#*kicks this outta drafts*

[vrieseasees]

Acesan Ace not immune to the zosan ship? (Ace calm down that Law is possessive)

Not sure why I did this sorry haha

[jestersdlc]

why are the slenderfolk buffer then me??? This is an outrage! Slender is in the name not buff folk!!! >:(

[transannabeth]

there's a line george says just before shooting gatsby that literally had the audience gasping and i brought it up to my sister in the car and she was like 'i didn't even hear that'. i'm shaking her.

[noes-pillow]

the phrase "bite me" could really cause some issues in the VNC universe...

[soluversworld]

LOVE BITES - REDACTED X G.N READER (SMUT)

Genre: SMUT - (SHORT ONE, IT WAS A DRAFT!)

Summary: — Just a small biting session, he's yours to mark after all <3

( Reader is a g.n!)

Content Warning : Nsfw jokes, biting, marking!

Did not proof read/Rushed.

You’re sitting on the edge of the bed, minding your own business. Kind of. Kicking your feet a little, waiting for the kettle to finish in the kitchen. The sheets are rumpled from earlier and still warm with him—REDACTED had just gotten up to change his shirt, but apparently your moment of peace is about to be brutally interrupted.

Because there’s that sound.

That slow drag of socked feet across the floor.

You don’t even get a chance to turn before his arms wrap around your waist, slipping under your shirt just enough to chill your skin.

“Hello, Angel,” he mutters, voice half-rasped and half-mocking, still sleepy-soft. “Missed me?”

He nuzzles into your back, hair falling over your shoulder as he breathes you in like you’re oxygen. You can feel the weight of him leaning into you, his chin slotting over your shoulder, his body folded around yours like he’s trying to fuse into your spine.

And that’s when you strike.

You tilt your head, just enough, and bite his arm. Not hard. But enough to sink your teeth in and make a sound escape his throat.

“Oi—! Angel—!” he wheezes, dramatic and delighted all at once. “Y’fuckin’ feral. Thought y’died n’ got replaced with a lil’ possum.”

You bite again, on his forearm this time.

He doesn’t even pull away. Just laughs, arms hugging you tighter like you’re his favorite chew toy.

“Nnnh—yeah, okay, that’s cute,” he drawls, head flopping forward to press against your neck. “Takin’ lil nips outta me like you’re starvin’. Go on, then. Eat me up. I’ll be real sweet.”

You blow a raspberry on his arm instead, which makes him grunt a laugh into your shoulder.

“You’re obsessed with me,” you say sweetly, chomping down again.

“Damn right,” he groans, happily, melting into your back. “Got a whole fuckin’ addiction. Call it biter’s syndrome. Symptom one: me lettin’ you chew me like jerky and likin’ it.”

You twist slightly and he follows like a shadow. Still wrapped around you. Still clinging.

You try to pull away.

“Nope,” he says instantly, arms caging you in. “Warm. Soft. Mine.”

“You're gonna have bite marks.”

“Good. Proof I’m yours. Now n’ gimme another one.”

You sink your teeth into his neck again.

He moans.

Your mouth finds the side of his neck, warm skin flushed from all the biting and nuzzling. You don't think — you just lean in and bite.

Not enough to break skin, but enough to make his breath stutter.

"Ahn—fuck," REDACTED huffs, half-laughing, half-aching. His hands squeeze around your waist like instinct. “Y’really like chewin’ me up, huh, Angel?”

You feel him twitch against your back — you don’t say anything. You just kiss the spot you bit, tender, like an apology and a tease.

He leans into it, head tilting to give you more.

And then—

He bites back.

Right into the curve of your neck. His teeth sink in with a groan so low it vibrates against your spine.

"Agh—!" you gasp, jolting slightly.

He doesn't stop.

You twist in his arms, facing him now, and he’s grinning, lazy and smug and flushed all at once.

“You started it,” he mumbles, lips brushing your cheek. “Bit me like I was yours. Guess that means you’re mine too now, huh?”

His voice dips lower, slurring soft and obsessed. “Gonna leave lil’ love marks all over y’if you don’t stop makin’ those sounds.”

