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#burrows into my crevice
winged-eggers · 2 months
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i put this in my drafts for tax season but then i forgot it was tax season. i have to do my taxes
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ichorousisopod · 3 months
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another pied evicted from Log 😍
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agentemo · 10 months
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I am trying to reframe "I don't know how to talk to people" to "I don't know how to talk to my mom and she is the person I have spoken to the most in my entire life let alone the last few years"
the problem is that "i don't know how to talk to my mom" is extremely loaded and the effect it has on "i dont know how to talk to people" is not insignificant. especially if I am as I suspect autistic but that's a can of worms for another day and the cool thing about canned food is it lasts a long time
I'm gonna teach 40 kids starting Monday with a staff of over a dozen people I've just gotten to know and I've had a lot of practice the past few days, without my mom around, getting better at talking to people
that is all
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yourmidnightlover · 2 months
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just thinking about bucky and you leaving a mission together on one of the jets.
it was a grueling mission, nearly losing a dozen civilians and even bucky himself because you simply weren't fast enough.
so, you needed to feel closer to him. you needed to feel him... all over.
"jamie?" you whispered softly as he steered the jet home.
"yes, doll?" he tilted his head back a little, signaling for you to come closer to him.
you didn't reply, you merely stepped closer before throwing one leg over his lap and sitting in it, straddling his meaty thighs. meeting no resistance, you threw your arms around his neck, burrowing your nose in the crevice between his jaw.
"i'm here," he sighed, his flesh hand beginning to rub along your back. "we're okay."
"need you," you ground down against his pelvis, feeling his dick twitch in his pants, growing harder by the second. "please? wanna be close."
"fuck, baby," his hips thrust up to meet your eagerness. "wanna be closer than this?" you nodded eagerly. "you're gonna have to be a big girl... do it yourself until i can set autopilot."
you whined in his ear, gently biting his earlobe, "but i-"
"no 'but's," he sharply interrupted. "there's too much chatter and traffic up here right now. if you can do it yourself right now, i'll make it up to you once it's clear. that's a promise."
it was your turn to sigh before you began to grind against him even harder, seemingly having made up your mind.
your breathing grew heavier in his ear once he was fully hard, providing much better stimulation for your throbbing clit. you reached between your two heaving bodies, unbuckling and unzipping his pants before simply grinding against his hard cock with no barriers between you.
you were so wet, he nearly slipped inside accidentally. his head would catch perfectly on your clit, eliciting the prettiest squeals from your mouth.
"that's it, my pretty girl," his hand that was once rubbing your back went between you to rub your clit. "let me hear how good you feel. i can already hear how wet you are. do you like getting off on my dick like this? rubbing against me like a pretty little slut? my pretty little slut, huh?"
"your pretty little slut, yes," you nodded against his chest before you rose to your knees, this time lining his cock against your entrance before slowly lowering yourself on him. "yours, all yours."
"atta girl," he chuckled with a growl, his dick twitching inside you once you were lowered all the way. "so wet for me, my perfect girl."
you began to ride him leisurely, enjoying how close you felt to him. you were able to feel his pulse in his cock, radiating from your core to your heart. part of you swears your heart was matching his quick pace.
"just like that," he threw his head back momentarily before quickly remembering why he wasn't properly fucking your brains out and went back to focusing on the task in front of him. "such a good slut for me," he felt you clenching around him before your rhythm faltered. "are you close? i want you to cum when i tell you to," he felt you nodding against his shoulder as his pace barely sped up on your clit. "love feelin' you squeeze me like this baby. love when you listen to me so well. such a good girl for me," you were getting closer.
"please? so close," your breath hitching wasn't the only sign you had, your pussy was gripping him like a vice.
"i know, baby," he chuckled. "i feel it. wanna cum with you. just a little longer," he began thrusting up to meet your hips. a few more perfectly timed bounces and he was ordering you, "cum for me. i want you to cum all over my fucking cock."
with a scream, your entire body was slumped against his, going slack from how powerful your orgasm was.
"oh my-fuck! keep going! keep going!" you begged him as he continued to fuck up into you as he came, his cum painting your walls.
"so fucking good, 's so fucking good," bucky kept muttering, talking you through your high.
he stayed inside of you as the two of you caught your breath. after 10 minutes, the traffic must've cooled down because he kept your legs wrapped around him as he stood, walking you over to one of the cots they had set up in the jet.
you were so exhausted, all you remember is him cleaning up the mess between your thighs, him whispering how strong and wonderful you are. him whispering how much he loved you, and that was all you needed to fall into a peaceful rest.
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ervotica · 5 months
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Dunno if you're still taking requests regarding the slytherin boys, but I'll try my luck soo I was thinking like maybe something about spending time with Enzo in one of the dorms while all the other slytherins are out in hogsmeade or whatever and just cuddling and all that sappy stuff??
In case you do write it, thank you so much <3
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pairing; lorenzo berkshire x fem!slytherin!reader
tags; established relationship, disgusting sappy toothache inducing fluff, very much calm!boyfriend x dramatic!girlfriend trope, shitty writing (sorry!)
The dorm is blissfully quiet; your rowdy bunch of friends have taken a day trip to Hogsmeade and Enzo has essentially glued himself to you, coaxing you to the common room to spend the day together.
And, well, you’re not going to complain. An entire uninterrupted day with your favourite boy in the world? How could you possibly object to that?
You sigh exaggeratedly and roll on the bed where you're sprawled next to him, pushing your lips out into a pout and blinking owlishly in that wide-eyed way you tend to when you want something; Enzo has always been particularly fond of your flair for the dramatic. His smile is soft in comparison, half-moon dimples pushing out of his perfect cheeks as he mimics your movements and comes to a stop mere inches from your face.
"What is it, my lover," he drawls in an awful attempt at some sort of Southern cowboy accent, a crooked finger tickling underneath your chin as though you're a cat. You seem to approve regardless.
"It's just not acceptable, Enzo!" you whine, throwing yourself onto your back in a mess of limbs and hair. He tilts his head, eyebrows raised and awaiting the continuation of your theatrical outburst. "We are not nearly close enough together. Look how much room there is between us!" You gesture wildly to the two inch gap separating you and him and feign distress, a hand clutched to your chest in faux shock.
"Come here then, sweet girl," he coos, hands reaching out to tug you up and into his arms. You settle between his thighs, chin propped against his chest as he gazes at you, tucking flyaways behind your ears when you wrap your arms around him. You scrunch your nose as he grazes it with the tip of his thumb devotedly and laughs.
"I love you." His fingers trail the expanse of your face; every crease and crevice, each bump and ridge and slope. He leaves nowhere without his gentle touch, his reverent worship.
You soften and rest your cheek against his warm shoulder, arms coming up to hook around his neck. You never feel like you're quite close enough with him, always wanting more, wanting to burrow inside of his very soul; everywhere you go, you always hunger after his touch- fingers interlinked, knees brushing chastely, a modest peck before you ever part from his company.
"I love you more," you murmur, promptly serious at his declaration. Your face gravitates towards him almost unconsciously and you're slotting your lips between his for a kiss. Once, twice, and then a long, lingering one before you rest your forehead against his, noses brushing.
"Don't ever leave me," you say suddenly. "I've never loved anyone like this."
This time he's the one to break the tension, squeezing you so tight you wheeze and pressing open mouthed kisses to every inch of skin he can reach. They're half-moon shaped, just like his dimples.
"Never," he mumbles into your skin, pulling the duvet over you as you snuggle further into his warmth. Your eyes are heavy.
By the time the rest of the group return from their outing, you're both sound asleep, wrapped in each other's arms. Enzo snores quietly and you're completely still, calm and content. It's the quietest your friends have ever seen you.
Enzo's your person. And your person calms the racing thoughts that spin in your mind. He allows you to relax in the cocoon of safety he's formed around you.
Pansy forces them all out of the dorm to let the pair of you sleep, and for that you are grateful.
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glacierclear · 8 months
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ISN'T BITE ALSO TOUCH?
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fuckboy!leon x gn!reader (maybe a few gendered terms oops)
content: hurt/no comfort, angst, arguments, passive aggression, mentions of drugs/alcohol
Your best friend is a fuckboy. He ditches you at a party. You argue. Maybe they were right about him.
[ao3 link]
They all tried to tell you. Every single one of them.
He’s bad news, don’t bother. You would scoff.
He’s nothing but a walking penis. He doesn’t care about anything. And you’d roll your eyes.
Every red flag. Every warning sign. Every flashing light. You refused to heed any of them. And you tilled, and you sowed, and you fed. And now? You were reaping.
“I don’t get what the big deal is. You’re a big kid. You don’t need a damn babysitter.” His hands remained clenched, balled up and shoved into the pouch of his hoodie. His posture was lax. Noncommittal. He stared into a wall, his expression detached and unreachable.
“When you called me up tonight to drag me to some stupid frat party, I at least expected you to like, stay with me,” you countered. “We weren’t even there for an hour before you up and ditched me. Streaking across campus like a moron.” The base of your neck throbbed, the fledgling burn of an oncoming migraine. Your clothes still reeked of burnt weed and the cloyingly pungent whiff of cotton candy vape smoke.
“You should be fucking grateful. Wouldn’t have gotten into that party without me. Shit was the best thrasher of the month.” He lifted his head, scorching you with that know-it-all smirk. It huffed the coals of your stomach. You felt like puking.
“I didn’t…oh my god, Leon. I didn’t go for the party. I thought you…I don’t know. I thought you actually wanted to hang out. Have a good night.”
