Living in my own head

Riss | Canadian | 40 | Wife and Mommy | Horrible writer but avid reader | FanGoddess | Warrior of Light | Aspiring cat |

[unhappytogekiss]

a new reality tv show called So you think you can write Doctor Who

twelve episodes, twelve contestants - a mix of annoying middle aged sci fi authors, fan fic authors and random people off the street

a variety of against the clock writing tasks, big finish scripts, ability to interact with actors without shouting at them and challenges where you have no budget or doctor for an episode

judged by solely by christopher eccleston

this is how you find the new doctor who showrunner

[mellowyellow236]

Getting Caught With The Savanaclaw Boys

This is Savanaclaw’s part, Heartslabyul’s is linked here. The other characters/groups are linked there. 

GN!Reader but they’re said to wear lipstick in some entries. CW: Risque stuff ahead. No sexual content nor graphic descriptions, but a bunch of kissing and innuendo (Obviously lol)

Savanaclaw: 

Leona Kingscholar - 

You were Leona’s personal body pillow most days. Today was no exception. You were lying beside him when his lips found yours. His sharpened teeth grazed the plumpness of your lips, making you gasp and squirm in his arms. He chuckled at you, the sound only encouraging him. 

Ruggie opened the door, not bothering to knock. Normally, it wouldn’t have been an issue. But this time, Leona barely needed to lift his head and glare at the invading Hyena before Ruggie wisely backed out of the room, deciding not to utter a single word of his original purpose. 

Leona huffed afterward, rolling over on the bed. You ran your hands through the hair of your sulking lion before he shoved his head into your lap. Ruggie might have killed the mood, but he was still going to use you as a pillow.  

Ruggie Bucchi - 

Ruggie was taking his break at the Monstro Longue, by all technicality. It was an unapproved break, but Ruggie hadn’t taken his yet that night. Besides, you’d walked in and gotten him a homemade lunch. What was Ruggie supposed to do, keep his hands off of you? 

You two were in the employee’s room, his arms around your neck as he pulled you in. He nipped and licked wherever he could get his mouth onto. Unfortunately, it couldn’t continue for long. Jade appeared beside you like a magician, making you jump back and Ruggie shrug. 

Jade’s smile was sharp as he told Ruggie to get back to work. You pulled yourself away and Jade offered a table to you if you wished to stay. Wisely, you decided to go home. You had already eaten, after all; Ruggie’s dinner was one of the two servings you made, not including Grim’s tuna. Besides, Ruggie knew that it didn’t mean you didn’t care for him. All he had to do was go in through your window that night, and he was certain you’d show him how much you loved him again. 

Jack Howl - 

You and Jack had gone out a morning run. Or, at least, you were originally on a morning run. By the time you’d gotten to a more secluded path, you had begun growing a bit tired. Jack had allowed the two of you to take a break, and you’d leaned against him. It had started with a few quick kisses against your temple, but soon turned into many more while you leaned against a wall. 

You heard the crack of a branch beside you. Jack moved first, his ears and head snapping up and toward the unwelcomed visitor. Across from the two of you was Epel, also wearing running gear, looking properly scandalized by the scene. 

Jack pulled away from you, his tail suddenly tucked between his legs. Once he was assured that you were properly rested, you began running again. Epel was at your heels until you went home. You were finally able to collapse into the fetal position in the shower, a ball of embarrassment at getting caught. 

[akuunosuke]

i have 0 appropriate things to say

[hoofpeet]

Good morning to bitches who cant remember half their life

[froggiewrites]

Lost in a Dream

Pairing: Law x Reader

NSFW

Summary: You're haunting Law's dreams, and he's finally reached his breaking point. Content: Smut, AFAB!Reader, Wet Dreams, Masturbation, Vaginal Sex Word Count: 2.8k

Law would give anything to stop thinking about you. At least to stop thinking of you topless, moaning his name.

He had never thought of you in such a way, he would insist to anyone who would listen. No, of course he never had sexual thoughts about you: you’re his friend! One of his closest, oldest, dearest friends. A very beautiful, kind, and beloved friend, whom he had known long before he became the cool and collected captain he was.

Okay, maybe he had a few of those thoughts back when you were both teens and his hormones had run wild. But he pushed them down, like a good friend would. And anything he had done to banish those thoughts was between him and God. That was years ago, anyway, and he had fully convinced himself he only saw you platonically.

Until the damn dreams started.

Law had never been particularly fond of dreams. They were never kind to him. Faces of those he’d lost, those he failed to save, mistakes he couldn’t undo all haunted him at night. He was reluctant to sleep at all most days, only giving in after you or Bepo had forced him to lay down and exhaustion overpowered him. Once he would have been grateful for pleasant dreams or a full night’s sleep. 

Law! Yes, Law!

Your voice haunted him, the image of you on top of him. The way you so sweetly called for him, the way you clenched around him, the way your chest bounced with every movement. God, it was intoxicating. He would give anything to hear you call his name like that again. Anything except risk your friendship, one of the only things that kept him grounded in life. When he woke up from the first dream, a stain on his pants and shame in his heart, he swore he would never let something like this affect your relationship.

But then it happened again.

And again.

And again.

Always something different. Sometimes you were on top of him, sometimes below him, sometimes on your knees, sometimes bent over his desk. Every time your beautiful eyes blinked at him, filled with tears of pleasure, your sweet voice keening for him to give you more, more, more. And every time he woke up to a problem needing to be solved and more feelings to push deep down, never to return. Until the next night, when it happened again.

He had never been more grateful that he had his own room. He can’t imagine how humiliating it would be if someone else saw him like this, biting down on his pillow as he rut into his own hand. If someone saw the way tears slipped down his lashes as he sped up, heard his cry of your name muffled into the fabric between his teeth, he would never be able to recover.

But luckily, no one ever would. His shame would stay in the dim light of his cabin, and his carefully protected image of control would remain unblemished. You’d never suspect a thing.

But the thoughts remain.

And he could handle that, really, he could. He’s a grown man, he can control himself. But you just keep pushing him, not even knowing what you’re doing. It’s small things, really. Yesterday, when you laughed at a dumb joke Shachi told you, you leaned forward enough to show off just a hint of your cleavage. Something that shouldn’t even phase him, but made him white knuckle the table to stop himself from throwing you over his shoulder and marching down to his room. 

The day before that, you put your hand on his knee during dinner, thumb gently brushing against him as you smiled and told him you thought everything was going to be okay. You’ve comforted him like that a thousand times, but he couldn’t focus on the tender tone of your voice, only the feeling of the warmth of your hand seeping through his pants. He imagined that hand sliding higher and higher, how that warmth would feel somewhere else.

He had to excuse himself from dinner. You thought he was still upset, tried to follow him in concern, and he just barely managed to fend you off before he ran to his bathroom and took care of the hard-on you’d given him. He prayed you didn’t hear his quiet moans of your name or the sound of him pumping his cock in his hand.

A thousand small things, ways you show you care or small motions that show off your body, all building pressure that threatens to burst whenever he looks at you, threatens his carefully crafted control. 

You’re so determined to break him, but he remains strong.

Until you wake him halfway through the worst dream yet.

Law! Law! God, yes, Law! Your voice is still ringing in his ears, your cunt still tightening around his cock, as your hand shakes him awake.

“Law! You can’t sleep here, you’ll fuck up your back.” Your voice is so soft, so concerned, as you try to pull him up from his desk. He can already feel the pain in his spine as you pull him to his feet, but he can’t bring himself to care right now.

He’s hard, he’s horny, and you’re right here, your hands on him as he can still hear you screaming his name.

He takes a step forward, his arms threatening to wrap around you, and he can just barely process that you’ve removed your hands from him as your eyes shift away from him.

“Law?” Your voice is meek, nervous, not at all like his dreams. But the red on your cheeks, the way your eyes shine? Those are familiar. He’s so close now.

“Do you know how hard it’s been?” He can barely keep the shake from his voice.

“What?” You take a step back, but your back hits the wall behind you.

“I’ve been holding back for months. Trying to keep control, to not ruin this, but you just,” he takes a step forward.

“Keep,” another step.

“Haunting me.” Your chests are pressed together, and he can feel every breath of yours as your tits press against him. They feel even better than he imagined. He almost expects you to push him away, to run, but you don’t. Instead you stare at him with your stupid, beautiful doe eyes, lips slightly parted, face flushed, and he can’t hold back anymore.

Your lips are soft. They’re slightly tacky from your chapstick, and he’s delighted to find it makes you taste like strawberries. You tense for a moment, and he fears he’s frightened you, ruined everything, but then your arms wrap around him and he knows you’ve wanted this just as badly as he has.

His hands grip your ass as his tongue presses firmly against your lips, which you almost immediately part wider to allow him better access. One of your hands presses firmly against his back, while the other slides forward to grope at his chest. Your fingers press into his shirt, seemingly torn between pulling him closer and feeling every inch of him beneath your fingertips. His hips roll against his will, and the whimper you let out into his mouth destroys what little self control he has left.

He lifts you with ease, pulling you impossibly closer, before throwing you onto his desk, papers and logs be damned. Nothing on it is more important than him being inside of you as soon as humanly possible. In his dreams, he always stripped slowly and sensually, teasing you until you were begging for his touch, his cock, but he’s going to explode if he isn’t inside you within the minute. He practically rips off your uniform, throwing it behind him, where he can hear it take something that sounds suspiciously like his lamp down with it, glass shattering when it hits the floor. He can’t bring himself to give a shit.

“Law,” you say in that squeaky little voice you always get when you’re surprised. “What’s—”

Your sentence breaks off into a moan as he sinks his teeth into your neck. He can smell your shampoo mixing with the scent of your sweat, and god he really might break this desk beneath you if you keep driving him insane. Your hand shoots to the back of his head, gripping his hair and tugging as you continue to let out little whimpers and moans with every thrust of his clothed hips against your panties. 

“Every night, you ruin me, and I have to wake up and pretend to forget,” he groans into your neck. “Every night you give me everything I’ve ever wanted just to take it away. You’re cruel.”

He wants to take off his jeans, but he can’t bring himself to remove his hands from you. You’re so much better than his dreams, soft and warm and real beneath his fingers. His mind could never have conjured up such a perfect feeling.

You must have read his mind, because your hands slide his coat from his shoulders, fingers tracing his abs down to his waist. He’s so lost in the feeling he doesn’t understand your intent until you let out an adorable frustrated huff. “Stop moving for a second,” you snap, fingers struggling to grab the button of his jeans.

“I don’t know if I can.”

“If you tackled me to the desk so you can grope me while you cum in your pants I’m leaving.”

The laugh that rips through him stills him just long enough for you to pop the button and rip his pants and underwear down. The fabric catches on his thighs, but you’re stuck, frozen, watching his cock spring out of its prison. Law has always been proud of his body, but nothing has made him feel sexier than watching the way your mouth falls open looking at him.

“You’re drooling,” he chuckles.

“I am,” you say, not taking your eyes off of his dick. You reach for it, fingers tracing lightly up his length, and watch as it twitches in response.

“Don’t tease me,” Law says through gritted teeth. One hand grips the desk for dear life, the only thing holding him back from slamming into you like an animal.

“Oh? Don’t what? I couldn’t hear you.” Your fingers trace back down, following the vein, touching enough to stimulate but not enough to pleasure.

Law is a proud man. He does not beg. He would never—

“God, please—” His voice breaks off once you mercifully wrap your fingers around him, thumb rubbing briefly against the head. He shudders, head falling forward, pressing himself as deeply into you as he physically can.

“It’s even bigger than I imagined,” you murmur.

“You imagined me?” He tries to make his voice sexy and gruff, but it comes out as more of a whine.

“All the time.”

He latches onto your neck, both to get himself to stop talking before he makes himself sound as undone as he feels, and to mark you as his. He desperately needs to leave some kind of sign that this happened, something to tell him tomorrow this wasn’t just another one of his tortuous little dreams. This is real, it is the best thing that’s ever happened to him, and by god is he going to make sure he remembers every single moment.

His free hand reaches for your panties, pulling them down far more carefully than he did your uniform. The delicate lace is a bit less durable than thick canvas. You hiss as your cunt is exposed to the air, your hand slightly tightening around his cock.

He removes himself from your neck to look you in the eye. Your face is flushed, your pupils blown out, and your hair is a mess. You look beautiful. “Ready?”

“Please fuck me already, Captain.”

