#like he’s not going to be able to know how deep it is until it hurts

[livelaughlovesubs]

can you write about tying dazai up after he was being naughty and fingering yourself infront of him, telling him if he got off to it he would be punished <3

Sure, I can do that :>

Dom!AFAB!reader x Sub!dazai

Warning: bondage, voyeur (?), masturbation (reader), punishment

“Are you sure you don’t need my help?” Dazai growled on the chair, hands tied behind the lean with a sturdy rope. The same has been done to his ankles, they were bound to the legs of the furniture, with no way to escape. His brown eyes were glued to your body, the eager redness on his face reflecting the desperation in his voice.

Not a single glance was granted his way, you ignored him. Eyes clenched shut as you focused on nothing but your own pleasure, fingertips rubbing your clit just the way you loved. You were there, right in front of him, only inches away, yet you also felt to far. Due to the restrictions he couldn’t touch you, feel you or hold you, only able to watch while you pleasured yourself. The way your slick started to coat the sheets got him so on edge, he was ready to beg. How he wished it was him instead, who made your body tingle with excitement.

Soon you changed to sticking your fingers inside yourself, gently inserting one, then two of them. Feeling his gaze on you like a hungry beast. Until he learns to know his place, you won’t show him any merci though. Slowly you pressed your fingertips against the sweet spot deep within you, it was a place you’ve known pretty good. Pumping them in and out, feeling the pleasure rush through your body and stimulating your nerves. He drooled, he drooled like a dog in heat as he kept staring at your vulva. If only he could get a taste of you, he swore he’ll treat you well.

“I don’t need help from haaah.. some incompetent pervert.” You finally answered his question from before, leaving a snarky remark while slowly drowning in your own enjoyment. Having him watch and curse under his breath isn’t all that bad, the helpless and envious look on his face was truly pathetic after all. Just looking at him, at his handsome face which was filled with despair and want for you was enough to make you wet. Feeling the arousal fill your stomach, causing for another wave of bliss to wash over you.

Dazai pouted, still playing the role of the brat. Though the act was crumbling, little by little. It was simply too much for him to Handel. This hot show and display you laid out in front of him wasn’t for nothing after all. His dick throbbed in his pants, begging to be released. It created a tent in his pants and it soaked the top layers, until the fabric became significantly darker. The way you gasped and moaned made him so jealous, and of whom? Of your damn fingers. At the same time it was stimulating..? Clearly he got off to it, despite his initial frustrations.

This didn’t go unnoticed by your sharp gaze. While continuing to finger yourself as you pleased, you gave him another rule, one he had to follow no matter what. Saying those cruel words in a sweet voice, “getting off to this? You better don’t, or I’ll punish you~” followed by your snickering, which was viciously but also oh so attractive. He immediately protested, “hey! That’s no fair, how can one not be addicted to your appeal?” Sweat rolled down his forehead, a slight tremble in his voice. He was nervous. Your little boy toy dazai was nervous, and pathetically so, all because of a little threat.

“Then try your best not to finish too early.” You suggested, then bit your bottom lips, holding back an especially loud moan as your finger reached just the right spot. A hot look on your face, matching his. The brunette was so worked up already just by watching you, you haven’t even touched him yet. This was his breaking point, he couldn’t do this anymore, it was pure torture! Begging you in a sweet manner, mustering all his charm in the hopes to shake your resolve, “oh but pleeaasee~!! All I want is to serve you, my beloved, my masterrrr~!” A smile creeped onto your lips, enough to send a shiver down his spine. You grinned confidently as you said, “nice try, slut, beg some more and I might let you cum tonight.”

#sub character #sub!character #dom reader #dom!reader #sub bsd #sub bungou stray dogs #sub dazai osamu #sub dazai #dazai smut #dazai osamu x reader #dazai bungou stray dogs #dazai bsd #dazai #dazai x reader #bsd dazai #bungou stray dogs dazai #dazai osamu #dazai x you #dazai x y/n #dazai osamu x you #dazai osamu x y/n #dazai x fem reader

[simpjaes]

mdni. req by anon: pleaseeeeeee more innocent Jungwon with a dom Heeseung or Jake that gets jealous and ruins everything for him..like imagine Jungwon is finally going to lose his virginity to Y/N and Heeseung/Jake finds them in the act then decides to make him sit and watch how to do it correctly..

wc: 1.4k

tags: virginity loss, jungwon is jake's brother and jake is ur ex bf, reader is a whore we love her, voyeurism, exhibitionism

It’s not that he’s doing it wrong, it’s just that he doesn’t have the confidence to own the way he moves his body.

Jungwon, your favorite person in the world. Your ex boyfriend’s brother, who you simply couldn’t leave behind after the break up. Yeah, probably not an ideal situation you’re in right now but it’s still a situation that feels right.

Sure, hanging out at your ex boyfriend’s house was weird at first but all three of you just kind of got used to it after Jake realized there’s no getting rid of you for as long as he lives there with his brother. Exhausting? Yes. Annoying? So fucking annoying.

It’s not that Jake minds you being around. After all, he’s not the one who wanted to break up. You broke up with him. Imagine how he felt just four days after the break up, walking into his house and seeing you lounging on the couch as if he was still allowed to pounce on you. He couldn’t do that, of course. For one, because you’re not his girlfriend anymore, and secondly, because his bitch-ass little brother was always crowded up next to you on the couch. 

You guys weren’t that close he originally thought. At least throughout your relationship with him, Jungwon was never clinging to you like this. So, really, Jake doesn’t mind being able to still see you. What he minds is the fact that you’re here to see his little brother, and it’s a bit…

Well…

It doesn’t sit very well with him when it comes to the way you now interact. Like, really? You’re gonna break up with him over some shitty excuse of “we just aren’t on the same path in life” only to run and cling to his little brother? As if Jungwon knows what path he’s on either? Hell, the guy only just chose his major after a full semester at your college. 

Exhausting. That’s what the two of you are. And Jake tries his fucking hardest to not witness you when you’re over. 

That is, until it becomes far too difficult. Until that pit in his stomach bubbles up with envy so draining that he can’t help but barge into the room. 

“Like this?” Jake had heard his brother’s broken voice through the door that he should not have been listening through. 

Hearing Jungwon sound like that isn’t exactly new. After all, he always sounds embarrassing when a girl is around. Jake really would have just rolled his eyes and went back to his room if it weren’t for what he heard next.

“Does it feel good when I do this?” Jake heard this time, Jungwon’s voice coming out in more of a breathy moan. 

“Yeah, so good–” You responded with your own moan. 

“Ah–it’s so warm–”

And for a split second, Jake wondered if maybe you guys were doing massages or something. Trying to make sense of why the fuck you’re in there moaning alongside his brother. Surely you’re not fucking him. Jungwon is a virgin as far as Jake’s concerned and…if he’s really about to lose it to you, that’s beyond crossing a boundary. 

Both of you should know better. 

So, naturally, Jake doesn’t even knock. 

The door swings open with the force of a thousand suns as Jake stands there and connects the dots. Nope, no massages. Yep, that’s your legs spread around his brother. Oh, yeah. Okay. Wow. 

Jungwon is no longer a virgin it seems, considering his cock is clearly nestled inside of you. All the way. He saw the jerky movements of his hips just before the two of you snapped your heads to him. He saw the way you clinged to Jungwon harder. 

And the three of you just stare at each other, you frozen with your a piercing gaze on Jake, Jungwon’s cock plunged into you as deep as he can go, and Jungwon’s little pants because he can still feel you clenching around him and he’s really, really trying not to moan right now. 

“Are you fucking joking?” Jake finally lets out, furrowing his brows and zeroing in on Jungwon. “You decided to lose it to her of all people?”

There’s silence for a long while as Jungwon tries not to moan out an answer, feeling both awkward and entirely aroused because you’re still so wet, you’re still holding onto him, you’re still clenching. 

“And you’re not even making her feel good?!” Jake continues as his gaze falls to you. 

It’s not that you look bored, or even that you were bored. It’s just, Jake knows how you are in bed. He knows you very well, and seeing you be more in control, guiding someone else is definitely not something he thought you were into. In fact, no matter how many times the two of you would fuck, you always acted like a fucking virgin. Like his cock hurt you every single time, like you couldn’t help but moan. You couldn’t help but babble incoherently. You couldn’t help but orgasm within the first five minutes.

It’s the fact that he never saw this side of you, and you’re giving it to his fucking brother while taking something away from him. 

“Jake–” You manage to get out, so turned on beyond belief that you barely recognize how awful you look in this situation. Then again, you’re no longer dating Jake. It’s not like you clinged to Jungwon because you wanted him instead. 

Jungwon is just…really cute and needy. Jungwon just needs some love. Jungwon was just nervous about this girl he’s supposed to meet this weekend and wanted to get some experience in. 

Fortunately for you, and unfortunately for Jungwon, Jake could probably give less of a shit as to why you’re in here letting Jungwon fumble between your legs. If you’re gonna fuck anyone in this house, it’s gonna be him. You guys can fucking go outside otherwise. 

“Move.” Jake says, now making his way toward the bed and practically shoving Jungwon out of you. 

There’s a wet sound when he does that, Jungwon letting out both a pornographic and frustrated moan when he falls back. Jake spares no glance at him though, all he does is shove him further, all the way until he topples off of the bed. 

You don’t really care whose hands are on you though. While you wanted to be this person for Jungwon and while you feel bad that he barely got to even start, you really, really don’t mind the familiar grasp of Jake. With the way he puts his hands on your knees and spreads your legs wide. 

You blink up at him, seeing Jungwon peek at you from the edge of the bed as he keeps himself on the floor. Probably both intimated and embarrassed at what’s happening. 

“I can’t believe you.” Jake announces now, leaning his face in between your legs and inspecting how stretched Jungwon managed to get you. “I can’t believe you got this wet over him.”

You roll your eyes, clenching hard just so Jake can see that you’re still just as needy as you’ve always been. 

Jake sees it and squeezes his eyes shut with a frustrated sigh. Of course you’d do this. Of course you still want him, sexually, at least. And then he snaps around to look at Jungwon. 

“If you ever try to fuck her again, at least make it count.” 

Jungwon looks away and avoids eye contact. He knows Jake is pissed, not that he cares or anything. It’s not like he’s not allowed to be pissed off too. Jake really just walked into the room thirty seconds after he officially lost his virginity. Of course he’s not gonna be good at fucking yet.

And Just as Jake turns back to you, whipping his cock out and sliding his fingers down the length of it to stiffen up, Jungwon tries to get up and leave quietly. 

No, no, no. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” Jake asks through a seething breath, sliding into you with ease and a slight moan. “You’re going to sit right there and watch.”

Jungwon doesn’t know why he listens, but he does. He finds himself right back on the floor. His hands that were covering his cock slowly begin to palm when he keeps his eyes on you and the way you moan out for your ex boyfriend. 

He’s not happy right now, but you. You turn him on. He wishes so much that it isn’t Jake here doing this, that’s his brother, after all. Still, he watches.  And somehow, he learns.

#enhypen smut #jungwon smut #sim jaeyun smut #jake sim smut #jake smut #enhypen hard hours

[bigfatbimbo]

Hello Yello! I heard your week hasn’t been great so far (Which totally sucks, btw ☹️) - I know I’m fairly late to the party, but here are some Fluffy Vox thoughts as you requested to hopefully make you smile just a tad !

I’m a strong believer in the fact that Vox’s “home” clothes are cutest and most comfy looking fits ever, but also their like randomly mismatched pairs of clothes? Like he’ll be around the house, half-working on whatever he can from home on his rare days off, half-comfy-cozy, he’ll be in a pair of dress pants and a hoodie, with the hood pulled over his screen, or he’ll be in boxers or pajama pants and his white buttoned-shirt and stripped vest. He’ll be slouched over his laptop while slurping the milk from his cereal early in the morning, trying to get a head start on all the work he “needs” to get done, despite having the day off

While on the topics of early mornings, when you’re first waking up together, he’ll be a little bitch and shine his screen in your face to wake you up Don’t worry, he’ll be paying for it later when you rail his ass until he sobs I also imagine his TV screen being sorta like a soundboard, ya feel me? He’ll play random sounds (*COUGH COUGH* …Airhorns…) to wake you up as you groan annoyed and groggily, but deep down, you know it’s something to laugh about later on in the day - I also imagine he’d be able to play your alarm for work in the mornings!

Random, and a tad bit vague, but I imagine Vox’s laugh to be ADORABLE! Especially in the early mornings/late nights when he either has his groggy morning voice or hasn’t spoken in a few hours, it’s just the right amount of raspy and I also imagine he’s giggle to be a fair bit breathy! So with the morning voice + breathy combo, when he giggles it’s just ✨✨ !! It just feels so genuine and right and it’s actually just adorable, it’ll have you folding like a piece of paper!!

Also if you happen to be a bit of a gamer, imagine Vox switching out his screen to be a touch screen so you could play mobile games on it? And imagine him getting all pissy when you hit his screen too hard mid round or something? I can just imagine how many fights spark because of this lmao (jokingly, of course)

Lowkey had a brain fart while making these, so I’m so sorry that these aren’t too great, but I hope at least one made your day better!! Ellie, you deserve all the love in the world! I have no idea what you’re going through, but just know things get better!

From one writer to another!!

(( P.S.: Can I be ♠️ Anon if it’s not taken? If it is, I can be 💖 Anon instead!))

CRYING SCREAMING THROWING UP THIS IS SO CUTTEEEE. God, this so improved my mood I love this so much.

His home clothes, you got so right like, he’s absolutely walking around in a button up with just his boxers on and a pair of voxtech brand socks

And THE SOUND EFFECTS?? The little bitch would and we all know it. Maybe he lets you sleep in but then feels like your not giving him enough attention (your literally getting NEEDED SLEEP) and so he wakes you up with foghorns because he’s a shit 😊

Full believer in the Vox adorable laughter because HE DOES HAVE ADORABLE LAUGHTER. Have you heard his stupid giggles in episode 8?? Priceless. Maybe you wake up and press a sleepy kind of wet kiss on his neck, but it kind of tickles so he does his little groggy laughter. Folded.

The mobile game on his screen is so stupid I love it. If you poke too hard he’d freeze your game on purpose to piss you off.

I LOVE FOR THIS ♠️ ANON.

#hazbin hotel x reader #vox x reader #vox fluff #bimbo rambling

[pastafossa]

Haunted (Matt Murdock x TRT!Reader, Fic, SFW)🌧️

Right, so close to 3 years ago, I had an ask in my box: 'what would happen if TRT!Reader/Jane Hind lost her memory just before returning to Matt after her three months away', aka: just before point where they both confessed their love and got together in mainline TRT. So I wrote up a fairly angsty, no happy ending sort of fic about it, which you can find here. But there just felt like there was more to the story, and the idea of a sequel wouldn't leave me alone, so I've worked on it in little bits and pieces over the past few years and I'm finally ready to unleash that into the world now that it's been edited to my satisfaction.

This will have a happy ending and hurt/comfort, once we swim through a lot of Matt Suffering. <3 Ship: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Chapter Summary:

Leaving him like that shouldn’t have bothered you as much as it did. You didn’t know him. This man should have been nothing more than a stranger on the street, one you wouldn’t glance twice at, much less feel some ridiculous sense of attachment or obligation to. Yet the memory of walking out of his apartment still left you shaken whenever you allowed yourself to think too long on it.  He… shouldn’t have been alone. That was wrong, somehow.  There was no memory attached to the thought, no blinking sign you could point to that would justify your growing unease. You just knew it. You knew it in the way you knew how to breathe, how to blink, knowledge etched into your very bones over and over by an unfamiliar hand. And no matter what you did, no matter where you went, you were unable to escape the feeling that… that you’d made a terrible mistake, broken something good, tilted the world on its axis until the whole of the city, the earth, the very sky hung just a little crooked like an off-center painting.  Matt was alone.  You’d left him alone.  It was the right choice, one you’d made dozens if not hundreds of times before. Hell, it should have been even easier this time since there were no memories to hold you back. So… why did you feel so very sick?

Wordcount: 11, 805 words so, hilariously, about 3 times the length of Part 1

Warnings for this chapter: angst, alcohol, matt spiraling fairly badly, he throws some things, LOTS of TRT references and spoilers so I wouldn't do this one unless you've finished the Miami arc in TRT.

Sad Matt gif as a reminder that the angst is pretty heavy here because I'm really going to emotionally beat on this poor man for a bit.

At Ciro’s insistence, you gave yourself one month in Hell’s Kitchen. 

A month wasn’t much time, granted, but it would hopefully be enough to see if there was a chance of bringing back the memories you’d lost: memories of friends, of your life here, and of… of whatever it was that you’d had with Matt Murdock. Based on his grief over the loss of Jane Hind—not you, but her surely, the role, the mask you’d worn while here—his attachment to her had been deep and fervent, and those feelings appeared to have been at least partly reciprocated. The dangerously intimate photo you’d found in your memory box was all the proof you needed of that. 