You're both breathing heavier now. Close. Too close. His thigh slotted between yours, his fingers slipping under your shirt like he owns every inch of you already.

You drag your lips to his jaw, his throat, his collarbone. Kiss after kiss after kiss, slow and reverent where you bit him.

And he—he melts.

REDACTED just melts, arms loose but trembling from how much he wants you.

"You’re real soft like this," you whisper.

"Only for you," he breathes. "Shit, Angel—kiss me again."

You do.

It’s messy now. Hands and mouths, all spit and heat and want. He kisses like he’s starving. Like you’re the last thing he’ll ever taste. Tongue greedy, fingers needy, voice ragged in your mouth.

Just groans against your lips, “Fuck… y’undo me so easy.”

Then, quieter, right in your ear—

“Don’t stop, Angel. I’ll be real good for you. Let you bite me wherever you want.”

You don’t stop.

Neither does he.

His shirt up over his head, lets you trail your fingers over his stomach, his ribs..

His hands settle at your hips, warm and possessive.

You’re both bare from the waist up now. Skin against skin. His heartbeat thumps wild under your palm. He looks wrecked just from kissing you.

“C’mere,” he drawls, voice thick with need, sleep, devotion. “Wanna feel all of you, Angel. Wanna make you mine for real.”

You straddle him again. This time it’s slower. You rock your hips, teasing, drawing soft gasps from his mouth. His nails press little crescents into your thighs. He’s flushed pink, black hair messy and damp from your earlier bath, lips swollen from your kisses and bites.

When he finally sinks into you, his moan is low and broken.

“Fuck—y’feel so good,” he mumbles into your shoulder, trembling just a little. “So warm f’me. So sweet. So good…”

You whisper his name. Kiss his jaw. Hold his face like he’s something fragile.

And then you ride him.

Slow, deep, teasing. Grinding down hard just to hear him whine. His hands grip you like he’s drowning. His head tips back, exposing the bite mark you left earlier.

He’s so fucked out already, but still babbling.

“Y-you like doin’ this to me, huh? Like makin’ me melt?” His voice breaks into a soft moan when you roll your hips just right. “T-take it, Angel. Take all of me. I’ll give you anything—everythin’—just don’t stop…”

You kiss him to shut him up, and he melts again. He always melts when you kiss him.

The way his voice goes hoarse when you praise him. The way he begs when you speed up. The way he clings, legs shaking, trying to keep it together when he’s already falling apart.

You both finish with messy gasps and soft curses. His arms don’t let go. He wraps them around you so tight it’s like he’s trying to fuse your bodies together.

He cleans you both with sleepy fingers, fumbling for a tissue or towel, mumbling about how you ruined his soul and maybe also the sheets.

You lie back, heart still fluttering, and REDACTED collapses onto your chest.

“Mmph…” he mumbles, face buried in your neck. “Y’really did all that jus’ to make me sleep better, huh?”

You run fingers through his hair, kissing his temple.

“Maybe.”

He hums. “Wanna sleep in you forever.”

You laugh softly. “That’s not anatomically possible.”

He grins, lazy and happy and wrecked. “Then I’ll just glue myself to you. Keep you in my arms. Forever. You’re warm. Smell good. Bite good, too…”

You swat him playfully.

He only holds you tighter.

Your hand strokes his back while he nuzzles under your chin, completely relaxed, completely yours. His eyes are half-lidded, lips curled into a sleepy smile.

"Y’real sweet t’me,” he mumbles. “Don’t deserve you. But I’m not givin’ you back.”

"You don’t have to," you whisper.

He makes a soft noise. A mix between a sigh and a purr.

Let's just say you had a long time (I'm edgying some ppl I will share this part of the fic later!)

Morning light slips through the curtains.

You shift under the covers with a low, exhausted sigh. Every muscle in your legs complains. Your hips ache. Your thighs are weak. And as for walking? Yeah, that’s not happening anytime soon.

And of course—of course—REDACTED knows it.

“Mornin’, Angel,” he purrs, already wide awake, lips brushing the shell of your ear. His arms are still wrapped around you, one leg tangled over yours like he’s worried you might escape.