You barely have time to get your hand out of the way before he’s slamming into your entrance, the force of it shaking the desk beneath you. You feel heavenly, warm and wet, clenching around him. Law lets out an absolutely mortifying noise, halfway between a moan and groan, and you clench around him tighter in response.

“God—”

“Oh Law—”

His dreams didn’t compare to the real thing. Your voice dripping with desire and want, the friction as he pulled out inch by torturous inch, it was beyond dream or fiction. He could never have conceived something so wonderful. He ruts back into you, to the hilt this time, your hips slamming together with near bruising force. The desk shakes again, creaking dangerously, but he doesn’t give a shit and he can’t imagine you do either. 

One hand remains on your hip to stabilize you, and the other takes the opportunity to explore your chest as he kisses you. Your teeth clack together, your noses bumping, but none of the awkwardness detracts from the feeling of your soft lips against his. You easily allow his tongue into your mouth, putting up no fight to the tidal wave of lust driving him to consume you whole. 

Your chest is so soft beneath Law’s fingers he could weep. His teenage self would have killed a man to feel this, and frankly, he still would now. You whine into his mouth when he pinches your nipple, a sound that he swallows greedily. He wants every part of you, every noise and smell and feeling you can offer.

He tries to keep control of his hips, but he can feel his pace growing quick and sloppy. He wants so desperately to remain in control of everything, to spend the entire night giving you all of the pleasure you could stand, but you feel so good around him and he’s needed this for so very long.

He pulls back for a breath, chest heaving, and he sees your eyes have grown unfocused, your mouth still open as the spit connecting you catches the light.

“Law, yes, god, yes!” You sing like an angel. He can feel your legs growing tense as they tighten around his hips, and he’s assured to know you’re as out of control as he is. His hand reaches down, his fingers not hesitating for a second before finding your clit. His rough fingers press against you, rubbing experimentally as he tries to follow your expressions to see what way will best make you fall apart beneath him. You’re far too gone for such intense study, as every move he makes brings you closer to the edge. Your nails dig into his back, dragging down his shoulderblades, and it takes everything in him not to cum instantly. He’ll be damned if he cums before you do.

Your breath quickens as your moans turn to high pitched whines, growing louder and louder until one final thrust and rub brings you beyond the edge. You throw your head back and scream, your arms pulling him closer until your chests touch, your legs wrapping around him and locking him in place. You spasm around his cock, squeezing as though your life depends on it, and he follows soon after with the small thrusts your legs will allow him.

You collapse beneath him, boneless, as he comes as deep into you as he physically can. He falls on top of you soon after, barely catching himself on his forearms to keep from crushing you. His chest heaves as he tries and fails to catch his breath, so instead of breathing he settles for suffocating while admiring your beautiful flushed face. Your eyelids have fallen shut, your mouth letting out little puffs of air as you struggle with the same problem he is. His dreams never got this far, to the after.

It’s amazing.

You look so amazing fucked-out beneath him, a smile on your face that he’s sure you aren’t even aware is there. He could live in this moment forever, just staring at you, knowing he’s the one who made you look like this.

Even as he leans forward a little too far and a loud crack lets him know the desk is giving out beneath you.

He just barely manages to pull you on top of him so his back hits the floor instead of yours. You’re tucked into his chest, his arms wrapped around you protectively. You stare at the desk’s remains as he stares at you, and when you laugh, his chest tightens. God, he might be more in love with you than before.

As he lifts you, watching the way your eyes sparkle as you giggle and ask how he’s going to explain the desk to the crew, he thinks he can live with some more frustrating dreams. It’ll never compare to the real thing, and he has a feeling you won’t mind him coming to you for more help in the future.

Tag List: @pandora-writes-one-piece @shy-writer-999 @dreamcastgirl99 @eggrollforyou

[vamptits]

don't ever look up what your childhood friends are up to now!!!!!!!!!! like girl you're a nuclear safety engineer. i put on matching socks today. we played tag a thousand years ago.

[halberdbooks]

Yeah

[hussyknee]

The most basic, intractable fact about mental illnesses is that you simply cannot willpower your way out of them. The only exceptions to this rule are the ones I have, which continue to disable me due to lack of determination and other grave personal flaws

[everlasting-beg]

Favorite Evanescence single?

Bring Me To Life

Going Under

My Immortal

Everybody's Fool

Call Me When You're Sober

Lithium

Sweet Sacrifice

Good Enough

What You Want

My Heart Is Broken

Use My Voice

Who Will You Follow

Remaining time: 14 hours 20 minutes

[chick-ah-dee]

I love these two so much <3

[makitakami]

Bro Santa relationship headcannons, suggestive, fluffy, really smutty, (I love Bro sm) 20% Fluff 80% Smut. Bro x wife reader, mentions of pregnancy

● He's the definition of a gentle giant. He looks really scary but he's the sweetest and the first guy to actually treat you right.

● His heart melts whenever he sees you helping out with the kids and being extra gentle with Dear. When you start treating Dear like your own son he looses composure, he starts thinking of marrying you all over again.

● He decided to ask you to marry him because he loved everything about you and because of how you accommodated for Dear and Guita even when he wasn't around.

● He's very romantic when it comes to you. He loves giving you princess treatment because duh you're the mother of his kids why wouldn't he want to spoil you.

● Your man is very touchy. He loves physical affection. Being with Bro is like having a big care bear on standby. His hugs are amazing and his kisses are to die for. It's something about feeling his beard that just gets you going.

● Bro LOVES to use any excuse he has to talk about his wife. Oh someone comes up to him at the bar "Excuse me I need to find my wife", he gets hit on "Thats actually my phat pussy wife over there" before walking away to give you a hug.

● He likes carrying you around on his back or in a princess carry.

● He loves being so tall because of the size different between you, it's something that turns him on but he wouldn't express that out loud.

● He had a fat crush on you when you first met. Gris teased him for a week about it until he got the courage to talk to you.

● He's willing to try anything in the bedroom as long as it doesn't hurt you. If he ends up hurting you he'll apologize for a week straight and try to make it up with acts of service like watching the kids or cooking so you can rest.

● He would NEVER fuck you like you're some fleshlight. He would cater to your needs first before he even thinks about his own pleasure.

● He's a D1 eater, he's eaten both the front and the back. He doesn't care if you have hair on your kitty or not. He's a grown man ass some hair isn't going to stop him.

● He ate a kiwi with the skin on it to prove that some hair wouldn't bother him. It was a disturbing sight.

● You were hospitalized and had to put him on a sex ban because he bruised your cervix really bad. He was mortified and even when the ban lifted he was still hesitant to go rough.

● 1000% has a breeding kink.

● Absolutely no degradation. He cant think of a reason to degrade his goddess of a wife. He thinks he's lucky you even looked in his direction. If you ask him to degrade you then he'll try but no ill words about you will be spoken in his presence.

● Everyone in HQ has accepted that you're a national treasure and that Bro is obsessed with you.

● He's immediately hard if he sees you wearing a silk cammie. The sight of you struggling to stay away in your little silk cammie with your tits spilling out the sides has him in a trance. Oh what did you say? Im sorry pookie he already made breakfast.

● For mother's day he ate your pussy and spent the day as a "relaxation" day for you. He didn't let you lift a finger all day.

● If you're pregnant he's somehow becomes more helpful. He stocks up on baby necessities, if you have too much breastmilk he'll make some non scented soaps to help with eczema or irritated skin that you or the baby may have.

● He's constantly giving you massages to help you through your pregnancy. If your milk ducts are clogged he'll try to massage the area or gently suck on your tities because he hates to see his pretty mama in pain.

As always pls let me know if theres any spelling errors and have a good day😭)

(This went all the way left, it was supposed to be fluff headcannons but my brain decided to cook straight up poison. Ive noticed that I really enjoy reading and replying to comments, I dont get many but when I do get some my brain does a backflip

It's currently 5:00am and I am TIRED sooo I'll see you when I see you ♡

[mrsken]

cws // fem reader. oral. lil bit o' breeding, nothing ghastly. 18+

wc // 5k

"Where're the wife and kids?"

Bro answers Enjin without thinking, mind preoccupied on maxing out his last rep—shit, this is heavy—so he can hurry up and check on the cake that you, Dear and Guita had entrusted him to ensure didn't burn... for the third time.

"She's fighting with Dear to detangle his hair, and Guita was seeing how many times she could shout the word candy before Rudo started foaming at the mouth." He finishes his sentence with a grunt, the thick corded muscles in his biceps and forearms bulging as the barbell taps his chest. He forces it back up with a huff, beads of salty sweat trailing down his temples and disappearing into his hairline.

"Hm. Dutiful, isn't she?" A snicker comes from Enjin, and Bro gives him a quizzical look as he drops the weight back down. The veins in his neck pop out now as he nears failure.

"The hell's so funny? His teeth gnash together in a grimace as he leaves it back up for the last time, a loud clang sounding as he reracks the weight. "Are you—WIFE?!" Enjin's words finally click in his thick head, and Bro feels something warm and hot settle in his gut and work its way up to his burly chest. Heartburn. Acid reflux, probably. Damn, I sound like an old geezer.

"Took ya long enough." Enjin rolls his eyes with a chuckle. "If you last half as long when you're screwin' her I can maybe see why she's so smitten." Bro sputters, perspiring for an entirely different reason now.

"Smitten? Screwi—you've really got it all wrong, En. We're not—she's not—I'm not—she's good with the kids! We're friends!" His voice has gone up an octave, a considerable feat when you recall the usual deep timbre he speaks with. Enjin shoots him a disbelieving look, and he shoots a pleading one back instead.

He was telling the truth!

Nothing had ever happened between the two of you - your relationship was entirely platonic. You were the newest addition to the Cleaners, a Giver more suited for defense than offense, and you had struggled at first to find your footing in a group until you had wound up in his. The kids had instantly taken to you and you to them, and he guesses he had taken to you, too. You were easy to get along with; smart, sweet, funny, caring, doting, motherly, pretty, breathtaking even, especially when you smiled.

Er- all that to say that it was strictly platonic between the two of you, which made this stupid, childish rumor of you being his wife all the more annoying. He's glad it hadn't reached your ears yet - you were young, younger than him anyways, and you had suitors out the ass lined up for a chance just to get your name, the last thing you needed was him of all people getting in the way of that. You seemed purely focused on the job now, but he was sure there'd come a time when your want for romance started kicking in and he wanted you to be unfettered in your search

So why does the thought piss him off to no end?

"Friends, right." Enjin shrugs his shoulders, seemingly disinterested, and Bro lets out a sigh of relief, broad shoulders losing some of their tenseness. "So it's cool if I take a shot?"

A glare similar to the ones he's always chastising Dear for takes over his features. "Don't play around like that, Enjin. She's not some toy that you pick up when you feel like fucking around. She deserves—"

"Hey." Your head appears in the door out of nowhere, your eyes landing on a now smirking Enjin before landing on him. Bro quickly snaps his mouth shut, nearly biting his tongue off in the process. "Please tell me that you've already taken the cake out of the oven and that's why you're in here chatting it up."

He gives you a sheepish smile, one hand coming up to nervously scratch at the back of his neck. "Uh, I forgot." You let out a huff and march into the gym and straight up to him. "Wha-hey!" You twist your hand into the front of his shirt and begin to pull him out of the room.

"You'd better hope that cake isn't burned or you're going to be the one to explain to Dear and Guita why they can't have it and whose fault it is, you got me?" You throw him a leveling look over your shoulder. "Sorry, Enjin, but I'm borrowing your friend."

"Take your time." Enjin grins like the sly bastard he is, and Bro can't even begin to send him as much as a warning look before he's spitting out his next sentence. "He's your husband, afterall."

You stop in your tracks immediately, and Bro begins to stumble over his words. You look over your shoulder, wide eyes locking onto his and lingering for a few moments before looking away.

"Anyways, think 'm gonna hit the bed. Night, you two. Cake and then to sleep, alright? We got enough little brats running around this pla–whoa, almost got me." Bro would have gotten Enjin with a slap atop his grotesquely small head had you not been in the way.

Enjin makes his escape, his laughter sounding down the hallway, and you two are left in an awkward silence. Ah, shit. Does he pretend nothing was said and go about business as usual and hope you do the same? Or does he address it and die a little inside? He'll check your reaction and decide then.... no reaction, double shit. He's going to have to pick one.

He mentally groans.

Why is this so hard? He makes split second decisions out there when he's battling trash beasts without a second thought, but this is what he struggles with? He's a grown ass man! Where's his balls?