Your past self had already been accustomed to his touch when the photo was taken, based on the way she’d allowed him to press his head tenderly to her temple, his dark eyes warm and fond as he'd smiled in her direction even if he couldn't see her, his arm draped over her shoulders. She should have been put off by the proximity, by such a blatant show of physical intimacy, but instead of looking distressed, she’d been relaxed and comfortable where she’d confidently tucked herself up against his side. Try as you might, you hadn’t been able to find any hint of discomfort, any clue that signaled the obvious affection she’d felt was an act, her shoulder angled in a way that made you think she’d wrapped her arm comfortably around his waist, her grin bright and so very real.

This couldn’t be you.

When was the last time you'd looked that happy?

When was the last time you’d let someone hold you close? 

And when was the last time someone had looked at you like… like they might… 

“Did I… love him, Ciro?”

“I believe that… you might have, yes. Him, and this city. That is why I encourage you to stay, for a time at least. See if the memories return to you. Even should you leave, it would be wise to know of the life you led here.”

Ciro had sent a check to your office, booking you for the month and clearing your schedule. Just like that, you were free to focus on looking for something that might trigger the return of your memories. Though what that something might be, you weren’t really sure. A more thorough examination of the apartment had been your first step. Unfortunately, there’d been nothing there that seemed familiar beyond the same cheap decor and calculated set pieces you’d always used. You’d quickly ruled those out. They were meaningless distractions meant to reinforce the lie of whatever pre-planned identity you’d taken on. In this case, that identity was Jane Hind—practical, professional, detached, likes sailboat paintings and the color grey. Based on the fine layer of dust you'd found coating everything but the kitchen counter and a neat stack of mail, no one else had spent much time here during your months away. That, at least, fit your pattern. You weren’t in the habit of making friends or putting down roots. There was no point in doing so when you’d just wind up cutting them loose and running again. 

What had unsettled you far more were the hints of connection you’d found quietly tucked away:

A fleecy stuffed bear holding a plush crystal ball, the threads connecting the two uneven as if hand-stitched. That kind of time and effort wouldn’t have been spent on anyone but a friend, and the bear’s prominent position on the counter lent it far more importance than any of the other decorations.

A tacky ‘Handsome Devil’ coffee mug, the curling red script and clichéd devil horns design bizarrely out of place amongst the rest of the plain white mugs in the cupboard. An identity like Jane Hind wouldn’t have been caught dead drinking from it, which meant someone else was here with enough regularity to have a mug of their own. Further digging revealed a second decorated mug, this one adorned with the name of the law firm co-run by Matt. You could have written off one mug, but two? Two was a pattern.

An entire drawer in the dresser devoted solely to a pile of dangerously soft shirts that clearly didn’t belong to Jane Hind, the fabric threadbare and worn. They looked about the right size to be Matt’s, though, the faint traces of scent a match for him. The fact that they took up an entire drawer indicated he’d visited often enough to need a space for his clothes. 

You’d… made space for him in your false life. That wasn’t something you did.

Or had you been the one wearing them? 

Maybe…?

You’d spent a long moment holding one of the shirts in your hand, rubbing at the fabric in hopes of stirring something. When that hadn’t worked, you’d even brought it up to your nose to inhale slowly, just in case the traces of scent brought some memory back. 

Clean soap. Salt. Copper. Faint cinnamon. 

All it had done was remind you of holding a grieving Matt in his kitchen after he’d realized your memories weren’t coming back. It was a gloomy enough memory, but ultimately unhelpful.

You'd tossed the old shirt on top of the dresser and moved on. 

While you didn’t know who exactly you’d been here in New York, the longer you searched, the more it became clear what had happened. You’d started to slip, your years of isolation forming a crack in your layers of armor. That fracture had allowed an attachment to form, an insidious connection worming its way in through the open gap like poisonous roots through crumbling pavement. You’d grown weak, and careless. There was no other explanation for why you’d broken so many of your rules, dominoes tipping one by one until it cascaded into a waterfall of mistakes. You’d slipped before, of course—loneliness was natural and expected, which was why you had so many contingencies—but you’d never let yourself get in this deep. Not until now. 

What you didn’t know was… 

Why?

Why here? 

Why these people? 

And why the fuck hadn’t you followed your rules and run? 

If there was an answer to be found in Jane Hind’s apartment, you couldn’t seem to find it, no matter how hard you look, no matter how many of her belongings you dug through. Even your memory box had failed you, the photo of you and Matt at the back of your stack of pictures an outlier you couldn’t explain, this fruit of an as-yet unidentified poisonous tree. You had no real leads, no faint ringing of memory to guide you beyond a vague sense that, somehow, this started with Matt. You didn’t even know where to begin. 

At least, not until some shaggy-haired guy named Foggy—what the fuck kind of nickname was that?—showed up entirely and rudely unannounced at your front door, dressed in a cheap suit and wearing a bizarrely determined look. Despite your doubts, you reluctantly allowed him in. He made it pretty clear he knew you, and if you were lucky he could tell you more about your life here.

“So I know you usually skedaddle when things get uncomfortable, which I imagine they are at the moment. How long are you trying to stay?” 

“One month.” You shrugged casually, a cover for just how warily you were watching him as he paced in your—in Jane Hind’s living area. He knew far more about you than you knew about him, a reversal you were uncomfortably aware of. That vulnerability was almost enough to trigger a retreat beneath that cold, brittle shell you’d used long ago, though you quickly caught hold of that instinct and buried it back down deep where it belonged. Still, you couldn’t quite hide the cool clip to your voice, your walls firmly in place. “Leaving after that. Don’t see the point in staying if the memories are gone. Truthfully I’m not sure why I stayed in the first place, especially once it was clear I was getting attached. No offense.” 

“None taken, my hopefully-still-friend-when-your-memories-come-back.” He abruptly swiveled on his feet to face you, squinting at you thoughtfully. “How badly do you want your memories back?” 

You thought of out-of-place mugs and hand-stitched psychic teddy bears; of faint cinnamon and a worn photo frame; of the way you’d held a broken Matt in his kitchen until he’d carefully pushed you away and asked you to leave, his face closed off and distant despite the tears on his cheeks and yours. 

You’d… been someone here. Someone cared for. Someone whose loss was mourned.  

Even if you left, you needed to know just who that someone had been, if only so you could make sure this never happened again. Not until you reached your island in the sun. 

“Badly enough to stay for the month,” you said quietly. 

“Then put some shoes on. We’re going on a memory hunt.”

Over the next few weeks, Foggy took you all over Hell’s Kitchen. 

You visited Jane Hind’s office, abandoned warehouses, and empty rooftops covered in thick blankets of snow. He reintroduced you to Karen, to your upstairs neighbors, and to a bartender who didn’t seem all that inclined to be introduced to anyone. You drank crappy beer and slightly less crappy vodka, played pool, and went to the zoo to stare for far too long at penguins, which Foggy refused to explain no matter how much you pressed. He had you focus on sights, on smells, on sounds that might trigger a memory. He joked with you in between, and he was just funny enough, friendly and clever enough, that for the first week or so, you were consistently cracking a smile. Hell, you even laughed now and then, much to your surprise. He really did know you, enough so that you gradually began to relax around him, just a little. He was likely hoping the addition of a friend’s voice would bring back what you’d lost, especially when paired with all the other sensations. 

But no matter how much you both tried, your memories remained lost. 

God, you hadn’t thought this would… would hurt as much as it did. Yet with every day that you failed to find your way back to who you’d been, the more that fierce ache, that old longing inside you grew. Your smiles became brittle, your laughter fading, until both finally dried up like withered, crumbling leaves beneath a bitter frost. You couldn't help pulling away really, not when your soul curling up in the dark might protect you from the agony of knowing that maybe, just maybe, you’d finally found what you'd always wanted. How fitting that it had been ripped away from your bloodied, desperate hands like so many times before, one more square for the filthy patchwork quilt of shredded lives and possibilities you’d been forced to leave behind. What was worse: even your memories of that seeming joy had been stolen, too, leaving you with nothing left to carry but the tattered scraps of a ghost and the photograph of a stranger wearing your skin.

It shouldn’t have been possible to miss what you couldn’t remember. Yet here you were missing it all the same. 

It didn’t help that Matt was avoiding you in every way that mattered. You’d thought about calling him if only to ask him questions about your life here, but you could never quite work up the courage to do it. He must have felt the same since he hadn’t reached out to you, either. And why would he? He knew as well as you did that your memories likely weren’t coming back. It made sense to cut that connection, tear it away like a weed before the roots could do more damage—something you should have done sooner, for both your sakes. What you hadn’t expected was just how good he was at dodging you, somehow absent no matter how many places Foggy took you to, places he swore Matt frequented with you when you’d lived here, as if Matt’s mere presence might be enough to trigger some memory in you. Had he been that important? Either way, it didn’t matter. You hadn’t seen Matt once since you’d walked out, doing your best to ignore his hitched breath as you’d opened the door. You’d forced yourself to ignore, too, the broken, agonized sound of grief that he’d let out as you quietly shut the door behind you, leaving him alone. 

Leaving him like that shouldn’t have bothered you as much as it did. You didn’t know him. This man should have been nothing more than a stranger on the street, one you wouldn’t glance twice at, much less feel some ridiculous sense of attachment or obligation to. Yet the memory of walking out of his apartment still left you shaken whenever you allowed yourself to think too long on it. 

He… shouldn’t have been alone. That was wrong, somehow. 

There was no memory attached to the thought, no blinking sign you could point to that would justify your growing unease. You just knew it. You knew it in the way you knew how to breathe, how to blink, knowledge etched into your very bones over and over by an unfamiliar hand. And no matter what you did, no matter where you went, you were unable to escape the feeling that… that you’d made a terrible mistake, broken something good, tilted the world on its axis until the whole of the city, the earth, the very sky hung just a little crooked like an off-center painting. 

Matt was alone. 

You’d left him alone. 

It was the right choice, one you’d made dozens if not hundreds of times before. Hell, it should have been even easier this time since there were no memories to hold you back.

So… why did you feel so very sick? 

Sympathy. 

That was all you were feeling. Matt was grieving a woman he’d cared about, one who’d died and left a cold stranger in her place. It was normal to feel for someone in that much pain, and no one should be alone while grieving. Maybe this was for the best. The sooner you were fully out of his life, the sooner all his friends and family could step in, and the sooner he could move on. He wouldn’t be alone, then. And even if he was, his loneliness wasn’t your goddamn problem. You had more than enough troubles of your own.

Protect yourself. 

Protect what you might one day have. 

All else was irrelevant.

You just… hoped he was doing alright. 

He did his best to avoid you, but that only grew more difficult once your ghost began to haunt his every step.

Even Josie’s quickly became off-limits—something he discovered one night when he stepped through the front door where he was promptly met with the familiar, comforting scent of you floating like a haze beneath the smell of cheap beer and sour sweat. His body went rigid the moment he recognized it, your presence across the room a sharpened knife that only widened the wound carved into him by your death. And if the scent of you was a knife, then your bark of laughter was a cruel twist of the blade, one that left him gutted and shaking there in the doorway. He drank in his apartment after that, waiting for that blessed moment when he would feel nothing, waiting for the very second the glorious shroud of night fell. Only then could he finally escape to the streets and drown himself in a far better kind of pain, taking his rage and his grief out on whatever piece of shit had the misfortune of falling into the Devil’s path. 

But Foggy seemed determined to shove the specter of you directly into his face. 

“You need to talk to her!” Foggy snapped, his voice only just shy of a shout. Matt ignored him as he headed for his office, desperate to retreat from your scent lingering on Foggy’s clothes. Foggy had taken you to a coffee shop that morning, one you’d frequented when you’d lived here, and now each inhalation was a vicious torment. It felt like breathing in shards of glass, the sharp pain of it throbbing with every stuttered, choked breath he drew in. If Foggy noticed, he didn’t seem to care. “Christ, Matt! You love her and we both know it. If you talk to her, it might trigger something—”

“Stop,” Matt grit out, reaching up to scrub his hand angrily over his face. He stalked his way over to his desk, still desperate to escape somehow, even if it was into his work. “Just stop, Foggy. I did talk to her, and you know what happened? Nothing. She didn’t remember anything at all. She’s gone, and you dragging this out is just making everything worse for all of us.” 

“So what, you’re just gonna roll over?” Foggy scoffed, crossing his arms as he planted his feet in Matt’s doorway. “Are you sure you actually loved her? Because I’m pretty sure she loved y—”

Matt slammed his fist down on his desk, the furious crack of it echoing through the office like a gunshot as he shouted, “Don’t you fucking dare!” 

Tension hung thick in the air as Matt’s chest heaved, his teeth bared, blood and adrenaline running hot in his veins as if Foggy were some sort of-of threat. Everything in him shook with rage, or maybe unshed grief, the burden of them both impossibly twisted and tangled beneath the sea of his guilt and his self-loathing until he couldn’t tell which was which. He just couldn’t—how was he supposed to force it all down when Foggy had just come so close, so dangerously close to shattering what few pieces remained of Matt’s crumbling armor?

It was bad enough loving you the way he did only for you to slip through his bloodied, desperate grasp like whispering grains of sand. What was worse, this entire disaster was one of his own making, a series of mistakes whose snarled, winding paths led inevitably back to him just like they had so many times before in his life. This loss of someone who’d truly understood him, accepted him, cared for him had already broken something inside him he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to repair. But that fracturing inside him would surely rise up to consume him if Foggy were right, if you’d truly cared for him that deeply before your memories were taken, so deeply that you might even have…

I miss you, sweetheart.

…loved him the way he loved you. 

Abruptly Matt’s surge of rage drained away and his head fell, leaving him feeling all the more empty and broken. He braced his arms weakly against his desk, drawing in a shaky breath as he forced himself to confess, his voice gone hoarse and ragged with grief. “I loved her, Foggy.” He lifted one shaking hand to his face. “God, I loved her so, so much. I can’t… I don’t know what to do without her now that she’s gone.” “I know, Matt,” Foggy said gently. “I know.” “I loved how she always smelled a little like coffee, and the way she always managed to wind up climbing into the oddest places for a case. She had one of the foulest mouths I’ve ever heard, but I swear she could use it to talk her way out of almost anything or to bring someone up out of whatever dark hole they were trapped in. She was… far kinder than she’d ever admit.” His lips quirked, but there was no humor in it, the expression miserable and gutted. You’d have likely argued with him about how kind you were if you’d been here. But there was no chance of that now, no matter how much the scent of you on the air told him otherwise. “Some days it felt like she was the only thing holding me together, like the only time I could breathe was when she held me in her arms. She was always there when I fell apart, or when it all… when it all started to hurt too much. And I tried to give her whatever pieces of me the Kitchen hadn’t already taken, to be there for her like she was for me, to keep her safe. We were finally going to make our relationship official when she came back, her and me, even if there’d… already been something there for a while now if I’m honest.” 

And it had, it had been there, this soft, tender thing that had developed slowly but surely between the two of you, a tangling that came by degrees rather than all at once. It had sprouted, grown, and blossomed so gradually that even now he struggled to point to any one moment where it had truly begun—the night he found you in the warehouse, maybe, or that first game of Devil Hunt, or when you’d both almost taken the leap before he’d realized you were drunk. But the question of where it began didn’t matter. All that mattered was that it was there, something nameless yet still so good and warm and perfect, a connection nurtured in the low light and the blood-soaked soil of the Kitchen. You’d felt it just like he had, and you’d been willing to take that chance with him despite the baggage he carried behind him like an anchor destined to drag him down. You never would have agreed to kiss him when you came back otherwise. Now that chance was gone. 

“How much did she know before she left?” Foggy asked quietly, leaning against the doorframe. 

”She knew that I-that I wanted to be with her, but I never told her that I loved her.” Matt blew out a slow, heavy breath. “I was too scared of chasing her away, I guess. I thought maybe when she came back, if she still wanted me, I would… I decided that I would tell her. But I waited too long. Now she’s gone and I’ll never be able to tell her. All because of me.” 

He finally lifted his head, tipping it at Foggy. Neither of them dared mention the wetness on Matt’s cheeks. Even speaking about this—about how much he’d loved you only for him to ruin it—was almost more than he could bear, the edges of the wound still fresh and raw. Then again, maybe he deserved that pain after how miserably he’d failed you, just like everyone else in his life. “I miss her. And what’s worse is even when she’s right there in front of me, she’s not. She’s not, Foggy. Because I-I fucked up. I’m the reason the woman I knew, the woman I loved, died. I’m the reason she’ll never remember what we had, why I’ll never hold her again, and why she’ll leave New York at the end of the month like she does whenever she’s afraid of forming a connection.” He let out a bitter laugh, waving towards the windows, towards the place you’d once held dear. “I couldn’t even keep her here before. She almost ran last summer and the only thing that stopped her was being kidnapped. That was what slowed her down long enough for our thread to turn red, not me. She won’t let that happen a second time, not now that she’s seen what happens to people I care about. Do you understand?” 

The door to Nelson and Murdock creaked open, Karen’s voice making its way in first. Her voice was followed only a moment later by another’s, one still so familiar. 