Your fingers burrowed their way through the folds of your sheets and you stayed perched at the edge of your bed. Leon hovered at your doorway, barely present in the space of your dorm, his contour fuzzed with casting light.
He didn’t say anything. Your eyes pulsed and stung. “Look. I’m not mad, I just–”
“You should be.”
“What?”
It’s then that he finally dared to meet your eyes. Blue hues swallowed whole by the pitch of his pupils, seeking you past tendrils of mussed, blonde hair.
“You should be mad. Why aren’t you? Cuz’, you’re right. I fucking ditched you. Like a moron.” He flung the word back with acid and you winced away. “God forbid I have some fun, right? Forgot you’re too much of a buzzkill to actually have fun at a party.”
There’s a throttling impulse to scream at him. Tell him off for being unreasonable and kick his ass to the curb like last week’s trash. But you’ve danced to this song before. The repeating pattern and pervasive enigma of Leon’s refusal to invest himself; emotionally, or otherwise.
So, you sucked in a steadying breath, filled your lungs with patience, and spoke softly.
“It’s not just about the party,” you began, and passively, you noticed him shift. “I mean…streaking? You realize that if you got caught doing that…you wouldn’t have a scholarship anymore. Hell, maybe you’d be expelled.”
The realization settled on him like a poison and you caught his face darken. As much as he denied and disguised, Leon was a smart man. Excellent standing in his classes and a whopping GPA to match the third leg he swung in his pants. It meant a lot to him.
There’s a gap of silence before he opened his mouth again.
“...well, I wasn’t caught. And it was my choice. I don’t need you nagging me like a fucking mom, alright?” His body shrunk in on itself. Caging his softer parts from the reality he narrowly avoided. On a better day, perhaps you’d chase him. Push and fight for a break in his shell, a crevice that gave way to the man you knew he was capable of being. But, God, your head was shattering. Your nausea was worsening. You weren’t making progress.
“Right, well, sorry for caring, Leon,” you relented, turning away from him to click your phone into its charger. “I’m going to bed. Don’t bother inviting me to any more parties.”
Your gaze left him, you weren’t fully aware of his body, but in the fleeting moments following your surrender he’s on you. Lurking above you like the baleful firmament of a roaring summer storm. You hardly had the time to open your mouth before he’s speaking. No, he’s growling. Revving the engine of his fury.
“...so that’s it? You’re not putting up with me anymore?” It could be the headache talking, but you swore you heard a tremble in his voice.
“Huh? The fuck are you–”
“We’re not friends anymore. That’s what you’re doing, right?” You searched the raging sea of his eyes for a raft. But all you did was drown. “I fucked up one too many times and now I’m just another shitty dude you had to put up with.” You watched the chipped black of his nails dig into his arms, tensed up limbs shielding him from what he’s most afraid you’ll confirm.
“Leon, that’s not…we’re still friends, okay? I just don’t want to go to parties like that anymore. Just give me a few days to cool off and we can…I dunno, we’ll hit up that burger joint you love.” It’s a pretty weak bargain, but maybe he’d bite.
And he did bite. He bit and he tore and he sought out blood.
“You’ve always had shitty taste in guys.” He practically spat at you, a scornful wrinkle deepening in the bridge of his nose. “Fucking stand up for yourself. You always let people walk all over you and act surprised when they turn out to be shitheads.”
He leaned in. You smelled him. Overpriced cologne. Underpriced shampoo. Crappy beer he drank even though he hated the taste. Despite it all, you yearned to hug him.
“Leon, I–”
“...and you know what? I don’t fucking need you. I don’t need your little dates. Your pity sex. I don’t need you looking out for my damn scholarships and I especially don’t need you making me look bad when I’m trying to let loose at the party I’ve been looking forward to all goddamn month.” You wanted him to stop. You wanted to bridge the chasm and devour his violence. If only he’d let you. But all he did was bite harder. “I won’t bother inviting you out anymore. Actually, I won’t bother talking to you at all. Have fun with your fucking life, I’m done being your fucking charity. Goodni–”
At the edge of his precipice, the void he dug for solace, Leon plummets. He straightened his spine, eyes widening and jaw hanging lifelessly. You were crying. Tears bursting without prejudice. Staining your face in vulnerability you so often only used to comfort him.
He went too far. And now, you were crying.
Neither of you moved for an eternity. From the hallway of your dorm, you hear the thundering trots of drunken friends laughing and yelling. The noise swelled and faded. The only evidence of a world beyond your room.
He called your name. His voice was so much quieter, held together with twine and stinging regret. You lifted your eyes and your throat barely allowed your words to pass.
“...Great job, Leon. Now I’m mad.” In an act of self-preservation, you tore your gaze away, burning a stare into the ground below his shoes. They’re blotched with dirt and chlorophyll, still damp from his midnight misdemeanor. “I won’t bother you anymore. If you hate me that much, I…I’ll leave you alone.”
His arms unfolded, one hand reaching out, a fragmented attempt to soothe you. But it was too late.
He repeated your name.
“I didn’t…fuck, I shouldn’t have said…hey–”
“Go home, Leon.” Your voice was unwavering, and he flinched back, your ire the open flame he’s too human to touch.
And then he left. Your dorm vibrated with the slam of the door, and you buried your face in your hands. In the place of his feet, soil stained your carpet. In the place of his warmth, sandalwood smoldered the air.
In the place of your love, all you wanted was to die.
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slut4daviii · 1 year
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character(s): d.kaminari
pt: 02/02
cw: fingering, cum/anal eating, edging, praise kink(?), daddy kink, brat taming, caught, post-shower sex, mind-fucking, slight degradation, belly bulge, size kink, thigh-fucking (kinda)
your step-brother thought he had a few more minutes before you got out of the shower. he learns the hard way what happens when you’re caught masturbating.
a/n: i hate this shit sooo fucking much. | i gave up halfway through (thats what took it so long to come out. | minors and fem-aligned DO NOT INTERACT
title: whatcha up to, sparky?
wc: idefk (prolly 2000-2500)
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he only had another minute or two.
steam rose from the crevices of your locked bathroom; music blaring from the other side.
“[n—name]! ng—ngmh! nhg!….fu—fugk! right there!” the words left his mouth in an unceremonious fashion, sounding more like a broken record; he said it again, and again, repeating himself almost indulgently. a hand ghosted his twitching erection, blazing forth a sleuth of high-pitched moans.
your hands reached for the knobs, twisting it off in one swift movement.
“just a little longer baby.”
I—I can’t…! pl—please [name]! I need to— nghm! cum!” the machinery within his body continued to spear his insides, impaling the deepest depths of his mind. with a steady flow of electrons— curtesy of his quirk, the speed of his ‘toy’ increased drastically, now entailing itself into his stomach.
“mmhg! [na—name]! I—I’m gon—gonna cum!”
he listened intently, already having memorized the audio’s contents. your voice spoke to him, shooting daggers into his body.
“does my good boy wanna cum?”
Denki nodded— phonetically speaking through gritted teeth. “tes! [name] le—lemme cuhm!”
“no.”
his body retreated away from the sound, his head snapping backwards at the edging.
sweat trickled from his forehead, exhaustion clawing at his hips. he pressed your shirt— sweat-ridden and freshly used— further against his nose, inhaling deep breaths of your musky scent, the smell sending him overflowing with lust.
he squirmed against your sheets, moving his hands to slam your pillow over his face. “nmfgh…! [n—name]! mfg—ghm!” he pulled the pillow away— vision still slightly obscured by your shirt.
“aww, I’m hurt… comparing me to something as small as that.”
Denki shot up, his quirk mushing more elegant arcs of electrical surges into the machine— it picking up enough speed to make him lurch to his side. “uhng! wa—wait! wait [n—na]! wait, it—it’s not what—what it looks like!”
your body coupled into his vision, the tranquil curves of your muscles blurring behind the liquid wall of lust coaxing Denki’s body. beads of water rolled over your smoothing skin— the moisture from your shower still sticking to the surface of your body.
“oh? is it not? then what’s goin’ on, …zappy?” the nickname fell from your lips like a satin blanket, dully dressed in the glorious afterglow of pleasure.
the toy inside of Denki was still moving, strongly striking his nerves in mind-blurring fashion. “nnguh! it—it’s because of—of your v—oice! the video you made!”
you smirked, a dark chuckle leaving you. “so you watch my videos? that makes you a perv, y’know.”
Denki fumbled, his facade falter alongside the coiling strings of semen erupting from his slit. “unug—ha!” his moan was spun on the web of a gasp, snatching his body’s actions away from him. “I— uhg! …n—no! that’s n—not what I—nghm! meant!” he gulped back his shame, sitting up against your wall. “I— was j—just…” his eyes traveled everywhere, looking for a plausible explanation as to what he was very obviously doing.
you pushed off the frame of your door, dragging your tongue along the ridge of your teeth. “so what did you mean…Denk?’”
the way the nickname burrowed yourself into his skin make him quiver with anticipation. though he didn’t know what to expect. “anything you wanna say?” the question was laced with greed— almost as if you were teetering on the idea of turning him into a, your slut.
your knee connected with the edge of your bed, your weight dipping the mattress intolerably. the water from your hair dripped down your body, running circles on your torso before making way to your v-line. “I—nghm! I was, just… just trying to…” his eyes lowered. “uh! uhm, well… I guess you— we…!”