As if you even could.

You groan. “...You broke me.”

He laughs—soft, smug, and delighted. “Damn right I did.”

He lifts his head and stretches lazily, showing off the faint red marks scattered across his neck and collarbone. A constellation of lovebites and claw scratches—all yours.

He admires them in the mirror, even turns his head left and right. “Y’really tried to eat me alive, huh?” he smirks. “Don’t blame you. Look at me. 'm delicious.”

You throw a pillow at him. He just catches it, still grinning.

Then he turns back to you, crawling over with that playful, filthy glint in his sleepy eyes.

“But y’know what I like more than these?” He taps a finger to one of the love bites. “The way you limp when I ruin you just right. Don’t even need a leash, you barely movin’ anyway.”

You try to swat him again but he grabs your wrist, gently, possessively, kissing your fingers before pulling your hand to his lips.

Then—without warning—he plays with you.

Just his fingers. Soft and slow. A cruel tease.

“You feel that, Angel?” he murmurs, kissing your temple while he touches you just right. “Still so sensitive from last night. You’re so good f’me. Always so sweet an’ warm an’ mine…”

You whimper, already melting, already clinging.

His breath hitches when you grind helplessly against his hand.

“Y’can’t even walk…” he whispers against your neck. “And you’re still lettin’ me play, huh? God, you’re perfect…”

He bites your earlobe—just gently. “Don’t worry. I’ll carry you everywhere today. Gotta take care of my precious angel...”

“Awahhh—! REDACTED—!”

Your voice breaks, breath catching as his fingers move faster, slick and greedy, curling just right with every stroke. You’re trembling, overstimulated and needy, your thighs twitching around his wrist as he groans low against your skin.

“Thaaaat’s it…” he drawls, mouth right by your ear. “God, listen to you, Angel. Cryin’ so pretty for me already.”

He kisses your cheek, sweet and slow, while his hand never stops.

“You love when I do this, huh?” he coos, half-laughing as your back arches. “Poor thing… Can’t even walk ‘cause of me, an’ I still can’t keep my hands off ya.”

You shake under him, a soft sob escaping when he presses harder.

“Hahhh— REDACTED—too much—!”

He stills, just for a moment. Just to make you beg.

“…Y’really want me to stop?” he whispers, brushing his thumb exactly where you’re twitching the most.

You grab at his shoulders, desperate.

“N-No—!”

He grins against your skin. That’s all he needed.

“Mmm… knew it. Knew you liked bein’ ruined.”

And then he speeds up. Rougher now. Deeper. Lazier but filthier, like he’s enjoying dragging it out—like he could keep going forever just to watch you break again and again under him.

You cry out, trembling in his lap as the wave builds and shatters through you.

“Y’sound so cute when you beg,” he moans, kissing the tears from your cheeks. “Gonna keep you like this forever—ruined and mine.”

You’re shaking.

Barely held together in his lap, your fingers tangled in the loose collar of his shirt, your mouth parted as if you’re still trying to catch the last breath he stole from you.

And REDACTED? He doesn’t stop. Not until you finish again—completely.

You collapse forward, your forehead resting against his neck, gasping, spent, body melting in his arms like you’ve got no bones left at all.

He hums, deep in his chest, kissing the top of your head like he didn’t just break you on his fingers alone.

“There ya go, Angel… s’good for me, always so good.”

You don’t answer. You can’t—not with the way your heart’s racing, your lungs still trying to remember how to work. But he doesn’t need words. Not from you.

He tilts your chin up and kisses you slow.

Sloppy. Sweet. Lingering.

Your lips move together like you’ve got all the time in the world. Like he’s starved for you. Like he wants to memorize the taste of your tongue, even now when you’re dazed and twitchy and soft.

“Mhm… gimme another,” he mumbles between kisses, nuzzling you like a lovesick stray. “One more. Gimme.”

You kiss him again.

He hums like he’s satisfied—but still greedy—his fingers finally trailing away, only to wrap around your waist, dragging you closer so he can rest his cheek on your shoulder.