“—I mean, winding up in a pool while chasing a kid sounds about right for me, so even if I don’t remember, I won’t argue—”

“I had to keep you here somehow.” Foggy’s voice remained quiet, but there was no disguising the ferocity in it now, the fervent belief. “Get out of your own head and talk to her, Matt. Fight for her. She would want you to.” 

No. 

No, no, no.

Your body may have been here, whole and real, but the woman who’d known him wasn’t. The song of your voice, your sweet scent, the flames of heat and stirred air currents around you flaring into a familiar shape: all of it was nothing but a lie, a snare for his senses, a ghost of his own making, and he wasn’t about to be caught by it again. 

He darted back around his desk, shoving his way past Foggy on the way toward the front door, his heart racing. If he was quick, if he just put up enough of a front, he could get out before they trapped you here with him like they’d planned. He wouldn’t relive this grief again, he couldn’t, not without falling apart. The moment he’d had with you in his apartment had been enough agony for one lifetime. 

“Hey, Matt.” You cleared your throat, shifting awkwardly on your feet where you’d stopped by the front door. Your stance was cautious and guarded, almost wary of him. It was just one more reminder of how uncomfortable he made you now. “Are you—”

“Heading out,” he said stiffly, only belatedly remembering to trace one hand along the wall as if his heightened senses hadn’t given him a clear map of the room the moment his adrenaline spiked. That spike was a curse all its own. It made the scent of you so much stronger, the lie of it fresh and present as it twined around him. His chest hitched just once before he forced himself to breathe his mouth. But that route of escape had been cut off, too. All it did was shift his focus to the taste of you on the air, and the taste of familiar fabric once so tenderly given. 

You were wearing one of his shirts. 

He fumbled for his cane, his hands starting to shake before he finally found it where he’d left it against the wall. He couldn’t let you see him like this. It wasn’t your fault that you didn’t remember him, nor was it your fault that he’d lost you. He’d done enough damage without adding a layer of guilt to what you were dealing with, too. But despite his attempts to hide what he was feeling, his face a hard mask, your fingers still brushed gently against his arm a moment later. It was an offer of help, or maybe an attempt to reach out, to slow him down, to connect. It was a kindness, a sympathy he didn’t deserve. Even now, you read him far too well, this touch the same as it had been that first night he’d met you when you’d gently brushed your hand against his arm. “Hey, do you need… I could walk you home.”

He shied away from your touch, finally managing to roughly unsnap his cane before going for the door. “I’m fine. I just—I have things to take care of. Excuse me.”  

He went straight home and showered, but no matter how many times he scrubbed, he couldn’t seem to wash the ghost of your scent away.

You slowly wandered around Matt’s office, taking it in. This was another place you’d supposedly frequented, a place that should have been familiar, and one you'd avoided until now.

Even though Foggy had assured you it was alright, it felt… almost wrong to explore a stranger’s space like this without them present. But you couldn’t help but brush your fingers across the battered desk and the small labels in braille you couldn’t read, run your hands along the chair for clients that you might have sat in once, and trace curiously the small seashell next to Matt’s laptop. The base scents of Matt were stronger here where he spent so much time, only partly erased by the smell of coffee and paper. The room was clean, cared for, and well-organized despite how rundown the office was. Important to him. You could tell that much, even if the scents and sights had failed to spark any memories.

Maybe… knowing his space wasn’t enough. 

This was about more than just figuring out who you were, now. For some reason, you needed to know who Matt was, too: this man Jane Hind had cared so much about and who’d cared so much about her. You told yourself it was practical. Matt was your best bet when it came to remembering who you’d been. But some part of you deep down recognized the lie. No, there was something in you inescapably drawn to him, a pull you couldn’t quite explain. Maybe that strange, unnatural gravity was what had started this whole mess in the first place. What was it about him that was so different, that had driven you to break every last rule you’d lived your life by for over a decade? 

And why… did you spend so long wondering if he’d ever climbed out his office window?

It had been twenty-nine days, and not a single memory had returned. 

Oh, there were beats now and then when you thought that maybe, just maybe something was coming back, but those moments were painfully few and far between. Even in those moments, you couldn’t say remembered anything, exactly. It was more a frustrating sense of deja vu, a fleeting little itch at the back of your mind like you’d forgotten something important, flashing road markers to warn you of the dark, empty gaps in your memory. That sense was probably driven at least in part by Foggy’s growing desperation as he frantically hunted for something that might trigger a return of your memories. 

But the rest of that feeling… the rest was all you. 

There was no denying a traitorous part of you wanted to remember no matter how ill-advised it might be. You wanted to remember this bizarre little family you’d stumbled into and then lost, just like in Los Angeles. You wanted to remember the love you’d had for this place, this city, this taste of mutual affection that had grown up around you after going so long without. After endless ages and ages of drought, of starvation, you hungered for even these bare crumbs of connection, something to tide you over until you found safe haven on the distant horizon. What a tempting thought it was to slither back into the life of this woman who’d been so cruelly murdered and replaced by a stranger wearing her skin.

Was this what a demon felt like when it took over a body? To walk around with someone else’s face, to speak with the unnatural voice of the dead, tormenting the loved ones that remained? 

That, ultimately, was why it didn’t matter what you wanted. Your presence in this city only spread rot and suffering. It would be better for everyone involved if you left like you should have long before now. Then they could all grieve without you tainting the very soil around them. 

Especially Matt. 

You’d seen him once or twice in passing as your time in New York wound down. Even at a distance, you’d marked the growing circles under his eyes, dark enough to be visible despite the glasses he always wore. The rest of him wasn’t doing much better. It seemed like every time he crossed your path, there was another bruise, another cut across his face or knuckles, a shifting canvas of pain painted across skin grown pale and drawn. He didn’t just look tired—that wasn’t what this was. This was something far worse, a haggard exhaustion, a weariness that couldn’t be solved with sleep, if he slept at all. This was someone being haunted. 

Probably because the ghost of Jane Hind kept crossing his path. But that would be solved soon enough. 

You’d already packed up your things, not that you had much to take. Just your bag and your memory box. You’d be leaving the next day. Foggy was still convinced he had a few more days, but you had other plans. You couldn’t give Matt back the woman he’d lost, nor could you give him a body to bury, a grave to lay flowers across, but you could give him what Jane Hind had carried with her until her dying breath. 

“I thought you might… want these before I left tomorrow,” you said quietly. “I… sorry, it’s… it’s a bag with my—with her things.” 

Matt took it carefully from you, the motion mechanical and stiff. He hadn’t really invited you the rest of the way into his apartment, the two of you now stalled out in the hallway just beyond the closed front door. He hadn’t taken his glasses off, either. It made it harder to read him, his face closed off and impassive, a wall of red glass placed firmly between you. Come to think of it, you hadn’t seen his eyes even once since that day you’d first come back, and you didn’t blame him. You didn’t like feeling vulnerable, either, though that was just a guess when it came to what he might be feeling. 

“It’s the shirts from her apartment, which I think are yours. And the stuffed bear.” You bit your lip and released it slowly, shifting uncomfortably on your feet. “And the… the mug, which Nelson said was yours, too. The one you used at her place. I also put the hoodie in there, the one she had with her while she was traveling. And…” You reached into your pocket, fumbling for a moment. God, you were bad at this, unsure of just how to do this without hurting him any more than was absolutely necessary. It wasn’t a concern you usually dealt with since your goal was almost always the exact opposite, a precaution meant to destroy any threads of connection they held with you. Unfortunately, he wasn’t giving you much to work with, though you didn’t miss his subtle flinch when you drew the key from your pocket. “I thought you might want this, too.”

You cautiously edged forward, daring to breach the ring of radiant heat that surrounded him, the closest you’d come to him in almost a month. He went stiff as you approached, his jaw growing tight as the gap between you both closed. Another step, and his head cocked as if he were listening to your footsteps, or maybe… maybe he was just waiting to find out what you had to give him. But he wasn’t telling you to fuck off or just set your gift aside, which was a good sign. So you hesitantly reached out and brushed your fingers lightly against his bicep, a signal so he knew you were about to pass him something. 

A breath.

He remained absolutely still amidst the sudden, crackling tension in the air as your fingertips skated gently down and around his forearm, stirring all the little hairs, his skin shockingly warm. All you’d intended to do to take his arm and guide it up so you could place the key in his hand, but you quickly found yourself distracted by a ragged scar along the back of his forearm, one your fingers seemingly made their way to on instinct. It was a deep scar, the original cut likely made by some sort of blade, the edges of it rough and uneven from messy stitching. Your curiosity got the better of you, so much so that you missed the way Matt had begun to hold his breath.

“Who fucked up the sutures on that?” You furrowed your brow, your thumb smoothly marking out the jagged line of it. “They did a terrible job. No offense.” 

Matt’s face fell and you only realized too late just who it was that must have patched him up. 

Before you could blink, he’d yanked his arm out of your grip as if your touch had burned him. “Don’t,” he grit out, his chest heaving as he put a few steps distance between you both. “You can—just put your key on the bench.” 

“How did you know—” “Because there’s only one thing left it could be.” 

You nodded weakly, taking a few steps back towards the little bench beside the door. That unfamiliar ache, that sense of wrongness was back, the weight of it settling uneasily in your chest like a stone until you almost wanted to retch. It didn’t help that Matt was just barely holding himself together while you were here. 

Best to say what you’d come to say and leave him be. 

You gently set the key down, and the quiet click of the brass against the wood seemed to echo in the hallway, a graveyard bell tolling with a looming sense of finality. What you were about to tell him would hurt, you knew it would, but maybe one day he’d find comfort in it. This—a sign of what she’d felt—was the real gift you’d truly come to give, the only true token of her you could offer. Your words, when you spoke, were almost as hoarse as his. “I thought you should know I… she wore it. The key. I asked them. She wore your key and she never took it off. Not once. Whatever you both had, she treasured it, and all she wanted was to get back to you. She didn’t leave you by choice, Matt. I hope that… that helps.” 

Of all the things you’d said and done, it was this that finally seemed to break him. His face twisted in a sudden wave of grief, and regret hit you all at once. You quickly took a step towards him, one hand out, though you weren’t sure what you’d do if he reached back—it wasn’t like you knew how to comfort him, and you sure as hell didn’t know if he’d tolerate you holding him again, nor whether he was someone that needed some sort of touch when he was hurting. But before you could take another step he’d flinched away from you, retreating quickly back into the darkness of his apartment, his voice ragged. “Just go. Get out.” 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, backing away towards the door. “I’m… I’m so sorry.”  

It shouldn’t have hurt as you closed that door one last time. But you cried all the same. 

Somewhere within the apartment came the sound of splintering furniture and a hoarse scream wracked with grief.

“Look, Nelson.” You tiredly adjusted the strap of your duffle bag over your shoulder, reaching up to pinch at the bridge of your nose as if it would stem your growing headache. “I know it’s a day early. But another twenty-four hours isn’t going to make a fucking difference.” 

“I don’t need another day!” he pleaded, his arms spread wide where he’d blocked your front door, ensuring you couldn’t leave your apartment until you’d heard him out. You’d had no idea he even had a key until today and, not for the first time, you cursed Jane Hind’s apparent lack of common sense. You did not give out keys, or at least, you hadn’t before coming here to this ridiculous fucking city. “Just five minutes. That’s all. I’ve got one last thing to try.”

“Maybe I don’t want to try one more thing!” you snapped bitterly, dropping your hand. That anger was a good cover for the way something sharp and prickly had begun to catch in your throat, the incident with Matt still fresh in your mind. “I’ve tried for a month, and it’s gotten me nothing. Fucking-fucking bars and random rooftops and a shitty little duck, goddamn penguins and keys, and none of it did shit! Jane’s gone, ok? She’s dead. And I’m sorry, I know you all cared about her, but I’m done—”

“Have you climbed inside a thread?” 

“...What?” you asked in sudden bewilderment, your rage abruptly faltering in the face of pure confusion. “What the fuck does that even me—”

He let out a whoop, practically dancing on his feet. “Yes! I knew it! I can’t believe no one told you!” 

“Told me what?!” You chucked your bag back onto your couch in sudden exasperation. If this was thread-related, at the very least you could stay long enough to listen. “There’s nothing to climb!”

“Ok, so stick with me.” He rubbed his palms together eagerly, a bright light in his eyes. “Because I’m about to get really metaphysical.”

It took you what felt like hours to climb inside the shimmering honey-colored thread that lay between you and Matt—a thread that sang with his sorrow and your reluctant sympathy. 

It wasn’t right having your soul constricted like this, all of who you were narrowing down into something so small as you squirmed through a barrier that tasted and felt like dirt and earth, chasing after the sound of trickling water. There wasn’t supposed to be anything on the other side. It was an emotional connection, nothing more.

And yet here you were, standing in a place that had no reason to exist.

“Holy shit,” you whispered in amazement, spinning on your heels to examine your surroundings. “Holy shit, he was right.”

Despite the late hour, the air was full of a muted light that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once, tinting the world a hazy, eerie green. High up above you roiled thick, sullen black storm clouds, silent flashes of red lightning carving their way between swirls of charred smoke. It wasn’t much light, but it was enough to see by.

And what you saw was heartbreaking. 

You stood in a dry, stony riverbed. The ground beneath you was cracked and brittle where the water had receded, leaving behind nothing but dust and broken branches. The river itself remained though just barely, the thin trickle of flowing water down the center of the riverbed a far cry from whatever immense force had carved its way through the landscape until the banks were a good ten paces from one side to the other. The terrain beyond the river didn’t look much better, wilted, drooping cattails dotted up the bank before giving way to endless forest that stretched farther than your eye could see. Like the cattails and scrub, the pine and fir trees stood withered and brown, casting their empty branches up toward the sky. 

If it had been beautiful here once, whatever had happened to you had destroyed that beauty. 

“Jesus,” you whispered. 

“Can you hear me?” Foggy’s voice sounded distant and far away, tinny like he was talking through a long tunnel. 

“Yeah. Can you hear me?”

“...Ok, if you’re trying to respond, I can’t hear you. But according to Matt, whenever you were here, it felt like memories. So poke around, see what you can find.”

You sighed and started down the riverbed. “Not super helpful, but ok. Let’s give it a shot.” 

The water was the most obvious place to start, and you made your way over to the thin stream that ran raggedly across the parched soil. Much to your fascination, you quickly discovered that what you’d thought was one current was actually two, one layered over the top of the other, each flowing in the opposite direction. The first of those currents hiding on the bottom was fairly calm, steady if a little restless, swirls of pale color that almost felt like curiosity, though how you understood that translation was a mystery. The second current seemed far rougher where it roiled atop the first, its section of the stream cloudy and thick with swirls of black and the red of an open wound. You hovered over the second current for a long moment, working up your courage, before you finally knelt and hesitantly brushed against it with one finger. It was just water. How bad could it be? 

The moment your skin made contact, your chest seized on a sudden swell of agony. Your mouth filled with the taste of grief, with the sound of an empty home, the lack of some familiar scent that meant affection and warmth and softness and safety, the ache of an old wound reopened just when it had started to heal. Alone, always alone, I deserve it, so many gone, he was right, when will I learn? There was no hope for comfort from that pain, no escape from the darkness into tender arms that could hold you just right when it all hurt. All you had to look forward to was more— 

You threw yourself backward, scrambling away from that terrible current as if what you’d felt might rise up and chase after you, snapping its teeth the whole way. You didn’t stop retreating until your back slammed against the dry soil of the riverbank. Only then did you stop, panting, your eyes wide in shock as you cradled your hand against your heaving chest. 

Emotion. It’s emotion.

That was what the water was. Matt’s emotion. Which meant the other current—one now shifting back to yellow despite a momentary surge of twisting, roiling black—was… yours. 

Right. So you could rule the water out. But if that was emotion, where was memory? 

Examining the rest of the river was the most obvious next step now that you’d ruled out the water. Based on what you could see, the original riverbed had been a mix of silt and stones of varying sizes, a firm foundation beneath a once-powerful river. Now, though, the grey, dried-out silt was covered in a strange sea of divots and dips, as if something—a lot of somethings—had been plucked up and removed. You traced one of the indents in the soil curiously, lifting your hand back up to consider the grit as you rubbed it between your fingers. Another glance around revealed the answer. 

The stones. 

There were still plenty of stones remaining in the riverbed, but the divots in the dry silt told you there’d once been far more. If that was what you’d lost, then maybe…  

You rocked up eagerly to your feet, pacing around breathlessly as you searched for a promising stone to start with. Eventually you made your pick, plucking up a stone just small enough to fit in your palm, flat and smooth save for a little groove in it as if someone had run their fingers over it endlessly. Strangely, it smelled like honey and herbs, the surface oddly warm against your hand like the brush of a thumb against your mouth. You waited for a long, impatient moment, and when nothing else happened, you tapped it a few times. 

Still nothing. 

And something inside you… cracked. 