“eyes up here, Denk’.”
you brought your hand to his chin— almost in a cliché sense, your eyes locking in a one-sided battle. “so, Denk… what were you doing?”
you were hovering over him, your height difference clouding, if not completely obscuring his perspective. your bulge pressed into the cusp of his thighs.
a shallow gasp escaped you, your head dropping to look at him. his legs were shaking slightly, the skin of his body smooth and perfectly poised. “god, your so beautiful.”
Denki flushed; his eyes darting around articulately. his body was cleansed of its own blood, now replaced and replenished by the torrents of your own; he was bound to you. bound in your spell.
“is this my shirt?” his eyes finally focused, the grey material momentarily filling his vision before you took it from him. “is this where my clothes have been going? on your pervy little curves? helping you masturbate?”
“n—no! I haven’t been d—doing anything, man! I’ve ju—just been low on—NGHM!” Denki’s hands came up to your shoulders: gripping and scratching along the skin. “[n—name]! I—I just said that— ngh! I didn’t st—steal your cloths!”
your fingers intersected themselves in the innermost nerves of Denki’s body. he reflected the feeling of arousal in his eyes— the sensation causing the irises of his eyes to gloss over with tears.
“this isn’t about my clothes, Denk’” you groaned, feeling Denki’s legs press on the head of your cock. “its about you. and what you’re doing in my room. with my shirt over your face, and a fuck machine in your ass.”
you displaced your fingers, rubbing them along his prostate. “so, what exactly are you doing?”
Denki threw his head back— a sound erupting from his mouth in a dysphoric rage of moans. “mmgh! I— I w—was low on—ahgn!” a sharp thrust of your fingers stopped his sentence, his cock twitching with precum.
“stop lying Denk’ you know mom hates that shit.”
your cock throbbed painfully, the towel around your waist falling to your thighs— your cock rubbing against your step-brother’s abdomen. “c’mon Denk’” you almost whined, desperation washing over you in arcs of painful crescent moons. “I’m so… fuckin’ horny.”
your fingers glistened within him— a grandeur sound resonating within him. he audibly gasped at it, trying to move away from you but your sudden grip on his thigh altered his movements, making him slide under you instead.
he gulped, finding himself floundering around at the feeling of your cock against his stomach. it aligned with the skin just above his belly button. his movements were spastic, a jumble of jerks and twist sending molten plasma down your shaft.
“Denk…” your words were cold— rigid with seething but controlled gasp. “if you keep movin’ like that, I’ll cum.”
Denki blushed, a liquid crimson band covering his entirety. his movements momentarily halted, the surges of lust nestling into his stomach, coiling into a warm feeling that tightened with each move of your fingers
however, they left his body in a sickly masochistic way. you brought your fingers to your mouth and slid your tongue along the skin, maintaining a dysphasic tone of eye contact. the look in your eyes heating Denki’s body to an all time high.
your fingers, now covered in a flowing sea of spit and lube reached for Denki’s lips— breaking the surface of his mouth. his heartbeat was in his throat, yet, he still took your fingers into the depths of his mouth.
you played with his tongue, using your index and middle to balance the pink muscle in a titillating, slightly uncomfortable fashion.
you moved once more, shoving yourself into his throat. he choked and gagged, spitting around your knuckles but made no attempt to stop your brutality.
after a few seconds, you took your fingers away from him, letting him breathe.
“what were you doing in my room, Denk?” you asked once more.
“hnah! mng—h! I—I wasn’t doin’ anything, ma—man!”
you chuckled, moving your hand to your cock— stroking from base to tip. with your other hand, you wrapped his torso in your forearm, lifting him to your v-line. “tsk, tsk. mom would be disappointed.” your tip grazed his hole, “first, you have the shameless idea to masturbate in my room, then you lie about it.”
you pushed inward— also grabbing your shirt and shoving it into Denki’s mouth. he moaned around the fabric, his eyes crossing when you had yourself fully excavated within him. “I guess you’ve always needed a little more time to learn things…”
your hips fell away from him, dragging your tip down the ridge of his spine. the afterimage of your shaft was still intact; exhibiting through his pelvic muscles. it was filthy. utterly disgraceful to witness. “but… it’s a good thing you’ve got me.”
not a second later, his catalyst was filled once more, your cock reaching intolerably deep into his physique. his arms slid down your chest— leaving scarlet marks on your abdominal walls.
a hiss left your lips, the sound similar to a snake. you grabbed his wrist with one of your hands, using the other to snatch your shirt from his mouth. “haah! [n—name]! de—deep! c—cock too deep’n me…!”
you wrapped his wrist in your shirt, taking the edges of the bindings and crossing them into his drooling lips— the knot forming a gag. “my what?” you mocked, laughter soon filling your white-walls. “too deep? you were just using a fuck machine, jerking your dick to the smell of my clothes! now it’s too deep?”
you began thrusting shallowly, moving his thighs to your chest and pulling his legs to fall down your back. a swift motion of your hips shook Denki’s body, pushing him into his second orgasm.
he tightened around you, a convulsive throbbing in his cock and rapidly clenching hole gave way to the white twine and muffled moans of your step-brother. he thrashed his hands around— vigorously trying to grip onto anything.
you grinned at this, continuously thrusting into him. Denki felt his consciousness leaving him, his eyes falling lidded and heavy.
you, stuttering over the feeling of your own body, groaned profusely— your hips stinging with exhaustion. “you— mgh! you can’t handle my dick? if you wanna tap out, just tell me what you were doing in here.”
Denki mumbled, not knowing how to form correct words. “I—nguhm! ne— never anyth’ng! do th’ng!” he consulted his eyes, the orange pupils glass-like and heart-shaped. “nghu! FUGKH! m—man! ca—can’t think!”
a skeletal architecture altered into his body, forming a permanent semicircular shape— an arch lifted his body off the bed, rubbing your slit into his prostate.
both of your came— your cock trembling with painful arcs of melancholy emission staining the onslaught of Denki’s organs. his body spasmed with crude pleasure— his eyes rolling into emptiness.
his body went limp in your arms: mouth slack, eyes closed, and breathing shallow.
he’d passed out.
your body heaved, heavily burned from your orgasm. your cock was still deep within him, your semen creating a barrier between the two of you— however his warmth was still surrounding you in surreal relief. it begged you to keep going, begged for you to unload your balls and every drop of cum you had into him.
a gulp traveled intermittently across your tongue, cascading into your throat. you casually slipped your finger onto his waist— gripping the skin in a gentle embrace.
you pushed your pelvis further into him, your tip ramming against the bottom of his enclosure. your head tilted back, eyes closed with plenty more pleasure.
you pulled from him, slamming back against his skin in a single breathless moment. his body rippled through with waves of light. sweat enchanted his body like a giant cloud, puddling on his stomach— entrancing the skin alongside the pool of his cum.
you again thrusted into him— this time harsher. you were transported to another world, blissfully unaware of Denki’s stirring body. he was waking back up, his cock sleek with pre-cum.
his vision was still obscured, the feeling of fabric still plastered over his tongue. he whined, more pre-cum falling from his slit. “mghph— phuhk muh! [nuhmhe]! chaut c—can’t cuhm! n’more!”
you couldn’t hear him. you were completely lost in your own thoughts: the same words repeated throughout the entire time, “fuck him! fuck him until he can’t walk! fuck him! fuck him! fuck him fuck him fuckhimfuckhimFUCKHIMFUCKHIM!”
your thoughts mushed together, a singular statement that dug deeper and deeper into your mind. it burned into your brain, forcing your hips to move internally deeper, milking a third orgasm from Denki. he couldn’t speak, couldn’t move, he was racked with tears— crying out in ecstay
you were panting heavily, biting down on your lip to keep your sounds of elation. your orgasm was slowly steeping upon you, the feeling setting off a buzzing sensation all over your body.
“fuuhk… Denki, I’m gonna— Imma cum.”
Denki’s legs shook with excitement, another orgasm rumbling through his body. he screamed around your shirt, pressing his hips against yours. spit dripped from his chin, running down his abdomen and onto his maroon shaded tip.
overwhelming coils of heat knotted within you, pushing your hips into an uneven pace
you weren’t aiming at anything, just hitting Denki’s body over and over again. you were chasing after an orgasm that was mere inches away.
sloppy thrust turned to harsh, animalistic tactics— erratically fucking Denki into the soft cloth rubbing against your balls. you were going crazy, the heat from your abdomen shooting into your tip, choking you in a panicked rage.
you leaned down to Denki, ripping your shirt from his lips, quickly replacing the cloth with the chapped skin of your lips. you messily kissed along his face, moving sloppily to his neck. “who’s your daddy?”
Denki moaned— the sound hoarse and cracking. “y—[name]! m’daddy! m’yer slut!”
the words only continued to edge you, your tip twitching inside him, “say it again— fuck… I’m so close to giving you my kids…!” your shaft throbbed at his mindlessness, the moans bouncing like embers from a raging river of fire. “please, say it again…! what’s my name, Denk?”
“daddy! da—duaddy! mngh!… ma’cuhm! cuhm n’daddy’s cock!” again Denki clench around you, his swollen hole screaming at you to keep going— keep abusing him until your name was spelled into his organs.
“fu—“ you couldn’t finish your sentence, a powerful surge of pleasure rushing through every blood cell in your body, energetically jerking your lower body around. like an angry explosion your cum clawed its way through you, pushing out any and everything you had within you, transferring it into Denki.
Denki’s cum was clear— thin and falling onto his pecs, dripping like water onto his face. he shivered at the feeling, not having the energy to move or even breathe correctly.
you sighed, head falling painfully to your pillow, the feeling of Denki’s hair right beside your face annoying the nerve endings of your skin.
you pushed his head away, closing your eyes and drifting into a deep sleep.
until…
“[NAME]! DENKI! WHAT IS GOING ON?! WHAT ARE THE TWO OF YOU DOING?!!”
you gulped.
shit.