“Y’cry so cute, Angel…” he whispers against your throat, where the sweat still clings. “Might make you do it again later. Y’don’t mind, do ya?”

He nuzzles. He kisses your jaw.

You're still gasping softly, thighs twitching as you try to pull yourself together—but he won’t let you go. REDACTED’s arms cage you in, lips dragging slow down your neck, tongue dipping low before—

Teeth.

He bites again, just under your jaw this time, enough to make you whimper out loud.

“‘S cute, y’know that?” he breathes, voice still lazy, wrecked. “Now we match…”

He kisses the bite, then pulls back to look at you. His smirk is devastating. “All over your neck… all over mine…”

You can see them—love bites blooming across his collarbone, dark marks like bruised petals. He didn’t stop you earlier when you were grinding down on him, panting against his throat, biting the shit out of him just to shut him up.

“You said I could,” you whimper defensively, reaching up to tug his hair, still flushed and trembling. “You said I could, REDACTED…”

He huffs a soft, breathy laugh—not mocking, but amused. Filthy. Adoring.

“I did, didn’t I?” he drawls, leaning in like he’s gonna kiss you again—then pauses, lips brushing your ear. “But you promised, Angel…”

His teeth graze your earlobe now. “Y’didn’t say you were gonna pull my hair like that…”

You gasp, trying to squirm, but he’s got you anchored to his lap.

“I—”

“Ah ah,” he cuts you off, voice thick with that lazy sin, hand slipping lower to grab a handful of your ass, giving it a possessive squeeze. “Too late. Y’got me all riled up again…”

He grins against your skin as you whimper louder.

"Y'feel that?" he presses closer, his words a growl now. "That's what y'did to me, sweetheart. Gonna take responsibility for it or just cry again like last time?"

You hide your face in his shoulder.

He laughs—soft, teasing, unrelenting.

“You’re gonna, huh?” he taunts, low and sweet. “Cry real pretty while I ruin you all over again... ‘Cause I’m not done yet.”

And he wasn’t. Not by a long shot....

You didn't know...You only remembered kissing him and being one with him.

It always felt right.

Your bodies.. just connected too...

It's just longing.

You loved him, He loved you.

He loved you so much..

You’re both a mess. Tangled sheets, bitten lips, flushed skin. The room is still thick with heat, the air tasting faintly of sweat, sighs, and each other.

REDACTED lies back with a pleased groan, one arm slung over his eyes, the other lazily pulling you to his chest. He’s still a little breathless—and very, very smug.

he murmurs, voice rough with afterglow. “Bitin’ me like I’m a fuckin’ snack…”

You whine into his collarbone, cheek resting against his skin. “You liked it…”

He grins wide, even as he shifts to lift his arm and peek at you—messy, glowing, tangled in his lap. His fingers find your hips again, tracing the spots he held tight, kissed deeper, marked softer.

And then he sees them.

The little constellation of love bites down your neck.

The matching ones along his own.

He sits up on one elbow just to look—tilts your chin so gently to the side.

he whispers, like he can’t believe it. “All mine.”

You watch as his eyes take it all in—possessive, but soft. So soft. He leans in and presses a kiss over one of the bruises he left, so slow you shiver.

Then, cheeky and low: “Matchin’ now, huh?”

You nod, a little dazed, and whisper back, “I like it…”

He smiles. Not his usual crooked, cocky smirk. This one is quieter. Real.

“Yeah? Y’like bein’ all marked up for me, Angel?”

You nod again.

He nuzzles your jaw, then your throat. You feel him murmur the words against your skin.

You do. You always do.

He gets up just to grab a warm cloth and wipe you down gently—almost reverently. The gentleness of it makes your chest ache. Every stroke, every little touch, is careful. Adoring.

Once you're clean and in a fresh tee (one of his, of course), he pulls you back into bed and tucks you under the covers. You cling, and he doesn’t resist. Just laughs softly, burying his nose in your hair.

“I ain’t goin’ nowhere, Angel,” he says.

Then whispers, half-asleep, half-drunk on love, “M’gonna leave every mark on ya I can… but only if you do the same.”

You kiss his shoulder. He hums. The room still smells like him.