“Fuck!” you screamed, hurling the stone back down the river in a sudden rage. The pain and the loneliness you’d been suppressing for the last month, the last year, the horrible, endless eternity since leaving your family in Los Angeles began to claw its way up your throat, the clouds churning wildly above you in response. A wild rain came next, each droplet sharp and cold and edged like the blade of a knife, bitter and biting as it beat against your skin. You grabbed another stone, one that tasted like shitty beer—Josie’s beer. You threw that rock, too, then another and another, throwing stones that smelled and tasted and felt like your shriek of laughter as he grinned and caught you against his chest, like torn flesh and a needle held by tender hands, like your face nuzzling fearlessly against Matt’s throat as he whispered comfort into your hair and held you close, like synced breathing and hearts and dances between binary stars as you both fell into sleep, fell into safety, fell into one another, phantom sensations that only made the fierce ache in you grow stronger because with every stone you snatched up it became clear that… 

You’d been loved. 

Not your identity.

Not the image you showed to the world. 

Not the walls you’d put up in front of him before he’d found some way past them. 

You. 

And he’d loved you with every part of him. 

You weren’t sure when you started crying, a violent, vicious stream of tears that was just as much a product of rage as grief. Here was someone who’d loved you fully, loved you despite every asterisk and bit of baggage and sharpened edge that came with being a broken hound, with being a former experiment still on the run. But you barely noticed your tears, spitting up at the unforgiving clouds and the howling wind, because you could howl, too, just as violent, just as much a threat as any storm in this place. “I want my fucking life back! I want him back!” 

You hadn’t wanted it before, or maybe you had and you’d just been too afraid to ask for it. But now? Oh, oh, now you were furious, furious and hurting and screaming, because you’d denied yourself connection all these years only to find it in the last place you’d expected. That was what this had been—home, family, love. That had to be why you’d stayed in New York, why you’d risked everything for these people, for Matt. You weren’t an idiot. You’d have run the numbers and the math, made your calculations.

You couldn’t bear to lose this. Not… not again. 

You threw stone after stone, hunting frantically as your fingers bled dry, desperate fury into the air, reddened drops disappearing before they ever hit the ground. The trickle of water in the center of the riverbed had churned itself into a frenzy, but you ignored it. There had to be something here that would trigger a memory, something that would let you remember being loved again, something big enough, important enough, so you grabbed and you grabbed and grabbed and grabbed and grabbed until at last, you found a stone the size of your fist. You snatched it up with a ragged sob, cradling it greedily against your chest as if doing so might let you carry it out of here, because you wanted it, you wanted him, wanted to remember more than anything in the world. 

“Let me have it!” you snarled, snapping your teeth at the howling winds of the storm as if you might catch this place between your jaws and tear it open until you at last found what belonged to you. “Give it back!” 

And with a blink—

He tore one of his bloodied gloves off, his hand shaking as he reached out to you.

You stilled the moment his fingertips brushed tenderly against your cheek, so very gentle, affection layered over blood and earth and hurt. And god, your skin was so terribly dry and cold, the beat of your heart uneven as it struggled to pump blood through your body, but he could feel you react to him, the barest parting of your lips as you dragged in a startled breath. He didn’t want to startle you further or risk you fighting him, so he let his voice drop into a whisper, soft as the brush of a feather.

“It’s me. I’m here.”

‘I heard you,’ he tried to say. ‘I heard you. I’m here.’

And your weakened heart… skipped.

He wasn’t sure if he reached for you or if you reached for him. All he knew was it was the sign he’d been looking for. In a heartbeat, he scooped you up off the floor, stealing you back from that dry, filthy cement and crusted blood that had tried to take you from him. He cradled your cold body against his chest, then, held you there where it was warm and where you were safe. You made the softest little noise, the sound choked and dry, but there was no disguising the heartbreaking relief in it. He pulled you in further, pulled you up until you were curled up in his lap, not an ounce of air left between your bodies, your head laying against his shoulder.

He would never let you touch the floor of this place again.

“D…” you mumbled, not one hint of fear in you despite what he’d just done, the blood on his hands and the burning heat of violence that still lingered in his bones. You wearily slid your head over, inch by inch, until you’d buried your face against the sweat-slick line of his throat, nuzzling in against him with a hoarse sigh that only made him hold you tighter. You inhaled slowly then, heedless of the blood and dirt and sweat that coated his skin, your fingers coming up to hook weakly in the collar of his shirt. “You came.”

And you… smiled.

He buried his face against your hair and let out a shaky breath. As he did, he dug down past blood and dust and dirt, dug and dug until he found the sweet, familiar scent of you, a scent he never wanted to leave him again.

The stone fell from your limp hands, a ringing in your ears you could barely hear beneath the sound of the water nearby, frothing and wild. 

The increased sensory feedback had been bizarre, and there was… there was no reason he should have been covered in so much blood, his body burning as if he’d been fighting before coming to you. But…  

“Hey, you in there?” Foggy called. 

“D.” The letter felt strange, and yet… natural, as you cradled it on your tongue. “D?”

And you knew what came after that letter, shaping the word again in your mind. 

You knew. 

You… remembered. 

“Always,” he’d said. 

“Always,” you whispered, casting your eyes up the riverbed towards another large stone. “Always, D.”

He didn’t know what you were doing or why you’d climbed inside the thread. 

“Always, D.”

All he knew was that it hurt. 

“You’re stuck with me, unfortunately for you.”

He’d thought catching your scent, hearing your laugh, being forced to take back the key he’d given to you had been the worst of it. But no. It was far, far worse having to relive these memories of your time with him over and over and over without pause, his senses filled with you: with your touch, with your scent, with the taste of you on the air. He heard you whisper, laugh, and sigh; felt the brush of your fingers in his hair and your body shaking with laughter when he snatched you up during a game of Devil Hunt and the safety of you as you’d held him so tenderly after his fight with Foggy. All of it was a reminder of what he’d lost, what he’d never get back. 

“Don’t you give up on me, Matt. Ok?”

He was in agony. There was no blocking you out like this, no escaping your memory no matter how much he tried to push back or retreat, until he wound up trapped and spiraling in his kitchen. 

“Kiss me when you come back.”

On and on it went, memories snapping at his heels until all he had left to hide behind was rage. He swept his arm across the counter, glass shattering as he screamed himself hoarse. Eventually he found himself backed up against the wall, sinking down as he hitched out something like an agonized groan, his hands over his ears, his eyes shut tight. “Don’t do this to me, sweetheart, please—”

“Adoringly yours, because I do adore you, you ridiculous man...”

“Leave me alone,” he whispered. “Just leave me alone.”

“...Remember that. if nothing else.” 

In hindsight, it was a really bad idea to give back your key.

“Matt!” you shouted, pounding frantically on his front door. “Matt, let me in! It’s me, I swear, I can-I can—”

Silence. 

And you weren’t willing to wait any longer. This wasn’t something you could explain through the door, out here in the hall where the neighbors could hear. You needed to get inside. You knew he was in there somewhere. 

Red threads never lied.  

You wiped the blood away from your nose and took off for the stairs. It was only one flight up to the roof, and sometimes he left the rooftop door unlocked. Even if it wasn’t unlocked, you’d use the key under the mat. You didn’t remember everything. But you remembered that. And if the key wasn’t there? You’d break that fucking door down.

He sat unmoving in his meditation pose on the floor, the sound of your attempts to get into the apartment distant and far away. Meditation had been the only thing left he could think of that would allow him to escape the pain and the memories of you that had flooded his thoughts. Like this, with his mind and his focus withdrawn until it lay deep within himself, he’d hoped he’d be far enough away from the world that the ghost of you couldn’t reach. 

Yet even deep in meditation, his instincts were set off by the crack! of his rooftop door slamming open.

He was on his feet in a heartbeat, his heart racing as he bared his teeth, his body prepared to face whatever threat had just broken in. The sensations of you, at the very least, had quieted during his meditation, which should have left him enough space for some small margin of peace as he threw himself into a fight. But that peace was nowhere to be found, because you were here again. 

He recoiled from that thought the second it crossed his mind. This wasn’t you, that much had become painfully clear. You’d passed away somewhere far beyond his reach, away from the home, the life you’d lived here. The woman that stood on his landing now was nothing but a ghost, a fading memory and a terrible reminder of what he’d had and lost, what he’d earned by daring to reach for something good. There was no undoing it, no washing away the blood on his hands. If anything, how he felt for you had doomed any hopes of you staying long enough for him to reform that connection with you. He knew how you operated—hell, you’d tried to run on that hot summer night so many months ago after seeing just how much he’d cared, even if you’d ultimately changed your mind. At the time, he’d thought it was Destiny, the hand of God ensuring you remained in the Kitchen where Matt could keep you safe from the Man in the White Coat, here in this place where you both might… might shape something good out of all the broken pieces you’d both been left with. He knew better, now. Even the hand of God couldn’t break the curse Matt placed on those he loved. You would leave, leave like all the others, and he deserved it. 

The only question that remained was why you seemed so, so fucking determined to make him suffer. 

“Matt.” Your voice cracked as you stumbled down the stairs. “Matt, I—”

“Why can’t you just leave me alone, sweetheart?” he grit out, reaching up to fist his hands tightly in his hair. He’d never known you to be unnecessarily cruel, but there was no other explanation. “God, I-I can’t—you can’t keep doing this to me.”

“Matt, just let me—”

“Do you even care how much you’re hurting me?” He hitched out a broken laugh, something bitter and tormented, the sound absent all humor as you made it down the stairs. “All those months, all I wanted was for you to come back. I begged. I prayed to God, over and over again, that he would bring you back to me. And now that you’re gone, you just won’t leave. I can’t get away from you no matter what I do. Do you know what that’s like? To lose someone you love only for their ghost to haunt you every time you turn around?”

A soft intake of breath. 

There it was. Now that he’d said it, you’d leave. There would be nothing more frightening to the You he’d first known than a word like love. 

“I just…” His breath hitched again, something thick building in his throat. It was just another sign of his weakness, the same weakness that had gotten you killed. 

‘I warned you, kid,’ came Stick’s voice, so smug that Matt bared his teeth. ‘I fuckin’ warned you the night I opened up her eye. But you didn’t listen.’

He started to pace wildly, ignoring your voice as he hunted for some opening through which he could escape, flee from Stick’s voice hiding in the corners of his thoughts, from your ghost. With every step his movements grew more frantic, more furious as his rage built like a rising wave: rage at himself, at God, at the monster who’d taken your memories and the possibility of a life for you here with Matt, and at you, too, because you just didn’t get it. “I just want to grieve, and God can’t even give me that much, can he? Is that what this is? Punishment? Revenge? Congratulations. Job well done. You can go.” 

You tilted your head as you watched him pace, the same cock of your head you got when considering your potential routes forward. As far as he was concerned, the only route he’d give was a route out the door.  

“I don’t know why you came back, and at this point, I don’t fucking care,” he told you hotly, nothing but burning smoke and thick venom in each word. “We don’t have a red thread anymore. There’s nothing to keep you here. Leave. Now. I’m not asking.”

Your soft response was a single letter, one that struck directly at the open wound inside his chest. 

“...D.” 

He snatched up an empty beer bottle from the kitchen counter in a sudden rage, turned, and hurled it past you. 

You didn’t so much as flinch as the bottle came within inches of your head. Nor did you react to the distant shattering of glass, the sound of it barely audible over his anguished roar. 

“Leave me alone!”  

And then he froze in sudden horror at what he’d done, his heartbeat almost drowning out the soft sound of your steps. All he’d wanted to do was scare you away, frighten you away so he could break where you couldn’t see, because it had hurt, it had hurt to hear you call him—

Wait. 

You’d… you’d called him…

“My Devil Man, my Saint Matthew,” you whispered, the touch of your hands cool and endlessly gentle as you cupped his face. His skin was wet, damp beneath your thumbs as you swiped them across his cheeks, when had he started crying? You brought his head down until you could lay your forehead against his, the taste of salt hanging in the air. Your voice grew achingly tender, so longed for that he swayed helplessly on his feet, wanting nothing more than to be held like you’d held him so often before when he was hurting. “I’m so sorry, D. I’m so sorry I left you alone, sweetheart.” 

He closed his eyes tight, his breath growing shaky. You couldn’t know that he was two steps away from crumbling in your arms, fractures widening with every breath. He had no energy left to fight your touch, your misplaced mercy, but giving into the lie was another thing entirely. He couldn’t bear to hope again, not when it would crush him if he were wrong. “Foggy told you to… he told you to call me that, didn’t he? To see if you’d remember. But I can’t—you’re going to leave me, you’ll—” “Do you remember what I said before I left? Because I do.” You swiped your thumb gently against his cheek, your uneven breathing skipping and falling into rhythm with his as his hands shakily rose. They hovered hesitantly a few inches away from your face, terrified that you might vanish beneath his hands like a ghost. “I don’t leave my box behind, and I won’t leave you behind, either. I told you that you were stuck with me after Nobu. I meant it. It’s really me. I know you’re tired and hurting, sweetheart, but listen to my heart. What does it say? Truth or lie?”

…Steady. 

Truth.

Could it really be you?  

He held his breath as he dared at last to touch your cheek, stirring the fine hairs as he stroked his way along the familiar shape of your face, one he’d traced so often in his dreams. Your skin was damp with tears just like his, another sliding down to bump against his thumb as your lips quirked up into a brilliant smile. And the moment his trembling fingers passed your lips, you kissed the tip of each with a warm fondness, a mirror of that night you’d held his broken, torn body and he’d kissed your fingers and palm. 

“How much do you… do you remember?” There was a ringing in his ears as the world beneath him seemed to roll beneath him. “Everything?” “Not everything. Some pieces are still missing, with Foggy and Karen and my job, but I-I remember enough. I remember you, and what I had with you.” Your voice grew fierce and fervent then as you drew in a sharp breath, preparing yourself. “I remember you, D. And I remember that I love you. I love you, Matt Murdock, all of you, so, so much. And I will never leave you alone again.” You loved him. 

You loved him. 

The weight of it—being forced to let you leave the city, the ensuing months alone, the agony of the past few weeks thinking he’d lost you entirely, and now this, this, knowing you loved him like he loved you—hit him all at once, and with a sudden groan he started to drop. You caught him in your arms, the two of you sinking to your knees as you held him tight and he wound desperately around you in return. Only then did he start to fall apart in your arms, shaking in your hold, his grief, his hurt, his relief spilling out in choked gasps where you’d tucked his head down against your neck. He fisted his hands in your shirt as you both rocked, and a ragged moan tore free from him, spilling against your skin when you lifted your hands to trail your fingers lovingly through his hair. You knew, you remembered just how to hold him when he was hurting, a balm across every last wound. His shivering, touch-starved body remembered your touch, too, drowning beneath the sudden surge of good, warm, safe, soft after months of nothing but pain, so much so he couldn’t help but gasp out your name. 

“I’ve got you now, D,” you whispered, burying your face against his shoulder until he could feel the heat of your tears against his shirt, too. “I’m here, now. You’re not alone. I’ve got you, Matt.” 

“I thought you were gone.” There was no way for him to truly sync his breathing with yours, not with the way you were both crying, but still his body tried on instinct, tried and failed over and over again. He closed his eyes tighter, burying his face deeper against your throat as he pulled you in even closer, until there wasn’t an inch of space between your body and his, where he could feel every beat of your heart against his skin, as if to make up for the way he’d almost… almost chased you away. “I thought you’d left me and I was alone. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t try harder, and that I didn’t-I didn’t go with you, but I couldn’t—I’m so, so—” 

“Hey, hey, it’s ok.” You kissed shakily at his hair, his shoulder, and whatever other parts of him you could reach, your breath, your tears, your absolution washing over him like rain. “It’s not your fault, D. It’s not your fault sweetheart. None of this was your fault.” 

“But—” “Hey. Listen to me, before you get any further down in that hole.” You lifted his head from your shoulder, cupping his tear-stained face in your hands again. For a moment you both simply breathed with one another, your forehead to his, soaking in the contact, the affection that you’d both dearly missed and needed. “What happened to me outside New York, my memory loss… all of that is not your fault. It never was, D. There are-there are a lot of things we’ll have to deal with in the future, things I need to tell you. Consequences of what we’ve done, and—but this isn’t one of them. Never this. You’re what helped bring me back.” “How? I didn’t…” He let out a breathless, watery little laugh. “I didn’t do anything but try to chase you away.” “Some part of me couldn’t help but be drawn to you. I remembered, deep down, I think.” You gave an amused little huff. “And once Foggy showed me how to get into our thread, all your memories are what brought me back, helped me remember, because I could feel it, how you loved me. That was the key. Speaking of which…” You leaned in to nuzzle up against his cheek, your voice lowering to a whisper. “I think I made you a promise, you ridiculous man. And it’s one I intend to keep.” 

And with one small tip of your head, and a single slow breath… 

“Kiss me when you come back.” 

…your lips brushed against his for the very first time, tender and achingly soft, and so full of love that it would have stolen his breath away if he’d had any left at all. 

It wasn’t the first kiss he’d envisioned months ago just before you left, something triumphant and wild. Nor was it anything like the first kisses he’d imagined before that, the first kiss he’d thought this journey with you might lead to. And God only knew he’d considered kissing you for the first time more than was healthy.

