but what if he didn’t want her help with it or anyone’s help and actually it was pretty shitty that she’d done this or—

‘Did you want something or did you just come to stare at me?’ He gasped. ‘Imogen! Wanted to get me all on my lonesome? For shame! I’m not a piece of meat to be ogled and objectifi—‘

‘I’m not here to stare at you.’

ASHTON 2 barely paused before flexing his arms like a bodybuilder, striking a few slow poses. ‘No offense but that’s dumb as hell. These puppies are a hundred per cent certified Wildemount meat! Nothin’ hotter on the market!‘

‘Didn’t you just say you’re not a piece of meat?’

He sighed, shaking his head. ‘Imogen, Imogen, Imogen. This is a fundamental of business! Misdirection, redirection—‘

‘That’s close up magic, I think.’

‘—getting the customer on the back foot so we can reach a mutually sa-hat-isfying agreement!’ At the vaguely sexual tone, Imogen just rolled her eyes.

ASHTON 2 laughed and, dropping his pose, moved back to the wood he’d been examining for whatever his next project would be. He hauled one back to his workstation—a square stump, distressed, splintered, weathered, like it had been part of something else before it found its way to his table—and clamped it in place.

He needn’t have bothered posing, she thought idly. There was something so capable and confident about him when he was like this, focused on his woodworking; it didn’t hurt either that he cut a handsome figure in his stupid (and definitely not workshop safety approved) shorts and henley.

Once the set up was done, he turned back to her and scratched thoughtfully at his scruffy beard, his beloved beard just now growing in and so fiercely maintained. Sawdust and wood chips puffed out of it, making him cough.

‘So what is it then? You got someone handsomer to stare at? No, no, not possible. Well, maybe Ashton. Doesn’t seem your type though. Aha—you got someone prettier to stare at? I know what you’re thinking, it’d be difficult to find someone prettier, I’m a prime specimen no matter which way you cut it, but maybe…tall, dark, and weird is more your vibe?’

Heat burned across her cheeks. Imogen levelled a glare at him. ‘Not everything is about who is pretty,’ she snapped, pointedly ignoring the way he waggled his brows, way too fucking knowing. ‘I came here, you dick—‘ she said, throwing her pen at him when he muttered that she wasn’t the first, ‘—because I spent the last two weeks putting together a list of names you might like, alright?’ ASHTON 2 stood straight in a jerky motion. Surprise slashed across his face. Imogen continued hurriedly, ‘If it’s weird and you hate it then we can just pretend it never happened but we—‘

‘We?’ ASHTON 2 asked, all the brash volume gone. He sounded odd.

‘Yeah, everyone gave me a few names to add to the list. Orym said I should be the one to show you but they really did most of it.’

He fixed her with a shrewd look. ‘Right,’ he drawled. ‘Like how you totally weren’t involved in the fire alarm glitch? Or how that fight was all Voe’s fault and you had nothing to do with it?’

Imogen smiled ever so slightly but didn’t reply. Instead, she flipped open the first page of the notebook. ‘Ashton.’

‘It’s ASHTON, actually,’ he said, half-yelling the name in the way they all had been. ‘And actually it’s ASHTON 2.’

‘No, it’s the first suggestion.’ She tapped the first entry. ‘Ashton’s pick. They’re “so up for maximum chaos”,’ Imogen relayed, air quotes and all.

‘Could be fun,’ he laughed. After a second, he shook his head. ‘Nah. Pass.’ Imogen nodded, moving her finger down the line. Before she could read off the next one, he continued, in that odd tone from earlier, ‘It should be all mine. My name. Right? Not borrowed from a friend. I don’t - wanna do that anymore.’

Dark eyes met hers. He had been through a lot of changes in the last months and for a second, Imogen saw him starkly as he was. Firm, square jaw. Scruffy beard and brows. A splash of pimples across his cheeks and chin. He spoke loud and often because he liked to hear his own voice, deeper, puberty cracks and bassy. He wore his shorts and cuffed his uniform shirt up to his shoulders to show off his hairy legs and Ashton-killed-me-at-the-gym arms because he could, wanted to. He revelled in becoming, in being himself. He revelled in boyhood, in every part of it, and the transformation too, pointing out the weird and wonderful. What was woodwork if not reshaping? Was that why he liked it?

What she wanted to ask felt too much, like always. She tried to tame it, soften it, but failed. As always. Asked, ‘Are you scared?’

‘No!’ he scoffed. His head dropped and he scuffed at the sawdust floor. ‘Maybe a bit. It’s a bit final, isn’t it? Seems like a waste, containing something as majestic as me to just one name.’

Imogen shrugged. ‘You don’t have to. And we don’t have to. Read through this list or do anything you don’t wanna do. I just thought it might be nice to know that we cared. That…we want you around,’ she said. She’d planned on saying it for a long time, ever since parents day, really. Every time she had imagined saying it, it had come out quiet, tentative, like she wasn’t sure how much she was allowed to confess to caring but now—it was loud. Certain. Did he know that’s what he did for her? That he showed her how to care loudly for her friends? ‘It’s a big choice, or it isn’t and you pick again in six months or whatever, but—it’s you. We love you.’

It was harder to cry on T, he’d told her months ago. Emotions felt different—he felt it in his hands and his shoulders and his ears. It didn’t always hit his chest anymore. It didn’t always crackle up to his eyes. If it was easier to cry, he would be crying now, she thought. He swallowed harshly.

‘Show me this list, then. And afterwards,’ he added, hopping up to sit next to her on the table, ‘you can tell me about how the fuck you got dragged into helping with the Winters Crest Fest.’ Her cheeks burned, remembering how Laudna had only had to ask very sweetly if she would help and she had nearly fallen over herself agreeing; he cackled, seeing the colour in her cheeks. ‘Someone’s got a girlfriend,’ he crooned, digging a sharp elbow into her ribs.

‘We’re not talking about that - shut up! We’re not—we’re talking about you. Isn’t that your favourite topic? What about Albert?’

He settled—still smirking though, the dickhead—and said, ‘Was that Ashton as well?’

‘Yes?’

‘Pass. You know what that’s a reference to, don’t you?’

Imogen groaned. ‘That fucking dick.’

‘Exactly.’

She crossed it out. Twice. ‘There’s good names in here, I promise. Archie.’

‘Don’t hate it.’ He watched her draw a star beside it but held his tongue until she had drawn two next to “Charlie” and one next to both “Courtney” and “Jordan”. ‘Did you…come up with a rating system? To help me pick a name?’

‘Laudna suggested it.’

‘Oh did she now. Clever,’ was all he said. Imogen suspected it was because he was navigating that weird not-crying space again, more than him deciding not to tease her.

#prompt fill #you can ignore this #tagging my stories #cr fic #imogen & chetney

[imaginejamesandsirius]

Good ole fashion fake dating turning into getting together fic? Any other details are totally up to you!

When James suggests it for the first time, Sirius bursts out laughing.

It’s self-defence; the words James and dating, as far as Sirius is concerned—and he is, in this specific scenario—should not go together.

Or well, they specifically shouldn’t as long as the small but painfully annoying adjective ‘fake’ prefaces the ‘dating.’

So Sirius laughs, and James doesn’t, and it dawns on him that this stupid bloody mission Moody is sending them on has just got a whole lot more dangerous.

“You can’t be serious,” he says, because sure, James clearly has warmed to the idea enough already that talking him back out of it will be a pain, but what the hell. “What kind of sense does that even make?”

James shrugs, and it should look stupid with how he is stretched out on the floor of their living room, but of course it doesn’t. “Think about it; a couple would be far less suspicious than two strangely co-dependent friends—”

“We’re not co-dependent; we’re—”

“Sirius. Do you really want to go there?”

He grimaces. “Yeah, probably not. Not like we’re going to tell a bunch of Death Eaters about that though, are we?”

“Not yet Death Eaters,” James says, wriggling his long fingers at Sirius. “That’s the point, after all, or at least part of—”

“I know what the point is. I also know that it’s one of the most dangerous missions the damned Order has ever come up with, which is the only reason we got it because no one else would be stupid enough to agree to five days on a boat with the Dark Lord’s recruiters and those interested. The point is—”

“You were the one to say it would be fun.”

“I’m still the one who thinks it’s going to be fun,” Sirius says, incredibly patient if anyone were to ask him. “It’s going to be far more fun, though, if we do not have to be a sickeningly sweet couple that, for some fucking reason, thinks that a romantic getaway includes megalomaniac fantasies about world-domination and genocide.”

Pushing himself up, James rolls his eyes. “No one said anything about being a sickeningly sweet couple, it’s just easier to explain why we have to stick together that way. You don’t have to snog me, you prick; why does this even bother you so much?”

Well, and that’s the fucking question, isn’t it, the one that Sirius can’t answer no matter how badly the words are pressing against the back of his teeth. “It doesn’t,” he lies, and it should have become easy by now, after five godforsaken years of it, but it still feels like someone is crushing Sirius’ heart beneath their boot.

He lets his head loll on the backrest of the sofa and drags up a smirk. “If you wanted me to be your boyfriend so badly, you could’ve just said, babe.”

James tosses a pillow at him, a flush working its way up his throat. “You’re going to be so lucky if I don’t throw you off that boat myself.”

So, the first time James suggests it, Sirius laughs. Unfortunately but not that surprisingly, he also agrees; it’s likely that he’ll be the one to fling himself off the fucking boat.

--

As it turns out, the boat doesn’t leave from Sweden but from Denmark, and it isn’t a recruitment event for the Dark Lord posing as a holiday, but it’s a recruitment event, full stop.

The arm James has wrapped around Sirius’ waist, fingers curled almost possessively around his hipbone, makes it rather difficult to focus on any of that.

Which is just fantastic, because between the two of them, keeping secrets and being subtle aren’t exactly known to be their biggest strengths.

Or well, that’s probably more true for James. Sirius has grown up with secrets treated like currency, has tucked them away into the spaces between his ribs and has worn them like armour for everyone to see. Sirius knows secrets, and even with his family long since behind him, they cling to him as if they know him, too.

Sirius knows how to keep secrets; the big ones, the important ones. He has never had to test it, would rather like to keep it that way, but he doubts that there is anything anyone could do to him that would make him spill the ones that matter—about the Order and its business. The hiding place of his brother.

Sirius can deal with secrets if he has to, but it makes him careless with the rest. It is easier to keep them if people think he is a bad liar, yes, sure. It’s also exhausting, and so he spills what won’t cause an inferno of destruction, lets people smile indulgently or roll their eyes in exasperation, and get passed over on undercover missions.

Generally, it’s for the best, because the thing is, James can’t lie for shit, not in a way that doesn’t make it obvious that he’s lying. McGonagall might have pretended a few times, and the actual Death Eaters themselves know that they’re all lying, anyway, and so for the most part, it doesn’t matter if anyone knows that he does.

Which brings Sirius back to how he really should not be getting fucking distracted by James’ hands on him. As they step onto the boat, he forces himself to find at least three different ways to get out of here and reiterates the spell to create a portkey inside his head.

He trusts James, more than he trusts himself; he knows that this can either go horrifically well or horrifyingly wrong.

James' fingers dig into his hip, and Sirius smiles at the undescriptive man welcoming them without hearing a word he says.

It’s going to be a long, long week.

--

Their room is, of course, not actually a room but a fucking cabin. It has one bed. It’s ridiculously small.

“We’ve shared a bed at Hogwarts more than once. Don’t be such a snob,” James says, rolling his eyes. He looks fucking ecstatic to be here, which is the cherry on top of just—everything, really.

Sirius is the one who gets off on too much danger and stakes so high you could tie and burn someone on them. James is supposed to be the—arguably only slightly—more reasonable one. That’s how they work.

He’s not supposed to be excited to share a bed with Sirius, is the thing, because there are lines Sirius has drawn a long fucking time ago to keep himself sane, and those coincide with the time he stopped sharing a bed with James at Hogwarts.

Not that he’s going to explain that to James any time soon. Or ever, really.

“Whatever,” he says instead, kicking his bag out of the way so that the path between the bathroom and door is free. You never know. “Come on, we should probably go and mingle, as the kids call it these days. Do you have your ring?”

Sirius can easily admit that he isn’t the most careful person, but the rings are what allow them to be here and blend in at all. It’s some complicated bit of magic that James, Sirius, and Lily had come up with on Dumbledore’s orders. It basically combines a glamour for the wearer, a counterspell for glamours and other disguises on everyone else, and a very mild Confundus that will keep people from questioning the wearer’s identity too much.

In short, they are a wet dream for anyone on an undercover mission and, considering that both he and James have become a bit infamous amongst the Death Eaters, their life insurance for this week.

“Of course,” James says, rolling his eyes. He steps in front of the door before Sirius can leave, crossing his arms over his chest. “What is up with you anyway? You’ve been… off, the last week.”

And that’s really not fucking fair, because yeah, Sirius has been off, and he has good reasons, but if there is one thing he has always been utterly, ridiculously helpless against, it is James all serious and concerned and bloody earnest.