Luckily for him, he doesn't have to decide, a familiar suckling noise growing closer and closer until Dear is standing in the doorway with pinched eyebrows and freshly done puffs in his hair.

"Dear!"

Before he can start tapping his foot away on the floor, Bro is gently untangling your fingers from his shirt, keen ears picking up on the hitch in your breath, and placing his hands on your shoulders as he looks to the little boy. "I think I smell that cake finishin' up. Let's go check it out, yeah?" He ducks his head down so he can speak a bit quieter, eyes now dropping to meet your own. "Unless you want to be the one doing the explaining instead?"

You smell freshly showered, the scent of vanilla and something else, something indisputably you, wanting up his nose, and he quickly steers his mind in another direction when it tries to explore the path of your shower routine.

"Oh, you wish. The cake was your job, your responsibility." You punctuate the words with a firm poke to his chest.

"Aw, c'mon, it was a group effort. Right, Dear?" Dear tilts his head and raises a brow, and Bro can't help but find it utterly adorable, even if he isn't hopping on the Save-Bro's-Ass bandwagon.

You're shooting him a smug smile, neither of you lingering on the fact that your hand has found its way back to his chest to rest, and that his have slipped from your shoulders to instead loosely rest at your waist. It's comfortable, familiar, and pissing the ever living hell out of Dear by the incessant tapping of his foot.

"Okay, okay, let's go before he brings the whole building down." You spin out of his arms and head over to Dear, your hands fluffing at his hair as a pleased look takes over your face. "I did a really good job, right? Guita let me do hers as well - kept them in for longer than ten minutes this time, too."

The three of you make your way to the cafeteria, easy conversation flowing between the two of you as the previous one tumbles down into the Pandora's Box of your minds, a box that would be opened sooner rather than later.

-

It was nothing short of a miracle that you hadn't gone utterly insane yet.

When Gris and the other supporters had come barging in to tell everyone of the kidnapping, a bottomless pit had formed in your stomach and refused to leave.

You had only been in the Cleaners for a year, in the group Child even less than that, but you had come to see all of them as your family, especially the ragtag bunch you had found yourself spending the majority of your time with.

You had never gravitated towards kids before, but Guita's hyperactivity and silliness had broken the ice and pulled you in, and Dear's quiet, baby-esque nature had kept you there, and Bro... he made it all work. Much like the function of his Vital Instrument, he was the glue that kept you all together, the foundation, the pillar, the head of the family.

You had come to care for him in a different way that you cared for the children. You loved them in a maternal way - you wanted to help them grow and develop, and your heart warmed every time they further developed their strengths and skills, and chilled whenever you saw so much as a scratch on them.

And for Bro... you loved him in a way that made your cheeks warm whenever he smiled at you. In a way that had your stomach doing flips anytime his skin made contact with yours, even something as simple as a dorky high-five after you took down a trash beast. In a way that made your lips curl into a bashful smile when he'd rain compliments and praise down on you for the most mundane of things. In a way that made your pulse quicken whenever his eyes would meet yours across a crowded room. In a way that made your body thrum with delight anytime he entered the vicinity.

In a way that made you sob with relief when you finally saw him walk through the doors of HQ, an exhausted yet still jolly Guita by his side and a soon to be asleep Dear in his arms.

You quickly add yourself to the ensemble - checking over Guita and halfheartedly fussing over her half dressed state, poking and prodding at Dear and wiping smudges of dirt off his freckled cheeks. Before you can assess Bro next, the chokers around everyone's who has just gotten back neck is going off with an order to report to Corvus's office.

He shoots you an apologetic look, looking tempted between staying or following orders. You make it easy for him, giving him a wobbly, yet wholly relieved, smile and nodding your head for him to go.

"It's okay. Go. I'll come by your room later... if that's okay?"

"Of course. You know my door is always open for you." He lingers a while, the other Cleaners walking past the two of you, before finally following along with the rest of them.

You let out a shaky breath leave you, hands moving to wipe at your wet cheeks, and abruptly freeze when you notice Riyo's hawk-like gaze focused on you. "Oh, Riyo, you look–"

"Like hell, I know. But more importantly," she strides over, her grin growing more and more the closer she gets. "Enjin was totally right. You two are definitely working on a litter of rascals."

You blink.

You blink again.

"I.. I am going to pretend that you're not insinuating what I think you are and leave the room." You turn to leave, but she calls out to you before you can clear the room.

"I'd jump on that soon if I were you. Just think, if you feel that way about him, 'm sure someone else does too. Wouldn't want someone to snatch him up." And with that she's gone, leaving you to turn that statement around in your head over and over until it's finally time to go and see Bro.

The meeting had taken longer than expected, which makes complete sense considering the magnitude of the situation they were in, and you had checked in on Guita and Dear, the both of them positively knocked out in their respective rooms, before making your way to Bro's room.

You give the wood of the door three quick knocks before pushing it open without waiting for a response, a bad habit of yours, but excusable considering the reason (you hope). You find Bro sitting on his bed, shirt on the comforter beside him, and a sharp gasp leaves you at the sight of the large, purple bruises decorating his body.

"Oh," he calls your name. "It's not as bad as it looks."

"Really? Because it looks pretty freaking bad." The self censorship comes without a second thought. You close the door behind you and quickly make your way to the bed, hands moving to touch him but stalling mid-air, not wanting to hurt him. "Why haven't you gone to see Eishia?"

"She tired herself out fixin' up Zanka - kid really took a beating. We weren't sure if.." He trails off, and the worry you had felt suddenly seems so inconsequential compared to what he must have felt up there. "I thought.. Dear was scared.. I was scared."

You give a sad sigh of his name, heart twisting and aching in your chest. Bro has never been all that open with his feelings and fears, whether from repression or just a lack of knowing how to open up you weren't certain.

"I just kept thinking that we had to make it out of there, ya know? That I had to get them -us- home. To you." His gaze falls to you, and your heart leaps up into your throat. "And then I started thinking what if this morning had been the last time I saw you? That the last thing I said to you was some corny joke about corn flakes of all things." You choke out a laugh past the emotion in your throat. "Then suddenly everything I've ever wanted to say to you started going through my head—one after the other, gave me a damn migraine it did."

He winces as if he can still feel it, and you can't help but take his face in your hands and cradle it as if you can take all his pain away. His skin is hot underneath your palms, his gaze even hotter, and you find it hard to catch your breath, your chest rising and falling in time.

Strong arms loop around your hips and draw you nearer, and your body sings as he buries his face into your stomach, arms tightening around you. "I want this."

"This? A hug? Of course, whenever—" He shakes his head against you, grip tightening even further, and you briefly wonder if he can hear the heavy thuds of your heartbeat. Your fingers slip into soft tendrils of hair, pads of them rubbing at his scalp.

"I want you. All of you. Anything you're willing to give. I'll take it. Even if it's nothing but what you've already given, that's fine, I just need to know you'll always be here with us."

Your lips tremble as fat dollops of tears drip down your cheeks, and you sniff as your nose begins to run. His hand smooths up your back and soothes comforting circles into it. "I want—.. I want you, too. I always have."

The tension in his body seeps away immediately, his body melting into yours, and you look down just as he looks up. Your faces close the distance in sync, and fireworks shoot off in your stomach the moment his lips press against yours. It's soft, tender, nerve-wracking, but oh so wonderful, and despite your lips trembling against his you kiss him harder and he returns it in earnest.

His hands pull you down to straddle a sturdy thigh, big hands moving to cup the sides of your throat, thumbs underneath your chin and tilting your head up to allow him better access, and your lips opens at the behest of his tongue, and he makes a home of it inside your mouth. It rubs alongside your own, and you wrap your arms around his neck.

The kiss devolves into something less sweet and chaste, and into something desperate and unrestrained. You suppose it's the months of yearning from both ends, the months of quick glances, ghosts of touches, nervous smiles, double meanings hidden behind innocent words, you suppose it's all of it.

Your lips part when the need to breathe outweighs the want to stay connected, but he takes it in stride, mouth moving to press wet, heated kisses down the column of your throat. "Let me know if it's too much." He rasps, and you absentmindedly nod, your mind too preoccupied on thoughts of this not being nearly enough. There's an.. ache. It's persistent and ever growing, and each shift of Bro underneath you makes it further bloom.

He sucks a bruise onto your skin, and you stutter out a moan of his name, hips unconsciously rocking against the muscle of his thigh. One of his hands grip at the fat of your backside, and you weakly cry out when he pushes your hips down harder against him. "I can feel you. Shit, you're soaked."

"S-Sorry. I'm sorry, I-ah." You throb in your panties, clit pulsing with each accelerated beat of your heart, and a new rush of arousal comes rushing out of you at the guttural groan that leaves him. Suddenly, he's falling back against the bed and pulling you with him. Your hands brace against his chest, and something in you chirps in approval when you realize his heart is beating just as fast as yours, if not faster.

"Don't ever apologize for showing how much you want me. Besides," he gives you a naughty grin that has your lids lowering. "I can't really talk." He doesn't leave you confused for long, his hands effortlessly moving you so your clothed cunt is directly atop the bulge in his pants. You suck in a sharp breath of air, back slightly arching, and grind your hips down against him. The both of you moan in sync. "I've wanted this for months.. You have no idea how many times I've thought about you."

The bed underneath the both of you moves with your movements, each roll of your hips making the mattress bounce, and you're beyond thankful that the frame is relatively new. His fingers slip underneath the hem of your shirt, hot palms exploring the skin underneath, and your teeth sink into your bottom lip as you move faster. "At night, I would think about you.." You admit.

"Yeah?" He breathes out, his eyes taking in each and every facial expression you make. "Me too."

"I-I would think about you touching me and.. and.." His jaw clenches, and your train of thought is interrupted as he maneuvers you out of your shirt, leaving you in a flimsy sports bra that quickly joins your shirt on the floor.

"Where would you think about me touching you? Here?" Big hands grab handfuls of your breasts, and you hurriedly nod, dripping hole clenching around nothing. Calloused fingers grip and pinch at your nipples, drawing sounds out of you that would make you want to crawl somewhere and hide if you were in your right state of mind. His mouth is on them next, lips locking around the hard bud and sucking while he kneads at the other one. His hips buck up between your legs, and you huff, your hands moving to grip the waistband of his jeans.

"Off.. take them off." It comes out as a whispered plea, and he detaches from your nipple with a loud pop, the cool air wafting over the now wet, sensitive bud. "I want you inside - please."

"Not yet. Fuck, don't pout like that honey. Soon, I promise. I've just gotta.. I gotta taste you first." He pops the button on your pants, and with a few strong tugs they're off and across the room, leaving you in a pair of underwear that are now soaked through with your juices. He drinks you in, a flush taking over his face, and you fight the urge to cover up. His gaze is all-consuming, all-seeing, not leaving a scar or mole or mark unseen, and you wilt under his gaze, just to immediately blossom at his breathy beautiful.

Oh, if you could love him any more you would.

Just as before, he moves you where he wants you, and your body heats at the new, foreign position. He's got you hovered over his face, thighs bracketing his head, and the only thing visible when you look down is his drunken eyes that look up at you.

"I don't know if we should—you won't be able to b-breathe, ohh." His eyes don't leave yours as he presses open mouthed kisses to your inner thighs, and your head falls back as he presses a kiss to your clit.

"What makes you think I need to do a silly thing like that, hm? C'mon." He tugs you further down. "Take your seat." He kisses you again, and the muscles in your legs give out, a yelp leaving you when he immediately takes advantage, mouth opening wide and sucking. The sound is lewd and makes your ears burn, and your hands fly to the headboard to assist you in keeping your balance.

His spit replaces the arousal in your panties just as quick as it leaks out of you, and when he finally hooks a finger around the seat of your panties and yanks it to the side, revealing your bare cunt to his mouth you nearly die. Every muscle in your body winds up tight, and tears bead at the corners of your eyes as his tongue swipes over an engorged clit, through puffy folds and down to your empty hole to fill it up.

You choke on a shout of his name, eyes squeezing shut and hands moving to slap over your mouth to keep your voice down. You hear a gulp come from him, and a whine is muffled beneath your palm. He pushes his tongue in and out of your hole, a prelude of things to come, and your heart rate quickens as you feel yourself hurtling towards that edge.

Suddenly, a thick digit is pushing up into you, lips wrapping around your clit, and your walls eagerly suck him in. Oh, Gods. He pushes it in to the last knuckle, and your lashes flutter shut as you come without warning, pussy clamping down hard as you do.