Your first kiss with him was, instead, shaky and gentle, tasting of salt and tears and the fading shades of grief retreating like streamers of night before a welcome sunrise. Slowly, and then more surely, his lips began to move against yours, finally allowing himself to truly taste you for the first time, his eyes slowly falling closed as your fingers ran fondly through his hair, you, it was really you, you remembered. With a quiet moan, he breathed you in deep, calling your grace, your love deep into him until it settled there against his heart, knowing that, no matter what else might come, he would never lose it again, one of his hands rising to tenderly wind around your throat, his other hand finding yours so he could lace his battered fingers tightly with yours.

It wasn’t the first kiss he’d expected, but it felt perfect all the same. 

Because all that was left was him… 

And you. 

#the red thread #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x f!reader #daredevil x reader #daredevil x f!reader #daredevil #matt murdock #fic #fanfic #reader #x reader #f!reader #angst #hurt/comfort #tw: alcohol #tw: depression #memory loss #matt is really self sabotaging here to an extent #this fic is three times longer than Part 1 which is hilarious #i have had this in my docs folder for ages and have finally edited it to my satisfaction #gonna post this on AO3 too but dropping it here first since the first fic was only ever posted here anyway! #and you'll get to have a fun 'Pasta writing 3 years ago versus Pasta writing now' experiment #when i post on AO3 i'll probably post the whole thing (including part 1) as one fic in separate chapters just for ease so I'll edit it then

[phantomwitch16]

Recently I've been thinking about Hypnos and his position in Hades Hades 2. I've been seeing a lot of posts about him lately so I really want to talk about him cause to be honest, other than Zagreus, Hypnos is my favourite character in both games.

From what I've seen from Nyx's family, Hypnos seems to be the odd one out and too be fair, he quite literally is. Most if not all of his siblings are reclusive, quiet and don't keep in contact, similar to how it was with Nyx and Chaos. But Hypnos is the opposite, being quite sociable, talkative and wants to be around his mother and brothers as much as possible. In fact, that's possibly why he works at the house, likely to be closer to Nyx and his brothers. Which really makes sense, since out of all of his family, he never sees any of his other siblings save for their Nyx, Than and Charon and that was largely due to their obligations to the house. But despite his easy going demeanor, Hypnos is probably one of the most powerful gods in the house, save for Nyx given that he was able to put everyone in the house to fall asleep.

Which I imagine it was quite isolating to be doing his duties, especially since most of his siblings, notably Than, were off doing something else. At least with Than, he had the opportunity to see Nyx and Charon whenever he had the time. Which makes sense since other than sleep and death being two sides of the same coin, there isn't much else that keeps Hypnos connected with his family and its likely what made him want to take a job as a receptionist, despite how bored he generally is at it.

It's sad looking back on first game when he's being talked down to by Than and Nyx for having a difficult time to get the hang of doing essentially two full time jobs. Thankfully by the end of the game, he's managed to become much more capable in managing both jobs and having a better relationship with his family.

But this has made me wonder if working as the receptionist had a drastic affect on him in the second game. He's practically in a comatose state and has been like that since before Chronos attacked, since Mel was a baby and it's one of the biggest questions of the community.

I have a few ideas what could've happened to him and the possibly larger role he many have within Hades.

I haven't watch the technical test and frankly i don't want to know too much until the game comes out on the switch, but i think Hecate was down at the house was partly due to Hypnos' condition and maybe to see Mel as well. Because frankly it would be a large part of concern for everyone to come across Hypnos and being unable to wake him up. So she comes to examine him and while there, Chronos escaped, leading her to escape with Hypnos, Melinoe and the portrait.

As for what could've put Hypnos into that sleep, it could've been possible that he was doing so well before the events of the Hades 2. There could've been a large influx of souls and some additional preparation for Melinoe's birth that caused a lot of tension in the house. Or else, he received a terrible vision. In Greek Mythology, Hypnos had a great connection with handling the visions and prophecies. Mainly delivering them from Apollo or other Gods to prophets such as the Oracle of Delphi, alongside his sons. It could be possible that Hypnos received a vision from someone that influenced him to go into a deep sleep.

With him being asleep since then, it's likely that he's only been sleeping. However, it could be possible that Hypnos could be aiding those who were left behind or helping Mel and the others in the Crossroads? Such preventing other enemies to spawn alongside Chronos or putting those left behind in a deep sleep so that they won't feel pain or be controlled by the Titan.

What i find most interesting is his connection with Melinoe. From the get-go, we're already well aware that Mel looks up to Hypnos and finds him fascinating which makes sense. In mythology, Melinoe was not only had a connection to Hecate and ghosts, but one with sleep, specifically bringing about nightmares and madness.

With this connection to him, Mel could possibly interact with Hypnos in her dreams or wake him from his slumber. Or if those who were in the house were under his control, Hypnos could lull them into a sleep and Mel could wake them up by inducing a terrible nightmare that could shake off whatever control Chronos has over them.

I don't know if Hypnos might still have his old job by the end of the second game but considering with Mel could intercept dreams, I think that he would get a promotion by overseeing her duties or training her in those aspects of her abilities, probably punishing those worthy of those nightmares or aiding him in handing out prophecies.

I highly doubt that all of this would be used in the game but its a nice idea.

#hades 2 #hades game #hades melinoe #hades the game #hades nyx #hades thanatos #hades hecate #hades hypnos

[clockways]

After undergrad, I was done living with people. People didn’t turn off alarm clocks or clean up their messes or, perhaps, people even blamed you for their mental breakdown. I had had enough of people.

But I couldn’t live alone.

Luckily, I knew the perfect solution. See, other than the semesters of undergrad, I had always lived with cats. There were also dogs and hamsters and reptiles, but cats were the constant. It was a noble line going all the way back to Yoda, whom my mother got to be her cat in college.

It was only the start of summer, and I was already surreptitiously walking past the adoption area of the pet store. It was a good thing I did.

There in the cage, the only animal in the whole adoption area, was a tiny kitten. As soon as he saw me, he started to meow and kneed and reach through the bars. It was probably as close to love at first sight as I will ever get.

After finding out when adoption was and leaving and coming back at what was the wrong time and talking to the kitten through the glass—I finally was able to hold him.

He was perfect.

This little kitten with brown so deep it was black and a white underside and a very pink nose settled right into my arms and purred up a storm. I adopted him then and there.

Depressingly, with this adoption center, the little boy had to go back to get sniped before I could take him home. I often joked that the poor guy never had a lick of testosterone in his body with how early it all happened. (That didn’t stop in from growing into quite a tall, long cat, mind you.)

While he came home without his balls, he also came home with a kitten cold. My poor little perfect boy was sick to the point that he could die. Cats, if you didn’t know, don’t eat if they can’t smell. Stinky food was bought, force feeding was attempted, and in the end it was some Vick’s in hot water that cleared his sinuses up enough to eat.

Now that he was well, it was finally time to find the right name. Name is a process in my family. In rather reverse fae rules, by giving the pets the right name, they are cemented as family. My mother even adds them to the family bible.

This boy took two tries.

His first name was Underwood as you see, once he got is energy back, he was constantly walking across my lap and the laptop that had a pretty permanent place in it. My friends swiftly got used to getting ‘kitten messages’ sent to them. Annoyingly, some of the same friends wouldn’t stop calling him Carrie, even after I asked them not to, and I decided that I wasn’t going to put up with that for the next fourteen plus years.

As he was my ‘squirmy worm’ for his lack of desire to be held and ability to pop right out of a hold due to his silky fur, I combined the two and, finally, he found his right name of Wormwood. (This also, unbeknownst at the time, started the naming convention for my next two cats.)

Wormwood and I went off to graduate school not much later. The old but passable apartment I was in had a (rather shoddily) screened in porch. It became Worm’s favorite spot to sit, even in the middle of Texas heat.

Paper balls were discovered to be his favorite thing, followed by very tiny pompoms. If I was ignoring him, he’d knock my remote off my table to play. Even with that playing, I often joked that Worm was my semi mobile throw pillow. He loved to lounge and nap to the extreme, even for a cat.

Worm never wanted other cats in his life, though he managed to accept Bugsy—my Siamese mutt—into our home in time, though Worm never ceded the foot of the bed to him. Together, we three moved back in with my parents (to total a too many five cats) until I could afford my own place. Worm had to suffer through another new brother, Beetle, about three years ago. Then not quite two years ago we moved to a new state.

All three boys did wonderful on the very long drive, and I like to think that it was worth it because of the fabulous sunroom in the new house. All of them had their favorite spots to sit out there and soak up the sun.

This winter, Worm took a turn. He dropped some weight while I was gone on a trip. I got him a heated bed that became his very favorite thing in the whole house. He would just melt into it.

Then it got worse.

I took him to the vet, and he had gone from about fifteen pounds down to five and a half. Blood work was clean though, so we increased his food and changed some things around.

Tueaday he was quite ill.

Wednesday was the first time there was a moment where he wasn’t there mentally. It felt like it was going to be time.

Thursday, today, I found him laying in a sunbeam. He didn’t even ask for food. At eleven today I took him to the vet. For about an hour before I held him, resting against my chest, and the two of us sat in the sun, listening to the birds.

I think he was ready to rest. He hardly moved at the vet during the shot and then… then he was gone.

And I had to leave him.

For sixteen years, nearly half my life, he has been my family and one of my best friends. I would have been so lost without him. I’m so sad to have to say goodbye, but I’m glad that he can rest now.

I’m glad that it was a pretty day and that we got to sit in the sun together and listen to the birds.

#clockwayspets #cw pet death

[pre11yyy]

Warnings: non con (if u r not comfortable don't read), mdni, violence themes, heeseung is so fucked up, explicit content, some creepy shit, stalker!heeseung

Thinking about neightbour!heeseung who has been stalking u after his first time seeing u, he just can't help it but wonder what u do, what u like, who u r hanging out with until it became a routine for him

Neightbour!heeseung who'd only greet u and ask about how r u doing as if he doesn't know what u do 24h/7

Neighbour!heeseung who had enough from watching u from afar and now wants more than that, he needs to be in ur space and what's better than ur house? He finds himself sneaking in trying everything he learned to open ur door and when he finally got in, the feeling is overwhelming as he's now able to touch ur things, smell ur scent and feel ur warmth, Heeseung is very quiet as he walks around ur house, he takes his time observing everything, learning new things about u which makes his love, His possession for u even bigger.

Neightbour!Heeseung who had been thinking about sneaking in while u r there, wondering in his head how u'll react if u ever noticed him there, the thought so thrilling for him to not do it, so he does it, opening ur door quietly when he could hear clearly ur tv on, glacing to see u sitting in ur little couch stuffing the crisps in ur mouth without having an idea that he is here with u, With u ohhh how this idea is so tempting to him, but he needs to wait, he can't make a single sound yet

Neighbour!Heeseung who is waiting for the right moment to make u his, he watches ur every move, the way u laugh, the way u speak, the way u touch urself, he is a good boy, a very good boy, waiting patiently for the right moment where ur phone rings, he knows its him, the man that always calls u, the one that takes all ur time and attention, he's not going to allow that to happen anymore, not when he's here and you'll be his, he is sure of it, so he makes his way slowly, standing in front of u, he's here now, and he is ready

Neighbour!heeseung who would play with ur hair while ur sleeping, hiding whenever u feel his touch on u, gasping where u just imagining things? U don't know how much it hurts him, he wants to make his presence clear, he wants u to feel his hands on ur hair and all over ur body, and he does, his hand slowly tracing ur neck down to ur collar bone, making u wake up to the sudden touch, the one that made u flinch, your eyes searching for the source of the touch in this darkness of the room, finding nothing in sight, the fear is taking over u and u can't help it, u need to check the house, so u get up from ur bed, trying to find the source, the feeling of being watched is taking over u, u need to find the source or else, you'll lose ur mind, he knows how scared u r, that's why he is not letting u find him, not yet, so he is staying still, he's not even breathing, he just watches u walk around searching, but no, he's not letting u find him, not before making sure u can't leave this place, the moment u reach the door, he is on u, his hands are around ur neck, his breathe is on ur neck and his voice is on ur ear

Neighbour!heeseung who would let his words sink deep into ur mind, "I'm gonna fuck you until you scream my name and pass out, until you forget about everyone but me", "took me too much to get here", "but m here now"

Neighbour!Heeseung who'd bite your neck hard enough to draw blood, the pain is something so foreign to u, but that's not what ur afraid of, its him, it's his presence, and it's the fact that u don't have any idea of what he's capable of, who is even this person that's wrapping his hands around u?, u find urself freezing not knowing what to do, ur hands shaking as u feel his hands gropping ur body, squirming to pull urself away but no, he's not letting go, instead he squeezes harder, and now ur begging, asking him to stop, his laugh is echoing around the room, the laugh that makes his hold weaker and allows u to turn, facing him, the man you see on the street, the one who is so sweet to u, the one who is a good neighbour, he is here, but his whole aura is different, u can't help it but feel ur body shivers at the creepy smile that's all over his face now after seeing ur surprised face "Baby,m finally here sorry for making u wait"

Neighbour!Heeseung who doesn't waste his time as his hand is already in ur pants, making u gasp at his touch, his finger moving up and down, his other hand grabbing the small knife in his pocket, making his way to the back of ur head, his hands gripping ur hair, his eyes piercing into yours, and his smile is wide, his teeth are showing, as he press the sharp metal on ur throat threatening u to stay still or else he'd cut u, so u did, giving in to whatever his doing to u, the moment u close ur eyes, his smile grows even bigger, his hand moves faster, the knife is getting closer, the pleasure is taking over u, it feels so good, ur moans are escaping, his eyes are locked into your every movement, studying u before his teeth sink into ur skin, the pleasure is overwhelming, u've never been in a similar situation and u can't help it but admit that it's turning u on, it feels too good, so good that u find urself cumming in his hands, your moans are louder, and ur legs are giving up on u, your body falling down but he's there to catch u, holding onto u tight, his eyes never leaving yours as his hands find their way back to ur pants, his fingers tracing the wetness, the touch so electrifying, making ur eyes roll back, ur body twitching in his hold, eyes dripping with tears as u beg him to stop and he only smile at that, his heart beating so fast at ur beautiful sight covered in tears

Neighbour!Heeseung who makes sure u know it's him and him only, that his the only one who can make u feel like this, the only one who can have you, the only one who can touch and taste and see every inch of u, he'll make sure of that, by carving his name into ur skin, the moment his done with the last letter, he's biting ur lips, making sure u'll know how much he loves and needs u, the blood is dripping from the cuts in ur lips, the pain is so sweet, and the pleasure is even sweeter, and then his kissing u, his tongue is tracing the cut, his sucking on it and his enjoying this moment, the moment he can taste u, and have u, and own u, the moment he can feel every inch of u, the moment he can have u in his hands, the moment his eyes are on u, and his touch is on u, his everything is on u and ur his "You're mine and mine only"

Neighbour!Heeseung who would make sure u won't be able to escape, that ur his, and his only, the only one who'd need, the one that will obey his every wish, he'll make sure of that, he'd make sure that ur body can't live without him, that ur addicted to him, so that his name is the only thing in ur mind, he'd make sure of that, the moment he enters ur hole, the feeling of beeing full is overwhelming, his thrusts are fast, and rough, the way his hitting ur spot over and over again, the way he's filling you up, the way his hands are all over you, the way he's gripping your body so tight, the way he's marking you, the way his nails are digging into ur skin, the way his teeth are piercing ur skin, everything was so overwhelming to u, u were sure u r losing it, ur mind so foggy and the only thing that could leave ur mouth were moans, the only word that could come out of ur mouth was his name.

Neightbour!Heeseung who kept fucking u and filling u up the whole night, not caring if u passed out or not, not caring if he was hurting you, the only thing he cared about was his needs and desires, to make sure u'll stay and what's better than for him to make sure u'd carry his kid, the only thing he wanted was you and nothing else.

Neighbour!Heeseung who'd take care of the wounds and bruises that he caused on ur body the next day, his sweetness taking u by surprise making u doubt that he was the one who caused that in the first place, his smile was so sweet, so pure, the same smile that could make his eyes disappear, and the same smile that could melt his heart.

Neighbour!heeseung is who ur stuck with,forever

-

idk wtf this is but yeah whatever

#kpop #kpop smut #enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen smut #enhypen hard thoughts #heeseung hard thoughts #heeseung enha #heeseung #lee heeseung #enhypen heeseung #heeseung smut

[drabblesandsnippets]

Drabble #2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Plus-size female character (unnamed)

Background: Just something I wrote in a Target parking lot waiting for my pickup order lol

Summary: Bucky listens to his girlfriend pleasure herself in the backseat of his car.

Warnings: 18+ Only. Explicit sexual content. Masturbation. Dirty talk. Praise. Slight domination.

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

She has no idea how she ended up in the backseat of his car, her skirt hiked up and her legs spread wide as she touches herself. She’s never done anything like this, but all reservations left her miles ago when Bucky pulled out of the airport parking lot, convincing her to trust him. They still have at least thirty minutes before he can get her home and he wants a show until then.