It’s tragically pathetic how easily he folds as soon as that small crease appears between James’ brows, his eyes warm and intent on Sirius’ face. Honestly, he is half-convinced that none of this would be a problem in the first place if James wasn’t so goddamn fucking caring beneath all of it; Sirius would have been fine then. He can handle pretty people; what he can’t handle is James being James.

He tips his head back and stares at the low ceiling of their cabin. It’s a horrible, boring beige. The least the Dark Lord could do would be to offer some unique decoration, really, but even Grimmauld Place has more charm than this place.

“It’s nothing,” he finally says, looking back at James. “Or well, not nothing but—you know. Ship full of Death Eaters. Important mission—war-changing, one might say—”

“Stop lying to me,” James says, and he says it like a fact. Says it without accusation but not without hurt, and the latter is enough to punch the air right out of Sirius’ lungs. “We both know that this isn’t you being nervous about the mission; if you don’t want to tell me, don’t tell me, but don’t be a fucking prick about it.”

They’ve been here for less than an hour, and the desire to fling himself out of the next-best window is already strong. Or a drink; a drink would be a great alternative.

“I don’t want to tell you,” Sirius says, and it feels cruel, feels like crossing a line he has never had to cross before. He has become great at side-stepping or withdrawing, at distracting James from how he keeps careful boundaries between them that assure he can keep his best friend without losing his sanity to some godforsaken misplaced pining.

Of course, it would be a boat belonging to the Dark Lord that would finally get him to fuck up. Of course, it would be.

James’ mouth twists unhappily, but he tilts his chin up, and attempts a smile that looks so horribly out of place, Sirius wants to—

Well, it’s better if he doesn’t go there. It looks horrible, is the thing, and James has never been able to lie for shit, and coming here was the worst decision Sirius has ever made.

Which is saying something. It’s really saying something.

He could apologise—should, most likely—but what’s the point. He’s not sorry that he won’t tell James; he is only sorry that he had to admit it in the first place.

Or well, that is only part of the truth, he supposes. He’s sorry that he had to go and fall for his best friend, and that five fucking years have done shit to resolve that. He’s sorry that for all his recklessness, he’s too much of a coward to either admit it or move on.

“Alright,” James says, and he is watching Sirius closely, using that tone of voice that tells Sirius that it is, in fact, very much not alright.

James has always been able to read him like an open book, and it has taken Sirius years to figure out how to lock pieces of himself away from him. Sirius has always been able to read James like an open book, too; he’s not sure whether James has ever tried to hide anything from him.

Isn’t sure whether he wants to know if James did either, because that would say a lot of things about their friendship that Sirius never allowed himself to think about.  

It’s hypocritical, and the hurt gleam in James’ eyes is almost enough to make Sirius spill his guts because, again, pathetic. He mentally shakes himself and grins. “Doesn’t mean we’re not still on a mission; come on, if we’re lucky, we might even find a drink in this godforsaken place.”

James smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes even as he moves away from the door. Sirius slings his arm around his neck and hopes that there is either alcohol or a fight waiting that he can drown the guilt in.

--

If either of them had expected maniacal laughter and blatantly evil plotting at every corner, they would be sorely disappointed. Luckily, they both know better.

At first glance, the spectacle playing out in the dining room, with its tacky decorations on the stained tablecloths and mismatched silverware, reminds him more of a coffee party meant to bridge generational gaps than anything that could be remotely related to the Dark Lord.

At second glance, it is obvious, though. Everyone in attendance is so painfully a Pureblood that Sirius wants to retch, and the atmosphere in the air makes the hairs at the back of his neck stand up. Small groups are whispering amongst themselves in the dimly lit corners, and he already has at least four people on his radar to keep a closer eye on.

If he was an idiot, though, it would look like a coffee party. And everyone seems to treat it as such, too, which is probably the worst part about it.

“You two are so darling,” an elderly lady tells them—Albury, Sirius knows, because he has been trained to remember names before he could write—and it is that specific brand of condescension that only homophobic Purebloods can pull off. “It’s so admirable to keep it amongst the right families, you know, even if it means to compromise.”

The fury in Sirius’ blood boils so brightly that he cannot speak. James' fingers curling around his wrist equally do and do not help.

It goes like this; some don’t care that they are—supposedly—a couple. Sirius likes those best, which isn’t saying much because they’re still bastards, of course, but he has left any claims to pickiness at the gangway. And so what if he’s playing favourites. Sue him.

Then there are those who clearly carry that specific kind of Pureblood paranoia in their blood that Sirius is, unfortunately, far too familiar with. They are the ones who affirm James’ claim that the two of them are considered with far less suspicion once people notice the possessive hand James presses to the small of Sirius’ back or the way Sirius leans in too close when he points something out to James, brushing his lips against the shell of James’ ear.

Fuck him, he’s only human. He had been against this for a reason, and even Sirius has only so much self-restraint. Now James’ hands seem intent on always finding a part of Sirius to touch, and suddenly Sirius is allowed; suddenly he is expected to reciprocate, to not constantly question every single touch he bestows on James, and it’s—

Well, it’s heady as fuck, and disappointingly boring pensioner ship aside, the Dark Lord has at least provided proper whiskey and wine, which really does not help.

Fuck him, Sirius is only human, and so he curls his fingers around James’ wrist when he presses his hand to Sirius’ hip and counts the beats of his pulse. He leans into James’ side as he hasn’t allowed himself since fifth year, all careless arms slung around shoulders and temples pressed to temples. He turns his head in when he whispers into James’ ear and allows himself to breathe; the scent of his shampoo and his aftershave, a hint of sweat underneath that makes his throat go dry.  

In short, Sirius is digging his own fucking grave because he has spent five years keeping an ironclad grip on his yearning, and now it’s like James has been spread out before him, all the parts Sirius has denied himself offered with a smirk and a wink. Saying look, here is your excuse; you can finally indulge without feeling guilty about it, without the risk of giving yourself away.

It’s part of the game that James seems to be playing; look at him, he’s doing it, too. Look at how his fingers bury into your side, and how his body curves around yours. Look how his nose brushes along your jaw as he tells you about the men who keep disappearing, whispering amongst themselves. Look at how his ankle tangles with yours even though it’s out of sight, and how he sucks in a breath as you touch him, and how—

Yeah, Sirius is fucked. He knows this. Hell, he has known that before this started, but the skin of James’ arm is warm beneath his fingertips, and James’ breath is hot against his ear, and Sirius has always prided himself on his restraint, but this—

Well, it’s only been a few hours, so he is pretty sure that this is the week that will unmake him.

--

When the night is winding down, Sirius makes sure to down three glasses of whiskey, flashing his teeth in the mimicry of a smile at one of the older women when she watches him with distinct disapproval, and amuses himself by whispering into the skin behind James’ jaw, “Let’s go to bed, babe.”

The way James’ eyes glaze over slightly is a work of art, and also not at all what Sirius expected. He steps away before he can do something truly stupid, smirking for good measure.

He crawls into the narrow bed half an hour later with his heart in his teeth and exhaustion dragging at his limbs. He would be lying if he claimed that a small, traitorous part of himself isn’t looking forward to having James this close for an entire night.

Or maybe that is the whiskey speaking. Sirius has a hard time telling at this point.

He turns towards the wall and ignores James when he comes out of the bathroom, getting into bed behind Sirius. He ignores it when James’ hand hovers above his hip as if he is getting uncertain now, of all times.

When James does touch him, hesitant, Sirius' entire body tenses, every nerve ending firing up as if they haven’t just spent the last few hours testing out how far they could go until one of them finally breaks.

It would be a fun game, Sirius supposes as he inhales a slow, careful breath and tries to ignore the heat of James’ palm through his thin shirt, if it wasn’t their friendship and Sirius’ heart on the line. Not that he could separate the two, really, which might just be part of the fucking issue.

“Sirius,” James says, and it’s that unsure, questioning tone of his that Sirius can never stand because James isn’t supposed to sound like that, ever. Sirius would quite willingly severe one of his own limbs to make it stop.

He knows what this is about, though, and the one thing he cannot do is fucking talk about it.

So he turns back around, dislodging James’ hand from his hip but grabbing it in a tight grip. He rearranges them with a raised brow that just dares James to protest until they are curled into each other, James’ head on his shoulder and Sirius’ arm wrapped around his waist; as if they were still fourteen years old and could just do this without Sirius’ heart cracking and splintering along all the lines that loving James has left on it.

It's fine. He has always been a fucking idiot when it comes to James, and the uncertainty has bled out of James’ shoulders again, his breathing evening out. Really, what the hell does it matter if Sirius is more awake than he has ever been in his life.

--

Sirius does get some sleep, not even his bonfire heart able to keep sputtering wildly when beneath all of it, James has also always meant peace, even at the worst of times. He still feels like he has been run over by the night bus the next morning.

James merely smiles at him, not that devastating bright grin that Sirius knows all the dimples and flash of teeth of, but that small, private one that in his weaker moments, Sirius likes to believe to be his alone.

He has had a lot of time to take a painstaking inventory of all of James’ smiles, and this is still the one posing the biggest threat. It is still his favourite one, the one that makes him want to press his fingertips to the corner of James’ mouth, trace the line of it, climb its ridges like the steps of a temple and pay his worship at the altar that is James’ open mouth.

Sirius has always been horrible about not worshipping the ground that James walks on, and ever since he has fallen in love with him, he has been horrible, too, at not making James his religion.

There is an irony in this somewhere. Something about worship and people like him carving beliefs out of a person, in the face of gods that Sirius doesn’t care to examine too closely because his own world is fucked up enough, and he doesn’t need to add what the Muggles consider blasphemy to the record of his sins.

But James is sleep-rumpled and soft, his dark hair spilling over the pristine pillows, fingertips like brands against Sirius’ collarbone. Perhaps damning his own soul if only to be allowed to trail the tips of his fingers along the sharp edge of James’ jaw just once would really not be such a horrible price to pay.

James is James, and beneath the thin covers, their legs are tangled, and he looks at Sirius with that raw kind of affection that Sirius has never been able to stand.

It is all a bit much, Sirius’ heart punching against the constraints of his ribs from the inside, and James’ fingers like a caress against it from the outside. It is all too much, and Sirius can’t quite bear it because all his lines are blurring.

This is why he had erected boundaries between them, had carved them from iron and stone, one inch at a time so that James wouldn’t notice. So that Sirius could make sure that he wasn’t spiralling out of control faster than he could wrap his fingers around James’ wrist to prevent him from leaving.

It is all way too much, James’ smile soft and almost knowing, and Sirius pushes himself out of bed before he can so much as contemplate concepts as fatal and perilous as hope. Before he can give in to the urge of slipping his fingers into James’ hair and pulling him in, daring to find out, finally and for good, what would happen if he pressed his open mouth to James’ lips.

There are a lot of ways that could go, Sirius knows as the bathroom door slams shut behind him. None of them are going to end with his heart left in one piece, and their friendship intact.

Which in turn means it isn’t going to happen at all, no matter how badly Sirius’ heart seems to be devouring itself, burning and burning and burning.

--

Most of the day passes with presentations and speeches that seem to have been written with the sole purpose of boring Sirius to death. It is saying something, because the fucking Dark Lord is many things, but boring is not usually one of them.

The issue is that it is all predictable. It is all the same old droning on about Pureblood bullshit and the need to preserve traditions. As always, Sirius has to keep himself from asking what kinds of traditions beyond marrying your cousins and abusing the same house elf that your grandparents had abused people are even talking about.

It’s predictable. It could be coming straight out of the third-year Slytherin common room. It’s not nearly enough to warrant going to the trouble of chartering a ship and inviting thirty people on a trip, in the hopes of finding a handful of mediocre recruits.

Loath as Sirius is to admit it, it isn’t exactly like the Dark Lord is struggling to fill his ranks. Which means that this is a cover, which means that Dumbledore was right, which means that Sirius and James are exactly where they are meant to be, and things are finally about to get interesting.

James slips his hand into Sirius’ own, tapping a slow, lazy rhythm against the palm of his hand. Despite the way Sirius’ entire arm is tingling, he still recognises it all too well; back when they hadn’t yet created the map, before the two-way mirrors and becoming Animagi, they had come up with a basic way to communicate wordlessly.

Not even Remus and Peter knew about it, not that he and James ever had a good reason to keep it from them. It didn’t even start on purpose, started with James’ hand resting on Sirius’ neck, and an aimless rhythm tapped against his shoulder. It started with Sirius curling his hand around James’s wrist, pressing an acquiescence against the steady drum of James’ pulse and somehow, instinctively, both of them understanding.

The memory of it is old but sharp, almost overwhelming, and Sirius moves his hand until James’ fingers slot between his. He is aching for all the things they have lost because he couldn’t help but love James in the wrong way, because he couldn’t help but let go, hiding behind glass and parchment and a war that has never once made him want to step away from James but has always served as a marvellous, ugly excuse.