You're both quiet for a long time—until he opens one eye, glancing down at your neck with a tired, satisfied grin.

“Y’think anyone at the Library's gonna notice?”

You bury your face deeper into him.

“…Good,” he says, smug and half-asleep again. “Wanna see ‘em jealous.”

[phatm0th]

Reader catches Brahms touching himself. They bang!!

Hiii!! It has been a while since i wrote a full fanfic! I’ve been busy with college. I haven’t come across a freaky brahms fic in a while so i figured this would be the lucky post that made it outta the drafts. Anyways yeah, not my best work but im ovulating. What can you expect? This is just gratuitous smut. Sorry. I hope you like it anyway!

As always, reader is written as chubby but all can enjoy! ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/64812139

MDNI! NSFW. 18+

You discovered Brahms all on your own. With your clothes and food from the fridge going missing and creepy bumps in the night and the undeniable, chilling feeling of being watched constantly you were able to put two and two together. You weren’t sure what to do at first but you surmised that his parents weren’t coming back and you were starting to like him and the financial stability so you stayed.

After months of living with him you like to think you made progress with him. He gained a bit of weight because you were cooking him meals fit for an adult man. He became softer, belly hairy with a layer of muscle underneath. He was better about his hygiene, too. He wore clean clothes and showered. His hair had grown a bit longer and it wasn’t greasy and tangled anymore. You convinced him to sleep in an actual bed in an actual bedroom rather than a raw mattress in the fucking walls. He willingly helped with household chores. You showed him some of your hobbies so that he had something to do while you were away or just busy.

Somehow, it worked. It was all so domestic.

One night, you were half asleep as you heard the bedroom door open. You felt a flash of panic, remembering the time before, when you weren’t aware of his existence. “Brahms?” you called, voice thick with sleep. “Can’t sleep,” he said in that small voice. You slowly sat up and patted the bed, inviting him in.

Within the next few minutes he lay beside you, soft snores muffled by his mask. He had never crossed that boundary before. There had been times when he fell asleep in the library while he watched you read, sure. But this was more intimate. You turned your back to Brahms, trying not to stare at his sleeping form.

It wasn’t that you didn’t find Brahms attractive. You did, especially after “fixing” him. There were just so many risks. What if he didn’t like women your size? What if he didn’t like women at all? What if he saw you as a maternal figure, despite you being close in age? If you decided to tell him how you felt, and it wasn’t reciprocated, what would happen? He would clam up. Likely kick you out, or go back into the walls.

You ignored your feelings for him as you did with every other crush and infatuation in your life, and tried to go back to sleep.

You woke up to a sliver of sunlight on your face. You were going to get up and adjust the curtains, planning to go back to sleep for another hour or two, but you found it hard to move. You looked down and saw his large hands wrapped around your soft tummy. You felt his slow, deep breaths against your neck and turned your head to see his peaceful face, sans mask, which you assumed he placed on the nightstand.

You didn’t mind this. You rolled over to face him so the sun wouldn’t be in your face, and went back to sleep.

You were stirred awake again, this time from the bed shaking, just barely. His voice was deep and shaky. You could tell he was trying his best to be quiet but he couldn’t help tiny moans and whines from escaping. His back was turned to you and you saw his hips slowly moving back and forth.

“Brahms?” His hips stilled. He became as quiet as a mouse. “Brahms I know what you were doing.” You felt a powerful throb in between your thick thighs, wondering if you caused him to feel that way.

“Please don’t be mad, I couldn’t help it!” he whined guiltily. “It’s fine Brahms, it’s natural.” You hoped it was because of you, but realistically it was probably just morning wood. You imagined his prudish parents made him ashamed of his body as he grew up. You wanted to reassure him, let him know he was safe with you.

After a few beats of silence he said, “You were just so pretty while you were sleeping.” Your pussy throbbed again. “Look at me Brahms.” He didn’t move. “You can put the mask back on if you need to, but I want you to look at me.” He put his porcelain mask back on and then sat up to face you, head hung in shame. You considered your next words carefully. “I uh, I thought you looked pretty while you slept too. I wanted to do what you were just doing.” He lifted his head and stared at you, his breath quickening. You wished you knew what he was thinking.