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suguru-getos · 8 months
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| Brat in her place | Ayato Kamisato x f!reader |
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-> Been a while, I miss Waka 🤭 and I had so much fun writing this little prompt! Warnings: ruined orgasm, edging, he eventually decides to let you cum again tho kekeek.
“If the cunning rabbit burrows thrice, what of the cunning human?” You remember Ayato saying this to you once, when you asked if he has other— cards up his sleeve apart from the Shumatsuban. Being the high lady of the Kamisato clan, the wife of the head has it’s own highs and lows. Ayato was always kind to you, except when he’s not. That’s a rare predicament but you don’t mind it, infact— your behavior sometimes encourages it.
“Ah, Thoma! Your cooking is exquisite as always.” You beamed at the lunch table, having luncheon with Ayato and yourself. Ayato didn’t mind it, you were right of course. “I wonder if I could keep you all to myself.” This sentence, caused the housekeeper to flush hard, while irked Ayato’s reaction too. “Why of course, he is— kept by me.” Ayato corrected you, while you clicked your tongue, knowing you managed to get the territorial man exactly where you wanted him to be.
“Yes, of course Waka.” You nodded, sipping another slurp of the radish mixed veg soup and half-moaning at how your tastebuds danced with the aroma & delicacy. Granted you wouldn’t be this bold if it wasn’t only Ayato and Thoma in the room.
Thoma beamed with a cheerful grin, trying hard to ignore the way Ayato’s body language had changed from a welcoming to a commanding one. Oh boy— he felt as if he was in a Retainer meeting. Not good—“I’m glad you liked it, my lady. If you’d excuse me now, I have something to take care of.” Thoma bowed and left, making sure you don’t get a chance to stop him. If anything— both of the men knew you were in a mood today. A fiesty mood.
“Quite bold of you, to be so thorough with the sounds your little mouth makes when you enjoy something.” Ayato remarked, clicking his tongue and glancing towards you. “You jealous?” You bit back, maybe biting off more than you can chew.
“Me? Jealous? Well—” Ayato sounded almost surprised, a grave chuckle escaping his tight knit brows. “No, darling. I’m not jealous over your antics. I know completely these are nothing but parlor tricks to get my attention.” Ayato shrugged, taking a sip of the radish veggie soup. “No one can please you as good as me after all.” There he was— the spoiled, bratty Yashiro Commissoner in the flesh.
“Maybe I could, make it up to you… remind you how good my touch feels in every little crevice of your dainty little body. Or— maybe I could remind you of your manners, hmm?” Ayato’s fingers tilted your chin up, ensuring your eyes met his. Siren, glazed with flames of lust and dominance.
You gulped, evading eye contact at the statement. You could almost feel dizzy at the intensity with which Ayato was handling this. Fuck— you were clamping around nothing.
One thing led to another, Ayato asked if you’d like to be reminded of something— you agreed & now you were sitting pretty on his lap, legs spread and locked with his own in the way, back pressed snugly against his clothed chest and his heavy breaths sending jolts down your spine. Ayato had worn his gloves back, you know he does that when he’s in a mood to punish you, to put you back in your place. To remind you who you belong to.
He’s been at it for hours, lazily rubbing and strumming at your swollen, sensitive bundle of nerves while leaning his hand away as soon as he sees you cumming. You know Ayato is determined because he’s not left for his study since the lunch. You’ve been reduced to a babbling mess. “Yato— Please, please— s’ too much.” You wiggled against him, like a tied up bunny.
“Hmm, I know. It is too much for me to see you brat up so bad.” He hummed, sighing at the shell of your ear. His hot breath fanning over the earlobe just right, just enough to rise you to the apex of pleasure while he takes it all down. Leaves you tumbling down to nothing; then rakes it all up again.
“Yato— please- Waka Sama! Please!” You whimpered, feeling the pain in your clit getting used to the rigorous edging. It was then, that your body betrayed you, a mind melting orgasm coursing through every nerve ending as you whimpered, leaning your head back against his chest and rutting your hips for more—
Ayato leaned his hand back, again—
Cruel…
“Ah, going to have to ruin this one. Sorry, my love. You must know better than to ask for permission from your husband, who owns you, who takes care of you, who—” you were sobbing now, irritated at the pleasure seeping through your fingers and whimpering for more.
“Who puts you in your place.” Ayato completed his sentence, kissing your cheek and leaving you be. “Please— please I wanna cum. Yato— I’ll be good, so good for you.” Now you were truly begging, truly submitting to him like he wanted.
“Oh I’m not sure about that, you see— my wife is a force to reckon with. Even I know she can’t simply follow orders—”
“Yato— Please.” You quaked, lips quivering as you glanced up at him like a kicked puppy.
“Fine, I’m not that cruel now. At least, not to my one and only.” Ayato took off his gloves, a sign he’s pleased and this is all over. A sign of intimacy as his fingers raked their way through your over-edged cunt. “But remember— good girls.”
“A-ask for permission.” You gasped out, completing his sentence.
“That’s a good girl.”
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skiyoosmi · 7 months
Text
it kills me a little, that's okay 'cause i'd die for you—
⤷ contents. gender neutral reader, petnames (he calls you baby and dude), angst (and a sprinkle of fluff i think)
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there's stillness in the night as gojo lays idly on his bed, relishing the very short break he has before the strenuous work at jujutsu tech begins once again. his room is engulfed with darkness, barely lit by the dim brightness that comes from the screen of his phone.
"hello, satoru's phone! yn here, hehe."
a minimal smile appears on his face as he plays a familiar video, greeted by your bright expression as you try to position the phone in a better angle. his thumb hovers over the screen as he pauses when your face comes near, mimicking gesture as if he's stroking the apples of your cheeks. there are veins of melancholy that burrows its way deep into the crevices of his core before he resumes the recording. 
as soon as you've achieved your goal of stabilizing the device, you start speaking again.
"so, you might be wondering what in the world am i doing right now. well, this is a surprise video mess—" 
"baby, have you seen my shaving cream?" he hears his voice ask in the background, albeit muffled. he remembers how he was poking around the bathroom cabinet, preparing for a flight he will have to catch in the evening, he remembers how you scoffed beforehand when he told you suguru or shoko could do it for him, he remembers how long you nagged him about being a responsible adult and that he should learn to do it on his own. he remembers it all too well. 
he chuckles lightly upon watching you roll your eyes.
"top left in the drawer! silly 'toru, what would you do without me?" you whisper to yourself as you shake your head and turn to face the phone again, "anyway, as what i was saying, this is a surprise message! you might see this once you're in the airplane, or in the hotel room… heck, you might even see this as soon as you hold your phone, which would be a bummer but…"
"... what are you doing?" his face appears in the video and although he has seen this video for so many times already, he reels back in surprise at how different he looks– a bit younger yet so much happier. he watches the youthful him naturally place his chin just above your shoulder blades, eyes scanning the lens before leaning in to peck your cheeks multiple times. you giggle and try to move away, but he follows you.
and if he had the chance again, he'll willingly follow you anywhere.
"ahh, satoru, you big bummer. this was supposed to be a surprise! i was recording a video for you…" you whine out and he remembers raising his brow in interest, intrigued by the reason why you thought of such idea. he assumes you recognized his facial expression as one of curiousity so you continue to talk, "you know, so that if we break up, you'll never be able to move on and you'll be too busy missing me."
there's a pause of silence in the video and once again, he recalls the two of you staring at each other after you say that. you purse your lips when he suddenly lets out a boisterous cackle, "pfft— baby, what the heck? that won't happen. you're never gonna get away from me. it's you and me forever now. it'll always be you for me, dude."
the video shakes and satoru only sees blurry frames but his mind and soul vividly pictures the memory of attacking your face with more kisses as he wraps his arms around you while you squeal and giggle, "satoru… *kiss*… stop! let …*kiss*... me finish… *kiss*... the video… *kiss*"
a few seconds later, you reappear and satoru wonders how is it possible for you get even brighter and more beautiful. you pout and look at the boy beside you, who only grins smugly, "you ruined it. plus, that was supposed to be romantic and shit but you just had to call me dude, huh?"
"nyenye, finish that already so we can kiss," he says exasperatedly and slumps his body on yours. you roll your eyes once again, "you're such a boy, 'toru. are you even done packing yet?"
he freezes and slowly lets you go, sheepishly smiling before going back to the bathroom. you laugh, "so irresponsible, you dummy!"
you turn your eyes back on the camera and he sees pure adoration and fondness swimming in them, "you know i could never say all these to you directly, 'cause your head might get big. but it'll always be you for me too, satoru."
a sharp claw of agony grips his heart tightly and it refuses to let go. he refuses to let go. and suddenly, he's opening up his contacts, scrolling through the list before he stops right when he reaches yours– he never changed the nickname, never even thought of blocking you after you broke up with him through the same, exact phone he was holding, telling him how you couldn't do it anymore; being a jujutsu sorcerer, losing friends, being with him, and all that there is to it. so, you reopen the same wounds suguru left him and bid your own farewell. and yet, he could never do all those, couldn't change nor remove anything that has something to do with you, because that would mean giving up on you. it would mean he was letting you go.
and just like how he can never delete your number, he can never delete you from his life.
thus, he clicks. and he feels so anxious, so impulsive and so sad. the ringing goes on for what felt like forever. then it stops.