“That’s it,” he encourages her, his eyes briefly glancing at her in the rearview mirror, his hands gripping the steering wheel. “Let me hear you, doll… Fuck, I missed you.” It’s been weeks of phone sex and dirty texts and all Bucky wants to do is pull the car over so he bury himself inside of her. But she deserves more than a quick fuck on the side of the road after being apart for so long. 

Her hands keep moving, following his instructions, the teasing pace driving her crazy. She could easily speed things up - he can only see her face after all - but all she wants is to please him. She’s missed him, ached for him in every way, and she’s nothing but a willing participant. One hand cups her breast inside her bra, pinching her own nipple while her other hand stays between her thighs, her fingers rubbing her clit slowly. 

Her breath gets heavier, her moans and soft gasps filling the small space as Bucky talks her through it, his words fueling her desire. “God, you’re fucking incredible,” he tells her, his cock straining against jeans, desperate for some sort of relief. He shifts slightly, glancing back at her again before returning his eyes to the road, grateful for his enhanced senses. He needs to hear her, be responsible for her pleasure, but not at the expense of her safety.

When the slow pace becomes too much, she finally asks for more, her body trembling with need. “Bucky, please.” He knows exactly what she wants, and he wants to give it to her, but if she comes before they make it off the freeway, there’s no way he’s going to be able to make it home before he has to have his way with her. So, he continues to make her wait.

“You’re doing so good for me,” he promises, “just keep touching yourself like that. Nice and slow.” Her groan of frustration is laced with pleasure, his praise making her pussy pulse. As much as she wants to complain, or take control back, it’s nothing compared to how much she gets off on submitting to him. She’ll do anything he tells her to, especially like this.

When he finally takes the familiar exit, Bucky glances at her again, turning his head slightly to let her see the smirk on his face, making her breath catch. For just a second, her hands still, her body tense with anticipation, until his voice breaks through, finally giving her permission. “I want you to fuck yourself for me, can you do that, Princess?”

He barely finishes the question before she presses her fingers against her entrance, sliding deep in one smooth movement, making herself cry out in pleasure. Her noises send a jolt straight to his cock and he resists the urge to reach down to free himself, regripping the steering wheel instead, the metal groaning under his vibranium hand.

“There we go,” he breathes, his voice rough, his eyes briefly meeting hers in the mirror. “Just like that... show me how good it feels.” He doesn’t even have to see her hand to know exactly what she’s doing. Two fingers deep inside of her, curled to press against her g-spot while she grinds her palm against her clit. It’s the fastest way to make her come, and he licks his lips at the thought of how wet she is for him.

His ears pick up all the telltale signs of her getting closer to her orgasm, her breath quick and uneven, her head thrown back against the seat. She doesn’t even realize how close they are to home now, but Bucky’s been counting down the seconds, and the moment he reaches their street, he tells her, “Can’t wait to taste you, have you ride me face until you’re screaming my name.” That’s all it takes for her to fall.

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

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #sebastian stan #bucky barnes x plus size reader

[donelywell]

how does your version of the Phantom Ruby work?

Oh buddy you're in for one hell of a ramble.

I don't care that this is stuff I wanted to reveal in my Forces retelling- I'm babbling about it neow! Besides, I have no idea when I'll be motivated enough to continue my actual canon adjacent au, SO WE CAN HAVE FUN WITH THIS!

Tw: blood

Okay, so the Phantom Ruby is an ancient artifact hidden in a pyramid in Regal Ruin Zone (Sonic R Stage because I really do hate it when zones are just a one and done thing, not overused like Green Hill Zone per say, but I want to actually explore the zones instead of just zooming by them for about 4 minutes total).

A legend says that if you sacrifice some of your blood to it, it will grant you the power to make your wishes a reality. Zero (I'm going with the headcanon that Infinites name used to be Zero) was a huge fan of this legend, he heard about it when he was doing some bounty hunts near the zone.

When you give the Phantom Ruby your blood, you and it are locked together until the blood supply is used up. Only the blood user can use the Phantom Ruby.

The Phantom Ruby is a sentient gemstone (haha, watch me make every single gemstone in Sonic sentient gods), but it lies dormant until someone feeds it blood. Because the Ruby doesn't want to go back to sleep for who knows how long, it starts whispering things into the users mind, feeding thoughts into their head to make them use the ruby more. To give it more blood, to be consumed by the lust for power.

The legend told of a god who was banished and imprisoned into the ruby. Centuries later a crow mobian found the ruby and brought it to their travel group an echidna, a leopard, a tortoise, and a scorpion. They were ambushed later that night and the crow bled onto the ruby in the battle. They realized it had the power to grant wishes, and the crow grew insane with it's power, becoming consumed by the ruby.

The other members of the group realized they need to stop the crow and cut its connection with the ruby, so they begged the gods to give them a way to save the crow. In turn, the gods gave each member a gemstone blessed by different gods a citrine, jade, amethyst, and an onyx. With the gemstones powers, they managed to save the crow from the ruby and lock it deep in a pyramid covered in complex traps and curses as to keep people away from the cursed Phantom Ruby.

Eventually, the group disbanded, with each of the members who helped save the crow carrying the gemstone they had with them as they all scattered to the different corners of the planet.

Ehem- now past this goes into the plot I have for Infinite in my Forces retelling, so you can skip this if you want.

Zero managed to get past all the traps in the pyramid and capture the Phantom Ruby for a bounty he accepted from a mysterious person who wouldn't reveal their identity. This however led to him getting the Phantom Ruby inserted into his chest and have it drive him insane with the whispers it constantly had speaking in his head. He snapped, going completely insane and mindlessly following the voice. He became Infinite, the vessel for the god of illusion.

The legend wasn't lying, as he continues to abuse it's power, the Phantom Ruby slowly started to consume him. Literally. The Phantom Ruby slowly turns his body into it as he uses the power. The process is accelerated when The Resistance begins to be able to push back after the 6 months, making him use his illusions more.

It's up to The Resistance to find the legend of the Phantom Ruby, get the citrine, jade, amethyst, and onyx (names still deciding on), and stop Infinite (and Eggman).

Thank you for letting me ramble about this! I tried to hold myself back a little bit at least from spoiling some of the plot I have for the retelling because I don't wanna ruin the story (if it ever gets made) by spoiling everything about the Phantom Ruby.

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic forces #infinite the jackal #zero the jackal #phantom ruby #sonic forces rewrite #I have thought about the Phantom Ruby for MONTHS if it isn't obvious. #Many a sleepless nights have been spent thinking of how much wasted potential was in this stupid jackal and his stupid shiny rock.

[httpkaulitz]

A little party never hurt no one

PAIRINGS: Tom 2007 x Female reader

CONTENT: Smutt

SYNOPSIS: Tom notices the reader is bored and decides to teach her how to party.

WARNINGS: dom!tom, sub!reader, unprotected sex, p in v, kissing, fingering, oral (f reciving), public sex.

When your friend asked you to go to the party with her your first instinct was to say no, but you were trying to change, fit in with other teenagers your age, so you accepted. Your mother always says you should go out more, wear shorter clothes, live more, do something crazy.

But you never really liked the idea of being in environments full of drunk people and loud music. You've always preferred the calm of your room, a good book to read and the company of your cat. Your friend always teased you by saying that your soul was that of an 80-year-old woman trapped in the body of a 17-year-old teenager.

✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮

Now leaning against one of the walls of a stranger's living-room, you can understand why you always choose not to participate in this type of fun. Your friend disappeared shortly after saying she would get a drink and be back soon. You weren't really worried about her, knowing that she was probably drinking alcohol or making out with someone, probably both.

Your eyes traveled around the large room as you look in the people around you. Is everyone really having fun or are they just pretending to fit in? You thought randomly until your eyes landed on him.

You watched as he happily chatted with a group of people. Your eyes roamed over him trying to take in every detail, from the piercing on his lip that glistened under the lights to the way he moved his hands as he spoke.

You'd seen him before, of course. Almost everyone knew him, as he talked to everyone and left all the girls drooling and wanting his attention. He seemed so confident in himself…everything you wanted to be. You shook your head, self-aware that you had been staring at him for too long and looked away.

The very loud music and flashing lights were starting to get on your nerves. You drank the rest of the beer in your glass in one go and grimaced when you felt the bitter taste on your tongue. In your mind it didn't make sense for anyone to genuinely enjoy drinking this kind of stuff, but it's easier to face a party when you're less sober, so you always get some.

You looked back towards Tom and were surprised to find that he was already looking at you. His brown eyes shone with intensity even from afar. You wanted to look away but you couldn't, mesmerized by the way he was staring at you.

You pulled your too-short skirt down, self-aware that you were wearing your friend's borrowed clothes and not the ones you normally wear. You saw a small smile form as his eyes strayed from your face to your bare legs.

One of the guys who was talking to him touched his shoulder to get his attention and only then he look away. You took a deep breath and were finally able to move again.

The cold air hit your face as soon as you reached outside. You walked a little further until you reached the side of the house moving away from everyone. The noise of the music could still be heard, but now it was a little more muffled.

"Bored?" You almost jumped out of your skin, too distracted to notice that someone had approached.

Tom was standing a few meters away from you with his hands in his pockets and a smirk on his face. You looked away, afraid that you would stare at him for too long and freeze again.

“I was that obvious?” You asked, trying to sound more amused than annoying.

“This is the first time I’ve seen you at a party and you were just standing there not interacting with anyone.” He approached you and out of pure instinct you took two small steps back.

“I don’t think I know how to party.” You laughed awkwardly as you shrugged.

He approached again, this time quickly enough that there was no time for you to back away. He being much taller you had to tilt your head back to be able to look at him.

His hand was on your cheek before you could look away again. "I can teach you." He whispered. The hoarse voice made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

“I saw you looking at me.” Tom ran his thumb under her bottom lip and watched your eyelashes flutter and your cheeks turn pink.

“I wasn't-” You tried to say, but the look he gave you told you he wouldn’t believe your excuses. He knew you wanted him.

Tom smiled that insolent smile still staring at you, almost as if daring you to say you didn't want him, you swallowed hard as you felt his other hand caress your arm and your body.

You could feel his entire body pressed against yours, warm and firm. And you had to look away for a moment feeling too overwhelmed to look at him.

"Do you want me to leave?" He whispered in your ear and you felt the sensation of his warm breath against your skin. You could feel the dreadlocks tickling your neck. Was he testing you?

“I-I don’t-” You started, but were cut off when you felt his hand wander down the front of your skirt. Tom's fingers went higher, brushing the front of your panties feeling the wet fabric, and he bent down to whisper in your ear.

"Thinking about me, baby?" He slid your panties to the side and dipped a finger between your soaked folds, pulling them out quickly and bringing them to his lips, licking them clean, humming to himself. Your hands started to shake just thinking that you were standing outside a crowded house and anyone passing by could see you in that position.

"Even better than I thought," he whispered in your ear again.

Tom tried to reach his hand back up your skirt, but you caught his wrist in time.

"What are you doing? We’re in the middle of a party.” You whispered desperately. Your eyes wide in shock and excitement.

"No one will see us here, everyone is too busy." He said laughing before biting your neck.

You could feel him pressing your body closer to his as he whispered things into your ear. "You want me, admit it."

"I do. I've wanted you since I saw you." You replied, hearing your own voice as if it were someone else's. As if it came from far away. As if you weren't here and everything was a fantasy.

As if that was all he needed to hear, Tom pulled you until the two of you were in a darker part and no one could really see you two.

Before you could say anything, he pressed your lips to his, fingers curling around your chin as he sucked on your bottom lip, and the scrape of his teeth made your head spin. You took a dizzying step back, your back slamming against the wall as you kissed him back. For a second you lost yourself in it, drowning in the feeling of his body against yours.

Tom's hands slid down your back, undoing the knots in your shirt. He pulled back and smiled, head tilted, assessing you with sharp focus. The intensity of that gaze sent a new wave of need through you.

“You’re so beautiful.” He said as he cupped your chin with his hand and tilted your head back to meet his gaze. His face is beautiful and his eyes shine with desire. You sighed, not knowing how to respond.

He pulled your panties down and you shakily pulled out of it, distracted by the way his fingers slowly grazed your inner thigh.

He placed his hand under one of your knees, lifting your leg to the side, steadying you as you held onto the front of his shirt to keep yourself in place. Then he was sinking two fingers into you while watching your face closely. Tom smiled as he saw your eyes roll back and your mouth open in a silent scream.

"Tell me how much you like this." He ordered as he bit your neck. His fingers curled deeper into you with obscene, slick ease.

"I loved it, please don't stop." You moaned letting your head fall back, whimpering and rolling your hips.

Tom lowered his head, pressing his lips to your neck. Giving sloppy kisses anywhere his mouth could reach, feeling your wetness continue to soak his fingers. He lets his tongue run a long stripe back to your chin. Teeth nibbling at your skin as your breathing quickens, his dick begins to strain against the zipper of his pants. You can feel how hard he is against your belly.

You’re lost in the moment, a sobbing mess against Tom’s chest as you feels your legs shake. Your hands gripping anything within reach, the thin fabric of his shirt. His arms, wrists… But then you decide to take a risk and let your hand slide through his hair. You lift your hand to Tom's face. Gently brushing his cheek before tangling your fingers in the hair at the back of his neck. Pulling, twisting them between your fingers as a low growl resonates in his throat making you smile to yourself.

"You're a tease, you know?" He says as he grabs your chin making you look at him. You try not to close your eyes or look away, too embarrassed by the way he looks at you. You can still feel his fingers moving quickly and deeply inside you, taking away any form of concentration you could muster.

“I’ve wanted to fuck you ever since I saw you walk through the door.” He says in an almost angry tone before removing his fingers from you and move away.

You feel your eyes fill with tears in a mix of frustration and adrenaline. You could feel your pussy throb with need after being prevented from reaching orgasm. You squeezed your legs together trying to get some pressure.

In the back of your mind, a voice was telling you to stop because anyone could come and see the two of you in this situation.

“Tom, I think we-” You started to say, but were cut off when he bent down in front of you and urgently lifted your skirt.

"Baby, just relax." He placed one of your legs on his shoulder, holding your thigh tightly so you couldn't bring them back together. Not that you would try. "I want to taste you."

The words made you shiver and the knot in your stomach tighten. You're so excited it's embarrassing.

Tom smiles at you predatorily before burying his face between your legs.

You moan loudly, digging your nails into the fabric of his shirt as you feel the pressure of his tongue under your clit.

You whimper and try to close your legs, but all you get is a hard slap on your thigh and a hard suck on your clit. You scream and squirm from the mix of sensations.

Tom sucks you like a starving man who has just found a feast, making obscene, slippery sounds.

You can feel the ball of heat growing against your belly, your toes curling involuntarily as you cum.

But Tom doesn't stop, in fact he seems even more committed now. Rolling his tongue uncontrollably against your pussy.

"Please." You whimpered trying to pull away. You felt so raw and sensitive. Tom chuckled against your pussy loving every scream and moan you let out.

You tried desperately to close your legs, the stimulation becoming too much.

"Please, I can't." You cried feeling tears blur your vision as another orgasm hit you.

Your shaking hands released his shirt and you used all the strength you had to pull his head away from your pussy. The instant relief was short-lived as Tom quickly slipped two fingers into you.

He laughed when he saw your eyes roll back and your body shake against the wall.

"Oh baby, I haven't even started with you yet and you're already begging." He taunted as he twisted his fingers deep inside you.

You couldn't answer him even if you wanted to. You were completely losing control, your body moving in a mixture of trembling and trying to escape his fingers. You were making sounds you didn't even know you were capable of, not caring who might hear.

"Seeing you like this squirming for me. I'm imagining so many things I want to do to you." He whispered as he held you in place.

Every time your hand tried to pull him away, you received a sharp slap on one of your thighs. You could hear him talking, but you couldn't take it all in, too focused on trying to deal with the unbearable mix of pain and pleasure.

Tom began rubbing your clit with his thumb as he felt another orgasm coming on and within seconds you were screaming and sobbing.

He watched your face, enchanted by the mixture of sweat and tears. Your cheeks were red and your messy hair stuck to your face.

Tom took his fingers out of you and sucked on them before get up and kissing you.

You barely noticed his lips against yours, tired and overwhelmed by three orgasms in a row in such a short space of time. Your whole body was shaking and your ears were ringing.

He was talking to you, but you seemed completely off. He watched you closely for a moment, your entire body red and sweaty. Your eyelashes were wet with tears and your mouth was slightly open as you tried to control your breathing. Honestly, you only didn't collapse onto the floor because he was holding you tightly. He smiled, pleased with the effect he was having on you.

"Let the fun begin." Tom whispered mischievously against your ear.

"I can't." You sighed almost pleadingly. You couldn't even feel your legs properly, you doubted you could handle another orgasm.

"That's not fair, baby." He whispered against your neck before licking and sucking at the sensitive skin. You sighed as you felt his hard dick pressed against your stomach.

You could feel your rational side leaving your body as the pool of excitement formed between your legs again.

"You're going to let me fuck you, aren't you?" He whispered in your ear while holding your hips tightly. You nodded and felt him smile against your neck.