He lets you bask in it, finger pulling out and mouth detaching from you. He helps you down to lay beside him, and you fight to calm your breathing, chest heaving as you do. Bro props up on his elbow to get a better look at you, hand smoothing down your chest and settling on your stomach. He rubs it, fingers sinking into the flesh there, and then it's dipping lower. "Do you want more?"

He's leaving the decision up to you, and a spacey smile finds its way onto your lips as you nod. He smiles back and leans down to kiss you, his hair, now unrestrained by his headband and his braid somehow having come loose, pools around you.

His hand spreads your thighs apart as his lips move against yours, and you hum as he moves between them, his body now hovering over yours. You lift your legs, feet flat against the bed, and he shuffles closer, and that's when you feel him. You break the kiss to give him a disbelieving look, and he gives you one of confusion, eyes searching your face. "What is it? What's the matter?"

"You're big."

"I'm too heavy? Guess I have been packing away the burgers." A sheepish look comes across his face, and you shake your head and try to look down between the two of you, only to quickly snap your gaze back up when you get a visual of it. "What're you—oh. Oh. No, baby, it's okay. I'll go as slow as you need me to - you know I'd never hurt you." He comforts, but there's a hint of pride and smugness underneath. "Right?" He presses a tender kiss to the corner of your mouth.

"Right, but--"

"No but's, just let me take care of you."

His mouth closes over your own once again, and some of the stiffness that had settled in your body dissipates. One hand slips underneath you to rest at the dip in the bottom of your spine, and he tugs you a bit closer, hefty cock slotting up against you. You gasp into the kiss, the hotness of him shocking you, and you feel him twitch against your folds.

He parts from your lips and rests his forehead against yours, eyes focused on yours. "We'll start with just the tip, okay?"

"Okay."

His other hand gathers the slick between your legs and spreads it over the length of him, and you take in a stuttering breath as he slides the head of him down through your folds until he reaches your entrance. His tongue wets his lips, and he slowly starts to ease himself in. Your hands fly to his shoulders, nails biting into the tanned skin, and he coos down at you.

"Relax, I've got you." He pushes in a tad bit more, pausing at even the slightest furrow in your brow and pressing kisses to every piece of skin he can reach until you're ready for him to keep going. "You're doing so good for me, angel. Look at you. Almost there, we just got a little more, you can take me, I knew you could. Ngh, shit, that's my girl."

He's finally nestled deep inside, both of your breaths mingling with your pants, and your toes curl at the feeling of being stuffed full. It feels as if he's carved out a spot just for him -only for him- and you clench at the thought, fingers intertwining at the back of his neck as you pull him down into a dizzying kiss.

His thrusts start off slow, calculated, and you can feel the restraint in his muscles, his body seeming to thrum and vibrate with effort above you. Once the motion becomes easier, once he's properly stretched you out and allowed you to adjust, he picks up the pace, just a tad.

Drool spills from the sides of your mouth, the kiss turning into a desperate mashing of lips and rubs of tongues, and his hands cup the backs of your knees and push your legs up. The new angle drives him deeper, harder, his full balls clapping against the curve of your ass, and your hands move to his hair, fingers twisting and tangling in the strands as you fight to ground yourself, but he makes it hard.

He gives you slow, deep thrusts, letting you feel every single thick inch of him. "You feel so good," his voice is strained, and you blink up at him through bleary eyes. "Taking me in so good—mm, fuuuuck. Listen to ya - listen to this pretty pussy tell me how good I'm fucking her."

You gasp out his name, ears burning at his crude words, but even still you find yourself wanting him to say more, wanting him to keep pushing you down into the soft mattress with every push of his hips. Wanting him to never pull out - to stay inside of you just like this until neither of you could stand it anymore.

Each push in is accompanied by a loud squelch and a breathless huff from you, and your head falls back against the pillows. Sweat drips off of him and onto you, his skin gleaming under the glow of the light, and your hands slip from his hair and down onto his slick shoulders.

Every drive of his cock into you pushes out a little bit of your sense until you're a drooling, bumbling mess beneath him. "So good- feels so good. I love it.. O-oh! Yesyesyes!"

His nose nudges against yours, warm breath panting against your jaw as his pace quickens and he grows rougher. More and more until he's pumping into you with reckless abandon, your cries mixing in with his grunts and groans. "Hah, hell.." A string inside you is stretched taunt, threatening to break and send you hurtling at any moment. "'M gonna pull out 'n cum on your stomach. That okay?" Your eyebrows furrow at the suggestion, and you whine out a 'no'.

"Inside.. cum insi—mmph!" He smashes his mouth against yours, hips grinding into yours, and he keeps you in place with a strong grip on your waist, your now free legs moving to hook around his hips. His rhythm becomes sloppy, uncoordinated, and he breaks the kiss to pant out a sentence that has you coming harder than you ever have before. It rips through you, a complete shock even though you had felt it brewing, and he follows immediately after, fat cock spurting out thick ropes of hot cum, and it settles deep inside you where it's always belonged.

The come down is gradual, gentle, he guides you through it with ghosts of kisses and whispered words and feather-light touches. You're tucked into his chest, side of your face pressed against his hot skin, and the steady beat of his heart threatens to lull you to sleep, your eyes drooping and your breaths slowing.

He presses one last kiss to the top of your head, his earlier words quietly repeated, and you repeat it back to him, voice sleepy but full of conviction nonetheless.

"I love you."

[staying-soft-reactions]

m!gachiakuta x chubby fem!reader

He turns his head as you go to kiss his cheek, and kiss his lips instead

featuring. enjin, tamsy caines, bro santa, gris rubion, follo tunito, august stilza, zodyl tyhpon, bundus begalkeit cw/tags (19+ Only | Minors DNI). fluff, accidental kisses, teasing, banter, discussion of feelings

Enjin

"Hold still, just let me show you my thanks."

You leaned toward his cheek, one hand bracing on his shoulder for balance. He tracked down that sweet roll you mentioned wanting weeks ago and carried it across the district in a crumpled paper bag like it was nothing.

The least you could do was give him a quick peck on the cheek.

Or at least, that was the plan before he turned his head so your lips caught his dead-on.

His lips were dry, a little rough, tasting faintly of tobacco, and they didn't pull away. If anything, they pressed against your, firm and unhurried, like he planned this from the get-go.

You broke off with a sharp inhale.

"I--wasn't aiming there."

"Yeah, I know." He dragged his thumb across his bottom lip, eyes half-lidded and locked on you. The bag was still dangling from his other hand like he forgot it existed. "But I was."

"You turned your head on purpose!?"

"My intuition's never steered me wrong." He dropped the bag into your hands and stretched his arms over his head with not a trace of guilt on his face. Just that easy confidence he wore like a second coat. "What? You think I'm gonna just let you kiss my cheek like I'm your teammate? Nah."

"Enjin, you can't just--"

"Already did." He tapped his own mouth twice with one finger, grinning now, wide and bright and entirely self-satisfied. "And you kissed me back for a full three full seconds before you panicked, so let's not act like I committed a crime here."

Your face burned. "It was not three seconds."

"It was four, actually. I was trying to be nice"

"You're impossible."

"And you're in denial." He pulled the cigarette from behind his ear and rolled it between his fingers. "I crossed the district for a pastry because you wanted it. You leaned in to kiss me because you wanted to. We both know what this is. I'm just the one who stopped pretending first."

You opened your mouth but nothing came out.

"Yeah," he said, reading your face like a map. "That's what I thought." He tucked the cigarette back and stood, closing the distance you put between you until the bag was the only thing separating your chest from his. "So stop overthinking it. I'm not."

"Since when?"

"Since a while ago. I just have better timing than you." He tapped the bag in your hands. "Eat. I didn't walk forty minutes for you to let it go stale while you argue with me about our feelings for each other."

Tamsy Caines

"You've got flour on your face, hold on."

You reached up to brush it away, then tilted in to press a light kiss to his cheek. He'd been helping in the kitchen all afternoon, sleeves rolled, calm and methodical, doing things like organizing the spice shelf and wiping down surfaces nobody asked him to clean. It made your chest ache a little, how quietly reliable he was.

He turned his head at the last second.

Your lips met his. Soft. Closed. Perfectly still.

For a moment neither of you moved. His eyes stayed open, watching yours from inches away, and there was something in them you couldn't quite decode. Not surprise. Not discomfort. It was as though he had known this was coming before you did and had been waiting to see how you'd react to your own impulse.

You pulled back, hands flying to your mouth.

"That was supposed to be your cheek, I swear!"

"I know." His voice was the same measured tone it always was. He reached out and gently pulled your hands away from your face, holding them between his. "You don't have to cover your mouth. Nothing happened that shouldn't have."

"Y-You moved your head."

"I did." He said it plainly, as though talking about the weather.

"Okay... but why?" you asked, hesitant of his answer.

He took a few beats to consider your question, which made your stomach sink before he began tracing his thumb in a slow line across your knuckle.

"Because I have been watching you aim for my cheek for weeks now," he said. "And every time, I think about what would happen if I just turned. So today I stopped thinking about it and try it."

"Tamsy..."

"You can be upset with me." His expression maintained its faultless calm, but his grip on your hands tightened a degree. "But I won't pretend it was an accident. That would be dishonest, and I don't want to be dishonest with you."

He watched you with total, unbroken focus and a tenderness that caught you off guard.

"I--um... O-Okay, I guess?" you said quietly.

He smiled and it finally reached his eyes.

"Okay," he echoed, and let your hand go.

Bro Santa

"Bro, seriously, thank you for carrying all of that. You didn't have to."

He was still catching his breath, arms full of supply crates he'd insisted on hauling alone despite you and three other supporters offering to split the load.

You went up to kiss his cheek, it was something you had done a handful of times before because found it adorable how he always got flustered.

He turned to say something, and your mouth caught his in that exact moment, causing the crates to hit the ground with a crash.

His hands flew out to the sides like he'd been electrocuted, palms open, fingers spread wide. His lips were chapped and warm and they stayed frozen against yours for a moment before you stumbled backwards.

"Oh no. Oh no no no, I'm so sorry, I was going for your--"

"No, that's--It's completely... You don't need to apologize, that was my fault--I'm sorry, are you okay, did I--" He was talking over you, both hands now raking through his loose hair, face flushed from his jaw to his ears. The crates were scattered at his feet and he hadn't even glanced at them.

"Bro."

"--I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing, I'm the one who kissed you."

"Right.--Right, yes. That happened." He pressed both palms flat against his own face and took a deep breath. When his hands came down, the blush was still there, furious and blotchy, and his eyes were looking everywhere except directly at you.

"Are you... okay?" you asked.

"Just processing." He bent down to pick up a crate, fumbled it, caught it, stacked it wrong, and then just stood there holding it against his chest like a shield. "That was my first."

"Your first kiss!?"

"No! My first--" He stopped. Swallowed. Tried again. "The first time I didn't really want to apologize for being selfish."

The crate was still clutched to his chest. He looked at you for exactly one second, then looked at the ground, then up, then back at you.

"Could we..." he started, and his voice cracked to his own horror. He cleared his throat. "Could we maybe do that again. On purpose. When I'm not holding supplies."

"Yeah," you said. "We could do that."

He nodded and picked up the rest of the crates, but his blush didn't fade for the rest of the afternoon, and you caught him twice pressing his fingers to his mouth when he thought you weren't looking.

Gris Rubion

"Good work today. All of you."

Gris was wiping down his hands with a rag, post-mission grime streaked across his forearms. The other supporters had already filed out toward the showers, but he stayed behind to finish logging the cleanup report.

You stayed behind too. Partly to help, but mostly because watching Gris work in focused silence had become one of your favorite quiet indulgences.

"You should've gone with the others," he said without looking at you. "You did more than your share out there."

"So did you."

"That's the job." He shrugged and pulled his cap off, running a hand through his hair before he turned away from you.

You crossed the space between you, and aimed a quick kiss at his cheek for job well done, a thank you for watching out for Follo when that beast flanked them, and thank you for a dozen things he'd never take credit for.

He turned his head to ask for your help, when he found your lips pressed firmly to his.

For one suspended moment he was perfectly, completely still, and you could feel the tension in his jaw like a wire pulled taut before he pulled away.

"I was going for your cheek, I swear!" you squeaked, feelings your face heat up.

He stared at you, eyes held steady on your face with the same unshakable composure he brought to everything, but a muscle in his jaw twitched once.

"Okay," he said simply, letting out a small sigh.