"satoru?" he hears your voice, his name rolling off your tongue, so sweet and silky. and suddenly, he's back in the years of his youth, as if he was eighteen all over again.
"i…" he feels a sickening lump in his throat when he starts to speak, desperate to get out and cry to you, "sorry. i'm stupid, i didn't mean to disturb you."
he hears a soft rustle from the other side of the phone before he hears you once more, "hmm, it's fine."
there was a hint of sleepiness in your voice and he figures the call woke you up, "were you sleeping?" 
you only hum in agreement and satoru feels awfully jealous at how you can sleep in peace at this hour while he spends most of his nights trying to fight the insomniac thoughts that threaten consume his mind whole. but he feels relieved in a way, because he wouldn't want you to spend these lonely evenings and midnights the same way as he does. he's only wanted to keep the smile on your face, after all. that's enough for him.
"i was watching the video," he gulps the pain away, "and you were right, i don't think i'll ever be able to move on."
you don't reply but he thinks… no, he knows you're listening.
"i'm too busy missing you, you know," he manages to chuckle despite the claw that rips his heart out of his chest bit by bit the more silent seconds that pass by.
"but i know. we've had our time," he adds when he hears you trail off while speaking his name once again.
"you… you're happy, right?" he chokes out a cough to cover the wavering of his voice when he feels that the end of the phone call is nearing. from the other side of the phone, you sit up and hold the phone by your ear tightly, "mhm, i believe so."
the claw has finally made a hole on his chest, "o-okay… that's good. that's good."
it's fine, he tries to convince himself. you're happy and that's all that matters to him anyway.
"you should go back to sleep," he whispers when a tear finally escape from the windows of his eyes. you hum quietly, "i really should."
"okay."
"okay."
and as if it was all a mere dream of his, the call drops along with his heart. he opens up his gallery, welcomed by the paused video he was watching a while ago. it stopped with your face in view again and his fingers hover the screen once more. you gotta stop, you gotta let go now, a voice screams at the back of his mind. and he clicks,
this video will be deleted from the icloud photos on all your devices
delete video
cancel
the layers of gloom return in his chest, marking your image within him, carving each and every of your features, and he feels like he's at the beginning of the end once more. his thumb presses on the screen and the loop of his remorse repeats, over and over again as he whispers, "it'll always be you for me."
cancel
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—you know i'd still die for you 
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boltupbitches · 5 months
Text
Biggest Fan - Joe Burrow One Shot
Sequel to #1 Fan
A little one-shot for Joe Burrow. I feel bad about how his season ended and, although I'm glad my Steelers won tonight, I wish it was the Bengals contesting for the playoffs - not the Browns.
Anyways, this a continuation of #1 Fan with Dad!Joe and little Jordan Burrow. I do not write in the second POV, so no reader insert, Y/N stuff over here.
---
Jordan was down for a nap as he lay against his father’s chest, snuggled tight in his favorite blanket.
Joe pressed a kiss to the crown of golden blonde hair on his son’s head. He held Jordan with one arm, his other supported in a brace he was forced to wear until his wrist surgery.
Joe was tired and frustrated from the events of the last few weeks. This season alone had been one big mess and it was one of the hardest feelings being in injury reserve and watching his team do their hardest to win without him there to lead. 
He felt guilty. He felt like he let them down. He rewatched the film of that game about a dozen times since the injury. He should have been more careful. More aware of his movements and surroundings.
He stared off into space, not noticing his wife come in with two cups of hot cocoa. He was shaken from his daze as soon as he saw her bend to place the mugs on the coffee table before she gently took a seat next to him.
She smiled sweetly at him, her eyes shining in the dimmed lights above them. Joe smiled back, his eyes trained on his lover’s face, taking in the light freckles that danced across her cheeks and the roundness of her cheeks. She was remarkably beautiful to him. 
He felt so lucky to have her there. To know that even when things weren’t great outside their family, he could come home to her and be loved as just her husband Joey, not Joe Burrow the quarterback of the Cincinnati Bengals.
She gave him the greatest gift he ever received - the sleeping toddler against his chest. She moved across the country to be with him when he was drafted. She loved him through each injury and did her best to support him. She was his biggest fan outside of his parents and siblings. Only rivaling baby Jordy.
“I love you.” He murmured, his eyes never leaving hers.
She blushed and looked down for a moment, looking back at him with a twinkle in her eye. “I love you too.”
Joe shifted Jordan carefully to rest into the crevice of his shoulder so he could shift his hand and place it gently against his wife’s stomach. His heart skipped a beat as he came in contact with the small bump where Baby Burrow #2 was growing.
He blinked tears back, trying to not cry as he was overcome with feelings of love and gratitude. While the season ended for him in ways that were soul-crushing, he knew that he would be back and better than ever next season. This time with another Baby Burrow to cheer him on alongside Jordy and his wife.
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rusmii · 2 months
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omg omg so excited for the event. so okay first things first, im already 19, pushing 20s. anyways!!! of course I want Chuu! 😁 chuuya with domestic pregnant s/o (preferably fem. and smut right?) you know how raging the hormones are at that phase (hope this doesn't break much of the no plot rule) but yeah, up to you, whatever you're comfortable with. ig it will still be good eitherway, i just want chuuya 🛐 anyways im already excited to read what kind of another masterpiece would you imprint in my mind again 💃🏻
alpha!chuuya fucking his hormonal, pregnant!omega
reply: YES. OMG YES. JUST YES.
c/ws ° alpha!chuuya x omega!reader (fem.), afab terms used (pussy, cunt), pregnant!reader, cervix touching, petnames (mama, sweetheart), omega/alpha name calling, breeding, marking (biting), possessive chuuya, knotting, NOT PROOFREAD, potentially ooc bc it's smut and I get carried away w/him💀
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"easy f'me mama – don't wanna hurt 'em," chuuya lowers his head, body folded in half as the last few inches of his cock pushes past the ring of muscle. he moans shamelessly above you — wanting you to know just how fucking good you felt wrapped around his dick.
you wince, his cock hitting your cervix from a-point to z-point. it rests comfortably on your g-spot, any short movement causing you to tighten around it. "hey – 'm said to take it easy. lemme fuck this pretty little thing, 'mkay?" he grunts into your neck, a wet patch already forming from the slight drool slipping down his lips.
your walls convulsed around him — spurring him on to move. testing the waters, chuuya gives you one swift shallow thrust before pulling out — bottoming in slow and deep into your cunt. "aghn! chu-uya!" a hic in your voice causes it to crack. chuuya makes sure to drag his cock across every crevice inside. the veins, girth, and roughness of it has you mewling into his shoulder.
"mhm - baby, you hangin' in there?" he questions: a joke in the situation concerning your dazed expression. "mhm," you nod your head, pulling him closer by the waist as his dick threatens to push through your cervix. he chuckles, giving you shallow thrusts. "y'sure? have a feeling that my cock is making you a bit delirious over here."
"yes - ah! - yes!" you moan — nipping at his skin until you are able to capture his lips into yours. it was nothing short of passionate and teethy, with tongues rolling around each other every now and then. by now, he was rocking his hips against yours — every drag causing you to squeal into the kiss as he hits that spot every time.
he grunts into the kiss, forcing himself to break it in order to clamp his teeth around your mating mark. "chuuya! chuuyachuuya!" "shit - fuck! i know! cum f'me sweetheart," he groans around the mark, his teeth digging further into your skin as his thrusts sped up. he knew that you were more susceptible to cumming faster because you were pregnant.
and who was he to deny his precious omega of that release? the base of his dick starts to swell, your pussy becoming erratically tighter the closer he got to knotting you. "mhm - fuuucking shiiiit ---!" he groans — his own eyes rolling back slightly as he bit his bottom lip. "ghnn!! CHU- alpha!!" you squeal, cumming from the intense swell of his knot.
his knot squelches into your tight heat with a slick slide — cum sporing out in copious amounts as he continues to rut into your cunt, riding out his high while you were edging into overstimulation. "alphaalphaalpha --!!" "mhmm -- omega – yer' pussy is fuckin' killin' me," he groans, your cunt milking him for all he's worth.
after one last hump, chuuya topples onto you, burrowing his nose into your scent glands as you two wait for his knot to die down. "pretty girl – my omega. my fucking omega and only mine, pretty mama," he places a hand on your belly, rubbing it as carefully as he could.