“Think you’re pretty all the time,” he said quietly.

Your eyes moved from his masked face to his crotch, where he was still rock hard. “You can touch me, Brahms.” His breath hitched. Tentatively, he placed his hand on your thigh, testing the waters. His fingers stroked across your flesh gently. You held your breath.

Before you knew what was happening you were on your back with him hovering above you, chest rising and falling heavily. His hand hovered above your large breast. “Hm?” he wordlessly asked for permission, too afraid to speak. “Yeah. Yes. Please,” you said.

His warm palm groped you over the fabric of your sleep shirt. He groaned as he watched the fat spill from around his hands. He could feel your nipple harden against him. “Want… I want…” he cut himself off with a shuddering breath. Brahms pulled his mask off and placed it back on the nightstand. “Kiss me, Brahms.” He obeyed, sighing and licking into your mouth.

You knew from the beginning that Brahms was a needy man. In those first few weeks, he would throw tantrums whenever you had to leave. He was clingy. This was something completely different, though. He touched and sniffed and licked every part of you he could reach as if you were going to disappear into thin air.

Brahms ground his sizable cock between your thighs as he buried his face in your neck. You were sure you both could cum like this, but you were needy too.

You said his name gently, trying to get his attention. He either didn’t hear you or didn’t care as he continued to rub himself over your clothed pussy. “Brahms!” you yanked his head back by his hair so you could look him in the eyes. He moaned, the desperation obvious on his face.

“I need more, okay?” He nodded and moved back, eyes fixated on the boxers you slept in. Tentatively, he rubbed you with his hand over the underwear, effectively holding the core of you. He watched a small wet spot form before he pulled the boxers off of you and dropped them to the floor.

“I’m most sensitive here, Brahms,” you grabbed his hand and led it to your swollen clit.

He swiped the bundle of nerves with his thumb, your hips jerking in response. He moved his hand a bit lower to collect some of your wetness. You expected him to rub it onto your clit but he instead brought the hand to his mouth, tasting you.

His breathing deepened as you watched a drop of precum bead at the head of his painfully hard cock through his pants. He grabbed both of your thighs and pushed them further apart, bringing his face closer to your cunt. “You taste so good,” he muttered.

Tentatively, he licked you from hole to clit, savoring the taste again.

He had no finesse, no technique, he didn’t even think to use his hands at all other than to hold your thighs open for him as he devoured you. What he lacked in experience he made up for in enthusiasm. He moaned and whimpered as he ate you out, and ground his cock down into the bed, desperate for some sort of friction. Without warning he moved his hands from your thighs to up under your fat ass, lifting your hips in the air so he could get even closer to your cunt.

He switched from licking into you to sucking on your clit, relishing in your shaky moans. He liked feeling like he was doing a good job.

All of a sudden it was too much, and you felt that familiar coil in your stomach. Your hands shot to his soft hair again and you said, breathless, “Brahms im gonna cum pleasedontstop.” He licked and sucked in every way he knew how, trying his best to get you there. Within seconds you were cumming on his face, pulling his hair just because you needed something to grab. He licked you into over-sensitivity, and didn’t stop until you pushed him away.

He did very well, one of these days you’d have his head between your legs for hours, showing him the best ways to please you.

He sat up on his knees, deciding for himself that he needed his pants off that very moment. His cock bounced as he roughly yanked them down and, Oh. You didn’t know what you were expecting. You caught a few glimpses of it under his pants just now but they didn’t do it justice. You weren’t even sure if it would all fit, especially since you were out practice. But by god, you would try.

You sat up too, but since he was still standing on his knees, your face met his chest. You coaxed hm to take his shirt off, admiring his stocky physique.

“May I touch you, Brahms?” He grabbed your hand and led it directly to the tip of his cock. You wanted to play with his tits, get him off slowly, run your nails up and down his torso, but you felt bad for how long he stayed denied. next time, you thought. Instead, you grabbed his hardness, feeling it throb in your hand. His hips made small, abortive thrusts as you slowly stroked him. You looked up at his face and saw his lips were pressed in a thin line. You could tell he was holding back from fully fucking your fist.