"Okay? That's all you're going to say!?"

He crossed his arms over his chest and looked at the floor for two seconds before coming back to you.

"You missed," he said.

"I know. You moved."

"I did." He uncrossed his arms. "I didn't realize you were coming in that close. If I'd known, I would have stayed still."

"So that I would kiss your cheek." you clarified.

He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand and a faint streak of color appeared across the bridge of his nose.

"That's not what I said."

The silence between you suddenly felt different. He picked his cap up off the table, turned it over in his hands once, and put it back on. Tugged the brim low.

"I would have stayed still so it would last a bit longer." He adjusted the brim again. "On purpose next time, though... If you wanted to try again."

Follo Tunito

"Follo, your goggles are cracked."

"I know, I know, I'll fix them later." He was sitting on a crate outside the supply depot, hat in his lap, trying to retape the handle of a broom that had snapped during cleanup following a mission.

The mission had gone fine but Follo had tripped during a critical moment, and now he was trying to be useful in every possible way to make up for a failure that only he was still thinking about.

"Hey." You crouched in front of him. "--You did good today."

"I tripped."

"And then you got back up and threw a beast twice your size into Riyo's path so she could finish it."

He didn't look up. His eyes stayed fixed on the broom handle. "Anyone could've done that." he muttered.

"Anyone didn't. You did."

His hands stopped moving and he sat there holding the broken broom and the tangled tape, looking as though he wanted to believe you.

You leaned in to give his cheek a quick kiss before he could move away from it, but he turned to look at you instead.

His eyes went huge feeling your lips on his, and the tape roll fell out of his hand and bounced off the crate onto the ground.

You jerked back. "Sorry. I was--"

"Going for my cheek. Yeah. I figured." His voice came out strangled. Red swept up from his neck, blotching across his cheeks and all the way to the tips of his ears. He grabbed his cap from his lap and put it on, pulled the brim low, as if that could hide any of it.

"I'm sorry," you said again.

"Don't be." He said it too fast. Then caught himself. His hands gripped his knees. "I mean. It's fine. Things happen. People lean in and other people turn and it's just, you know, geometry. Physics. Angles."

"Are you explaining my accidental kiss with... math?"

He pulled the brim of his cap lower. Then lower. The hat was practically covering his eyes now. "I-I just need a minute because I was already having a hard time being around you today and this is not helping."

"A hard time?" you quirked a brow.

His fingers curled tighter. Under the cap, you could see him chewing the inside of his cheek.

"And now you kissed me and I liked it and that's terrifying because I'm going to find a way to convince myself I don't deserve it by tomorrow morning, and I really don't want to do that this time." He finally looked up. "So if you meant it, even by accident, could you maybe just tell me that?"

"I meant it."

He exhaled like he'd been holding his breath since the moment your lips touched his.

"Okay." He nodded. Then nodded again. "For the record, I'm not going to be normal about this for at least a week."

"Take your time."

August Stilza

"Turn left. LEEEEFT. Your other left!"

"That is my left, August."

"Then your left is wrong." He was circling you with a strip of measuring tape slung over one shoulder, pins in his mouth, hands moving fast as he tucked and adjusted the prototype uniform he made for you. His headphones were blasting something loud enough for you to hear from where you stood. Every few seconds he'd yank them down to bark an instruction, then shove them back up.

He paused at your shoulder, tugging a seam, and frowned behind his orange lenses.

"I cut this panel wider on purpose and it's sitting exactly right. See, EVERYONE told me broad construction wouldn't work for this silhouette. Everyone was wrong. I was right. As usual." He flicked the fabric with his finger like he was praising it. "Look at that drape. Perfect."

You looked down at yourself. He'd been at this for two days, barely sleeping, and the uniform actually fit you like nothing ever had before. Every curve accounted for, nothing pulling, nothing pinching.

"You really put a lot into this," you said.

"I put a lot into everything I design." He stepped around to face you, adjusting something near your collar, and his face was suddenly right there.

You leaned in and aimed for his cheek.

He turned to spit a pin into his hand.

Your mouth hit his directly.

He inhaled the remaining pin.

What followed was ten seconds of him coughing, doubled over, pounding his own chest while you grabbed his arm in panic. The pin came out. He straightened up, eyes watering, face blazing red, and pointed at you.

"DID YOU JUST KISS ME ON THE MOUTH."

"I was going for your cheek, you turned your head--"

"I ALMOST DIED AND IT'S BECAUSE YOU KISSED ME AND I THINK THOSE TWO FACTS ARE EQUALLY IMPORTANT RIGHT NOW." He yanked his sunglasses off, wiped his eyes, and stared at you with outrage, his ears were violently red. "Why would you do that while I had pins in my mouth.--Who does that?! There are PROTOCOLS."

"It was a thank-you kiss, August. For the uniform."

"ON THE MOUTH?!"

"I told you, I was aiming for your cheek."

He pressed his palm flat over his lips and held it there.

"Okay," he said behind his fingers, muffled. "I need you to leave my workshop."

"Are you mad?"

"No. I need you to leave because I need to think about this for the next six hours and I can't do that with you standing there." He put his sunglasses back on, crooked, and turned toward his worktable. "Come back tomorrow. I'll be normal by then. Probably. No promises."

Zodyl Typhon

"You haven't eaten yet today Zodyl..."

"Irrelevant." He didn't lift his eyes from the map. One finger traced the border route, the other hand flat on the table. The lantern between you made his purple eyes look like bruises.

You set the plate beside his hand anyway and he ignored it. You had been doing this for three weeks now, bringing him food, and getting silence if not a two-worded acknowledgment.

Everyone else was asleep and you were tired. He wasn't. He was never tired, and if he was, he would never admit it.

You stood to leave, and something in you just moved without consulting your brain first. You leaned down to kiss his cheek. Quick. Thoughtless. The kind of thing you'd do for anyone burning themselves down over a table at midnight.

He turned to look at you, hearing your move back towards him, and your lips hit his mouth.

He didn't move. His lips stayed exactly where they were, cool and still, and his eyes held yours from an inch away with zero readable expression.

You pulled back fast. "I didn't mean to do that."

"I know."

"And then you turned and--" you were over-explaining your actions in fear for your life.

"I did." He straightened to full height, and his coat shifted around his shoulders, yet his face continued to give you nothing. "Why were you trying to kiss me at all."

"Because you've been at this for nine hours and someone should--"

"No one should anything. Not with me." He cut the sentence clean.

"Well... maybe I just care about you...?"

The silence that followed was heavy, like something had been set on the table between you that he hadn't anticipated. He looked at the metaphorical plate you'd brought. Then at you. Then at the plate again.

"Inefficient," he said.

"What!?"

"A kiss on the cheek communicates gratitude. What you did communicates something else entirely and I don't think you meant to say it..." His eyes found yours again. "You should be more careful about what you tell me without words."

"And... if I'm not careful?"

He sat back down and picked up the food you left with his free hand and bit into it without ceremony.

"Then I'll remember it," he said, "and I'll use it against you."

"Is that a threat?"

"Go to sleep, you're too tired for this conversation to have its intended meaning."

Bundus Begalkeit

"Scoot over, old man."

"There it is again. Old man." He shifted on the rock without complaint, making room for you. The purple lantern at his hip threw strange light across the deep lines in his face. "One of these days I'm going to start believing you."

"You ARE old."

"Forty-four. That's seasoned at worst. Old is when things stop working." He flexed his prosthetic arm and grinned. "Everything still works."

You dropped onto the rock beside him and crossed one ankle over the other. This had become the routine. Every night after camp went quiet, you found Bundus at whatever edge he'd parked himself on and joined him for a bit of idle chatter.

"Quiet tonight," you said.

"Just as I like it." He tipped his hat back and looked out at the dark stretch of ground ahead. "Most people fill silence because it makes them nervous. I think silence is where the honest things live."

"You like everything."

"Not true. I dislike rushed conversations and people who lie about small things." He glanced sideways at you. "You don't do either. That's why I like sitting with you."

Smiling, you leaned over to kiss his cheek goodnight as he turned to adjust his pattern, and your lips caught his in full.

His eyebrows rose to the hat brim of his hat when you jerked back.

"Going for the cheek weren't you?" He looked at you directly. "Well--"

"I'm sorry--" you interrupted.

"Give me a second to finish what I was saying." He set the lantern down and rested his hand on his knees and took one long breath through his nose. "You just made my chest do something I genuinely did not expect and--"

"Bundus..." you interrupted again, causing him to sigh. He took off his hat and held it close to himself.

"Let me be frank" He turned to face you fully. "You sit here every night. You bring food when I'm on watch. You call me old man like its a pet name. Now this." He pointed between your face and his. "Is this kindness... or is this something different?"

"Something different... I think."

His hand came down on your knee with a nod.

"Good," he said. "Because I've been saving this spot every night and pretending I wasn't hoping you'd show up." He squeezed once, then let go. "Same rock tomorrow?"

"Same rock tomorrow." you confirmed.

TAG LIST [message if you would like to be added to the tag list]: @disturbyakuya

a/n. finally time to start posting for this amazing trash (i say as a pun), hope you enjoyed!

[velvetghoul]

Grind It

✩ Jabber Wonger

contains rough sex, pain & blood play, biting, consensual toxin use, creampie, cum play, oral sex, fingering, manhandling, aftercare

The dim, flickering light of the abandoned underbelly chamber barely cut through the haze of dust and leftover adrenaline still clinging to the air.

Jabber lay sprawled beneath you on the worn-out pile of scavenged blankets, his chest heaving, manic grin splitting his face even as fresh toxin-laced scratches bloomed across his skin like glowing veins. His Mankira rings glinted on your fingers now, warm from his body, heavy with promise, and every shallow breath he took made the locs framing his face shift like wild ropes.

You straddled his hips, thighs locked tight around him, feeling the hard, insistent press of his cock trapped between your bodies.

He was already slick with pre-cum and the faint sheen of sweat, twitching every time your nails dragged another light, deliberate trail down the center of his chest. The neurotoxin burned slow and sweet for him, making his muscles twitch and jump under your touch.

“Fuck…yeah, just like that,” he rasped, voice low and ragged, eyes half-lidded but burning up at you with pure, unhinged obsession. “Scratch deeper, pretty thing. Make it sting. I can take it.”

You smirked down at him, heat curling in your belly even as something softer flickered behind it.

He was insane, dangerous and beautiful in the most feral way—and he looked at you like you were the only thing in this trash-heap world worth craving.

You leaned in, dragging the rings slower this time, letting the toxin kiss a fresh line across one of his pecs until he arched hard beneath you, a breathless laugh tearing from his throat.

“Greedy bastard,” you murmured, sweet but edged with challenge.

He groaned, hips bucking up sharply, trying to grind himself against your heat. One of his hands shot up, rings clinking as he gripped your waist like he might flip you but you were faster.

You dug your nails in harder right over the fresh scratches, pressing the toxin deeper, and his whole body jolted. A raw, heavenly moan ripped out of him, head tipping back, locs spilling across the blankets.

“Shit—yes—hurt me nicer than they ever could,” he laughed, the sound wild and cracked with pleasure. His cock throbbed hot against your thigh. “You’re so fucking strong…my strong, sweet girl. Nobody else gets to do this. Nobody else gets me like this.”

You rolled your hips slow and mean, letting just the tip of him nudge against your entrance before pulling back, teasing. The control felt electric.

He was bigger than you, much stronger and faster but right now he was letting you win, letting you wreck him, because it made his blood sing.

“Stay down,” you warned softly, leaning down to bite the side of his neck.

Your teeth sank in until you tasted copper, warm and metallic, and his laugh melted into a moan that vibrated against your lips. He shuddered hard, one hand fisting in your hair, not pulling you away but holding you closer.

“Mmm…bite harder, baby. Draw it all out. I love when you mark me up like I’m yours.” His voice dropped, obsessive and crazy-soft. “You are keeping me, right? Say it. Tell me you won’t get bored of breaking your favorite freak.”

You licked the wound you’d made, soothing and filthy at once, then rocked down again, finally sinking onto him in one slick, tight slide. The stretch burned deliciously. He filled you perfectly and the moment you bottomed out, his hips jerked up on instinct, chasing more.

You pinned his shoulders with the rings still on your fingers, dragging fresh tingling lines down his arm as you started riding him. Every roll of your hips ground the toxin-laced scratches, making him twitch, laugh and moan all at once.