--

The boat lands in Germany the next day, and most of the guests leave to explore the city of Hamburg.

Sirius would love to follow their example, sees it in the tense line of James’ shoulders that he does, too, and swallows down the bitterness that comes with it.

This is not a vacation. This is not the climax of the story where everything suddenly gets resolved. This is still the Dark Lord’s mission parading as a recruitment event, and Sirius and James are right in the middle of it.

They are far more likely to discover what the hell is going on here if they are not getting lost within the winding streets of Germany’s harbour city, and so Sirius makes a note at the back of his mind to return someday and knows that the odds are stacked wildly against it.

It doesn’t matter, not really. Or well, it does, in the way that it burns through his chest, and how he hurts at the strain of James’ smiles when he explains with placid words to Albury, who had roped them into a round of bridge last night, that they are going to catch a few more hours of sleep instead of visiting the city.

Sirius hates it, hates it so much that it is all he can do to keep himself from giving up on all of this. Screw the ship and the war and fucking Dumbledore, and disappear to travel the world. It is all he can do not to choke on the fact that they are both twenty-one years old, and letting the war eat away at their lives as if they both have a spar tucked away somewhere.

“Well,” James says, his smile nothing but a mirage. “Let’s see what we can find, yeah?”

And well, that’s what they are here for. The sooner they find what they are looking for, the sooner they can get back home, and everything can return to normal.

Or as normal as shit ever gets for them, anyway.

--

“What are we even looking for?” James asks, his voice low as they slowly move along a corridor that they should most definitely not be in.

Sirius has no fucking clue; he is just glad that there is some distance between them, and that they are finally doing something. The last two days are nothing but a godforsaken blur of James’ skin and James’ scent and the endless droning on about blood purity bullshit. Frankly, Sirius is surprised that he retains a single fucking shred of sanity.

“There has to be an office somewhere, right? Or—I don’t know, a team meeting room to reflect on the tosser’s greatness and consider in which order to feed the guests to the sea monster we’re all going to be sacrificed to, in the name of world domination. Maybe we can set up a monitoring charm if we’re sneaky there; I’d just love to know if I rank before or after old Miss Albury—”

“Shut up,” James hisses, reaching for Sirius’ wrist, and really, that’s just great.

Sirius hasn’t spent five agonising years building walls around himself so high that no one ever touches him, only for James to dismantle them in the span of forty-eight fucking hours, but apparently, that is exactly what is happening. There is a spark of anger surging through him that is all hurt and frustration and the feeling of the noose around his neck slowly but surely drawing close.

Which is to say, he pulls his wrist out of James’ grip and knows that he will regret the next words out of his mouth. “Merlin, James, you can’t just—”

Before he gets any further, James presses his hand over Sirius’ mouth, his eyes flashing in the dim corridor. Sirius struggles on instinct, until James shoves him up against the wall unceremoniously. The wood panelling digs into Sirius’ back. Alarm bells are making a fucking racket inside of his brain. This—

This is not something he can survive. His blood is rushing in his ears so loudly, it takes him way too long to hear the voices wafting down the corridor, clearly coming in their direction.

He is still struggling to process the looming danger of it, simply because James’ body is pressed all along his front. James’ hand is still pressed tightly over Sirius’ mouth, and his face is close enough that Sirius can make out the flecks of gold in the brown of his eyes despite the shit lightning.

Every single nerve in Sirius’ body is burning until he can taste ash at the back of his throat, his mouth dry, and he stares at James and thinks that this is how it ends.

Apparently deciding that Sirius has got the gravity of the situation, James removes his hand. “What do we do?” he hisses, and Sirius wants to laugh until it finally stops hurting like Bella’s fucking Crucio.

The voices are getting louder, and there is no way for them to go but deeper into the ship, meaning there is nothing but a dead end waiting for them.

Sirius cannot tell anymore whether the violent rhythm of his heart is the threat or James, or maybe those are the same thing. His mind is blank, and he shakes his head, trying to figure out how likely it is that they can fight their way out of here unscathed.

At least they are not out on the open sea. He knows the spell to create a portkey, and neither of them has brought anything of importance, but—

The voices are close enough now that Sirius can make out words, no matter that his brain refuses to process them.

James looks at him, his eyes very, very dark. He says, “I have an idea; don’t punch me, alright?”

It is all the warning Sirius gets before James’ hands are on his face, before James presses his mouth against Sirius’, and everything goes utterly, agonizingly still.

Everything except for Sirius’ heart, thrashing in his ribcage like a starved animal that has finally been thrown a scrap of sustenance and is doing whatever it takes to finally, finally sink its teeth into it.

James’ mouth is hot and insistent, his fingers digging into Sirius’ jaw. If Sirius ever knew how to breathe, it must have been a long time ago because now this is all there is; the heat of James’ body and his skin, and the way his tongue curls around Sirius’, audacious and so fucking perfect that it hurts. The low noises coming from James that sound as if punched out of him, desperate and a little broken. He sounds like Sirius feels on the inside, and his hands clench into James’ robes without his permission, white-knuckled fists to hold him there.

James pulls back slightly, pupils blown wide and colour high in his cheeks, and says, “Will you kiss me like you mean it?”

It snaps every last, frail thread of self-restraint that Sirius has still been clinging to.

It’s all rough fingers and careless teeth and staccato breath from there, his savage heart leaping up his throat and onto his tongue with every intention to devour what it cannot get to stay on its own merit. It’s drinking up the noises James makes, pushing his fingers into James’ hair and pulling until his head is angled just so. Until Sirius can lick into his mouth the only way he knows, which is with the looming, inevitable knowledge that this is the first and the last time he will ever get to do this, that this is what will finally destroy him, and so he better make it count so that it will quieten at least a fraction of the inevitable guilt and regret.

He sinks his teeth into James’ bottom lip and soothes the spot with his tongue, only to do it all over; finds that James likes it, his fingers spasming where he is scrambling for purchase on Sirius’ shoulders, and knows that this is what damnation tastes like.

His head is swimming, the pent-up longing of years upon years leaking out of all the crevices and hollow spaces between Sirius’ bones that he had pushed it into, flooding the cavity of his ribs, the place his heart once occupied, and threatening to burst open his chest to spill yearning all over the nondescript carpet beneath their feet.

He pulls James impossibly closer, thinks of the soft flesh of James’ throat and whether he wants to attach his teeth to it and if it is really worth stopping to kiss him for that, and it takes him a few moments too long to process that someone is shouting at them.

In Sirius’ defence, James looks as startled as he feels by the two men standing at the end of the corridor, their faces the kind of enraged that says they have been trying to get their attention for longer than three seconds.

James is saying something, an apology or a lie or something that is a bit of both, which is the kind Sirius is most familiar with. He doesn’t catch the words, not a single one of them, but their faces turn from furious to annoyed, and James has always had this effect on almost everyone.

Sirius has never hated him more than in those few moments where reality crashes back into him like an entire armada of Bludgers, and James isn’t even fucking looking at him, unruffled enough to convince a pair of fucking Death Eaters that he is oh-so-harmless.

The two guys roll their eyes and turn away, and then it is only the two of them left in the corridor and the barrage of horrible life choices that have brought Sirius to his very moment.

James looks at him, something fragile to his expression, and says, “Sirius.” It sounds like ‘I’m sorry.’

Sirius lets his head drop back against the wall and closes his eyes. He hits his head against the wood panelling a second and a third time, tries desperately to remember how to breathe, how to ignore the fact of James’ knuckles still pressing into his stomach where he hasn’t let go of Sirius’ robes yet, and decides that he cannot fucking do this.

“Sirius,” James says again, his grip tightening, and this time, Sirius does laugh, choked and rough and scraping like sandpaper against his throat.

“Save it,” he says, voice soft. He looks back at James, still standing in front of him as if they haven’t just wrecked something that should have been sacrosanct, and knows, knows with a bone-deep certainty that he cannot do this. That there is no coming back from the imprint of James’ lips on his, that he cannot hope to rebuild the walls around him, stone by stone, and keep parts of James on the inside, and others out.

Sirius curls his fingers into the front of James’ robes and brushes his lips against the corner of James’ mouth, one last fucking hurrah before he has to face the consequences of his traitorous heart.

He is halfway down the corridor before James has so much as moved. Sirius has always been exceptional at ignoring his own name being shouted at his back.

--

Generally, Hamburg might be a pretty city. It’s all weathered, majestic buildings and flumes leading away from the harbour, and it strikes just the right balance between resemblance to London and being completely unlike it that Sirius might find some distracting solace in the uneven cobblestone streets.

As things stand, he barely takes notice of anything around him. He needs to get away, is the one thing drumming through his skull, from James and the ship and everything that remotely reminds him of anything that has happened in his life since he was eleven years old.

It’s a fool’s errand, of course, but Sirius is nothing if not full of spiteful stubbornness. He knows nothing about this city so he can’t apparate, but he walks until his feet ache and the light is bleeding out of the sky.

For all that he thinks he should feel like his insides have been scrubbed raw, he mostly does not feel anything at all.

It would be nice, really, if it didn’t feel like the calm before the storm, like that thing Lily has told him about, her pale hands pressed to the gaping wound in Dorcas’ stomach while Marlene looked on, that Muggles call shock—your body shutting down any pain response until you’re either dead or the bleeding stops.

Sirius always thought it sounded as horrible as it sounded logical. He always imagined it would feel like this, like a spark of Fiendfyre beneath his skin, licking at his bones. Like a static, buzzing noise inside of his head that stops him from considering anything but the following step; one foot in front of the other, uphill and downhill, everything around him a blur.

It’s just about the only thing Sirius can manage because if he stops, he might have to consider that James had kissed him as if it meant something, and that Sirius had gone and left him behind on a ship full of Death Eaters and those keen to be one. That all of it had been a game except that to Sirius it wasn’t, and he doesn’t know what his life is supposed to look like from here on out, but his best option is probably to join Regulus in exile and make sure that James will never find him.

Yeah, he’s being dramatic; some parts of heritage are more difficult to burn out than others.

But he is also not dramatic at all because the fact of the matter is that James has been the one solid, remaining certainty in his life despite the aching longing of it, and Sirius has no idea how to go on with that crumbling to pieces, too.

He ends up on a vast plateau that overlooks the river the city is famous for, the sun dipping into the water in the distance.

Sirius’ feet hurt, his heart hurts, and walking any further won’t fix shit either. He sits down on a bench that is mostly out of sight and pulls his knees to his chest, and when the stillness makes it hard to breathe, he presses his forehead against his knees and counts back from hundred.

The worst part about all of this, as it has always been, is that above everything else, James is his best friend. Sirius cannot go back to pretending, cannot look at him and take all of it back. Hiding isn’t necessarily better than lying, but Sirius has done the former all his life, could do it because it was necessary.

Now, though? Now he would have to lie. He would have to tell James that it didn’t mean anything, and he knows without a sliver of a doubt that he could not get the words past his teeth without choking on them for good.

“Hey,” someone says, a hand settling lightly on Sirius’ shoulder. “Pads.”

If the voice hadn’t been enough, the nickname would have done it; they’ve mostly shed the habit of it once they got past sixth year, but sometimes, on rare days, they make a reappearance. Right now, it is all Sirius can do not to cry at the use of it.

“Come on, look at me; you can’t ignore me for good. I mean, I guess you could, but I would really prefer it if you didn’t.”

James sounds so fucking shaky, Sirius can’t bear it. A part of him is itching for a fight, is boiling blood and acid-soaked words cloying at the back of his throat that want to set fire to whatever fickle foundation remains of them.

But Sirius has also always loved James more than anything, and he has had a lot of practice in locking away the parts of himself that want to dig their claws into the best thing that he has ever come across and tear it apart.

He looks up and finds James’ face pale, finds his eyes red-rimmed and his jaw set stubbornly, and whatever little determination he scraped together in the last few moments blows away with the next gust of wind.

“How did you find me?” he asks because he might as well stall for time. It’s over anyway, and they both know it, so Sirius might as well put off the inevitable a little longer, and James might as well pretend that he doesn’t notice.

Tilting his head, James studies him carefully. “You always end up close to the water when you’re upset, and you don’t know this city any better than I do.”

It’s a shock, the sharp pain of it, searing through the sinew and muscles of Sirius’ chest until burying itself into his heart. It had been easy to forget sometimes that for all his hiding and careful concealing of secrets, James still knows him better than anyone else does.

“Sirius,” James says, and it is that uncertain, soft voice, but now there is also steel. No distraction or avoidance will work this time. “I’ve been patient about this for a long time, but will you finally tell me what the hell is wrong with you?”

You left me behind, James doesn’t say. We’ve been friends for half of our lives; are you really going to burn it all down?

He doesn’t need to voice any of this for Sirius to read it in his eyes.

Pushing up from the bench, he paces three steps and whirls around, only to be met with James right in front of him, face contorted and so fucking furious as he wraps his hand into the front of Sirius’ robes.