You decided that you both waited long enough, and laid on your back, opening your legs again for him. You pulled his cock towards you, edging him closer to your wet heat. “Please?” he begged, pushing his dick against you. You nodded, unwilling to wait any longer.

He held his cock and slowly guided it inside you. You felt the sting almost immediately. You placed a hand on his stomach, stilling him. He whined. my bratty boy, you thought. “Brahms, you’re very big. If you don’t go inside slowly, it will hurt.” He nodded obediently as he pushed inside, careful to not hurt you. The slow stretch was a bit more pleasurable than it was painful, and all you could think about was how you had never felt this full before.

After a few moments, Brahms bottomed out inside you. He swallowed, waiting on your okay to move. You stared up at his face, brows furrowed and lips pouting. You wondered how long you could keep him here inside you, not allowed to move. A very long time, you imagined.

“You can move now.” He sighed loudly with relief. You probably would’ve laughed if the air hadn’t been punched out of you as soon as he moved. It was gentle and slow, but impossibly deep. You clenched around him involuntarily, he yelped, startled at the sensation. “Oh, I’m sorry sweet boy, I didn’t mean to do that, I couldn’t help it.” You felt him pulse inside you as his breaths came it short, loud puffs. He thrusted his hips again, more powerful this time. It was your turn to yelp then, pleasantly surprised by his roughness.

At first, you thought that perhaps you needed some gentle treatment. It had been a while, after all, and he was the largest you’d ever taken. But something feral and eager in the back of your mind wormed its way to the forefront of your thoughts. You wanted it hard.

“Faster Brahms!” He made a choked off sound, excited at the prospect of getting to drill into you like he always wanted. Brahms followed your command immediately, shifting his position slightly so that he could move easier. The air was getting punched out of you with each thrust. The pudge of his stomach dragged deliciously across your sensitive skin.

“Good boy!” It just sort of slipped out. You hadn’t meant to say it. But the effects were almost immediate. “Hunh?” he moaned, confused and unbelievably turned on. His hips stilled as he stared at you, panting, eyes wild. He grabbed your thighs and pushed them up against your stomach, folding you in half. He leaned over you, impossibly close, both of your shaky breaths mingling with each other. He rubbed himself against your core for a bit. The sound of your slick mixing with his precum was obscene and maddening. Part of you just wanted him to do as he pleased, use your body as his very own fleshlight. But you were waiting for him to beg. At least this time.

“Please can I? I’ll be good,” he asked, voice shaky. What did that even mean in this situation? you wondered. Perhaps what he meant to say was “I’ll make you feel good?” That wasn’t what he said though. He said he’d be good. For you. How could you refuse something like that? You nodded wordlessly, lifting your hips incrementally. He pushed his cock inside you slowly, slowly, wanting to savor every wet and velvety inch of your pussy.

When he finally bottomed out he somehow felt even bigger than he did before with this new angle. It was as if he was in your stomach. In your ribs. In your throat. You felt dizzy. His grip on your chubby thighs tightened as he began thrusting again, starting immediately with a punishing pace. He didn’t pull out very far in this position, unwilling to fully leave your warmth for even a second. It was like he was trying to fuck a baby in you, you thought deliriously. Shit. Where’d that thought come from? It got you dangerously close to cumming and the way he was constantly rubbing against your clit because of your proximity wasn’t fucking helping. You weren’t going to last very long, though you wouldn’t mind being put into a mating press like this for hours at a time.

You needed to cum again. You needed him to cum with you. In you.

You started deliberately clenching around his length, relishing in the way it made his hips stutter and his voice crack. “More, Brahms. Be good for me.” He made a startled sound but didn’t stop his hips for even a moment. He redoubled his efforts, pile driving into you like he hated you. The combined stimulus of his fucking and the sounds of his desperate moans and the vulgar plap plap plap of your hips slamming together and the god damned breeding thing had you teetering over the edge.