“Fuck—look at you,” he panted, eyes wild and fixed only on your face, that obsessive gleam brighter than ever. “Riding me like you own me. You do, don’t you? My pretty, feisty little monster. Shit, clench like that again and I might lose it.”

You smiled down at him, sweet despite the way you were using his own weapon to drive him higher, and gave him exactly what he wanted—another slow, mean grind while the claws dug in just a little harder.

He was completely gone for you, laughing breathlessly through the burn, body arching and trembling under every touch like it was the best kind of pain he’d ever chased.

His pupils were blown wide, eyes glassy and feral as he stared up at you like you were the only fixed point in his spinning, violent little world.

His chest rose and fell in sharp, greedy bursts, every fresh neurotoxin trail you’d carved glowing faintly against his dark skin, making his muscles twitch and jump under you like live wires. He looked completely fucking gone—high, unhinged, giggling through every moan like the pain and pleasure had short-circuited his brain straight into heaven.

And he was loud. Extremely.

“Fuuuuck—yes, baby, yes—harder, c’mon, don’t you dare go soft on me now,” he laughed, the sound cracked and breathless, turning into a shameless moan when you rolled your hips again, taking him deeper. His locs stuck to his sweat-slick forehead. “You feel so good—so tight, so wet, so perfect—shit, I’m addicted. You’re my favorite fucking drug, you know that?”

You bit your lip, trying to keep some control even as heat coiled tight and vicious in you. He was thick inside you, stretching you just right, and every slow grind you gave him made the toxin burn hotter under his skin.

You could feel how close he was to flipping the script—his hands kept twitching at your thighs, fingers flexing like he was dying to grab but you weren’t done playing yet.

You dragged the Mankira rings down one last teasing line across his abs, watching his abs clench and his cock throb hard inside you. Jabber’s head snapped back, a loud, giggly moan ripping out of him as the toxin sang through his veins.

“Too much?” you asked, voice sweet but teasing, already sliding the heavy rings off your fingers one by one.

He didn’t answer with words—just a wild, breathless laugh that dissolved into a needy whine the second the last ring left your hand.

The moment they were gone, Jabber moved. Both of his hands shot to your hips, fingers digging in bruisingly hard, yanking you down onto him with zero warning.

The sudden, rough thrust punched a sharp moan out of you—“Shit—” you hissed, nails digging into his chest for balance as he dragged you forward, forcing you to take every inch in one brutal snap of his hips.

“There she is—fuck, there’s my babygirl,” he growled, voice hoarse and giddy all at once. His grin was pure chaos, wide and unhinged, but his touch was starving.

He smacked your ass hard, the sting blooming hot as he used the grip to bounce you on his cock faster and rougher, setting a punishing rhythm that had the wet slap of skin echoing in the dim chamber.

“Louder, baby—let me hear you moan for me. You take me so fucking good—shit, you’re squeezing me like you wanna break me.”

You couldn’t help it.

The shift from slow, mean control to Jabber lost and manic beneath you, hips snapping up to meet every downward grind, hands gripping, smacking and dragging you exactly where he wanted—had heat exploding through you. You moaned loud, sweet and filthy, bracing one hand on his chest while the other tangled in his locs, tugging hard enough to make him hiss with delight.

“Yeah—pull it, pull my hair, make it hurt,” he laughed, the sound loud and cracked as he fucked up into you harder, the toxin making every sensation sharper, wilder. He was high on it, high on you, pupils blown so wide he looked drunk. “You’re so sweet when you moan like that, my feisty little monster. Nobody else gets this—nobody else gets to ride me while I lose my fucking mind for them. Only you. Only fucking you.”

He sat up suddenly, one arm locking around your waist to crush you closer, hair falling around your faces like a messy curtain as he buried his face in your neck.

His hips never stopped while his free hand smacked your ass again, then squeezed, spreading you open so he could drive even deeper. The new angle made you cry out, pleasure spiking sharp and hot, and Jabber moaned right against your skin, loud and shameless.

“Mmm—hear that? That pretty sound you make when I hit it just right…fuuuuck, I’m addicted. Can’t get enough—never gonna get enough of this tight little pussy, of you biting me and scratching me and owning me.” His voice dropped into something crazier, softer, almost reverent even while he fucked you stupid. “You’re mine, yeah? Say it—tell your crazy boyfriend he’s yours while I fuck you raw.”

You gasped, nails raking down his back hard enough to leave new red lines, and he shuddered violently, hips stuttering for a second before he laughed loud, giggly, completely lost and slammed back in even harder.

He was a junkie who’d finally gotten his favorite hit, and he was riding that high like it might kill him.

The aftershocks kept fluttering through you, lazy little pulses that made him twitch every few seconds.

Jabber was flat on his back on the old blanket, arms lazily tucked behind his head, chest rising and falling in slow, satisfied breaths.

The toxin trails on his skin had faded to a soft pink, mixing with the faint streaks of blood. He looked wrecked in the best way—grinning that wide, unhinged grin, eyes still glassy and half-lidded, completely high on whatever cocktail of pain, pleasure, and you was running through his veins.

You reached for the small bottle of water you’d scavenged earlier, tipping it gently so the last of the cold liquid slid over his chest and abs in slow, glistening trails. It washed away the thin lines of blood, cooling the heated scratches, and Jabber let out a low, giggly sigh that turned into a soft moan when the chill hit his skin.

“Mmm…that’s nice,” he murmured, voice rough and lazy, watching you with pure, obsessive adoration. “My sweet girl playing nurse after she rode me like she was trying to kill me. Fuck, I love you like this.”

You smiled down at him, as you used your fingers to gently wipe away the last traces of red.

He was still inside you, soft but thick, keeping you full and warm while you took care of him.

The contrast made everything feel softer, heavier, more intimate. You leaned down, brushing your lips against his in a slow, teasing kiss that quickly deepened—tongues sliding hot and lazy, tasting the faint copper of his blood mixed with the sweetness of whatever candy he’d stolen earlier.

Your breathing mingled, heavy and shared, chests pressed close as you kissed him deeper, slower, like you had all the time in this trash-heap world.

When you finally pulled back just enough to breathe, you felt him starting to harden again, thickening slowly inside you, stretching you once more with that familiar, delicious burn. A grin tugged at your lips. You rocked your hips just once, teasing, and watched his eyes flutter.

“You like that?” you asked, voice low and flirty, sweet with a filthy edge. “Me taking care of you after you came so deep inside me? All messy and warm, still leaking out while I clean up my favorite freak?”

Jabber’s laugh was soft this time, giggly and annoyingly charming, but his eyes were dark with hunger and something almost embarrassingly soft.

“Shit, baby…you’re gonna make me blush if you keep talking like that. Look at you—sitting pretty on me like it’s your throne, wiping blood off me like I’m some delicate thing. But we both know you’re the one who put it there.”

He shifted his arms from behind his head, one hand sliding slow and possessive down your back, the other cupping your ass, squeezing with just enough pressure to make you gasp.

“Mmm, yeah…I like it. Love it. You taking care of your crazy boy after you wrecked him? Makes me hard all over again. You’re too good to me and I’m too fucking gone for you.”

He pulled you down closer, your breasts pressing soft and warm against his chest, nipples brushing his skin with every breath.

His hand on your ass kneaded lazily, fingers digging in as he rocked up just enough to nudge deeper inside you, a lazy grind that had you both breathing heavier.

The kiss you shared next was messier—tongues tangling deep, wet sounds mixing with your shared moans, his free hand sliding up to tangle in your hair and hold you right where he wanted.

“You’re so pretty like this,” he mumbled against your lips between kisses, voice husky and giggly, still high and unhinged but wrapped in sweetness. “All flushed and sweet, tits on my chest, my cum still dripping down your thighs while you play gentle. Fuck. I’m addicted. Can’t stop wanting you. You bite me, scratch me, ride me till I’m laughing like a maniac…then you clean me up and kiss me like I’m worth something. Makes me wanna keep you forever, pretty thing. My hot woman who knows exactly how to break me and put me back together.”

You laughed softly, nipping at his bottom lip before soothing it with your tongue, your hand still tracing gentle circles over his cleaned abs.

“You’re such an annoying junkie,” you teased, voice breathy and flirty as you rolled your hips again, feeling him swell fully hard inside you once more. “But look at you… all soft and obsessed, watching me with those pretty eyes while I take care of you. It’s almost embarrassing how gone you are for me.”

“Embarrassing? Nah,” he grinned, but his touch stayed tender even as his fingers smacked your ass lightly playful, and possessive. “It’s honest. I’m your junkie, baby. You’re my favorite hit. The only one that makes the world stop feeling boring.”

He pulled you into another deep, tongue-heavy kiss, breathing hard into your mouth as his hand slid between your bodies just enough to thumb slow circles over your clit, making your breath hitch. “Keep cleaning me up, sweet girl…or don’t. I might just flip you again and fill you up a second time while you’re still being so nice to me.”

You leaned in for another slow, filthy kiss, whispering against his lips, “Then stay right here…let me take care of my favorite addict a little longer.”

You were still sitting pretty on his cock, warm and full, trading slow, deep kisses that tasted like sweat and blood and pure want. Jabber’s hands roamed lazy over your ass, squeezing, when he suddenly grinned against your mouth—wide, giggly, and way too pleased with himself.

“Alright, sweet thing… my turn.”

Before you could tease him back, he flipped you.

One quick, smooth roll and your back hit the blanket, him hovering over you with that obsessed energy crackling all around. He was still breathing hard, still high on the toxin and on you, but his grin never faded as he kissed down your body—messy, open-mouthed, leaving little bites along the way that made you arch.

“Fuck, look at you,” he murmured, voice rough and flirty, spreading your thighs wide with both hands. “All messy from me with my cum still leaking out like you couldn’t get enough. That’s so fucking hot, baby.”

You laughed breathlessly, feisty even while your body buzzed. “You’re such a greedy idiot—”

“Yeah, and you’re my favorite bitch,” he cut in with a loud, giggly moan, already lowering his head. He didn’t tease. He dove in like a starving man—tongue dragging hot and filthy through your folds, licking up every drop of his own release mixed with yours.

The wet, obscene sounds filled the dim space as he swallowed it all down, humming loud and happy against your pussy like it was the best thing he’d ever tasted.

“Shit—Jabber—” you hissed, hips jerking, one hand flying to his hair.

He laughed right into you, the vibration making your toes curl. “Mmm, say my name louder, pretty girl. I love when you get all sweet and loud for me.” His tongue circled your clit, then dipped back inside, lapping greedily, swallowing everything you gave him. He was loud about it—moaning, giggling, making sloppy, wet noises that should’ve been embarrassing but only made you wetter.

One of his hands slid up your body to pinch your nipple while the other gripped your thigh, holding you open so he could bury his face deeper. He sucked hard, then softened it with lazy licks, switching between mean and sweet until your legs started shaking.

“You taste so good with me inside you,” he mumbled, voice muffled and filthy, pulling back just enough to grin up at you. His chin was shiny, lips swollen. “My cum, your pretty little pussy… fuck, I could stay down here all night. You gonna come on my tongue, baby? Let your crazy boyfriend drink it all up?”

You moaned, sweet and feisty, tugging his hair harder. “Stop talking.”

He barked a loud laugh, eyes sparkling with pure obsession. “Yes ma’am—fuck, I love when you boss me around.” Then he was back on you, rougher, tongue fucking into you deep, nose grinding against your clit, sucking and licking like he was addicted to the taste of both of you together. His moans vibrated through you, loud and shameless, while his hands kept you pinned exactly where he wanted.

Every time you twitched or moaned louder, he got greedier—swallowing every drop, humming happily, occasionally pulling back just to murmur flirty, crazy shit against your slick skin.

“God, you’re perfect… my sweet, feisty girl who lets me be this nasty for her. Come on, baby—flood my mouth. I wanna taste how much you love your crazy man.”

He sucked your clit again and you felt that coil snap—pleasure crashing through you sharp and hot. You came with a loud moan, thighs clamping around his head, and Jabber moaned like he was the one coming, drinking down every bit of it with greedy, happy little sounds.

He didn’t stop until you were trembling and oversensitive, only then pulling back with a wet pop and that wide, satisfied grin, licking his lips like he’d just had the best meal of his life.

“Mmmm… best aftercare ever,” he laughed, crawling up your body to kiss you deep, letting you taste both of you on his tongue.

His voice dropped softer, still giggly but stupidly sweet. “You okay, pretty thing? Or you want me to flip you again and keep going till we both can’t walk?”