“Do you really think so little of me that you believe that whatever the fuck is going on with you could be worse than what is happening to us right now? I don’t know what I’ve done to make a part of you hate me like this, to shut me out and—”

“I’ve been in fucking love with you since fifth year,” Sirius snarls, and something hard and unrelenting finally snaps in his chest, makes all of it spill forth without the fear and shame standing a chance to hold it back. “I’ve watched you pine after Lily, and then I watched you move on and date whoever came your way. I was your friend long before I was anything else, and you might have thought all of this a game, might have thought it amusing, to press your hands to me and find me shaking, but I cannot find the fucking punchline because I have been in love with you for so long, I can’t even remember how it feels when—”

James fists his hand more firmly into Sirius' robes and pulls. Their mouths clash, harsh and uncoordinated, and the noise wrenching itself out of Sirius’ throat is a horrible, distorted thing that he wants to shove back down until he forgets that he has ever been capable of making it in the first place.

“You’re so fucking stupid, I don’t even—” James presses out, the words bitten off and unsteady, but Sirius puts both of his hands to James’ chest and shoves until there is enough space between them that, if this was not James, and he was not Sirius, he would be able to breathe again.

He has lost track of the scale to measure his hurt, and his voice is low and shaking when he spits, “You have no right to do this to me; I’ve made it this long, and I’ll make it another five years. Don’t play the self-sacrificing hero now, when all—”

“I’m in love with you,” James says, and his voice is flat, annoyed, so fucking certain of it that Sirius takes an actual step back. “Have been, in fact, for a good fucking while but you have been pulling further and further away from me for ages, and so I kept it to myself, and then I was a goddamn fool about this whole pretending to be a couple fuckup, but you—”

“You don’t—”

“But you kept touching me as if you couldn’t stop, and when you—"

“Stop.”

“No, I’m not—Sirius.”

James says his name with a weight to it that he cannot ignore, a request and a promise and Sirius has always been helpless against anything James asked of him.

His hands are shaking so badly that he doesn’t know what to do with them. “What the fuck do you want from me?”

James loosens his grip and curls his hand around Sirius’ shoulders instead. He licks his lips, and his voice is rough when he says, “Tell me the last time I’ve successfully lied to anyone.”

“What the fuck are you on about, you—”

“Sirius,” James says, fingers pressing into Sirius’ muscles. “When was the last time you’ve seen me deceive anyone successfully?”

Sirius stares at him, and there is a horrible, unsettling sense of vertigo as hope spills through him, rooting his heart back into his chest, because the thing is—

Well, the thing is that James cannot lie for shit, not to save his own life, and certainly not to Sirius.

“There we go,” James says quietly, stepping closer. He shifts his hand to Sirius’ neck, slides his fingers into his hair instead. His eyes are dark in the waning light, and he looks at Sirius with so much uncertainty still that Sirius vows he will repent for the rest of his life. “Admittedly, I’ve had a horrible way to go about it, but—”

Sirius kisses him, but this time it is all tentative brush of lips, all careful fingers climbing up James’ spine until he can pull him closer, fitting them together until Sirius forgets what has ever kept them apart, forgets that his hands are still shaking. It no longer feels like flying or falling, no longer feels like the second before the impact.

“I’m sorry,” he says, presses it into James’ open mouth and against his temples, presses his forehead to James’ shoulders and clings to him as the sun sets around them.

“Don’t lie to me again,” James says after a while, his mouth close to Sirius’ ear. “I get why you did it but—no more secrets. There is nothing you could do that would make me turn my back on you, but I’m not—I cannot bear it. I can’t handle the distance you put between us when you do.”

Sirius forces himself to look at him, and brushes his lips against the corner of James’ mouth as he vows, “I’ll try.”

James snorts lightly, his eyes crinkling with humour, and Sirius knows that he will never let go again. That he can’t.

“Come on,” James says, reaching for Sirius’ hand. “Let’s find a place to stay.”

--

The hostel is small and cheap, but it’s out of season so it’s mostly empty. There’s a bed where they can curl into each other, which is really all Sirius cares about at this point.

“Moody’s going to have a conniption at the fact that we blew the mission,” Sirius says, but it is little more than an idle observation.

Beside him, James is miles upon miles of smooth, brown skin, all pliant beneath Sirius’ fingertips. In the sanctuary of this bed, in this small hostel, somewhere in Germany and far away from England, the war feels unreal; like something that cannot reach them as long as some part of them is still touching.

“Yes, well, I doubt that we would have found anything,” James says, shrugging lazily. He presses his mouth to the side of Sirius’ throat and says, “Right now, I also really don’t give a fuck, to be honest.”

Sirius hums in agreement and rolls on top of James, linking their hands together until he can press them into the mattress above James’ head. He looks down at James’ open face, the warmth of it and the way his lips curve around a smile as he says Sirius’ name, over and over like a prayer. For the first time in five years, he believes that he can make himself a home here that does not constantly slip blades beneath his skin.

--

In the end, they stay another three days in Hamburg. It’s less a vacation than a defiant escape, but James’ hand fits perfectly into Sirius’, and at the end of those days, Sirius knows the shape of James’ body as well as he knows his own.

Moody’s lecture lasts over an hour, and Sirius is rather certain that they will never be sent on another undercover mission again, but James grins at him across the table, his ankle warm against Sirius’, and he really cannot bring himself to care at all.

#prongsfoot #fanfic #sirius black #james potter #marauders #filled #first war #getting together #fake dating #queerofthedagger

[cookierunauprompts]

yo, guess who made an angst based on the “ it takes two” au? This girl, I hope you enjoy Egg tarts really poor mental state!

—————————————————————————

Tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, tock-

The clock within this small faerie bakery and tea shop filled the silence like a small melody, leaving the only two customers alone sitting at a table in the corner. They had two cups of peach tea, the one with the beret and nice coat took hers nice and warm, while the other with a nice traveling coat and captain style hat took theirs iced. They were sharing a small red velvet cake as well it seems. 

“ I still can’t believe I’ve actually managed to find you- er well more like actively stumble upon you.” Said butterscotch cookie while she gently swirled the tea in her cup.

“ me neither, to be honest I was pretty sure you were dead” Egg tart cookie said bluntly 

“ I can see why you thought that, the only person who knew was Shadow milk cookie. And that’s only because he accidentally found it.” Butterscotch cookie gives a brief chuckle afterwards.

Wait… he knew where she was this whole time, underneath the table Egg tarts legs start to shake slightly. Though Butterscotch didn’t notice. “ Wait, he knew where you were. When did he find out?” 

“Um don’t remember the exact dates, but it was quite a bit before their sealing.” Oh- that was just GREAT! He knew how much you missed her, she was one of the only people you really connected with!

“When he first found me it was both nice company and a bit of a hassle, he was always so… hyper? An-“ Egg tart is starting to space out at this point… why didn’t he tell you? Did he not trust you? Y-you’re his best friend!… or at least you thought you were… they start to swirl the ice within their tea, while politely nodding to Butterscotch cookies voice.

“ and than he had the audacity to kiss me!” 

“Wha- he kissed you..?”

“Yeah! And than he had the audacity to basically leave me on read for years!”

“D-do you… like him back…” Egg tart asks hesitantly 

“… yeah I think I do… wh-what should I do about it?” She asks with a nervousness in her voice

No no no no no, PLEASE! Why, WHY! The one time you gained romantic feelings for another-

Egg tart cookie gently clasps the hands of Butterscotch cookie in an comforting manner.

No, NO! Be selfish for once! For once in your pathetic life BE selfish. Give yourself a chance a shot! Yes we care about her- but you deserve happiness to! Please don’t-

She looks into her lovely brown eyes, now filled with such uncertainty. Egg tart opens her mouth and says-

DONT DO IT, PLEASE-

“I mean… why not give it a shot? I mean from what you’ve told me… it seems he might like you to”

“You really think so?”

“Yes, yes I do”…. You seethe at the new found light in her eyes…. You also scold yourself… for being so angry at her happiness.

You- you shouldn’t be so mad, she’s happy, like truly happy in what seems like a long time. Why are you getting so mad?!?!

… it’s because- it’s because she’s everything you wish you were, wish you could have. 

You know your just a mishmash of traits ripped straight from your friends. Mystic flours colors, a worse version of her light, yeah your a good mage… but never as good as Shadow milks mastery. Hell you have the yellows of golden butter, and shit worse versions of her lovely creations.

You want what she posses so badly- what they all poses. Identity, something that makes you special… wanted… loved…

They all love her… you adore her to, you know this. Otherwise you wouldn’t have bursted into tears upon seeing her again. But… you can’t help but be jealous.

… and you HATE yourself for it! God how can you be so selfish, she deserves to be happy- she was fucking putting her jam into her dolls for crying out loud, you shouldn’t be so pathetic. You should just suck it up and get over it-

“Egg tart?”

“-oh yes.” She gives Butterscotch cookie such a lovely smile. Its almost alarming how she can do that with what their actually feeling.

“ oh- sorry it just seems you were spacing out is all… are you okay?”

“ oh yeah- I mean the stress of the recent events is affecting me. But I’ll be fine!” Just keep smiling 

“ if you say so. Want the rest of my cake?”

Egg tart forces a giggle “ of course! I’ve always been one for sweets” they than take a big bite of cake “anyways anything else interesting happening to you?”

“Oh well you see-“

You nod and listen, just like always. You just need to keep yourself together. You just need to keep-

Smiling.

—————————————————————————-

*bats eyelashes like she didn’t just make her oc suffer the horrors* what chu think?

have any ideas on what I should write next, also I hope I did an ok job at writing golden butter!

see you!

AWABHAGFHAGFGBG I LOVE IT!! I think you did good at writing Goldie as well!

as for ideas to what you should write next, i'll be honest i have no idea. But keep up the good work!!

#not a prompt #Golden Butter Cookie Tag #other's writing

[spacedhead]

homestuck reread #4: hivebent part 3 (end of hivebent? i dont know when the official end is)

starting off strong here. or weak? um, this sucks. she is being completely unreasonable in this interaction and way out of line. minus points for her :(

i wish things got better for you buddy. i wish it so badly. but they do not

now THIS IS AWESOME!! THANKS VRISKA

oh man i love him so much. look at him go!!!

crazy soul read here

what the fuck are you doing stop it right now

oh god

lolllll john is so stupid

check out this team work . how come it isnt always like this with them. you guys have the capability to be so incredible together. such a shame

MEOW!!!! also this is awesome. love me some sburb session shenanigans.

ZAMN. any askers

.......................

:(

this whole insane huge block of text between karkat and kanaya was not something i remembered at all but i am loving it. they are so great :)))

so reallll

aw shit

AW FUCK

ok that was fucking crazy. so vriska, to get revenge on terezi for basically being the reason she lost her arm, used her psychic powers to control tavros, to make him use HIS PSYCHIC POWERS TO CONTROL terezis dragon lusus, to make IT USE ITS OWN PSYCHIC POWERS TO TELL TEREZI TO LOOK AT THE SUN, BLINDING HER. all that while having just lost an arm and an eye? god damn if she isnt a baller. but then later she gets mixed by aradia and is now on the verge of death. so

ok so i think ? now is the time to watch rex duodecim angelus so im just gonna do that since she seems to be describing the fight that happens in that fanimation :3

hey that was pretty awesome . loved the sollux and aradia part. and of course the vriska shit at the end was just. the best. plus they all like pose for a picture at the end so huge win

ah hell yeah

this is a cool panel

BABY JOHNATHAN . MY SON. well not my son . but he is my son

YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO WHAT THE FUCK THIS IS SO WHAAAAAAA HI JOHN OMG HI

this is everything to me

lil bro..........

FINALLY back with john on lowas.... this is so cool

hehehe

this shit made me giggle fr

beep beep meow!!!

to be continued.................. this is so fun

#joff hs reread #love sburb gaming #so glad to be back with egbert

[sapphicwhump]

After Irithyll 7 - Nightmare pt. 2

Fandoms: Dark Souls, Dark Souls III Tropes: emotional whump, trauma recovery, whumpee x caretaker fluff TWs: none

[ Previous | First | Read on AO3 ]

        You’re jolted awake by another piercing scream that echoes throughout Firelink Shrine.

        It’s the third one this month. By now, all the residents are well aware of its meaning: Karla had another nightmare. It’s bothersome, but nothing can be done about it; best to just ignore it and get back to sleep as well as you’re able.

        For a minute, you consider ignoring it as well. After reflexively bolting upright, you lower yourself back down, allowing your head to fall back against your straw-filled mattress. You nearly allow your eyes to close again, until the image of Karla from the first of these incidents returns to you; drenched in a cold sweat, gasping for breath, without a clue where she was or what was happening. The thought is enough to lift you from your bed, dress you, and carry your bare feet over the freezing flagstones to Karla’s alcove.

        You give a hesitant knock on the stonework, awaiting her permission to enter. After your awkward spat yesterday, you may not be the face she wants to see right now, although you can't think of any other she might prefer.