"Good girl." He growled, pulling away from you a little and turning you onto your back. You let out a surprised gasp, your face and breasts pressed against the cold wall as he held your hips.

You heard the zipper click and soon he was lifting your skirt. You still felt your legs shaking as you tried to steady them on the ground.

You opened your mouth in a silent scream and dug your palm into the wall trying to steady yourself as you felt him slide inside you slowly. The stretching sensation was a mixture of pure agony and pleasure. You could feel you twitch around him as he began to move in and out.

Tom groaned throwing his head back as he grabbed your hips and slammed in hard into you. The feeling of being inside you was inexplicable, he felt as if he had been drugged with doses of pleasure.

"Fuck, you feel so good." He whispered in your ear with a husky voice and you felt your body shudder.

He wrapped one of his arms around your waist and pulled you to him, your back against his torso, without slowing his movements for a second.

"Tell me, what do you want?" You could feel his hot, rapid breath on the back of your neck. One of his hands brushed your hair to the side before coming down and squeezing your breasts hard. The movement made you scream and curl into him even more.

"Do you like it?" He chuckled before squeezing them again. You nodded wildly as you whispered yes. You were sure you would wake up with handprints tomorrow.

You tried to move your hands to reach him, but all you could properly touch was the arm that was around your waist. You groaned in frustration. You hadn't even touched him.

"I want to touch you." You groaned unconsciously. You knew Tom wasn't the romantic type, hell, he's fucking you in the back of a stranger's backyard and maybe he wanted to have complete control of the situation. He laughed into your hair and you thought he was going to make fun of you.

“Anything you want, baby.” He said in a sweet and mocking voice, and with a quick movement he turned you back to face him.

You took the moment to look at him, his hair was almost down now and his face was shining with a thin layer of sweat. He looked so beautiful as he leaned towards you.

"Do you like what you see?" He asked before fitting one of your legs around his waist and sinking inside you. You immediately wrapped your arms around his neck, feeling the welcoming warmth of his body.

He lowered his head against your neck and brushed his teeth against the smooth skin. It was tempting torture. You bit your bottom lip as you felt his movements increase. You opened your eyes and felt your entire body shake as your gaze met Tom's. His brown eyes shone with a mixture of excitement and wildness.

"Don't close your eyes." He ordered in a low whisper. You opened your mouth with a sharp moan before throwing your head back. He gasped, feeling your body heat up against his. You had a strange effect on him; managed to warm not only his body, but also his heart. And he shouldn't feel that way about you.

He smiled as he felt your hips moving against his. You felt your legs weaken and your toes curl with the effect of yet another orgasm coming. Your entire body heated up and you fell into an abyss of sensations.

Tom let out a low laugh in your ear and felt you squeeze his shoulder tightly. He didn’t dare slow down his movements, even with you writhing wildly against him. You pushed his shoulder trying to push him away.

"Shh, it's nothing you can't handle." Tom whispered in your ear. You looked at him pleadingly, not sure what you were begging for. Eyebrows furrowed and eyes full of tears. Tom loved that view.

"Fuck. You look so pretty like that, you know that?" He asked as he stroked your hair, brushing the damp strands off your forehead. You bit your lower lip to prevent a loud moan from escaping your mouth.

You felt the heat rise in your belly, an almost unbearable heat. Tom let out a hoarse moan as he felt your nails tearing the skin of his arm. He gradually slowed his movements until he was off of you, holding you in place so you wouldn't fall.

You knew he wasn't done yet. And in those few seconds that he watched you while waiting for you to calm down, your mind began to bombard you with self-judgment. You were being irresponsible like you've never been in your entire life.

When he approached you again, you tried to protest, but all you could do was let out a loud moan as you felt him invade you immediately. You grabbed Tom's arms, digging your nails firmly into his skin. He smiled in a muffled groan. He was so excited that he could barely control his movements now. His hand reached for one of your breasts and he pinched the nipple between his fingers.

"Tom, slowly, please." You asked with a shaky voice. You felt him peppering desperate kisses across your jaw as he moved harder. "Tom!" You called again, now pushing at his chest.

"Too sensitive?" He asked smiling smugly.

Even though you were embarrassed to admit it, you nodded. Tom slowed down his movements and looked at you. His face was like a mirror showing all the pleasure he was feeling and that was enough to satisfy him. But it also made him want more. He felt his body heat up with more desire as yours hips moved together, increasing the pace.

"Fuck it." He exclaimed when he felt you pulling his hair. He put one hand around your neck and squeezed just enough to restrict the air a little.

You smiled and pulled him towards you, tightening your leg around him. You moaned as you felt him increase his hips again.

You felt your orgasm return and you scratched Tom's back, pressing your body against his. He looked at you, breathing heavily before closing his eyes and opening his mouth, throwing his head back. You watched the scene with pleasure.

He moved a few more times before burying his face in your hair and letting out a muffled growl. You felt the warm liquid fill you as his movements gradually stopped. Tom sighed against your hair, smelling it.

He brushed the strands of hair out of your face and watched you for a few seconds, amazed to see you undone in his arms.

"We should party together more often." He said with an amused smile. You waved at him smiling, too tired to respond. You were under no illusion that Tom would want to be with you, but it was nice to hear it.

       ✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮✮

#tokio hotel #tom kaulitz #gustav schäfer #georg listing #tom kaulitz smut #tom kaulitz x reader #bill kaulitz

[lunajay33]

New World🍂Part.14

Summary: You grew up in a crappy town with one friend who kept you going, everything started to fall into place, that’s until the world ended and the dead ruled the world, now you and your best friend Daryl Dixon had to stay alive but will you finally confess?

Part.13

•Masterlist•

The next morning we packed up some of the food and heading out hoping to find the others and if we couldn’t then we’ll just have to come back here

As we walked along the ever lasting road Judith was snacking on little treats I was feeding her, thankful she was a quiet baby so we didn’t have to worry about another attraction for walkers

“Ya sure yer good holding her?” Daryl asked as he adjusted the crossbow over his shoulder

“Oh ya I’m fine, I gotta get use to it anyways”

“How’s the baby been?”

“She’s good, she’s been kicking around in there definitely gonna be a wild one definitely a Dixon” I said as Judith giggled

“She?”

“I don’t know I don’t like calling her “it” and I just feel deep down she’s our little girl I dreamed of”

“Maybe she is, all we got left is hope”

Judith fell asleep in my arms as we continued walking as we came to a town full of deserted houses

“Maybe we should check these, there might be supplies” I said pointing to a White House on the corner, he grumbled in agreement, he searched the place first before he gave the all clear that I could explore the house

“Seems like someone was here recently” I said noticing the cereal dishes on the table

“Mmmm be on the look out”

Looking around the bedrooms I found another baby blanket for Judith and some baby clothes that’ll fit her better

“Find anything?” Daryl called from the doorway

“Just some baby supplies for Jude, you?”

“How about these?” He asked holding up a lacy blue thong

“DARYL! Put that away you’re crazy”

“Well I’m keepin em until ya wanna have some fun”

“Yer lucky I love you Dixon” I said trying to cover the rising blush on my face as I heard him let out a laugh

He sat on the bed watching me as I continued to rummage through the room, Judith tucked against my chest still sleeping

“Yer gonna be a great mom” I looked back at him smiling

“You think?”

“Look how yer with lil asskicker, she loves ya”

“I won’t say I’m not nervous or scared because I am, Jesus I’m terrified but to know I’ll be able to hold a little baby that we have together, that’s what keeps me hopeful that something might work out, that we can be a family” I said as I sat next to him

“Ya got nothin to be scared about, I got ya, all three of ya”

After rummaging through a few more houses we decided to keep walking maybe meeting up with whoever was in these houses before us

“Did ya hear that?” He asks stopping me in my track as we listened out again, two voices in the near distance, a male and a female oddly familiar, he took my hand leading me through the tree until we saw a road, a silhouette of a two family members I thought I’d never see again

“I’m gonna go first, they’ll be on guard, wait for my signal” he whispered as he left the tree line approaching Rick and Michonne

They shot up hearing Daryl’s walking, katana and gun pointed right at him as his hands were raised

“Rick it’s me” he groaned in his gravely voice I love so much

They lowered their weapons sharing emotional hugs just like Daryl and I did when we reunited, we all really became a family at the prison so finding others again made that hopeless feeling dwindle just a little more

He whistled obvious signal for me, I walked out and they all looked in my direction

“Y/n?” Michonne called running to me and squeezing me tight

“I missed you”

“I missed you too”

She pulled back to I could see Rick

“I’ve got a surprise” I smiled pulling Judith out of her nap sack against my chest that was covering her, Rick ran over swiping her out of my arms holding her tight, crying in joy as he placed a kiss to my forehead

“Thank you so much” he said with so much hope as I saw Carl come out of van joining us

“She was amazing, never fussy, I’d do it all over again” I said resting my hands on my belly

“How’s the baby?” Michonne asked as we sat down on the road, Daryl on my left Carl on my right

“She’s good, tired but we’re doing better after finding Daryl again, now you guys, hope we find more” I said as Carl leaned against me, we were close at the farm and start of the prison before everything happened, it was nice to have him around again, just wanting to protect him

“She?” Carl asked

“I just have a feeling she’s a girl, call it mothers intuition”

“Either way she’ll be beautiful” Michonne smiled

“Thanks”

We continued to catch up and everything, they told us about some guys they came across and had to run away from, when we heard rustling around us, men soon surrounding us, we all stood in defence, ricks gun out, Michonne katana, and Daryl’s crossbow

“Look at this, the prick who killed our guy” it was them, the group they were telling us about

A man I hadn’t seen behind me took hold of me wrapping his arms around me so I couldn’t move

“Weapons down or the knocked up one gets killed first”

Everyone dropped them, Daryl looking at me with fearful eyes

“Dont ya touch her” Daryl growled

“Hmmm I don’t think so I think I’m gonna have some fun with this one” he laughed in my ear as the other men started beating on Daryl, Michonne and Rick trying to stop them

I groaned when I was pushed to my knees feeling the pebbles from the road dig into me making me whine the emotions high, he took my shirt and ripped it in half exposing my chest and bump

“Don’t touch me pig” I said getting enough strength to kick him off, take my knife out of my waist band and stab him right through the chest

Everyone stopped what they were doing turning to me, but my eyes were on the man that had Carl pushed to the ground

“Let him go” he laughed mockingly, the rage boiled in me when I heard Carl cry, I walked over as he stepped back taking his hands off Carl

“Woah woah” he said before I pushed the knife straight into his throat blood splattering all over my face, watching him drop to the ground, this gave the others enough distraction to finish off the others, when they were all dead Daryl ran to me, his face busted but in this moment he didn’t seem to care about that

“Are ya okay peach?” He asked looking over my body, anger evident on his face when he noticed my shirt was ripped

“I’m….im fine, are you okay, you’re bleeding”

“Don’t worry, here change” he said as he went into my backpack pulling out a shirt we got from a house, he used the ripped shirt to wipe off the blood covering face then helping me put on the fresh one

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to but……but I had to”

“Ya saved us peach it’s okay” he said holding me to his chest

“Come on, let’s leave the men to talk you need rest” Michonne said guiding me to the back of the van with Judith and Carl, finally feeling the adrenaline wear off

“I feel sick” I groaned leaning against the window

“Just sleep, we’ll worry about everything tomorrow”

Taglist: @deansapplepie @ghostboneswrites2 @willowshadenox @thebadbatch2022 @writer-ann-artist @i-wear-wet-socks313 @thestonedwriter @lettersfromyourlove @heidiland05

#twd fanfiction #daryl dixion imagine #twd daryl #daryl dixon #twd x reader #twd fluff #daryl dixion smut #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon twd #daryl x reader #daryl dixon smut #daryl imagines #daryl fanfiction #the walking dead daryl #daryl x female reader #daryl x you #daryl x y/n #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon series

[sentientgolfball]

Mushy May: Cuteness Aggression

Gonna be real I wasn't planning on doing mushy may because school and writing challenges scare me buuuuuut I was suddenly struck with the mood so here it is :3 Shoutout to @forlorn-crows for the prompts

Can't promise I'll do all the days, but I do have a sweet little Phantrora thing in the works

Word Count: 843

Pairing: Cirtom

Cirrus is going to lose her mind. 

It had been a slow day for her, finishing all of her chores bright and early to have the rest of the day to relax. She had come back to the den around lunchtime, curling up in her nest with lemonade and a strawberry and cream sandwich. She had thrown back her blinds and soaked up the spring sun while continuing a book Mountain had recommended to her. It was nice, peaceful. She hadn’t realized how much time had passed until a sweet scent wafted into her room, catching her attention. 

She had marked her place in her book, pausing in the middle of a paragraph to scent the air, trying to see if she could place the smell. Someone was definitely making some form of pastry in the kitchenette. She stood, cracked her back with a groan and decided to go scope it out. Maybe she’d be able to get a little taste before the rest of the pack returned. 

She assumed she’d walk out there to see Cumulus with flour streaked across her face, brow furrowed as she tried to read and understand what the recipe was telling her. If not her then definitely Swiss would be there shaking his ass to whatever music would be blasting in his headphones while he carefully measures everything out. What she saw when she turned the corner though was so much sweeter than anything she could’ve imagined. 

Phantom is standing with their hands on their hips, head cocked slightly to the right as they stare at the binder with all the pack recipes. There’s a smudge of batter on their cheek and to top it all off they have a cute, pink little apron tied tight around their body. When the timer dings their ears perk up, tail twitching back and forth, and that cute, easy smile returns to their face. Cirrus is going to scream as she watches Phantom carefully take the cinnamon rolls out the oven, cheering quietly to themselves when they see they didn’t deflate. 

When Phantom finally turns, noticing Cirrus standing in the hallway, they shriek. They clutch their chest and take a few deep, steadying breaths. 

“Shit Cir you scared the fuck out of me” they huff a laugh. 

Hearing their voice breaks her spell of paralysis. She smiles wide and soft, walking over to join them in the kitchen. 

“Whatcha doing love bug?” 

“Making cinnamon rolls” they say as they filter around the kitchen, preparing a piping bag to frost the pastries. 

“Any particular reason?” She asks. 

“Dew’s summoning day is coming up yea? I know he likes it when Swiss makes these so I wanted to try it” a small blush creeps onto their face as they give their reasoning. 

Oh, she can barely stand it. The sheepish little way their ears flick, the focus on their face as they frost each individual roll, that fucking apron. She’s losing her mind and all they’re doing is baking. She just wants to squeeze them and shake them and kiss them silly. 

“Tada! They just need to finish cooling and they’ll be done! What do you think Cir?” They turn back towards her, a wide grin plastered to their face. 

She can’t help herself. 

She crowds them back up against the counter, caging them in with her arms. They squeak with the suddenness of it, eyebrows shooting up as they stare at her. Cirrus just laughs and peppers their face in little kisses, nipping playful at their ear. They smell like brown sugar and cinnamon, sweet. They giggle and purr with each press of Cirrus’ lips and her heart just aches. 

“You are the cutest, sweetest fucking thing love bug.” 

“Cirrrr stoooop you can’t just say that” they whine but the smile never leaves their face. 

“Why not?”

Kiss.

“I think I should be allowed to compliment you..”

Kiss.

“Whenever..”

Kiss.

“I want.”

Kiss.

“Especially when it turns you into a little pile of ghoul mush.”

Kiss. 

They’re practically glowing, deep purple blush on the tips of their ears and spilling from their cheeks to their neck. A little bolt of quintessence ripples across their Lichtenberg figure scars and Cirrus laughs. She presses a kiss to their lips, smiling when the sound of their tail beating against the counter reaches her ears. When they part, Phantom grins and kisses the tip of her nose. 

“If you help me clean up I’ll let you have some. These were just a test batch anyway.” 

She swipes the smudge of batter off their face and licks it from her thumb. She chirps when the sweetness hits her, feathers ruffling for a moment before settling back down. 

“Oh, that’s good. You’ve got yourself a deal.”

She places one last big kiss on their cheek with an over-exaggerated ‘mwah’ before stepping back, giving them room to move. 

“Hey, quick question?” 

“Hm?” 

“Where’d you get the apron?” 

“Oh! Cumulus said I could borrow it.” 

Cirrus nods with a hum, “ask her if you can keep it.”

#the band ghost #nameless ghouls #ghost bc #the band ghost fic #phantom ghoul #cirrus ghoulette #cirtom #mushy may 2024 #golfball writes

[beautifulterriblequeen]

Alright if I'm gonna look like a loon (moon ref) about some Aaravos ideas then at least I'm not alone now, LESSGO

Before we get confirmation on the actual title of 605, I wanna share the idea that I haven't been able to shake since "Moonless Night" became a possibility. Because let me tell you, when someone found those words, my gut dropped down a black hole and I wasn't sure why.

I mean, I can kind of guess why. It's the middle episode of the season. Multiple people have said it has wrecked them just to work with it. On that detail alone, I think we can guess who wrote it. And Devon's episodes always hurt me the most (affectionate)!

Why is the concept of a Moonless Night so scary? Lots of reasons come to mind this late in the show. The moon is the primal source for several characters in the show. It's a source of light and normalcy at night. And nights without moonlight are extremely dark. We all know this deep in our DNA already.