He nuzzled into your neck, pressing lazy kisses there, hands still roaming like he couldn’t stop touching you.

You both stayed naked for a long while after that, tangled up on the blanket like you had nowhere better to be in the whole damn Abyss.

Skin on skin, slow and lazy at first, then hot and rough again whenever one of you got bored of being sweet.

Jabber’s hands never really left you—tracing lazy patterns over your hips, squeezing your ass, pulling you in for deep, messy kisses that turned filthy fast.

He’d laugh against your mouth when you nipped his lip too hard, then flip you under him just to grind against your thigh like he couldn’t help himself.

“Fuck, you’re addictive,” he mumbled between kisses, voice rough and giggly. “One taste and I’m already twitching for round three.”

You shoved his shoulder playfully, sweet but feisty. “Give a girl five minutes to breathe, would you?”

He just smiled wider and kissed you harder, tongue sliding deep, hands rough on your waist until you were both breathing heavy and laughing into each other’s mouths again.

Eventually the high started to settle and the chill of the underground air nipped at your skin.

You sighed, stretching. “Alright, crazy boy. We should head back before someone comes looking and finds us like this.”

Jabber groaned dramatically but rolled off you, both of you finally tugging clothes back on in the dim light. You pulled your shirt down, smoothing it over your hips, while he shrugged into his jacket and started sliding his rings back onto his fingers one by one.

The second the last ring clicked into place, the neurotoxin activated with a faint shimmer. One of the sharp edges caught his own thigh through the fabric. Jabber froze mid-motion. You froze too, shirt halfway tucked in, staring at him.

He side-eyed you slowly.

You raised a brow.

Then that smirk crept across his face… and bloomed into a full, manic grin.

“No, Jabber—” you huffed, already taking a cautious step back, half-laughing, half-warned.

Too late.

His eyes lit up with that fresh toxin rush, pupils blowing wide as the familiar high slammed back into him. “Ohhh baby,” he drawled, voice cracking into a giddy laugh. “Look what you made me do. Can’t even put my own rings on without thinking about you scratching me up again.”

“Jabber, I swear if you—”

He howled loud, wild, pure chaos—then launched himself at you with a playful bark and a giggle that bounced off the walls.

“Jabber!”

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ full already? didn’t think so. my masterlist’s right here.

© ᴠᴇʟᴠᴇᴛɢʜᴏᴜʟ

𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦—𝘤𝘰𝘱𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘧𝘵, 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘰𝘳 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘪 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵.

[sorenellebrair]

ᣞ ᜓ᛫ ⋆♱ jabber’s little roommate!

cw: smut, college au, jabber and reader are childhood friends, fem!reader, intox (weed), slightly non con, corruption (i think idk) , riding, fingering, squirting, dumbification, petnames. lmk if i missed anything ;)

a/n: love jabber sm i wish my locs were as long as his :(

𖤓 Jabber had noticed it for days now.

You’d been coming home later than usual, pretty eyes baggy and tired, barely touching the takeout he left on the counter for you. Every night you were huddled up in your room with your laptop open and headphones on, mumbling about equations he’d never heard of in his life. He’d seen the way you chewed at your pouty bottom lip until it was red and sore, and he knew this wasn’t like you. At least not like the versions of you he’d known since you were kids.

It pissed him off seeing you so stressed. He followed you to this college to make sure you were always okay, but clearly you weren’t.

Tonight was no different. You paced along the small living space, repeating French phrases under your breath to practice for your upcoming speaking exam, wearing nothing but one of his old oversized tees. The hem barely skimmed the tops of your thighs.

Jabber sat on the couch, rolling a blunt for the night, the same lazy smirk on his face. He’d be lying if he said his eyes didn’t linger longer than necessary.

“Sit down, mama,” he said, voice low. He was already high on something else. “Gonna wear a hole in the floor if you keep pacing like that. Come tell me what’s up.”

You didn’t even hesitate. To you, this was normal. Jabber knew everything about you, and he was the only person you really vented to. You walked over and climbed into his lap like you had a thousand times before, straddling him while you ranted about the huge exam coming up and how worried you were about your scholarship.

Jabber lit his blunt and took a hit, but he wasn’t ignoring you. He never did. You kept talking, completely oblivious to the heavy palm resting on your bare thigh or the way his eyes kept dropping to where your shirt had ridden up. His responses were an array of “mhm,” “that’s fucking crazy,” “personally I ain’t doing allat,” and “don’t worry, you’ll show ‘em up.”

When you finally paused to catch your breath, he took a long drag and offered you the blunt.

“Try it,” he said. “Too pretty to be this wound up.”

You hesitated for only a second. It was Jabber. He always took care of you. He wouldn’t let you do anything he knew you couldn’t handle… even if you’d never smoked before.

You leaned in and let him guide the blunt to your lips. He instructed you on how to inhale properly, and you did as told, taking your first hit. You coughed your throat raw while he laughed at you.

“S’not funny, Jabber!” you croaked, crossing your arms over your chest. “Dickhead.”

The second hit went down easier. You could actually taste it this time—sweet with an earthy undertone. By the third hit, your body felt heavier and you were slumped against his chest, the knot of worry in your stomach finally loosening.

Gradually you stopped ranting. Your hands, which had been making wild gestures, now fiddled with the fabric of his shirt. Everything felt calmer, closer, softer. When you shifted in his lap, you felt him hard beneath you. Your breath caught.

Jabber didn’t tease you like he usually would. Not yet. He set the blunt aside for a moment, gripped your hips, and ground you down against him properly.

“Feel that, hm?” he murmured low in your ear. “Always get like this when you sit your pretty lil ass on me.”

You should’ve pulled away. This was Jabber—your Jabber. The same boy who walked you home from school in elementary and followed you to college just so you wouldn’t have to pay for housing because “he had it handled.” But the weed had your head fuzzy and your body warm, and when he kissed you, you couldn’t help the soft whine that left your lips as you kissed him back. It didn’t feel wrong enough to stop.

He didn’t take your oversized tee off, he knew how shy you were, but he peeled your panties off like they personally offended him. He got you ready with his fingers first, scissoring your cunt open so you could take him properly. He was patient, even while you whimpered into his chest that it was too much, even when all he wanted was to fill you up.

When he finally pushed inside you, you gasped at the stretch.

“Ride it,” he told you, voice rough. “Go on.” He gave your ass a light tap to encourage you.

You tried. You really did. But every roll of your hips sent sparks up your spine. It felt too good being this full, and you couldn’t help but stop every few seconds, thighs shaking. “M’so full, Jabber…” you whispered.

He didn’t rush you. He just reached for his blunt again, lit it, took another hit, and watched you struggle with dark, lidded eyes. All he wanted to do was fuck you nice and deep until you only remembered his name, but he liked watching you struggle, liked the way you leaked all over his lap while trying to keep a decent pace. He especially liked how embarrassed you looked every time your wetness made an obscene squelch when you dropped back down on him.

When you stalled again, thighs trembling, he lifted one hand and wrapped it around your throat—not tight, just enough to guide you. He pulled you down until your lips were almost touching.

“Open,” he said.

When you did, he exhaled the smoke straight into your mouth. You inhaled on instinct, another rush hitting you instantly. Your head spun harder.

“Keep going,” he murmured against your lips, thumb stroking the side of your neck.

“C-can’t…”

He rolled his hips up, grinding deep into your soaked pussy. When your hips instinctively ground down in response, he chuckled.

“Looks like you can just fine, mama.”

He took another hit and shotgunned the smoke into your mouth again. You inhaled without thinking. Everything felt hot and fuzzy, and you could feel him throbbing inside your tight cunt.

You ground down on him once more, the wet squelching sounds making you hide your face in his chest.

“Hear that?” he asked. You didn’t answer.

“Think she’s tellin’ me she needs this dick.”

Jabber slowly bullied his cock deeper into your sobbing hole. “This what you needed, hm?” He started thrusting harder, the sound of your whines and your ass slapping against his thighs filling the room. “Yeahhh… see? Baby’s so stressed out. Just needed this pussy played with.”

“T-too deep, Jabber,” you whined, trying to slow him down, but he didn’t let you. He kept fucking into that same spongy spot over and over.

“Got such a good pussy, mama. Ain’t that right?” A sharp slap landed on your ass as you hid your face in his neck. He grabbed your hair and pulled you upright, forcing your back to arch. “I said ain’t that right?”

You bit your bottom lip, his cock practically bruising your cervix with every deep thrust.

“Y-yes! Feels s’good—”

He let you go once you answered, and you fell back against his chest, gripping his shirt tightly. His thrusts were hard and deep, you swore he was in your tummy.

You tried to stay quiet, overly aware of the neighbors, burying your face in his neck again, but the noises kept spilling out. When he thrust particularly hard, your teeth sank into his neck on accident. You didn’t even know what came over you.

The sting made Jabber groan. His hips stuttered—he damn near lost it right then and there.

“Oh—f-fuck—”

In one motion, he lifted you off him. Before you could even process what was happening, he flipped you over, face mushed into the couch and ass in the air, and slid right back into your sore hole. He drilled into you from behind, deeper than before. The new angle knocked the wind out of you. One hand stayed planted between your shoulder blades, keeping you down while he fucked you hard and relentless.

“J-Jabber—I can’t—ohmyfuckinggod—I can’t—” Your sentences no longer had structure. You were babbling, voice muffled into the cushions. The high made everything feel twice as intense. All you could do was ramble about how deep he was while you kept leaking around him.

You were drooling into the couch, completely fucked out and dumb. You weren’t even speaking anymore, just letting out whines and whimpers that matched the rhythm of his brutal thrusts. Every time you tried to crawl away, he dragged you right back.

Your walls suddenly tightened around him.

“Yeah, she ‘bout to cum now, huh?” You could hear the sick grin in his voice. He spread you open, thrusting harder as he watched your cunt swallow him.

Your whole body locked up. A gush of wetness sprayed out around him as you let out a strangled whine, soaking his cock and the couch beneath you. Your thighs trembled violently. The sight pushed Jabber over the edge in seconds. He slammed in deep and came with a groan, hips jerking as he filled you up.

You were too high and fucked out to move, whimpering softly as he pulled out. You thought it was over….until you felt his hands caressing your ass and thighs before moving straight to your pussy.

He spread your lips apart.

“Fucking pretty ass pussy… god,” he whispered, staring at how puffy and twitchy your clit was. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to it, snickering when your hips bucked and your hole clenched around nothing, his cum slowly leaking out of you.

He tsked softly.

Gathering his cum on two fingers, he slowly pushed it back inside. You arched with a cry, body jerking from overstimulation.

“Easy, mama. Doin’ so good f’me,” he praised. You sniffled, you hadn’t even realized you were crying.

“I knowww, too much, right?” he taunted gently. “But look how good she’s sucking me in… I don’t think she’s done yet.”

Let’s just say it was a long night for you.

© sorenellebrair

[munchsama]

Hello! For a request, how about reformed-ish Jabber! working with the Cleaners (kinda like how Fu is) and crushing on a Cleaner he previously fought when he was still a Raider!

Idk I think it could be really cute, lol. Your writing is awesome, and I get so excited whenever you pop up in the tags <3

sure!

˗ˏˋRust Beneath the Rain⇢Jabber Wonger

-love is being stupid together paul valery

synopsis: in a rust-choked world of the sphere among the cleaners a soft spoken gentle worker tends wounds and repairs lives while a violent unpredictable former raider keeps returning drawn to her calm kindness what begins as enemies slowly becomes attachment as chaos meets warmth and danger turns into fragile care

content: f!reader, cute, funny, so on

a/n: the plot may or may not follow the anime/manga. if you have any suggestions or recommendations feel free to dm me. also if there are any mistakes or or things you would like me to add, reach out to me.

Rainwater slid through the overflowing gutters of the Sphere like black ink, carrying scraps of trash and oil through the narrow streets below.

The Cleaner headquarters was louder than usual tonight.

Someone was yelling downstairs. Something metal crashed. A second later, another voice shouted back with enough fury to shake the walls.

Y/N barely reacted.

She sat quietly near one of the worktables, mending a ripped Cleaner uniform beneath the glow of a weak hanging lamp. Her fingers moved carefully through the fabric, soft and patient despite the chaos around her.

Across the room, Riyo Reaper sighed dramatically from where she sat upside down on the couch.

“You know,” Riyo muttered, swinging one leg lazily over the armrest, “normal people usually panic when Jabber starts breaking furniture.”