        It’s a relief when she pulls the curtain aside. Tear tracks are visible down her cheeks in the light of your Pyromancy Flame.

        “Hey...”

        “It’s quite late, Ashen One. I’m fine—” She’s interrupted by a sniffle. “You can return to bed.”

        “I’d prefer to make sure you’re alright. Can I come in?”

        You’re bracing for another swift rejection, but to your relief, she eventually responds with a quick nod. You cast a Warmth spell for illumination and take a seat next to her, although to your dismay, she promptly shifts to the other side of the alcove. Her knees are curled up to her chest in that same protective position you’ve seen so many times before.

        A long moment passes before she speaks, punctuated by occasional sniffles as she collects herself. “I’m… sorry. About yesterday. You were just trying to help me, and I was… needlessly cruel to you.” She refuses to meet your eyes.

        “Alright. Um, thank you.” The response feels inadequate, but you don’t have much experience accepting apologies.

        “You were right about what you said. I could never dream of assigning blame to you, if you had been through everything I have.”

        “That’s a relief, at least. Can you apply that to yourself?”

        She winces in what looks like pain. “...I don’t know. Something still bothers me about it. I just don’t get why. Why would Sulyvahn lock me up if I’m not a threat to civilized society? There would be no reason to imprison witches if they posed no danger.”

        Indignant anger sparks within you. Whoever made her feel this way, you’d relish the chance to incinerate them with your pyromancies. "Sulyvahn put you in that dungeon because he is a corrupt tyrant hungering for power with no moral compass. Witches are a politically expedient scapegoat, not a threat to his people. Please, don't tear yourself apart with shame for events you had no control over."

        Her gaze drops to her lap, and you can almost see something break within her. "I know. That makes sense, it's just..." She's struggling to speak between ragged, labored breaths.

        "That's so fucking unfair." Her voice breaks on the last syllable, coming out at just above a whisper. More tears pool in her eyes, and you briefly wonder if you’ve made some mistake, before the distraught witch scoots over to you on her knees and promptly collapses against your chest.

        Your stomach leaps, but you force it back down when she begins to shake with silent sobs. You wrap your arms around her to support her weight, wincing as she momentarily flinches at the gentle touch. You don’t dare move your hands from their current position, no matter how badly you want to run them along her back or stroke her raven hair.

        "You're right. It is. It doesn't mean you're weak, or wretched, or any other of the awful things you say about yourself. We can’t control the actions of others; their evil is on them, not you.”

        Her eyes squeeze shut, and your shirt begins to dampen beneath her face. "Ohh gods… why me? Why the fuck do I have to suffer!? They imprisoned, and tortured me for… why!? "

        A fragment of an anguished wail that she had been suppressing finally slips out. The choked sound is enough to rend your heart in two. More soon follow as she breaks down in your arms, and you hold each other closer than you ever have before.

        For a long while, you simply cradle Karla to your chest, allowing her to empty her misery onto you. While she had previously been holding back the worst of her sobs, she’s now full-on wailing into your shoulder. Although you’re already planning what to say when she finishes, you do not attempt to quiet her tears. She needs to release her pent-up anguish unimpeded. She would still be suffering just as badly even if she was hiding it better; releasing her sorrows in your arms is greatly preferable to letting them fester in her mind.

        You patiently wait for several minutes, until she has withdrawn herself from the embrace and begun to dry her tears on her sleeve before you speak. She seats herself next to you, in the spot she'd shied away from initially. Her leaning against your shoulder is a pleasant surprise.

        “So… do you want to talk about it?”

        You’ve long since stopped bothering to ask Karla this question, as you figured you already knew what her answer would be. In the past, she’s been cagey at best about her time in Irithyll dungeon, and at worst outright hostile. Because of this, her response catches you by surprise.

        “Yes. I think I’m ready.”

        With her tears expended, she's able to articulate her thoughts more clearly. “It’s… fuck… It’s such an injustice. How do you make peace with that? How do you accept that your life was ruined over fucking nothing? ”

        “...I don’t know.” you’re forced to admit. The words are bitter on your tongue, like an admission of defeat. “But, do you think your life is truly ruined? You’re free now, and you have a community to belong to.”

        And you have me, you want to add, but refrain.

        Her distress doesn’t ease. “No, you don’t get it. When I got out of the dungeon, I thought I would just go back to a semi-normal life and everything would be fine again. That was the plan. I tried so… so hard to make that happen.” She’s out of tears to cry, but still chokes down a dry sob.

        “But it doesn’t work like that. I’m so broken down now, that…” She moves her fingers back and forth in an interlocking pattern. “...the pieces won’t go back together. I can’t ever be who I used to be, when things were okay. There was a stupid, naive, reckless girl who went into that dungeon, and she's never coming back out.”

        From a hand in her lap, she shakily uncurls her fingers and produces her Pyromancy Flame, the one you first gave her in Irithyll dungeon.

        “It’s like… look at my Flame. I had one before, from my mother; it burned black like my dark pyromancies. When I was sentenced, one of the Irithyll knights rang his chime, and… he used a miracle to take it away from me. Literally ripped out that piece of my soul. You gave me a bit of yours, but it’s different. I can never get the old one back.”

        She turns her face into your shoulder, her voice breaking again. “That’s what this is like. I can never go back to being a whole person again, and it’s so fucking unfair!”

        It chills you when you realize you’ve never met that woman who went into the dungeon. You’ve never known a Karla that’s been physically and mentally healthy, one who doesn’t bolt at the sound of a chime or wake up screaming all too often. You try to imagine what she might have been like when she was younger, untouched by so much crushing horror, only to be struck by the realization of just how little you have to go on. A tremendous sense of loss worms its way deep into your chest, a cold longing for something you’ve never had at all.

        It doesn’t matter. Karla is who she is right now, cuddled up next to you with her head resting on your shoulder. This is the Karla you’ve always known, and this is the Karla who is important in the here and now. It’s this Karla who’s brightened your life and captured your affection, not whoever she may have been long ago.

        “All of our experiences affect us. Who we are is in a constant state of flux, both for better and for worse. None of us can go back to how we were before… but we always still have the opportunity to change for the better.”

        Gently, you take her hand holding her Flame, sliding your own around it. “Look at your Flame now. It’s different, but that doesn’t make it any worse or lesser. It started off weak, but now it’s getting stronger again. Look how much bigger it is than when it was first rekindled.”

        For a moment, she's transfixed by the dancing flame in her palm. The warm light flickers and waves in silence, fuelled by nothing but the strength of her soul. 

        She winces again, and her eyes fall from the beautiful fire she holds. “It still hurts so much.”

        “I know.” You clasp your hand around hers, and her Flame is absorbed back into her body. You give her palm a reassuring squeeze, and your heart flutters when she returns the gesture. “But even if you’re not okay now, I trust that you can still get there. You’re a strong person. It won’t be the same, but you can still have a life worth living.”

        Karla leans into your shoulder, staring blankly at the opposite wall. Her face is very still, like she’s putting a great deal of effort into keeping it that way.

        “Huh. You really think so?”

        You nod. “Yeah. It’ll probably take more time before you can fully believe it, but… I’ll be here to remind you.”

        She looks almost as if she’s about to cry again, but she breathes in slow and deep, and a contented smile comes to her lips rather than sobs.

        “I think I can live with that.”

        You feel as if you could cry as well.

        Karla blinks a few times, before stretching her arms back and letting out an exhausted yawn. “Can we discuss this more tomorrow? A lot of things have been bothering me lately; I think it would be nice to get them all out. But right now, I need sleep.”

        “Mm, sounds good to me.” In your haste to aid Karla, you’d nearly forgotten your own exhaustion. Her yawn spreads infectiously to you.

        An idea strikes you, one that gets you slightly red in the face. “Do you want me to stay for tonight?”

        You surprise yourself with your own willingness to ask the question. It takes Karla a long moment to answer, and when she does, more embarrassment is written across her face. “...I would appreciate it, if it’s not a bother.”

        Sharing a bed with Karla is the furthest thing from a bother you could possibly imagine. “Alright then.”

        You savor one last glance at her face before settling into her alcove for the night. You opt to sleep on your side and press yourself up against the back wall, minimizing the amount of her space that you’re taking up. She did ask for you to be here, but you still wouldn’t want to encroach.

        “G’night.”

        You almost jump when you feel a weight softly lean against you, and an arm wrapped in black throws itself over your chest. Karla pulls you away from the wall slightly, and you graciously scoot back into her embrace. You’re hyper-aware of every sensation; the gentle rhythm of her breath brushing the back of your neck, the way her arm protectively drapes over you, the softness of her breasts pressing into your back. You can’t remember ever feeling this relaxed in your life. Tentatively, you enclose your hand over hers, and almost melt into the mattress when a pleased sigh graces your ears.

        Karla remains perfectly still and serene during her sleep for the remainder of the night, not once disturbing you or the other residents.

#dark souls #dark souls 3 #ds3 #karla #whump #lady whump #female whumpee #caretaker pov #after irithyll

[abra-ka-dammit]

when i was a minor the internet was still new enough that it was hard to find specific things

and also it was early enough in Web Existence that i was 100% certain id be hacked or get a virus if i clicked the wrong search result

(also for a lot of it my parents could see what i searched/looked at bc i was dumb and didnt know abt history so i was real careful abt what i typed too)

so imagine how i feel in 2023 as an adult reading ripped scanlations of any yaoi manga i please on a seedy website that didnt exist in My Yaoi Era and seeing just. countless blatant and even self confessed minors in the comments making thirsty statements about dicks and smut and talking about the actually vile Bad ones they read when they were 12 (2 years ago) etc etc

its. horrifying. not only bc theres people with literally "so what im 14 f**k off haters" as a signature talking about how badly they want a giant cock to ride (and no this is not a site where meeting/messaging/talking to people is a thing so i do NOT think its posing pedos at all) but because i know for a fact that if i was their age during this era i would be right there with them. except for the wanting cock thing tbh i was always more into the romance--coming to terms with gay feelings stories hit hard for my confused budding bisexual kid ass. but i would still be one of those, actual children, happily consuming explicit adult content thinking im so mature for my age and getting all sorts of wrong ideas about what is and is not okay in a relationship or just life

like at least i was limited to what was offered on the shelves at barnes & noble and suncoast (and atomic comics, RIP). Stuff officially translated by US companies and stocked in normal bookstores in the 2000's tended not to even show censored wieners, it was all cut off or hidden by spans of magical fuzz or what have u. and even if i wanted more, i wasnt sure how to find it online and if i DID find it i was fairly certain it would break the computer and get my ass in huge trouble

youre not mature for your age, i promise. youre just fucking up your own brain before its fully developed because much as kids SAY they can separate fiction from reality... youre not so good at it. you dont recognize which parts are the fanstasy and which parts are not in these placed-in-the-real-world romance and smut stories. you see obvious manipulation like romantic interest telling main guy not to hang out with other guys bc he gets mad when hes jealous and call red flag but then post heart eyes when its subtle because ohh thats just loyalty thats just love, minor obsession IS romance and the best-friend side character that keeps trying to help their main character friend recognize the toxicity is just annoying

like yall dont even know what youre saying its killing me inside

i hope you dont make the same idiot mistakes and allow the same shitty things as i did in my early romantic endeavors. i hope you come to understand what real love looks like sooner than i did even while having been exposed to so much less. god, i hope.