We could get Ruthari angst - Runaan suffering without the moon in his coin, trapped in darkness. Ethari suffering without Runaan and the hope and love he brought to his life.

Maybe it's Rayla struggling during a new moon, unable to do her usual moon powers in a clutch moment.

Maybe it's about the stars themselves being all the light that is, and how that's really not much and things are dark and powerful without the balance of other arcanums.

Maybe it's some or all of these.

But here's the thought that won't let me go: Fayla.

From what we think we know, Callum and Rayla get to the Starscraper in episode 4. We've seen images on promotional material, and etc.

But what's troubling me is the bits we got from NYCC attendants last fall, about how in the first episode the pearl is mysteriously empty, and Aaravos is somehow missing from it.

Where has he gone? Is he in Callum somehow? Is he doing things to his brain while he's awake, instead of giving him weird dreams?

And then there's the new twitter podcast account, Banter Lodge, posting a new Dear Callum letter yesterday.

No idea if this is fan-made or a sneak peek yet. But this is what tipped me into "holy shit" territory, because consider this with me for a second:

This letter makes it look like Rayla didn't go with Callum somewhere.

What if that somewhere is the Starscraper.

What if Callum gets all the way there and does all the things he does, and he doesn't realize until he's in the middle of the starry darkness that Rayla was never with him at all, and he has no moon at his side.

Fayla. Fake Rayla.

If his companion, all along, is Aaravos in Rayla's guise, nudging him toward wherever he wants Callum to go.

If he cannot outmatch Callum's love and trust for Rayla, he will simply shift the narrative and become that trusted source. Then, he thinks, Callum will do whatever he wants.

Sleep tight.

#tdp meta #tdp spoilers #tdp speculation #tdp #the dragon prince #this is the worst thing i can think of so far but damn it's horrifying #moonless night #i'm a huge sucker for shows and episodes that play with identity #sci fi shows where everyone is someone else for one episode #or the whole dollhouse show #mmm the good stuff #i've long hoped for aaravos to get really fucky with reality and this would do it

[carefulfears]

do you have a headcanon of when mulder caught feelings for scully? i’m on the same page w you that scully has had it bad since day one, but i can never make up my mind about mulder

yeah i’ve always said that i think he was aware of the connection between them since her abduction, but i think specifically 3.

ascension is very frantic, it’s rooted in so much trauma and desperation. very few moments are about scully, as a person, really. it’s about getting there in time. it’s about rewriting history. it’s about failure, and standing alone in the end.

in 3, he is surrounded in her absence. her badge. her file, marked with her name. her necklace, which he slips around his own neck, carries with him.

dana scully was farrrrr gone from day one, humming against him in the rain and telling her friends how cute he is, but mulder is more single-minded.

he’s so very fond of her, in the beginning. he knocks on her door to invite her on his run, when he knows she’s just supposed to be discrediting him. he lowers himself beneath her every time he has bad news or a vulnerable conversation. he says “dana,” softly, and checks in on how she’s doing. he believes she’ll be head of the bureau someday.

so much of that is just who he is (trusting, passionate, kind), and she’s the only person who has ever valued that, taken him seriously.

but he’s also internalizing who she is, the consistency and the curiosity and the quiet intensity.

that moment in the rain, before she laughs, before she asks where they’re going and follows: he says “you think i’m crazy,” and turns away. it’s the first time in the series (and remains rare) where you can see that there is a weight to it all. he plays into being “spooky mulder,” but part of him is really disappointed to think that this new partner won’t believe him either.

she thinks about what he said, and she meets him on his level. she questions it, she combats it, she adds to it.

when they both burst out laughing, it’s in pure joy and excitement. it’s the moment that spurs the rest of their lives.

that means a lot to him, to be listened to. to be held to a standard, not just dismissed.

but mulder only knows how to conceptualize love in absence, in the search, so when he’s left listening to her scream: he knows. it feels like the worst thing that could ever happen, because it feels like his closest person disappearing, and that’s the experience he’s most familiar with and enmeshed in.

i believe there’s a script note in ascension that mentions that he’s doubting if he had failed his “closest friend.” it’s the loss being so great, so unbearable, that makes it unavoidable.

(thinking of him smiling at diana, telling her, “i’ve done alright without you.”)

i see a lot of people describe msr as a “fell first/fell harder” trope, but i think most things just hit mulder harder. it’s their natures.

but by the time he hangs her cross around his neck, by the time he abandons the truth to sit and hold her hand, he knows.

#asks #a lot of it is repetition of their patterns and their previous close relationships #but different in that it’s the real thing #not what they’ve been trying to replicate #so for scully it’s this instant adoration and fascination #she looks up to him the way she looked up to daniel and jack #but it’s Not what she had with daniel or jack because she’s interested in him outside of gaining his approval #she actually Can’t gain his approval (or ‘please’ him) through following him or forgoing herself #so it’s closer to what she’s truly chasing. it’s closer to what her father had #and the way they ‘worshipped’ his journey #with mulder it’s this hesitant familiarity #it’s not the cold ‘need for affection’ in phoebe or diana #again it’s what he’s Actually seeking #it’s the unwavering love and connection that he hasn’t had since samantha. it’s someone looking up to you and always just wanting to see you #and only wanting to prioritize and care for them in return #but he HAS to lose her to really feel the weight of it because he’s only able to understand love in empty rooms #like he’s not going to be able to know how deep it is until it hurts

[hon3y-y]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ roommate!sukuna just can’t get enough of you…

sukuna finds his perverted roommate getting fucked and can’t look away

cw: voyeurism, pervy reader & sukuna, (ft satoru), masturbation (m&f), light overstimulation(m), Non curse AU

pt 2: here<3 pt 3: here<3

masterlist

enjoy<3

roommate! Sukuna knows you touch yourself when he has girls over, so he makes sure to make it extra loud, having the girls basically sobbing on his cock. Meanwhile, you pathetically listen through the walls separating your rooms, hand lowered into your panties, trying to stay quiet.

You listen to the whiny mess he turns all of his hookups into, hearing the clapping of skin on skin and babbling that the girl spews, clearly drunk on pleasure. roommate! Sukuna goes for so long, and you listen to every second like a pervert. You hear every word he spits and imagine it’s you who he’s calling ‘good girl’ or ‘pretty whore’, cumming as many times around your wet fingers as you can.

Of course, roommate! Sukuna didn’t always know about his little perverted roommate. That was, until you came home one night, absolutely plastered, stumbling onto nearly every surface from barely being able to hold yourself up. As Ryo tried to help you across the apartment, you confessed your dirty secret, staring up at him with tears about how ashamed you felt, begging him for forgiveness.

Meanwhile, he was throbbing in his pants at the thought of his cute roomie desperately trying to get off because she was just too scared to ask him to fuck her stupid. he could imagine it, the way you would hopelessly hump your fingers, knowing it’ll never feel like him. the image made his ego swell. All he did was pat your head and tuck you in, and the next morning, acted as if nothing happened. not that you even realized, the end of the night still blacked out from your memory.

You decide that enough is enough, feeling ashamed by how your lack of sexual activities is being forced on your unsuspecting (👀) roommate. That’s what got you into this position:  meeting some random guy in the club and bringing him home, hoping that maybe by getting a good fuck, you’ll stop your perversion.

You and your date's moves are frantic, practically ripping off each other's clothes and desperately grinding on each other for some sort of friction. You end up in your room, articles of clothing scattered across the apartment that you didn’t care about, too busy with your head buried into the pillow as your date, whose name you learned is Satoru, licked your pussy like a lollipop, moaning like it was the sweetest candy he’s ever tasted. 

Roommate! Sukuna had been sleeping when he woke up to a thud on the wall connecting your rooms. It was a light thud, usually something he’d ignore and go back to sleep, but then it was a constant creak, followed by the sounds of your whimpers. At first, he thought you were up by yourself, trying to get off while he was sleeping, until the deep voice of a man groaned, “Fuck—take it, baby—such a good fuckin’ girl" 

Ryo nearly jumped out of bed. In the year you two have been roommates, you never invited anyone over; it was only him who would have random hookups. This was new. and as much as it was pissing him off, the bulge in his pants made the situation a little more complicated. That’s how he found himself outside your room, peering into the cracked door to watch you take another man’s dick.

You looked like you were in ecstasy—the way your hands gripped the sheets and your toes curled, the pitched whines of “yes, don’t stop—please satoru~” His hand automatically moved to palm his cock, watching as this man, Satoru, forced you deeper into the sheets, pounding into your pussy. Besides the noises that escaped your mouth, he could hear the squelch every time he plunged into your sopping cunt, making Ryo’s mouth water at how wet you must be. It almost made him angry. That was his neglected pussy, and here this guy was enjoying it. 

Still, he couldn’t deny how hot you looked. Sukuna’s body was on fire, and he moved to stroke his aching cock while picturing it as him. It was him plugging up that sweet pussy and making you cream around his cock, fucking you until you were a mess of tears and cum, leaving you shaking and unable to walk. His knees became weaker, gripping onto the walls to stroke his cock faster, and he ran his fingers over his sensitive tip, making his jaw drop.

roommate! Sukuna came all over his fingers, having to rush his hand to his mouth to stop the groan he desperately wanted to let out. His body racked and shuttered with pleasure, painting himself in his own cum. He couldn’t stop, though; Satoru had flipped you over, and now he could see the look on your face.

You looked so fucked out, panting and spreading your legs because you needed to be fucked so bad. The slight scrunch in your brow made him feral, working past the overstimulation and using his own release as lube to keep going. it was messy and completely unlike himself, but the sight of you cumming was addicting.

roommate! Sukuna, who is left quietly panting outside your door, still messy from his own cum, and still desperately horny.

roommate! Sukuna, who is officially waving the white flag in this stupid game he’s had going on, you’re his, and no one-night stand is taking that away.

a/n: hiiii<3 i’ve been super busy bc this semester KICKED MY ASS but it’s ending 🙏 so i might write more, we’ll see😵‍💫 also, i have seen requests and will hopefully upload some soon? no promises though but i’ll try! :)))

#jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #chubby reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x you #jjk sukuna smut #sukuna smut #ryomen sukuna x y/n #ryomen sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna #gojo saturo #gojou satoru x you #jjk sukuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk x you #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen fluff #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna smut #sukuna ryomen smut #sukuna x reader #jjk sukuna #jujutsu satoru #chubby

[garoujo]

✩ ˛˚ . GOJO SATORU — sometimes your boyfriend’s want for you just seems to be insatiable.

ஜ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ warnings! f!reader, mating press, breeding, biting, he loses control of his technique a teeny tiny bit at the end, im going absolutely insane. ♡ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ note! hiii this is a lil mix of my gojo thoughts over the past few months, my sanity is slipping as u can tell <3

the way gojo satoru was in bed was exactly how he was in real life, absolutely merciless when he wanted to be, you realise with the dizzy haze in your mind and the pillow he’s shoved under your hips. there’s a pleasurable burn in your thighs where he’s got them folded into you, your ankles dangling by his ears as his hips press into your ass and the way he looks over you is needy, and a little wild.

but he only really got like this on on a few occasions, like after a gruelling mission, a boring mountain of paperwork or maybe you’d been teasing him. sometimes he’s just consumed by the idea of you carrying his kids— he’s so incredibly insatiable.

“you feel me right here, sweet thing, hm?” the snowy haired man above you hisses with a languid roll of his hips, deliberately pressing into the sweet spots inside of you that he always seems to be able to find so easily. but you can barely breathe, nevermind answer with how full you feel — your warm walls twitching around his heavy shaft before he’s giving you a few more thrusts.

“don’t hold out on me, it feels good, right?” gojo goads, chuckles when the next particularly deep kiss of his cock along your insides has your lips parting to moan, eyes squeezing shut as you wriggle underneath him.

“‘ts too deep, satoru! fuck—“ you manage, voice breaking under the weight of your own arousal but shit— he loves you like this. pliant and pretty and all his. you’re basically begging for him to give you his soul, to pour it into your body and your bones until you’re twitching— his stamina was limitless after all, an endless pool of energy.

“oh? but i’m sure you can take more..” gojo’s words are a low drawl as he curls over your folded figure, making your muscles scream for some sort of relief but he still manages to give you more. he begins a pace that’s so deep, so animalistic that you feel like you could black out with the way the pleasure rips through you, making your body clap against his as his balls smack loudly against your ass and suddenly he’s even deeper.

“see, i knew it.” it’s smug despite the the trembling undercurrent to his tone, breaking under the weight of his own arousal as his voice takes an octave higher. but you’re doing so well for him, your eyes are rolled back— lips parted and you’re basically begging for him to go harder when he leans into press his lips against yours, pushing his name between your lips as your hands grab at him for any sort of relief.

“almost there, right?” gojo groans against you with the next quiver of your walls; the next particularly heavy thrust makes your thighs tremble and he’s so deep it almost hurts, making something spark and burn along your inside as he fucks you into the mattress like a wild animal.

you whimper, barely— it’s a desperately pathetic little sound, wound up tight and it makes him pull away to look at you, crystalline eyes cloudy with lust before his lips are stretching into a smirk.

“oh, more?” gojo’s head cocks to the side and you know you’re done for when his pace picks up, every heavy thrust is driven by the muscles in his body and your pussy squelches loudly with every wet connection of his hips.

“oh, i’ll give you more, baby. so greedy f’ me, hm?” despite his teasing, he’s babbling— sweat beading along his skin as the snowy peaks of his hair frame his flushed features and fuck, the pretty sight above you only makes you feel even better. you’re so high off his desperation, every muscle in your body screams under his but the nerves in your body cry even louder with how good you feel— with how much your body craves him.

“‘ts so tight, you milkin’ me, sweet girl? how many you want, huh? give you as many as you need. wanna see you swollen f’ me, you want that, mhm?” gojo’s barely coherent but his words only make you squeeze around him tighter— a silent little invitation as every thrust has you crying more, more, more! satoru, want your cum—please! punched out little gasps and cries as he digs the orgasm out of you.

“oh, you’ll look so pretty f’ me—f-fuck!” his huge body is looming over yours, pressing you into the mattress and the pillows beneath you. your thighs are flush against his abdomen and chest, and your lungs feel like they quake on every exhale as your lips part to moan. he presses himself into you— face nuzzling into the crook of your neck as he grazes his teeth along the skin there, headboard screeching loudly in time with every smack of his hips.

“‘toru, please please please—‘m g’nna,” you tremble as you shake beneath gojo, thighs tensing tight against his body and he knows he’s got you exactly where he wants you as he smirks against your skin. your orgasm hits you so suddenly, so hard and good that your toes curl where they hang over his shoulders, your body stiffening beneath him and the first milking compression of your pussy makes his pace stutter, hugs him so tight he can’t help but bite so hard into the sensitive skin of your neck he draws blood.

“should see h-how pretty you look like this. tell me ‘ts all mine, y’ gonna make me a daddy, yeah? g’nna fill you up so good. oh, this pussy’s made f’ me, ain’t it?”

his body trembles as he pulls back slightly to watch your cream pool around the base of his cock, your slick smeared along his skin and your walls still throb with every unforgiving push of his hips. your orgasm feels like it stretches on forever as you gasp out broken yeah, yours, love you so much ‘toru, waves rolling through your body with the heat you feel pour and sting along your nerves. it only takes a few more clapping thrusts and your choked confessions before hes kissing you, just as he likes as his lips curl into you.

gojo cums hard, thick and heavy inside of you when he feels your tongue push against his, swallowing both of your groans into the kiss as he pushes his load into your puffy cunt. you’re both so lost in bliss, so unaware of the electricity across your boyfriends skin and the uncomfortable pressure that seems to suddenly weigh down on your intertwined bodies.

the bedroom light flickers but you don’t notice, he’s slurring curses against your lips as he almost pins your thighs to your chest completely, the air between you seems tighter— atoms trembling in the finate space. but he’s continuing to fuck into your sensitive pussy with tiny little thrusts you don’t notice the creek of your furniture as it twitches out of place— like it’s being pulled towards you both. the small flickers of purple fizzle out when you’re both spent and he’s collapsing on top of you with a low, breathy chuckle, making you whine with the cramp you feel in your body.

“‘toru! you’re heavy.” you grumble, voice worn and scratchy but it doesn’t move gojo as he cuddles deeper into you, leaving sweet little kisses along your skin with obnoxious kissy noises— a stark contrast to how filthy he was being a second ago.

you’re both breathing deep as you give up trying to escape from underneath him, opting to press your fingers through his damp hair instead before he finally moves. he pulls back, enough for his cock to push his cum out of your pussy as he does, squelching and dripping into the mattress beneath you both as you jolt slightly. “careful, ‘ts messy, ‘toru.”

gojo whistles lowly before he looks at you again, one of your legs still haphazardly thrown over his shoulder before he’s placing a sweet kiss to your ankle, then following it up with a painfully languid, experimental thrust as his crystalline eyes focus on the mess he’s made of you.

“come on, sweet girl. you’re not nearly full enough f’ me yet.”

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