Another loud crash echoed downstairs.

Y/N threaded the needle again. “…Maybe it was already broken.”

“That’s optimistic.”

“It helps sometimes.”

Riyo stared at her for a moment before snorting under her breath. “You’re weird.”

Before Y/N could answer, another voice drifted in from the hallway.

“Pretty sure he’s the weird one.”

Zanka Nijiku leaned against the doorway holding a half-empty drink bottle, looking deeply exhausted already.

“Jabber tried to convince Rudo that throwing a chair at someone counts as diplomacy.”

From somewhere downstairs came:

“IT DOES IF IT WORKS!”

Another crash.

Then:

“JABBER, STOP THROWING THINGS!” a familiar voice shouted.

Rudo Surebrec, clearly.

Zanka pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m surrounded by idiots.”

The door slammed open hard enough to bounce off the wall.

“There you are!”

Jabber pointed dramatically at Y/N like he’d finally located a criminal after a nationwide hunt.

He looked awful.

Dark hair damp with rainwater. Split lip. Fresh bruises along his jaw. One sleeve torn nearly to the shoulder.

And somehow he still wore the biggest grin in the room.

Behind him stood Rudo, breathing hard like he’d just run a marathon.

“I tried to stop him,” Rudo announced immediately.

“You tackled me into a wall!”

“Because you were carrying a pipe!”

“I needed emotional support!”

“That was plumbing!”

Y/N blinked quietly.

Riyo burst out laughing.

Even Zanka looked close to smiling.

Jabber dropped into the empty chair across from Y/N backwards, arms folded over the backrest.

“You got kicked out again?” Y/N asked softly.

“I did not get kicked out.” A pause. “…I was aggressively relocated.”

“That sounds like getting kicked out,” Zanka muttered.

“Traitor.”

Y/N set the uniform aside and reached for the med kit automatically.

Jabber watched her the entire time.

Openly.

Without shame.

Honestly, it would've been less noticeable if he’d screamed about it through a megaphone.

“You stare a lot,” Y/N murmured while opening antiseptic.

“You’re interesting.”

“I’m sewing.”

“Exactly.”

Rudo walked over beside Zanka and lowered his voice slightly.

“…Does he always look at her like that?”

“Yes,” Zanka answered immediately.

“It’s disturbing,” Riyo added.

“I can hear you,” Jabber said.

“We know,” all three replied at once.

Y/N shook her head faintly.

Jabber leaned closer across the chair.

When he’d first met her months ago, back when he was still fully working with Raiders, he’d expected fear.

Everyone feared him eventually.

He remembered cornering her during a fight, waiting for the panic to hit once she realized who stood in front of her.

Instead, she’d looked at the blood running down his arm and quietly asked:

“Doesn’t that hurt?”

Not angry.

Not scared.

Just worried.

It had completely short-circuited his brain.

Even now, after joining the Cleaners’ side in his own half-feral, barely cooperative way, she still treated him exactly the same.

Steady.

Warm.

Like she saw a person where everyone else saw a problem.

It made something ugly and restless twist inside his chest.

Y/N gently grabbed his chin to inspect the cut on his lip.

Jabber froze immediately.

Not visibly.

But internally? Catastrophic system failure.

“You should stop smiling with broken lips,” she said quietly.

“Can’t. My personality depends on it.”

“You have a terrible personality.”

“And yet you keep patching me up.”

Y/N dabbed antiseptic against the cut.

Jabber hissed. “Ow.”

“You literally laughed after getting hit through a wall yesterday,” Rudo pointed out.

“Yeah, but she uses scary medicine.”

Riyo made a gagging noise. “That’s revoltingly soft for you.”

“Shut up.”

Y/N looked unimpressed.

God, that expression was dangerous.

Not because it was intimidating.

Because it was soft.

Because every time she looked at him like that, he felt weirdly anchored. Like the noise in his head dulled for a second.

Like maybe he could stay still.

Which was horrifying.

“You’re bleeding through your sleeve too,” Y/N noticed.

“Hm?”

Before he could stop her, she carefully pushed back the torn fabric near his shoulder.

Bruises wrapped darkly across his skin.

Y/N’s brows furrowed immediately.

Jabber stared at her face instead of the injury.

There it was again.

That look.

That quiet concern.

Like his pain actually mattered.

He almost laughed at how badly it affected him.

“You really make that face every time I’m injured?” he asked.

Y/N blinked. “What face?”

“That one.”

“What one?”

“The…” He gestured vaguely. “Sad face.”

“I’m not making a sad face.”

“You totally are.”

“I think you hit your head too hard.”

“Probably.”

She finished wrapping the bandage around his shoulder carefully.

Her hands were gentle.

Jabber hated how much he noticed that.

Hated how he’d started looking for her first every time he returned from missions.

How the base felt irritatingly empty when she wasn’t around.

How he kept bringing her random junk from the city without thinking.

Last week it had been a small rusted charm shaped like a bird.

The week before, strange candy from a lower market stall.

Every single time he’d shoved it into her hands with something stupid like:

“Saw it. Don’t make it emotional.”

And every single time she smiled softly and thanked him like he’d handed her treasure.

It was ruining his life.

“You’re staring again,” Y/N said quietly.

Jabber blinked.

“…Your face is distracting.”

“That’s not a normal sentence.”

“I’m not normal.”

“That’s true.”

He barked out a loud laugh.

Then the emergency alarm rang.

Sharp.

Urgent.

The entire base shifted instantly.

Voices echoed downstairs.

Raiders nearby.

Enjin appeared at the doorway, coat thrown over one shoulder.

“Move,” he ordered calmly. “East sector.”

Everyone immediately straightened.

Even Jabber.

Y/N stood, but Jabber caught her wrist before she could move away.

His grin was gone.

“Stay close to the main group.”

Y/N looked surprised by the seriousness in his voice.

“I’ll be fine.”

“Yeah,” he muttered. “That’s not reassuring.”

Outside, rain hammered the streets hard enough to blur the neon lights into streaks of color.

The mission turned messy almost immediately.

Civilians trapped near collapsing structures.

Raiders attacking supply routes.

Smoke thick in the air.

Rudo and Zanka handled the front lines together while Enjin directed movement through the streets with calm precision.

Riyo darted through collapsing alleyways gathering civilians with sharp efficiency.

And Jabber…

Jabber kept ending up near Y/N without meaning to.

Or maybe fully meaning to.

Hard to tell.

At one point he landed beside her after literally throwing a Raider through a metal sign.

“You good?” he asked immediately.

Y/N nodded. “I’m okay.”

“Cool.”

Then he disappeared again before she could respond, launching himself back into the fight with wild laughter echoing through the street.

Completely insane.

Completely terrifying.

And somehow, weirdly dependable.

A sudden explosion rocked the alleyways nearby.

People screamed.

The ground shook violently beneath them.

Y/N stumbled hard as part of a damaged walkway collapsed beside her.

A Raider grabbed her arm before she could recover.

Jabber saw it happen from across the street.

Everything inside him snapped.

One second he was fighting three people.

The next he was already there.

The Raider barely had time to react before Jabber slammed him face-first into the concrete hard enough to crack it.

Another lunged toward Y/N.

Jabber moved faster.

Violent.

Brutal.

By the time the others reached the alley, the fight was already over.

Rain poured from the sky in heavy sheets.

Raiders scattered unconscious around the street.

Jabber stood in the center breathing hard, dark hair plastered to his face, one arm locked tightly around Y/N protectively.

Too tightly.

Like letting go would physically kill him.

Rudo slowed to a stop beside Zanka.

“…Wow,” he muttered.

Zanka took one look at Jabber’s expression and sighed deeply. “Yeah. He’s gone.”

Riyo appeared beside them moments later, staring openly.

“Oh, that man is finished finished.”

Even Enjin paused briefly nearby, eyes flicking from Jabber to Y/N before speaking flatly:

“Get them back to headquarters before Jabber commits twelve additional felonies.”

I hope this is what you're looking for, and again, thank you for the request. I appreciate it, and I like to write very much. It means a lot.

likes and comment are appreciated

i do write of other anime also

[alieinthemorning]

Grounded [Jabber Wonger]

@buzzprivatelife

Content: Soft Jabber Wonger, Soft, Fluff, Snuggles & Cuddles, POV Second Person, Reader-Insert

Pronouns: None

Reblogs: Let me know that you enjoy my work and want to see more, so don’t forget to like and reblog (and comment in the tags. I love seeing people’s rambles in the tags)!

This work’s concepts, plot and original characters are my own which means I do not allow any sort of creative theft nor do I allow my work to be entered into any sort of A.I. bots. Thank you for respecting my space and boundaries.

Ko-fi | Masterlist

You were finally back to the pit where you laid your head. After a month-long mission that left you in a place with no fucking connection, so you were left with only your thoughts to keep you company. All for some shit to do with his master plan. Honestly, at this point, you really didn’t give a fuck at this point. You just wanted to get into bed and hit the hardest snooze.

The base was silent, which wasn’t unusual. None of you actually remained here for long, you only showed up when you needed a moment, but mainly when the boss called for you. You were sure there were a few people lurking around.

Hurried bare steps closed in on you, and within seconds, Jabber was standing in front of you. His clothing was casual, and his hair was tied back (he must have been researching new poisons). You watched as his hands clenched and unclenched. You held back a chuckle before sidestepping him.

How cute of him to respect your little quirks. You hated being touched after a long mission, you NEEDED to shower, put some clean clothes on and have a few minutes to yourself before you spoke a word to anyone else (unless it was Zodyl’s bitch ass forcing you to report to him first. ugly ass).

You entered your room, letting a grin slip as you heard his footsteps stop. He really was so cute. You went about your routine (finding him lingering by your bed once you exited the shower). You raised a brow at him as you settled on the bed, but it all made sense when he literally tackled you.

“Oof!'“

Okay, so you were skipping your you time then. That was fine, you supposed as you made yourself comfortable against the headboard. He followed your movements as if you’d disappear if he didn’t. He settled between your legs with his head planted firmly against your stomach. Your hands found his scalp and back, scratching in small circles. His nails dug a little deeper into your thighs as his face pushed more into your stomach.

And then, you were plunged into quiet solace. You were on the verge of falling asleep when he spoke,

“…I missed you….my calls weren’t going through. At first, I thought you were just busy, but then a few days passed. So, I asked Cthoni about, and she said that you were in some place where chokers can’t connect. I was so fucken pissed, man—why would the boss send you to a place like that alone? I know he don’t care about us—hell, we don’t even care about each other, but…some of us got a little bit of feeling left, you know?

I was scared, ma. I was so fucken scared.”

You could feel the tears wetting your shirt, and that really broke your heart.

“Then I won’t leave you alone again, okay, J?” you promise as you lifted his head to wipe his tears, “We’ll force Zodyl to always pair us up!”

He chuckled, “Thanks for keeping me grounded.” you smiled, happy to be the solid presence in his world filled with trash and strife. “I love you, ma.”

“I love you too, J.”

I just can't help but have a man cry lol

Thanks for requesting~

Ko-fi | Masterlist

[odyver]

alright I've got to do some quick math to explain attitudes towards AI to my boss.

we're looking to create an AI policy, and when we were talking about this, my boss (older millennial) was genuinely shocked to hear that younger people do not (seem) to view AI positively (a la the recent commencement speakers being booed)

please rb for larger sample size!

Question 1/3

What is your age, and do you feel AI is a net positive or net negative in our lives today?

under 18, AI is a net positive

under 18, AI is a net negative

18-29, AI is a net positive

18-29, AI is a net negative

30-45, AI is a net positive

30-45, AI is a net negative

46-60, AI is a net positive

46-60, AI is a net negative

over 60, AI is a net postive

over 60, AI is a net negative

Voting ended onJun 11

[odyver]

Question 2/3

How often do you visit or interact with museums/archives (whether in person or online)?

Frequently (multiple times per month)

Often (multiple times per year)

Occasionally (a couple times per year)

Rarely (once every couple of years)

Never :(

Voting ended onJun 11

[odyver]

Question 3/3

If you saw a museum was using AI in exhibits, marketing, research, etc., would you be more or less inclined to visit that museum?

under 18, more inclined

under 18, less inclined

18-29, more inclined

18-29, less inclined

30-45, more inclined

30-45, less inclined

46-60, more inclined

46-60, less inclined

over 60, more inclined

over 60, less inclined

Voting ended onJun 11

Thank you for helping with this data collection. Please rb for as big a sample as possible!

🫶