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hihi :3 alpha beast!zai is next on this list 🤭
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springborzoi · 2 months
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What species are the airys (im a professional)
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ok it's important to note that no matter what species an object is it doesn't mean they follow the exact behavior of said animal. Objects in one still live in a society like humans and can function as one
Ex : Objects can have a different diet then their species and live in another habit
Airy
The original Airy is commonly believed to be a seal although there's no exact type of seal for him it's still a common theory
First off there's many physical similarities
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as well as characteristics
seal have been seen getting knocked over by crashing waves and are shown to be clumsy which is pretty fitting
both sunbathe confirmed by Q (airy- mod)
similar walk / run
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same stupid FUCKING expression
similar build
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Speculated for Airy to have a diet of fish
both squishy (confirmed by me)
Sounds similar
Ok now to address the cat comparisons
A second theory on what species airy could be Is a cat more specifically a Manul / pallas
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Physical appearances is obvious as well as traits
spends time in caves, rock crevices, marmot Burrows
sunbathe
Can survive in cold & dry winters, moderate/low rainfall, warm summers
Overall the Pallas cat is a responsible species for airy considering they both live in similar habits
However it's argued that the using the universe airy was at is unfair for this theory considering it wasn't exactly by choice
A counter-argument is that the Pallas cat would obviously survive better than a seal would in that world and since airy was able to live there for about a decade a Pallas would be a better fit
But it was address earlier that objects live differently than their animal and can survive in their own ways as well as airy being a lantern commonly used for camping/outdoors so it possible regardless of what species he is he can survive on his own
Something about seals and cats
Something interesting about the two is how often their seen together, compared, or just associated with one another
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it pretty common for objects to be compared to cats since most animals share similar traits but cats are most known so it often thought of cat traits
However seals and cats have shown to have more in common than any other animal
similar body types
Speech
Teeth
Claws
Similar pupils
These are only a bit of the similarities because of this it commonly theorized that seals and cats could be possibly related or somewhat part of the same family but it's yet to be confirmed or denied
Airy has had things in common with cats such as getting scruffed
Nothing is right or wrong it basically what theory you personally believe in
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Evil airy
its possible for him and original airy to be the same species since they have the same appearance with a tail being the only serious difference (the bow and leaves are not apart of him)
This time I do have a specific type of seal he could be
Leopards seal
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Similarities on appearance
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Both also have similar behavior
Aggressive (a BITCH)
Similar teeth
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eyes dilate
leopard seals are the only ones who hunt warm blooded animals and it's known for evil airy to be a serial killer
Evil airy has also mentioned possibly of liking drinking blood
Fanon Airy
Fanon airy is more complicated since it was said how he currently looks isn't what he used to look like so using his appearance may not be as accurate
And he already seems to have animal features like claws and hooves
But IDGAF!!!!
I imagine fanon airy to be a sea lion
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Sea lion's are bigger than seals
Ear flaps can translate to horns
Teeth!!
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Friendly (compared to the others)
Social (compared to others)
Another species that fanon airy can be (for the airy cat believers)
A lynx
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ears translate to horns
Sharper shapes
teeth again
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More golden color
Claws
Lynx are associated with eyesight and we've seen fanon airy eyes
There's a lynx god
ok that all I was able to put together if anymore information that comes out that can change or debunk anything I'll do my best to update this :b
@airy-mod @thefanonairy @evil-airy @ask-hfjone-airy @moldydominos109
It is important you now join this discussion @askalampanything
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softshuji · 2 years
Text
3:56PM | HAITANI RINDOU 
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Rindou swears he left them right there by you, right on the sofa, tucked snug next to one of the multitudes of pillows you keep strewn about, peeking out from the side. You had watched him do it, that was the funny thing, watched him take his glasses off and tuck them against the crevice in the sofa before padding to the kitchen in his pyjamas, a hoodie thrown haphazardly on top. 
You had smirked, deliberated for a fraction of a second as you listened to him open the fridge, the faint sound of water sloshing around in a glass, your own outline in the reflection of his glasses. It would be cruel but funny at the same time and it’s not as if you’d keep up the pretence for very long. Just a joke, no?  One look from Ran lounging opposite you, the beginnings of a devious smile curling at his lips, his eyes alight with mischief, was all it took to make your mind up. You grab the glasses and sneak them into your pocket, turning your eyes back to the book on your lap when you hear the deep timbre of your Boyfriend’s voice get closer.
‘Yeah and then I was- wait where are my glasses?’ He furrows his brow, blinks owlishly, pouting slightly and jutting out his bottom lip when he digs a hand into the gap between the armrest and the sofa. ‘I swear I left them right here.’
‘You sure Rin?’ The act comes awfully naturally to you and you add a little extra drama by matching his furrowed brow, closing your book and standing up, patting the sofa down as he sets his drink on the table. It’s almost comic, the way you bend to sweep a hand over the fabric, burrowing it into the creases.
‘Yes I’m sure,’ he says and scratches his head, tufts of purple and lilac wound tight in his fingers. ‘I don’t understand.’ 
‘Maybe you left them in the kitchen my love.’ 
He shakes his head and bites down on his bottom lip, a habit he picked up off you. It’s cute really, and you know how blessed you are to see this side of him. Happier, funnier, looser even, as if the impenetrable wall that he took such pains to keep up had cracked enough to let you in. 
His eyes widen suddenly and he whips around to where Ran has his legs thrown across the secondary sofa, something dark whirling around in the glass perched in his hands.
‘Up.’ Rindou points an accusatory finger at his Brother and stalks over, his figure still that much shorter and you suppress a giggle as Ran all but fails to hide the knowing smirk thrown in your direction. Rindou is still pouting by this point and you have the sudden visceral urge to kiss his lips, smooth the faint worry lines creasing his forehead. He is adorable, that’s the only word for it, as he puts his hands on his hips and looks up at his much taller Brother.
‘What, you don’t trust your own Brother? That’s cold Rin,’ Ran says, sliding the glass onto the coffee table. He holds his arms out as he stands and raises an eyebrow at you over Rindou’s ruffled head, feigning innocence when Rindou glares at him from beneath pinched brows.
‘I trust you with my life,’ Rindou mutters, his hands grazing his Brother’s pockets for anything that might be even vaguely the correct shape. ‘Just not with my glasses.’
He tuts under his breath when he finds nothing but Ran’s wallet, keys, gum and a silver cigarette tin inlaid with his initials, a present from you from years far into the past. You note absent-mindedly, that at no point has he suspected you and the thought has a thrum of warmth simmering in your chest.
‘Where could they have gone?’ And the look he gives you is withering as he squints, his gaze directed towards the sofa in case he’d happened to miss it. His eyesight truly is terrible and you’d feel bad if it wasn’t for the fact that he just looks so cute as he scratches his head, bites his lips and turns on his heels to look at the coffee table littered with cups and books and ashtrays, discarded takeaway the three of you have just finished. 
The tenderness of the moment however, is not lost on you as Rindou runs a hand over his own pockets, patting his chest, his pyjama bottoms, ruffling his soft hair in case he’d left them perched on his head. 
Briefly, a flash of some memory flits to the front of your mind and you soften, tendrils of love leaking into your heart. You remember the days when Rindou was cold and unfeeling, when your acts of kindness had seemingly gone unnoticed, and the concept of having a joke with him was practically unheard of. The days when he was distant as a star you could barely graze with tentative fingers. You hide the smile behind a hand remembering it, comparing it to the easy lifestyle you now have, one in which the love between the three of you blooms as naturally as day and night. It helps that Ran isn’t put out by the concept of third-wheeling, and in fact has bounds of love for you, as he does for his Brother, that he is always there to watch over the two of you, a hand on your backs propelling you forward in that easy way of his.
With a final glance at the coffee table over his shoulder, Rindou pads to the kitchen again, tripping over his feet and cursing, muted whispers of “where the fuck have they gone?” left in his wake. It’s only when you hear the clatter of a cup and the flick of a kettle do you and Ran dare to exchange glances again, both of you fighting the laugh bubbling in your throats.
‘Well played Y/N.’ Ran says in that lilting tone of his and makes to pick up his glass again, stretching languidly on the sofa, his back arched as he sighs, throwing an arm over his tired eyes. 
‘Thank you Ran.’ A smile pulls at the corner of your mouth and your hand shuffles inside your own pocket, pulling out Rindou’s glasses and carefully, silently, placing them in the nook between the armrest and the seat, fluffing up the cushions and picking up your book again in time for Rindou to slink back into the room, his forehead now permanently creased with a tiny crescent moon of stress lines. 
You make a show of accidentally nudging the pillow and Rindou’s eyes (which are straining enough as it is) flick to the gap where his poor glasses are wedged. ‘How the fuck-?
‘I guess you just didn’t look well enough,’ Ran says, watching, his low baritone voice laced with mirth and the sluggishness of sleep. His throat bobs as he removes his arm momentarily to wink at you conspiratorially. 
‘I thought I did…’ Rindou frowns but says nothing more of it when he perches the glasses on the bridge of his nose, the world now sharp and focused. He smiles at you, a warm and genuine smile, marvelling at the sharpness of your features in the gleaming light, your outline now punctuated by soft yellow and the coppery burnt orange of the setting sun just beyond the window.
The fading sunlight, the slash of iridescent pink on the horizon, bled through with purple and red makes his irises seem catlike from here and the colour bleeds through the soft and fine strands of his hair that frame his face, wisps escaping his tied up mullet to kiss the metal frames.
‘You’re beautiful,’ you say almost on instinct and the action catches him so off guard that the only sound he makes is both wordless and strangled, tight and stuck in his throat as he mutters something about you embarrassing him in front of Ran. If Ran heard at all, he makes no indication of it, and instead softly snores, curled in on himself, one hand tucked under the pillow.
That was the first time and since then, misplacing , or rather moving Rindou’s glasses has become a sneaky but favourite pastime of yours and Ran’s. Often at Bonten’s HQ, with you slipping them into your handbag as you passed, or tucking them under the seat, your legs crossed under the chair to keep up the pretence and poor Rindou squinting at practically anyone who dared make eye contact with him.
You’re pretty sure he terrifies the secretary at least twice a day every time they pop a head around to deliver a message, always greeted by the gruff and gravelly voice of your Boyfriend that perfectly matches the glare he shoots their way.
He’ll pat down his pockets, ruffle his feathery hair, look left and right, sucking in his bottom lip till its pulled behind his teeth and every time, you repress the urge to peck his lips, to taste the strawberry lip balm you know he meticulously applies before leaving. 
You truly wouldn’t do it if he wasn’t so cute.