#readmore'd for long ramble #it stresses me out ngl #im so worried for all these kids #its not my business obviously i dont know any of them irl and have no place telling them what to do #but dear lord #im literally speaking from experience here this is 100% what groomers want you to be doing #its so easy to sweep a kid off their feet after being fed this shit bc Creepy Behaviors are normalized to them #then they never question why a supposed 15 yo boy would want to cyber with an 11 yo girl bc theyre too infatuated by the attention

[frostbite-the-bat]

I know nothing about that character but. but. Skrunkly blorbo from my dashboard

GOOD!!!!!! i can talk abt her a bit :3 purely from memory i may get deets wrong its been a while since i was a big time SU lore nerd lmfao . is long. i ramble off topic at the end about SU in general .

she's nephrite/centipeetle (nickname when corrupted) from steven universe !!

she's not a major character not by a long shot, but she reappears a few times throughout the show - she's the first "monster" the gems fight in the first episode!!

idk if you know how corrupted gems work but, short story - pink diamond poses as rose quarts, starts a rebellion, that turns into a war against the diamonds, the diamonds then basically use a war mega weapon that corrupts everything on earth. and rose managed to only save garnet and pearl

the mega weapon is like a flash of bright light and by fans its been often called the corruption song and what it does is corrupt the gems into monsters. it messes with their mind and their bodies reflect that - by becoming confused, scared, and often aggressive monsters

one of them was nephrite!! she was a ship captain and had a crew, she "talks" about this in the episode i mentioned i just rewatched

she got corrupted like everyone else - and she turned into a centipede gem monster which earned her nickname - centipeetle

her gem type is nephrite, though! its also her eye. her corrpution is terrible and scary but she remains a gendered little beaft to me even when she eventually gets uncorrupted (though obviously, i have a Creatur bias) (but her being uncorrupted is Her Finally Being Happy Again and that is Good)

anyways shes defeated in the first episode and is bubbled - her gem put in a pink magical bubble that stops her from reforming. (gems ARE their gems and when they're badly damaged they poof into their gem form and take a while before they regenerate their body)

but in a later episode steven finds her again and unbubbles her and shes...! very tiny this time around

critter!

steven feeds her chips and goes around and wants to prove to the gems that she's good even if corrupted. even takes her on missions but uh oh things go wrong and shes poofed again and they bubble her again but steven still sees her as a friend.

then another thing to know steven has healing powers but also early in the show his powers kinda come and go as he learns to use them or realizes he has them - in this episode they came back and his first idea was to go back and try to heal nephrite

the gems allow him to do so and...! well! shes bettter than before but not healed. thats where her skrunkly semi corrupted form comes from

thank you, steven universe wiki, for the clean renders for me to show off instead of me having to go into my downloaded episodes and look for shit

AND. ITS FUCKED BECAUSE. she both remembers but is also struggling to remember. but she remembers her past after being probed a bit (by steven giving her the same chips he gave her before)- and she can write pretty decently. (comes up later but i wanted to say this to remind you shes not... like a feral animal anymore).

but she cant talk and her body is all different from what it used to be. she can't talk so steven and her talk through drawings and she explains her story. in this episode we also learn the cause of the corruption im sure, but i believe there were hints about it previously. thing you forget with rewatching is sometimes forgetting where exactly a thing was revealed, because youre going in knowing all of that already and noticing hints of it

anyways through drawing she explains that she was once a captain of a ship with her crew and that she and others were on earth. then the rebellion and the war started and she didnt have time to leave before everyone got corrupted. as she's drawing this, she begins crying. this unstability causes her to start corrupting again and she's clearly depicted to be both in pain and emotional turmoil

she runs off to a warp pad to teleport somewhere, but she cannot activate it due to corruption so steven takes her to where her crashed ship is. as they run towards it she keeps corrupting and what breaks me is just how desperate she is. how scared she is of corrupting further. she can't do anything about it. and this time she's aware of it all happening

eventually as she's basically fully corrupted again, steven and her get to the ship to reveal other centi nephrite corrupted gems - her crew

meaning all she wanted was to see her crew she cares so much about again. and i just

ghhghnghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh shes portrayed as like the mother before right she could basically spawn little smaller centipede gems to attack with and she was refered to as "the mother" and the way she got poofed later in her small form is by saving steven and her being a captain slash commander is like... she cares she cares so much . she didnt want anything else as she was being corrupted than to see her old friends again as her memories and full consciousness was fading away and im just.. ghgnhhghHGH

HUUGHHHH,H,,H,H SNNNFF.F.. HGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

(HAS TO REWATCH PART OF AN EPISODE) (SEEN SEASON EPISODES ONLY ONCE OR TWICE UNLIKE THE OTHER SEASONS I REWATCHED TOO MANY TIMES) ok im bakck

aNYWAYS LATER in the show she gets healed and uncorrupted in the....! less than favored by LIKE EVERYONE episodes of the diamonds getting ""REDEEMED"" and stevens like yo yellow diamond blue diamond you corrupted These Gems and he takes them to nephrite (whos currently corrupted) (I FORGOT TO SAY SHE SEEMS TO REMEMBER STEVEN IN THIS STATE AND IS FRIENDLY in the episode where shes left on the ship before everyone leaves SHE EVEN WENT BACK AND SNUGGLED AGAINST HIM A BIT!! SHE CARE)

and yellow and blue use powers to uncorrupt her and SHE GETS UNCORRUPTED ! BUT IM CRYIGN BECAUSE SHE INSTANTLY STARTS CRYING AND PLEADS FOR HELP HOW THEYRE ALL GONNA BE CORRUPTED !!!!!! LAST WORDS BEFORE SHE GOT CORRUPTED! IWILL DIE! and she repeats that until steven uses his healing powers and that heals her fully

she instantly sees the diamonds and salutes and speaks to them, fully back as her old self, unaware of everything that happened. she sees them and thinks she survived the evacuation and DOESNT REMEMBER BEING CORRUPTED and her mentioning pink diamond upsets yellow and blue and they back off (they were holding her to like. keep the power flowing thru at her) and she CORRUPTS INSTANTLY AGAIN SHE HAD LIKE 20 SECONDS OF BEING BACK TO NORMAL ONLY TO OKAY BYE FUCK YOU AGAIN

anyways HERES WHERE THE OFFTOPIC RANT STARTS because being a su fan in 2023 is still scary i feel like i must talk about the issues before anyone jumps on my neck

steven is pissed and tells the diamonds off to fix this because hey dont be angry at a corrupted gem that theyre wrong YOU CAUSED THIS . and then the episodes goes to where they go off to see white diamond and i think we all know how that went. hard to talk abt these episodes considering how much strong hate they get - that i dont agree with. though i do agree the diamond redemption was quick and questionable - but people criticizing this often ignore the context that the show had to be kinda rushed after the wedding episode and that the message SU is trying to put out is about kindness and forgivness to kids - besides the diamonds are still clearly painted as being in the wrong. they havent suddenly become nice and they still call steven as pink diamond.

but yeah i do agree it still couldve been handled better with a bit more time - it was sudden. sorry i felt like mentioning that because liking steven universe and talking about later season 5 is fucking dangerous. shudders. i still remember all those transphobic ass antisemetic racist videos clearly being Just That shitting on the show because ohno gay people lets compare a kids show to nazi germany made by a jewish queer creator ! sugar isnt faultless obviously. we all know of At Least That One EENE Incident.) but damn yall in 2016 are u sure u genuinely criticized a show being questionable ? seems like ur just letting ur shitty beliefs show. and like i love the show and i enjoy it but i know its not faultless yknow???? good? good! ok! back to nephrite

she then doesnt appear until a bit later in the show finale (not SU future/movie) when yellow, blue and white are all together (with steven) and collectively help all the gems uncorrupt and we see many cameos of corrupted gems we've seen before get uncorrupted now including nephrite AND SHE GETS TO SEE HER CREW AGAIN ALL UNCORRUPTED AND RAAA!! aaand thats it thats like all her appearences i love her

i do like her semi uncorrupted design the most plus small centi bc I LOAVE CENTIPEDE!! I LVOE CRITTER! THE GENDER SILLY but i feel a bit bad for it since thats her being corrupted and unhappy but

yeag... silly critter... honestl i always liked her but especially now i grew to like her more hheehee

also she makes spore creature sounds shes My Autism Creature

joy and whimsy

#[answered asks]

[oflgtfol]

i wonder if the guy who painted the lucifer crying painting kept going like "oh yeah this fucks" every time he took a step back to see the whole thing, like im doing trying to recreate it now LOL

#i love this painting so much #i just #*shakes my fist* ART yknow #god i remember the first time i saw it years ago ppl were making jokes abt it bc haha . they made lucifer Sexy #but like thats not the point AUGHGHG #i dont care about all that #its the eyes and its the pose it gets me so fucking badly #the intense glare. the red rimmed eyes. the single tear. the arm obscuring the face. the hands clenched together #the emotions . like the mix of Rebellion indignation anger but also like. the single tear!! all that but also this underlying sadness!!! #AHHHHHHHHHH #the single tear and the red rimmed eyes juxtaposed with the glare and the clenched fists its SOO ASDFGHJGFDSDFG #literally dont give a shit about anything else with this paitning #brot posts #i dont even know the name of this. my search history s just 'lucifer crying painting' and google Knows

[sinfulcries]

MINE! — KITA X MALE READER

authors note. this is my first collab piece! i was so excited to post this and omg this is my first time writing top sub reader, i love power bottom kita. also this is super late i apologize, the deadline was like so long ago and i only published it now </3 my apologies huhu jdskdj ( @hqintheclub / wc. 1.4k )

tw. PWP, kidnapping, dubcon, implied drugging, feminization, handjobs, edging, unprotected sex, power bottom kita, yandere themes, orgasm denial, size difference, nonconsensual photographing,

Sunlight pours through your windows, glazing your bedroom in soft yellow as your eyes flutter softly against warm skin. Normally, you’d enjoy waking up to a warm morning, basking in the sunlight as you felt your cold sheets wrap against your relaxed limbs however, you were vaguely aware of the small figure sitting next to you and you could feel your wrists start to ache even before you attempted to pull on them through your restraints.

You were definitely not in your bedroom. And your captor, whom you’ve never seen in your entire life was aware that you were no longer unconscious. By the slight smile worming its way onto their face, your gut was telling you that he was about to speak, or worse, do something to you; however, you only kept your docile act up-- praying to whatever god to help you wake up from this eerie nightmare.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” He muttered softly, running a hand through your soft hair. He was significantly smaller than you and that only gave you a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, you’d be able to outdo him in terms of strength.

That thought instantly went down the drain however once you realized how he brought you to this place. He surely couldn’t have done it alone right? And if he did, how was he able to carry you? Your situation was quite confusing and the man seated next to you could tell just how frustrated you were with the way your eyebrows were knitted together closely.

“You’re bad at acting.” He sighed. “Again, I won’t hurt you. Unless you give me a reason to of course.”

Finally, you spoke up, attempting to pull on your restraints one last time before letting the words leave your lips. “What do you want from me.” The man only smiled in response.

“I want to be with you silly. Isn’t the room enough to give you some insight?” he beamed and as your eyes slowly started to adjust to your surroundings, a strained gasp left your lips as you scanned over the various photographs of you candidly taken plastered all over the painted walls. The pictures varied from size to poses to setting-- and the biggest portrait which was planted right in front of you, was a picture of you masturbating in your own bedroom.

The smaller man smiled innocently at your reaction. “What do you think, y/n? My collection’s slowly growing. Soon I'll have enough to prove just how dedicated I am to you.”

“W-What the fuck… Who even are you? I’m not even into m-men!” You blurted out, foolishly thinking that the man would let you go once he knew that you were in fact, into women. “I’m Shinsuke Kita, your junior. And I know, that’s why I have the perfect solution for that!”

Before you could get another word out of your mouth, The small male immediately stood up to walk towards the door, closing it shut before disappearing to the room on the other side. You were growing curious of what he had in store for you despite the fear bubbling in your stomach.

‘Is he going to let me go…?’ you thought, pulling on the rope tightly wrapped around your wrists with all your strength only to fail once more. They were too tight, and you could feel the roughness reacting badly to the already raw skin.

The sound of the door clicking open made you stop in your tracks as a… girl? Meekly walked in. “W-What do you think y/n senpai? I’m still quite shy but I’m pretty enough now right?” He murmured shyly.

He was insane. And although he did look quite adorable in the short dress, the frills of the skirt teasingly short, threatening to expose his ass if he bent over and the tightness of his thigh highs hugging his legs just right-- He was still a boy. He had a dick underneath that pretty little skirt he was wearing.

“Hm, thought this would be enough to convince you but guess not.” He sighed observing the way your face twisted in disgust before slowly walking towards you, making himself comfortable on your lap as he started to hump your clothed cock.

A yelp left your throat at the action, hands pulling on the ropes violently as you yelled for him to let you go. “PLEASE, I DON'T WANT THIS! LET ME GO!” Your reaction hardly phased Kita and he only let out a soft chuckle before pressing a chaste kiss on your forehead. “Shh, I’ll make you feel good baby. I’ll take good care of you.”

As soon as you were about to retort, Shinsuke slowly took off the girly panties he was wearing, tossing them carelessly to the side before unzipping your trousers to reveal your cock. By no means were you little; in fact, Kita only drooled shamelessly at the sight, your girth already making his jaw ache just by looking at it. You weren’t even hard and yet here you were, making his cock twitch excitedly underneath the dress he was wearing.

“God I’ve been waiting for this, To feel you inside of me…” The breathless words left Kita’s mouth as he started to stroke your cock and you couldn’t help but fight back the urge to get hard in front of your captor, biting your lip in embarrassment as you watched your cock grow with ease. Kita giggled at the honest reaction “You sure do enjoy my small hand touching your cock like this huh?”

“Please-- Sto-- ah!-p” You groaned in response, his pace only quickening as he started to use two hands to fist your cock, coaxing an orgasm out of you. “C-Cumming!”

Damn was he a psycho and a cruel man-- and as soon as those words left your lips, Kita immediately halted, stopping to give you a teasing grin. “Fine, I’ll stop then” He laughed.

Fuck. you could feel the dignity and sanity draining out of you as he teased the tip of your cock with his thumb, smearing the pre cum all over your smooth head. You knew exactly what the man was doing, and you knew that he was forcing you, manipulating you to say that you /wanted/ him. That you /wanted him/ to make you cum. “Tell me what you want, baby. You know I'll give it to you the moment you say it.”