‘Rindou, is there something wrong?’ Mikey asks, the sheaf of paperwork momentarily lowered as he peers up from beneath dark lashes and Sanzu snickers under his breath, attempting to hide his glee behind a hand swirling around a glass of something heady and honeyed.
Rindou jolts in his seat, too focused on trying to see and to make out something other than the vague shape of his boss with his white undercut and black turtleneck, that he doesn’t realize he’s being spoken to till Ran nudges him subtly with his elbow.
‘Hm, sorry, what did you say Boss?’ Rindou shakes his head and Takeomi smirks wordlessly into his glass, his lips curling around an unlit cigarette. Even Kakucho is smothering a giggle when he sees Rindou squint and lean forward in his seat. 
‘Where are your glasses, Rindou?’ Mikey cocks a head to the side, and while it’s rare that he allows himself a flicker of anything other than indifference, this is one of those times in which the beginnings of a smile twitch at his lips.
Yes, Mikey is also in on the joke.
‘I….’ Rindou fumbles, and absent-mindedly his hand strays to his pocket again, only to touch the bare silk of the inside. ‘I lost them.’ How utterly humiliating, he thinks, the heat of embarrassment creeping up his cheeks, licking at his ears.
‘Why have you not gotten contact lenses? This is a regular occurrence is it not?’ Mikey is genuine this time and if it weren’t for the running joke he is very obviously in on, he would have ordered it ages ago. ‘Is it the money? You know that-’
‘No!’ Rindou stands immediately, his hands braced on either of his chair, and so quick to dispel the misconception that Ran has to bite down on his lip and pretend to scratch his neck to crush the smile that threatens to break his innocent facade.
Oh now this is embarrassing. How does he tell them how lame he feels for the fact that he enjoys you sliding his glasses onto the bridge of his nose every morning? That he craves those intimate seconds in which he can have an excuse to stare back at you, to flick your forehead, tuck your hair behind your ear as you trail your hands down his chest, his stomach thrumming with tenderness and warmth. That if he wears contact lenses, there will no longer be an opportunity for you to fix the tie he leaves deliberately askew and then adjust the glasses on the bridge of his nose, kissing his lips fervently before waving him goodbye, that he snatches those precious moments as a dying man would snatch a mirage in the desert.
But what’s even more humiliating, is the way he’ll drop his jacket on the sofa, muttering a soft and subdued I’m home, listening for the quick footfall that tells him you’re coming down the stairs. He’ll wait for you to run a hand through his hair, pull him by the collars and take off his glasses as his hands slide down to your hips, gently squeezing the flesh as he pulls you into him. And he’ll blow his hair from his eyes, now adjusting to your gleaming outline flaring against the sun’s evening light and his heart will thud against his ribs and he’ll thank every star and a God he’s not sure he believes in for every decision which led him here.
And of course, he’s Haitani Rindou. Ever observant, every sense honed, a living weapon in himself and that means he’d be dumb not to notice you sliding your hand across the table, his glasses gripped tightly between your fingers. Into your bag, into your pocket, conveniently misplaced almost every few days, but turning up all the same, and always with a comical but adorable gasp, your mouth falling open and your eyes dancing with a flicker of light.
‘Y/N do you know where my glasses are?’ He’ll ask, as if he didn’t see you tuck them behind the TV set five minutes before that. And he’ll watch you deny it with an adamant shake of your head, your nose buried in the book resting in your lap and Rindou will quash the smirk and gleeful smile at seeing you deny it all, knowing that you’d just feign innocence for teasing him.
He lets you have it every time, your five minutes of laughter that you and Ran often share for his sake because he knows in his heart, it’s all out of love. Every meticulous thing, every kiss to his nose that has his cheeks turning pink after you adjust the gold rimmed glasses, every giggle and smile and ounce of warmth that slips through your fingers like stardust when your hand touches his hot skin or tucks the errant strands of hair behind his ears. You are the sun, and he is the moon, redeemed by the constancy of your love.
And if being subject to a bit of embarrassment was the price to pay for you, to see your smile as radiant as the sun, to see you throw your head back and laugh, then he was happy to pay it. It was a no brainer for someone as deeply entrenched as he was. 
So yes, he knows, he’s always known. 
He’s Haitani Rindou after all. Your Haitani Rindou at that.
a/n: This is a birthday present for my lovely love @tokyo-daaaamn-ji-gang (happy birthday sweetheart<3) I had so much fun writing this, but then again I always do writing for Rindou, I hope everyone else also likes it, thank you so much for all the wonderful feedback so far on everything I write. As always, likes and reblogs are so appreciated<3
taglist: @mxnjiros @stroberrylite @islascafe @prettyiolanthe @brownsugarmoonie @wotakuhime @snakegentleman @ranyechka @severellamahottub @haitaniapologist @lonnie19 @nafarsiti @invisible-cardigan-33 @seagoddesslove @manjirosgrl @crown5 @the-travelling-witch @bladesandguns @reiners-milkbiddies @girl-by-the-lake @1900-aria @rottingreveries @qiumiisoup @bontenacious (let me know if you would like to be added!!)
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milkiangl · 2 years
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TAKE MY BREATH AWAY.
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pairing : jonathan byers x gn!reader
summary : after traveling all the way to california to suprise your boyfriend, jonathan, he finds a way to show you how thankful he is to finally have you in his arms again.
warning : SMUT, afab!reader, unprotected sex, praise kink, heavy makeout, mentions of bodily fluids, extreme pussy drunk!jonathan system overload, innocence and humiliation kink if you squint, suggestive language, cockwarming, usage of weed, two idiots in love, established relationship, no season 4 spoilers !!
authors note : what better way to make my writing return than with a fic dedicated to my most criminally underrated boyfriend ?? seriously, the lack of jonathan appreciation on this app is entirely unexceptable, but … never fear !! i have arrived to provide the content we are being deprived of !! ( which may be my first smut writing and heavily inspired by the love making scene in the 1986 top gun, whoops! )
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JONATHAN’S LEGS intertwined with your own beneath the heavy comforter furnishing his unkept bed, the riveting fragrance of marijuana and his intense; earthy cologne invading your nebulous senses—your fingers ghosting over the skin along the back of his neck in a reposeful matter while your face remained burrowed against the cotton shirt concealing his broad chest.
Vibrations dispersing through your body from Jonathan’s soft; pleasant hum following “Take My Breath Away” by Berlin, which played faintly through his immense cassette player displayed by the foot of his window.
His musical drone dwindled away while the song continued, conducting you to lift your head to take in his current state. His heavy eyes already observing you tenderly as if you hung the moon in the sky, his gaze devouring your entire presence in a way that made your bodyheat rise exponentially and heartbeat sputter.
His arm enveloped around your torso, fingers drawing vague patterns along the bare skin of your lower back that became exposed when Jonathan’s shirt your figure was decorated in continued to gradually ride up. His other hand holding the blunt his delicate lips were wrapped around moments prior.
Your throat released a questioning murmur, wondering what had created the yearning warmth suddenly radiating from his aura and entire being.
“M’just missed you so much.” He sighed fondly, drinking in the way your pearly white teeth captured your bottom lip in attempt to cloak the wide grin threatening to reveal itself.
Jonathan’s body weight shifted to hover over your own that was positioned in a indescribably flawless way; head settled within his disorderly mound of pillows and your features embellished by the intricate rays of sunshine gleaming through the crevices of his curtains. Angelic. That’s what you were to him and everything you displayed—body, mind, and soul.
“Missed your lips.” He mumbled, immersing his face closer and capturing your bottom lip with a technique that made your head spin; adjoining yourselves in all the most magnificent ways possible. Captivated by the feeling you had been deprived of for a year, your fingers found comfort entangled in Jonathan’s jumbled hair, endeavoring to guide him closer into you than humanly possible.
“Missed your nose,” His now swollen; reddened lips parted from yours to leave a delicate peck at the tip of your scrunched nose, generating crinkles in the corner of your eyes to become prominent and a soft giggle to leave your throat when he plants a kiss on said skin by the edge of your left eye, “and your pretty eyes.”
Your own lips forming into a playful frown, “What about the other one?”
Jonathan grinned prior to placing a sloppy linger of kisses encircling the crinkles of your right one while your arms encompassed his body to yours; your chest rumbling with an array of gleeful squeals. “Especially missed that one.”
The frisky countenance inclosed in your irises dimmed away marginally to make room for a ravenous twinkle which hadn’t been present moments before.
Instantly, Jonathan caught the imperceptible change in your manners; his already blown out pupils expanding in size as they followed the movements of your freshly manicured nails leisurely skimming down the canvas of your legs, proceeding until reaching the hem of your his shirt. Tugging at the fabric while your bare thighs closed around your hand obscurely, already glazed over; doe eyes blinking up at him in a pure and innocent like way that caused his boxers to strain. “And what about here?”
Jonathan’s calloused thumbs traveled to your knees, gently sketching circles along the skin while his pleading expression grew; silently begging to pull your thighs apart and drink in the very sight of what was beneath the item of clothing.
With a coaxing nod, Jonathan didn’t bother wasting any more time. His breathing patterns stuttering and mouth watering at the image displayed in front of him: delicate white lace shrouding your most intimate anatomy; apparent arousal staining the material.
His fingers disappeared beneath the fabric of the teeshirt, ghosting over the sensitive skin of your pelvis to curl around the flimsy laced undergarment; dragging the material down the extent of your body until discarding it somewhere along the carpet flooring surrounding Jonathan’s bed that neither of you had any desire leaving soon.
Your muscles twitched and throat released an abrupt; swift gasp when the foreign notion of Jonathan placing an open-mouthed kiss against your now exposed sex traveled entirely through your veins like a shot of electricity, leaving your brain hazy and imploring for more.
With Jonathan steadily lifting the clothing further, trails of open-mouthed kisses continued up the span of your stomach in an enticing manner that made your desires swirl with craving.
“Jesus Christ,” He whispered, his index and middle finger swiping down your slit gently; collecting your arousal prior to stuffing his drenched fingers in your awaiting mouth. “Barley touched you and you’re already dripping all over my sheets.”
Tongue traveling the surface of his digits, your whimpers becoming muffled. “Got something on your mind, baby? What’s got you all fuzzy?”
With Jonathan removing his—now clean—fingers, making sure to caress the pad of his thumb over your slick; pouty bottom lip, all he was met with was a meek: “Please.”
“Don’t worry,” He uttered softly, lifting his body weight off yours moderately to lower his now compressed boxers to his knees; freeing his aching erection. “I’ll give you what you want.”
The moment his cock aligned with your entrance and sensed your spongy walls welcome him when he inserted himself, his thigh trembled and buried himself further into your cunt.
“Fuck, fuck. Missed you so much. Taking me so well, always so good to me. S’like this pretty hole was made for my cock, hm?” Jonathan’s syllables and breathing began to stumble as he lost himself in you like he always did when you gripped him the way you currently were; his jaw falling open and eyes squeezing shut as his forehead fell to lean on yours.
“Johnny.” You sniffled, his eyes fluttering open once more to watch how you writhed in complete pleasure from the way he was rocking sensually inside of you; your hands reaching for his much larger one and drawing it to where you both were connected.
Jonathan’s raspy chuckle echoed through your ear as he began to draw tight circles on your clit; immediately feeling your walls flutter around him. “I got you, honey. Let go for me, yeah?”
His cooing tone and way he knew your body so marvelously allured you closer and closer to your high until you ultimately reached it; Jonathan following shortly behind you.
Once the constellations from your climax began to fade and you drifted back to Earth once more, you were greeted with Jonathan’s head tucked away and nuzzled into your neck, leaving passionate; lazy kisses down the sensitive skin and a trail of goosebumps and sweet praises in their wake.
His hips beginning to lift up and away from yours made you mewl disappointingly, your legs tightening around his waist to keep him and his seeping seed tucked in your warmth.
Jonathan hummed with approval, observing your fucked out state through heavy eyelids; marveling at how insanely lucky he is to fall asleep with your limbs wrapped around his and devour the sight of your bodies still connected when he awoke.
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♥︎ — taglist. @jonathanbyersgf @jonathanbyerslover @nottluvr @moonlane @jae-the-menace @garfieldsladybird @claireunoia @daryldixonstorm @bear-bone-berries @gwenpter @sandy-the-glader @planetflos @timmytime-hufflepuff09
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megane-ga-niau · 1 year
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Everyone talks about Azul loving his octopot, but moray eels also love small crevices and holes.
So imagine octotrio hanging out as kids in tiny little caverns, with the twins dashing out to scare away (or bite [or squeeze]) anyone who dares to disturb their little hideaway.
Imagine the twins knocking on Azul's door, arms full of blankets and the three of them setting up a pillow fort, laying covers on the ground to mimic the soft bottom of the sea floor. Sometimes they burrow under the covers, sometimes they don't, but either way, the three of them huddle close together on the floor and bask in the familiarity. They work on homework or papers together or just hang out when the comforts of home sound particularly inviting.
A couple eels and an octopus in their makeshift cave.
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For a little bit, my brain put "cuddle" instead of "huddle" and I like that one too.
Thanks for reading!
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A Beast, By Any Other Name | Prologue: In Dreaming
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NSFW - my blog and all content is 18+ Minors DNI. This fic especially will have themes inappropriate for minors.
Summary: Something is coming for Johnny, it’s gaining on him. Time is running out. But it’s all a dream, right? Right? Word Count: 1k~ Warnings: Gore, injury detail, out of body experience, lucid/vivid dreaming, horror elements, fear, monster horror, supernatural horror, blood, viscera, being chased. Let me know if I missed anything!   Tags: GHOAP, GhostSoap, Ghost x Soap,  Author’s notes: Here we go! Supernatural Monster AU GHOAP here we come! It’s going to be angsty but sweet, smutty and fluffy too.   [Ao3] Thank you @deadbranch and @beefrobeefcal for looking at this before I posted. I was feeling hella self-conscious about it!
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The wind whips around Soap’s body. An amorphous cat of nine-tails lashing at his exposed forearms. The red scent of iron fills his nostrils as he runs. The ground is sodden and spongy under his feet as he crashes through dense foliage. His body feels encumbered, like he’s shaking off a heavy cocktail of drugs.
His head spins, frantic energy burning under his skin as the very air he breathes threatens to choke him. But the forest has swallowed him whole. He doesn’t know if he’s running out of the woodland or further into its depths. 
The smell of roses, rainfall, moss, and something else burn acrid in his nostrils as the shadow of a creature looms over him. Impossibly tall, a crown of antlers that twist out like grasping hands. He quickens his pace as he searches for a break in the trees. 
The night is pitch-black, his surroundings shapeless and ever moving as the darkness warps his vision. There’s a desperation to his movements, so unlike himself. Icy fingers grasp at his spine as fear creeps up the back of his neck, burrowing into the base of his skull. 
But the fear is not his own. 
It’s a dream, surely? It must be. I has to be.
But the burn of lactic acid in his calves, the way his chest heaves heavy and raw as he flits past a moss-covered standing stone is very real. An anguished roar explodes from the inky darkness behind him, but he doesn’t falter. He doesn’t look back. 
The russet red of a fox darts across in front of him. The sudden distraction enough to make his heavy, uncooperative limbs falter and fail. The ground surges up to meet him as his arms refuse to move fast enough to break his fall.
His nose crunches sickeningly as his face collides with the cold forest floor. A mournful cry escapes his lips as thorns and brambles claw at his ankles, they rake up his calves as they tear at his… socks? 
Soap looks down, finally noticing his attire. 
A MacTavish tartan kilt falls to his thighs, white knee-high socks hug legs that aren’t his own. Something is terribly – grotesquely – wrong as he gropes at an unfamiliar body. His hands grasp at the black vines that begin to snake around his ankles. By chance, a black band of iron on his wrist collides with a barbed tendril and a sound like no-other pierces the air. 
The high-pitched squeal threatens to burst his eardrums as the very air around him thrums with venomous energy. 
Hatred, pain, sorrow.
Immediately the assaulting vines recede, hissing like splashed with acid. Soap doesn’t hesitate, forcing his broken body to rise from the spongy earth. Pain streaks through his shins as he limps towards a gap in the trees ahead. 
Hope swells in Soap’s chest as he sees a familiar silhouette of a house. Yellow lights flicker in tall windows. He doesn’t know why the house is familiar, nor why the moon threatening to break through the clouds above brings him desperate relief. 
But there’s something akin to triumph buzzing in his mind as he passes another standing stone. His tongue is coated in blood, sweat seeps into every crevice of his body as he stumbles across the boundary of the forest. His shirt sticks to his skin as he gulps down desperate mouthfuls of air. 
It’s over. 
Elated relief floods Soap’s system as he falls to his knees, but something in the back of his mind urges the man on his knees to move. There’s a severance between his mind and this body as a low, undulating growl reverberates behind him. 
“Move, get inside.”
Soap finds himself shouting wordlessly as he looks down on the kneeling figure, as if suddenly floating behind him. A loud droning, like a swarm of insects, jilts his concentration as he feels the hulking presence of the creature surge forward. 
“Run you idiot.”
He screams his throat hoarse, thrashing impotently as the presence of the beast passes through him. It’s too dark to see much more than the outline of a twisted, mutated, deer skull sat atop a hulking, shapeless form. 
The smell of roses, moss, rainfall, and a rich musk washes over Soap as he watches the creature hunch forward over the man kneeling in the wet grass. There’s a wet crunch and a muffled howl as the lone man’s body is obscured from Soap’s vision. 
There’s a cacophony of sick, wet, squelching sounds as Soap tries to turn away, to escape the horror unfolding before him. 
The horned skull swings around suddenly, cavernous sockets ablaze with sapphire-blue flames as blood drips down it’s ivory maw. 
“John.” 
The creature’s voice bounces around his skull as blood and viscera oozes from the gaping void of its gullet. 
Soap jolts awake, drenched in sweat as he looks around his bedroom. Everything is where it should be, his writing desk clear but for his closed laptop. Bare beige walls and brown carpet exactly how he left it when he fell into bed not eight hours before. 
He gingerly runs his fingers over his exposed torso, checking for damage or anomaly. But as he comes to, there’s no doubt. He’s safe, whole. Unharmed. 
“Steamin’ Jesus,” he grumbles to himself as he runs his right hand through his overgrown mohawk and the fuzzy sides of his grown-out hairdo. He aches like he’s run a marathon as he looks over to his bedside table. 
As if on cue, his phone lights up, an unknown number flashing up on his screen as a call comes through. He fumbles it to his ear as he answers it with a groan. 
“Hello?” The man on the other end of the call filters through with a wobble in his voice, “Is this Mr. John MacTavish?” 
“Aye, who’s askin’?” Soap groans down the line as he itches at the stubble on his jaw. There’s a faint smell of moss and soil on his fingertips. 
“My name is William Simcoe. I’m your uncle Jamie’s solicitor, I’m afraid I have terrible news.” 
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