“F-Fuck you…”

“Aw you want to fuck me? I knew you couldn’t resist pretty little girls like me, y/n-kun.” Kita grimaced, lifting the fabric of his skirt up to align the fat head of your cock in front of his tight rim. As much as you hated being taken advantage of, the pleasure was too much and you found yourself slowly giving in to your desires, wanting nothing more but to cum inside of the pretty boy on top of you.

Kita noticed the way you slowly grew more pliant, and a small smile wormed its way onto his lips as he slowly sank down on your cock, hissing at the painful stretch of your girth tearing his cunt open. ‘I should’ve prepared myself more’ He thought whilst holding back tears.

Fuck, the expression that Kita made turned you on, and you could no longer control yourself from jutting your hips upwards, forcing Kita to impale himself on your cock with a loud cry of your name. Seeing his creamy legs struggling to hold themselves up as the tears streamed down Shinsuke’s face was a picture you could get addicted to and it didn’t take long for you to be pinned down by the smaller male, brown eyes glaring at you as he started to bounce on your length.

“S-Soon enough, I’ll let you fuck me okay? L-Let me do the work for now; wanna make you feel good…”

With a hesitant nod from you in reply, Kita wasted no time in moving his hips to grind against your cock, making sure to lift his skirt up so that you had a nice view of the bulge in his tummy. “Mmm, You can even see me inside of you, So big senpai…” He mewled, effortlessly swallowing your cock every time he bounced his hips.

Your cock was prodding at Shinsuke’s prostate with every thrust and Kita couldn’t contain himself from giggling manically, metaphorical hearts almost visible in his lust filled irises as he was filled with so much happiness, so much love that he was finally getting to feel your cock inside of him.

Leaning in to nip at your bottom lip, the smaller male smiled before whispering, “Shit, You’re gonna be my toy now yeah senpai? There’s no escaping me anymore. You’re mine.”

#sinfulcries works #top male reader #dark content #dark haikyuu #dark blog #hq smut #haikyuu x male reader #haikyuu x reader #kita smut #kita x reader #haikyuu smut

[sukirichi]

total opposites

You and Toge swap bodies after encountering a fairytale curse, and similar to its origin, it also takes a fairytale method to break it.

REQUEST. body swap au + best friends to lovers

CONTENT/WARNINGS. slight crack fic, some cursing, implications of nsfw but nothing explicit, just Toge being a not-so closet pervert, usual best friend bickering, reader is fem bodied, unedited story (I should stop saying this, everyone knows I don’t edit my stuff)

NOTES. I enjoyed writing this, tysm for the request anon, this was really cute! definitely this is shooting up in one of my fav works ever (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

You stretched your arms overhead, feeling great after sleeping in. It wasn’t common of you to sleep this late, but you and Toge had gone stargazing the night before. A smile made its way to your face as you reminisced him reciting rice ball ingredients, signing that he was telling poetry to ‘match the mood’ until you’d both fallen asleep on the soft blanket atop a hill.

You don’t remember how you made it back to your room, but figured that Toge had carried you back home before the sun rose. Making a mental note to thank your best friend later, you yawned as you padded out to your room, hands rubbing in circles at your stomach.

Hopefully breakfast would be amazing today.

The door next to you opened, revealing your younger classmate, and you frowned, because wasn’t Kugisaki your next door neighbour? Well, whatever, he, Yuuji, and Kugisaki might’ve taken advantage of the rare, peaceful weekend that they probably had a movie marathon the night before.

“Morning, Megumi!” you greeted, coughing a bit when you sounded off, throat a little horse and itchy. At the sound of your voice, Megumi stilled in his tracks, eyes wide at you. His comical expression had you barking in laughter, shooting finger guns his way as you wiggled your eyebrows. “Ey, be a good dog and bark for me, will you?”

Semi-visible sonic waves drifted like waves after one another out your mouth. Megumi scowled before he froze the next second, ears perked up and backside wagging in replacement of a tail. “Woof woof!”

“What the hell?” you reeled back in slight disgust, your underclassman’s cheeks burning red. Then, your lips grazed against a soft cloth, making you look down.

You blinked back once. Twice. You were definitely...built different today. Curiously, you tugged at the zipper peaking out from your black collar, the familiar zhoop sound of the zipper burned into your memory after hearing your best friend do it countless times before.

In front of you, Megumi screeched – the most noise he’d made ever since you met him – his jaw dropped open while you – or rather Toge stood at the end of the hallway, his hands squeezing at your breasts that were still under last night’s pyjamas. You blinked back once. Then twice, steam pouring from your nose when Toge, in your body, pointed at his body. 

“Oh, oh!” your scream bounced off the hallways hard enough that Panda slammed his door open, about to tell everyone to shut up when your voice let out a high-pitched scream.

“What are you doing in my body?!”

Looking down at where Toge was pointing, you were greeted by the sight of his dark uniform and sock clad feet, your chest replaced with hard muscles instead of the soft flesh. You turned to Toge with a stupefied look that mirrored his, both of you falling on the ground with fists pounding on the hardwood floor.

“I’m a fucking girl!” he cried out, whether out of happiness or frustration, it was hard to tell.

Meanwhile, you zipped his collar back up, tugging at his off-white hair as you forced yourself to remember his limited vocabulary. “BONITO FLAKES!”

Now you understood Toge’s frustration of being a cursed speech user. 

“Bonito Flakes” definitely did not hold the same fury as “FUCK” did.

“You and I need to set down some boundaries,” you signed to him, brows pulled together. Toge seemed to be enjoying this sudden body swap a lot more than you did since he hadn’t stopped posing in the mirror the moment you pushed him back to your room, locking it shut to get some privacy. “You are not, under any circumstances, allowed to shower, do you understand?”

Toge scowled at your words, sassy as ever with his hands placed on his hips, buttocks jutted out. You hated, absolutely hated that he used your body this way because this time you couldn’t even laugh – not when seeing your body felt this awkward.

“You would really rather me stink?”

“You can’t undress too! Ever! Or if you will, your eyes better be closed. No peeking too!”

“Y/N, you and I grew up together. I’ve already seen everything,” he rolled his eyes, earning him a hard slap from the arm. Considering he was a lot more muscular than you were, your hit came a lot harder. “Ow!” he protested, rubbing the sore spot that ached, only to laugh at the sounds emitting from his lips. “Wow, I have to admit that this is really fun though. I’m actually talking,” he announced, “Hey, say salmon for me.”

“Bonito flakes!” you shook your head, “The moment Principal Yaga is back, we’re going to talk to him, okay? I don’t want to be stuck in your body any longer!”

“Please, you’re lucky you get to feel me up,” he winked at you, taking your (his) hands to flatten it on his stomach. “Come on, come on, feel my abs!” Whack. “Would you please stop slapping me? Your body is a lot more delicate than mine and my hands are – stop slapping me!”

Feeling bad for your friend and not wanting to abuse your body too much, you raised your hands in surrender with a roll of your eyes. “I can’t take you seriously with that voice. You’re too cute.”

“Complimenting ourselves now, aren’t we?” he scoffed, “Well, whatever, you are cute, especially when you’re angry. Such a shame I can’t see you do that right now because my handsome face is looking back at me.”

“I won’t hesitate to choke you, my friend.”

“You wouldn’t. You adore your body too much,” contrary to his words, Toge pulled a defensive stance. You threw a pillow at him, to which he easily dodged, clutching at the hem of your pyjamas afterwards. “Speaking of bodies, I really need to pee.”

“Hold it!”

“Are you insane? I’m not holding it, you’re going to kill us both!”

“Fine, I’ll take you to the rest room then,” you tugged at the hood of your shirt, pushing him inside the communal female restroom. Toge stood in the middle shock still, evidently flustered at the stalls and lack of urinals. You flicked a finger on his forehead, finger pointed to a stall. “Go pee. That’s my body – I need to make sure you’re not going to do anything weird with it.”

“I thought you trusted me, friend. Why would you think I’d touch you that way?”

You gave him an ‘are you serious?’ look. “You jack off every fucking night, Toge. I can hear you even from the next hallway. Plus, you’re a horny teenage male, who’s to say you wouldn’t be curious and try to see what female masturbation feels like?”

His eyes lit up at the idea, fist coming down to bounce at the palm of his hand as he nodded. “That’s actually a good idea—”

“Don’t you even dare.”

“What?!” you and Toge both exclaimed. He faced you with utter horror written on his face and you gasped, slapping both palms over your lips.

“It is true,” Principal Yaga affirmed with a grim look on his face. He’d recently got back to fetch your troublesome Gojo-Sensei who’d been caught starting a ruckus in Roponggi while women flocked around him, leading to your principal to haul his ass back to the school grounds. “Some curses are manifested through daily objects, and sometimes even through nature. That shooting star you saw was an example of that.”

“But is kissing really necessary?” Toge queried with a wary gaze sent your way.

“It’s a fairytale curse. It can only be broken through a true love’s kiss.”

“But sir, Toge and I have never dated anyone before. How can we miraculously fall in love with someone to break this curse overnight?”

“It doesn’t have to happen overnight. Sometimes, a simple crush will do,” Principal Yaga sighed, scratching his bald head with his face pulled deep in thought. “Y/N, you have a crush on Gojo-Sensei right? I’m going to kill him if he actually kisses you – and knowing that damn brat he might if you ask him – but I think a kiss on the cheek will suffice. For now, you both just have to...broaden your relationships. Maybe go out on dates.”

“I don’t mind that. In fact, I’m going to have the time of my life,” Toge cheered, his mood dampening once he saw you stiffen. “But my body is...”

Knowing full well that he’d get insecure over his lack of speech again, you glared at him hard enough that your best friend straightened up, lips puckered out in a pout as if you hadn’t just caught him talking badly about himself again when you’ve told him countless times he was perfectly fine the way he was.

It made you sigh, feeling slightly bad that until now he still couldn’t see himself the way you saw him – not that you’d ever vocalize this; Toge would never shut up (in the best way he could) if he had the slightest idea what went inside your head.

“You’re lucky you have a pretty face. Otherwise, it’s going to be impossible for anyone to like you,” you teased instead, somewhat flustered at your indirect compliment.

Toge merely scoffed at you, his gaze burning and hard, contrasting the teasing little shit grin he wore. “Oh, please, if I wasn’t the cursed speech user, I would’ve banged—”

“Kids!” Principal Yaga threw his dolls at you hard, the both of you clutching at your heads in pain. How were those dolls as heavy as rocks? “Take your bickering back to your rooms please. No more of this mess and noise. It’s late.”

You frowned at the old man, face pleading as you signed, “Principal Yaga, can’t we really do anything else? Aren’t there any techniques to undo this?”

You and Toge knew that combination so well – pitch black eyes, jaw clenched, lips pursed and palms interlaced under his chin – one that meant his words were final and irrevocable. None of you could argue or suggest more solutions the moment the words left his lips like an ultimate decree. “The technique is the kiss. Now leave.”

You and Toge tried, you both really did. 

But following Principal Yaga’s suggestion of dating others had turned out to be a complete fail – even with your normal body and Toge’s physical charisma. 

It simply didn’t work; not when Megumi ran away from you every time you tried to get him to kiss you with your arms wide open, and Toge wasn’t helping either by pushing Gojo-Sensei away from you every time the cheeky eyed teacher announced his willingness to help.

Eventually, you and your best friend had retired in his room, the scent of him coated all over his pillows and his shirt that you wore. That felt comforting, at least, and you buried yourself in the crook of your body’s neck, bodies tangled with one another.

Who knew dating could be so tiring?

A wave of irritation flashed over you from today’s events, knowing full well that this could’ve been avoided long ago. Scowling, you cuddled Toge closer, lightly flicking your fingers on your body’s chest. “This is your damn fault, Toge.”

“You were the one who asked me to stargaze with you.”

“You don’t always have to say no to everything I ask of you, you know.”

“You’re really dumber than I thought if you think I could easily say no to you,” he snorted above you, his chin resting atop your head. “I don’t have a lot of weakness because I’m a strong sorcerer—” another flick, a harsher one this time around. “Okay, okay, I’m just kidding! But I mean it though – you’re my best friend and my weakness. Of course I’d do anything to make you happy, even if it’s something as stupid as stargazing.”

“Hey!” you made a sound of protest in your throat, looking back at him with a frown. “It wasn’t stupid, it was romantic.”

Hell yeah, it was romantic indeed – your heart still skipped a beat every time you remembered Toge’s starry eyes matching the night sky’s beauty, the words salmon and mustard leaf surprisingly sexy every time it came from him. It was stupid – so fucking stupid – that you groaned into his chest to hide your flushed face.

“Yeah, I suppose it was.”

The room fell silent, your syncopated breathing soothing during this stressful times. Taking advantage of your voice, Toge began to hum, singing the songs you both had always listened to in the privacy of your room during lazy days. It brought a smile to your face as you clutched to him tighter, heart pounding in your chest as you gazed up at him, tapping his chin to get his attention. “Toge, can I say something weird?”

“Please, nothing you say surprises me anymore. Shoot.”

Your mouth began to dry as you cleared your throat in an attempt to hide your awkwardness, gaze pointedly averted from his prying ones. “You and I...we’ve known each other for a long time and we love each other. As best friends, of course.”

“Sheesh, friendzone much?”

“Would you please shut up and listen to me seriously for once?” you huffed, making him snicker, but nodded at you anyway to continue. “As I was saying – why don’t we kiss? It could be true love’s kiss.”

Toge didn’t speak for a good minute, the pregnant pause filling in the gap filled with tension. You taped his cheek, waving his hand in front of his eyes when he dazed out. When his gaze focussed back on you, Toge was surprisingly calm – although beneath that composed exterior, his mind had simply short-circuited. “If this is your way to get to make out with me, I’m going to sock you in the face.”

“Toge, I’m serious! Let’s kiss!”

“I don’t want to!” he shook his head indignantly, hiding his face by hugging you close to his chest instead.

“Why not? Don’t you want to swap back to your original body? Both of us haven’t showered in two days and I’m sick of the way you smell. You’re lucky I love you though, otherwise I’m going to cry. Come on, Toge, what’s holding you back?” you tried to fight back from his grip, but he’d surprised you both when he only squeezed you tighter, both your erratic heart rates matching the other.

“I said no.”

“Toge, it’s just a damn kiss, what’re you so afraid of?”

“I’m afraid that if we don’t swap back, then that means you don’t love me the way I love you!” he finally admitted, breathing hard before continuing. “Principal Yaga said it must be a kiss between lovers and not just platonic friends okay?” you attempted to scramble away from his arms again, and this time he let you, though he’d closed his eyes, cheek squished on the pillows as he murmured, “I don’t want you to reject me... even though I messed up already.”

“Wait,” you snapped your fingers to make him open his eyes, hesitant as you signed, “You...you love me that way?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Why not?”

“Because my face is staring back at me and it’s fucking awkward – I wanted to see your face when I confessed!” he sat up with a frustrated groan, childishly kicking off the sheets of the bed as he clutched his head in his hands. “I had everything planned, okay? Nobara and Yuuji helped me think of everything because Megumi is shit when it comes to love. Listen, I was going to ask you on a candlelit date and then maybe kiss the life out of you – if you feel the same way—”

“Kiss me.” The body he possessed a victim of his own powers, Toge was left with no choice but to grab your face before his mouth pressed against yours, fingers entangled into the other’s hair. You were smiling into the kiss the whole time, barely able to recognize when Toge had shifted your bodies until you were under him, his hands running down your sides lovingly the whole time. 

Pulling away to get some air, you opened your eyes, unsurprised when Toge laid above you, his strong arms planted beside your head.

Both of you were breathing hard from the passionate kiss filled with so much sexual tension and longing, your tongue darting out to swipe at his taste on your lips. The laughter that bubbled out of you was pure, wholesome and swollen like your heart. “I love you too, idiot.”

“Salmon!” Toge peppered your cheeks with kisses, pulling out more gleeful laughter from you, his playful and loving attacks more of a gift than a punishment. Once you’d recovered from your happiness – although really, who could recover after that? – Toge unzipped his collar, his smile nothing but wicked when he commanded, “Kiss me again.”

#inumaki toge x reader #inumaki to/ge x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #inumaki toge x reader fluff #inumaki toge x reader romance #inumaki to/ge x reader fluff #inumaki to/ge x reader romance #inumaki toge x reader imagines #inumaki to/ge x reader imagines #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader romance #jjk #jjk inumaki toge #inumaki toge #inumaki to/ge #jjk imagines #toge is so cute omg #suki: 500 milestone event #suki: scheduled

[luminari-mc]

(Mammon x MC/Reader)

Prompt: "She doesn't compare to you. No one does.”

Genre: Angst, hurt(emotional)/comfort.

Pairing: GN!MC/Reader x Mammon

Summary: You and Mammon finally get to enjoy a well-deserving shopping trip just between the two of you. Just as you are about to hit the next shop, your attention is caught by an image advertised in the street.

Warnings: N/A

A/N: I wanted to try my hands at a prompt that is tagged as "fluff", but of course I ended up turning it into something angsty instead. But I like sad stuff, so that still works for me.

-------------------------------------------

It wasn't often that you got to spend time with Mammon without having any of his brothers around to bother you. But you had made it very clear to them that these few hours after school would be spent with Mammon, and only him. And for today's trip, you two had decided to go shopping in one of the busiest streets in the Devildom.

Clothes and jewelry stores, malls- you had done them all. When most of this time had been spent doing window shopping, Mammon had still insisted on getting at least a few bags of purchased goods for each of you by the end of the day. After all, what was the point of going on a shopping trip, if you didn't end up emptying your bank account only to regret it later?

And so, thanks to the demon's wonderful influence, your arms had now several bags hanging off of them. There was a certain guilt still looming over your head as you realized way overboard you might have gotten with your purchases, but Mammon promised he would take care of any financial problems you could encounter in the near future because of that. You still wondered how he was going to manage it, him being Mammon and all...

"Damn, now THAT'S what I call a good haul! Look at ya!" The white-haired demon grinned as he watch you hop out of the store, the glass doors opening automatically at your presence to let you out. He placed his wrists on his hips as his own bags dangled in his hands. "What'cha got for yourself this time?"

"They actually had that jacket I saw in a magazine the other day!" The doors closed behind you as you showed the white bag which contained the jacket. "You were right, that store was amazing. I can't believe you never showed it to me before."

"Ha! Told ya the Great Mammon knew where the best treasures were! Consider it an exclusive info, because I ain't gonna share more if any of my brothers are around next time." Mammon turned around before flipping a few of his bags over his shoulder, as you instantly began to trot to get to his level.

"What? So all this time you knew about it and you didn't tell me? Just because Asmo comes with us sometimes?" You expressed shock, right before your eyebrows joined together. "Really, as if you couldn't have told me over text or something."

"And have you go without me?! Nah, ain't gonna happen- you'd just get lost and end up in the worst store possible." Mammon glanced your way, and you could only smirk at his poor excuse.

"Sure, you're right. I forgot that humans don't have the same flawless sense of orientation as demons do." Despite your obviously sarcastic tone, Mammon didn't seem to register it as he nodded at your words.

"Exactly! Even if I gave you the full address, who knows where you'd end up? I don't want ya to come and complain to me afterwards, so it's gotta be with me or nothin'."

Even as you rolled your eyes, you noticed Mammon's face slightly turning away from yours, probably to hide the extra shade of color that had appeared on his cheeks ever so discreetly. Even when he was in his usual tsundere mood, it was endearing to see how concerned he was for your safety. And just how badly he wanted to be alone with you.

"So, where to next?" You asked without really thinking, surprising yourself that even after your extensive purchasing, you still wanted to do more. Or maybe it was that you didn't want this date to end right away. The past few weeks had been nothing but the brothers interrupting each other when any of them found themselves alone with you, so getting to spend some alone time with one of them, especially with Mammon, deserved to be extended a bit more.

"Glad ya asked!" As if a battery had been plugged into him, the demon brandished his arm into the air, the bags swinging by his face and missing him by a few inches. "I got this whole place where they're sellin' tons of stuff for pretty cheap, but it's actually authentic branded things. See, they're actually sold to that one guy who then has to sell them to another guy, and..."

As you listened to Mammon explain how he was able to find "authentic stuff" (probably not that authentic, you were pretty sure about that) for less than a quarter of its original price, your eyes found themselves drifting to an impressive ad plastered on a building the two of you were walking by. Recognizing the habit of Majolish to put their models on display for everyone to see was pretty easy, but that wasn't what caught your eye in the moment.

What tuned Mammon down completely in your ears, were the models themselves. The second born, sitting on a stool with a ripped shirt and pants, a few accessories hanging off his neck and barely covering anything of his exposed chest. He looked serious, staring straight at the objective- and at you, while the light shined on him to completely capture his frame for the picture.

And sitting down in the middle of the shot, between his legs, was a female demon wearing a red leather dress, her head resting on top of Mammon's leg. The clawed hand dangling off his knee- covered in golden rings, seemed to taunt you, as well as the piercing yellow eyes she had. Saying she wasn't beautiful would be lying. In fact, she was absolutely stunning. A perfect model for a perfect shot. Just looking at her made you feel small, like a prey that was about to be devoured by a hungry beast, the longer you were looking at her.

But that's what demons were supposed to make you feel like, right?

"Hey!" Mammon called out from the distance he had put between the two of you since you had stopped walking beside him. "Yo, MC!"

Watching as you kept staring into nothing, Mammon rolled his shoulders with a furrowed brow before walking back toward you, his head tilting to the side as he noticed your dead expression.

"Huuh hello, Devildom to MC? In which realm did ya get lost this time?"

"They replaced it." The words that left your mouth were weak, almost too silent for him to hear. It's as if all of the energy you had had evaporated from your body in an instant.

"Huh?" Mammon grew a bit concerned at this sudden change. His eyes perked up at the ad you were looking at, as you continued.

"The shoot we did together." Finally, you spared yourself from the sight, your gaze dropping to the ground. "They already replaced it with another one."

As soon as Mammon understood why *this* ad in particular seemed to be upsetting you so much, his jaw was already clenching. He remembered the stars he had seen in your eyes the previous week when you saw yourself on the Majolish ad, posing beside him- a shoot opportunity you had gotten while accompanying him after RAD a few days prior. In the middle of his shoot, he practically didn't leave any choice to his agent and had insisted that you be included in the shots to promote one of the new pieces of jewelry the brand was planning to release in the upcoming months. Asmo, who was there to witness your reaction on that day the three of you went out, had even taken a hundred pictures or so of you posing in front of the ad.

Except that, the jewelry you had posed with, was now present on the new model posing alongside Mammon.

He had made sure to engrave that smile of yours in his head at the time, even going so far as to snap a picture of your face while you were too focused on Asmo to notice him. But now, there was absolutely no trace of that same happiness anymore.

"The fuck?" The snarl that left him shook the walls of his throat. "That wasn't supposed to be advertised before another month! Why'd they have to take ours so soon?!"

"It's okay, Mammon." The demon stopped growling as his eyes lowered on the hand that was clutching his arm. "I mean... I'm not a model. Figures they wouldn't put it up for long... I-I mean, look at me. Seriously, who would want to see my face being exposed for longer than they can bare? It's hard to imagine. I wouldn't probably have sold their product anyway, so... it's okay."

The look on your face was devastating. Despite trying your best to smile, the tears pricking in your eyes were threatening to roll down your cheeks at any second. Mammon felt his heart being stabbed with a thousand invisible daggers, he couldn't bear to watch you feeling insulted in such a way.

His bags were immediately dropped onto the floor, the demon no longer caring for any of the fragile items he may have bought. His hands swung forward to cup your cheeks, forcing your face up to look at him straight in the eyes.

"Hey hey, MC. C'mon, look at me."

You did your best not to let your vision turn blurry because of the upcoming tears, and stared back at Mammon, your bottom lip trembling weakly.

"I don't care what anyone, model agents or not, can say- you'd sell a thousand more times than any fuckin' models out there, okay? In fact, you're worth even more than their stupid jewelry!"

His thumb quickly brushed away a tear from the corner of your eye as his other hand came to rest on your temple.

"They just put that one up there because that model is famous. They don't care about what's really beautiful, they just want to boast their popularity to the rest of the world." The blue of his eyes seemed to radiate the closer he moved towards you. "But I know what's beautiful. And her? She doesn't compare to you. No one does."

You could only look down in shame as his hands never left you, closing your eyes shut to let a couple tears out before Mammon grabbed a tissue from his pocket to dry your face. He patiently waited a few seconds for you to calm down, soothing you with slow caresses of your hair until your shoulders stopped shaking.

"I'm sorry..." you muttered, sniffling as you passed a wrist over your eyes. "I don't know why that upset me so much..."

"Ya got nothing to be sorry about." Mammon retrieved his hands from your head, only to grab the bags that were hanging off of your arms. He somehow manages to hold them alongside his own behind him, before wrapping the other arm around your shoulder.

"Hey, I'd call this a day. How about I prepare ya a bath when we're home? Courtesy of the Great Mammon."

You nodded, your lips arching into a smile as you grabbed the hand hanging off your shoulder. The day was cut too short for your liking, but you didn't feel up for any additional purchases, or to properly enjoy your outing anymore.

"Will you wash my hair?" You entertwined your fingers with his as he gave them a gentle squeeze.

"Pah, of course! Who else but me could do that?" He huffed through his nose, shaking his head at such an obvious question. Your laugh ringing in his ears gave him a brief moment of respite.

But the demon furrowed his brows as he lead you into your walk back home, keeping you snuggled at his side. Holding the bags in his left hand, his white nails sharply digged into his palm the more steps he took alongside you.

Making them cry? Such a big, big mistake. One thing was sure, Mammon wasn't about to let that one pass.

"But before that..." The hiss that escaped his throat went unnoticed by the two of you as your head rested against his shoulder.

"I'll have a few calls to make."

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