You realized then why Brahms hadn’t cum yet. You hadn’t given him permission. You tightly gripped the hair on the back of his head, pulling it so that his ear was right next to your mouth. You licked his ear and felt him shudder. “You fuck me so well, Brahms. Wanna cum now?” He nodded eagerly with his hair still gripped in your palm. The sting of it made him shudder. “Can I? Can I? Can I?” he chanted, making sure to fuck you in the way they you needed. “Cum. Cum in me like the good boy I know you are.” That did it for him. Two more sloppy thrusts and his hips stilled, cock deep inside you. His voice keened as he let out an impossibly large load inside you. You followed close behind, feeling your pussy ripple around him.

You both struggled to catch your breath. Your mind felt foggy and all you could focus on was his comfortable weight on top of you. And the fact that he hadn’t softened, still hard and pulsing inside you.

Yes, you had become addicted to him just that quickly, and he hadn’t softened always been addicted to you.

[daryltwdixon]

So could you write a pretty angst-y fic where Joel and reader are in an established relationship and they've been settled in Jackson for a while, taking part in patrols and all. And one day, reader and Tommy go out on patrol and they're taking longer than they should to come back and Joel is anxiously waiting by the gate. Then he sees Tommy approaching on his horse with reader's limp body in his arms and a scared look on his face. Reader's been badly hurt while saving Tommy's life. Joel thinks he's gonna lose her but thankfully she recovers (so happy ending!!!)

Thanks! I hope you can understand the general idea, English is not my first language so bear with me lol

first ever Joel request :') thank you anon!!!! had this in the draft for the past few days

The air bit at Joel’s face as he paced near the gate, his boots grinding against the frost-touched dirt. The sun had started to dip, its light staining the snow a faint amber, and still, there was no sign of them. He glanced at Maria, who stood a few feet away, her arms crossed and her expression tight.

“They’re late,” Joel muttered, more to himself than her.

“Give them time,” she replied evenly, though her voice carried no conviction.

Every nerve in Joel’s body felt like it was stretched thin, pulled taut by the silence. He wasn’t the type to panic—he’d seen too much, lost too much that he'd grown a thick skin—but this was different. You were different. And Tommy... Hell, he couldn’t let himself think about it.

When the sound of hooves finally broke the stillness, Joel’s head snapped toward the horizon. Relief flickered in his chest, but it was fleeting. The sight of Tommy riding toward the gates, his horse kicking up fresh snow, sent his stomach lurching.

You were slumped against Tommy’s chest, your body limp as a rag doll.

Tommy’s face was pale, his jaw tight. “Open the gate!” he shouted, urgency sharpening his voice.

Joel’s feet moved before his brain could catch up, his heart thundering like a war drum. His hands felt clumsy as he helped Maria shove the gate open, the cold metal biting into his palms.

“What the hell happened?” Joel demanded, his voice rising as Tommy reined the horse in.

“She—she saved me,” Tommy stammered, his breath fogging in the cold. “Raiders. She pushed me outta the way, Joel. Got hit bad—”

Joel didn’t hear the rest. His eyes were locked on you, on the blood soaking through your jacket and the way your head lolled against Tommy’s shoulder. He reached up, his hands trembling, and carefully took you from Tommy’s arms.

“Jesus, no—no, no, no,” Joel muttered under his breath, his voice cracking as he cradled you against him. You were too still, your face too pale, and the warmth of your blood seeped through his clothes.

Maria was shouting something about getting a stretcher, about calling for a doctor, but Joel barely registered it. He carried you toward the infirmary, his steps uneven and frantic.

“C’mon, baby,” he whispered, his voice breaking as he pressed his face to your hair. “Don’t you dare leave me. Don’t you dare.”

The hours that followed were a blur of blood-stained bandages, hushed voices, and Joel’s chest so tight he could barely breathe. He sat by your bedside, his hands gripping yours like they were the only thing tethering him to the earth.

You didn’t stir.

“You’re gonna be okay,” Joel rasped, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. His voice was low, hoarse. “You hear me? You’re gonna be fine. I’ll kill anyone who says otherwise.”

Joel hadn’t moved from the chair in hours. His back ached, his legs felt stiff, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. The only thing grounding him was the steady, rhythmic rise and fall of your chest.

The infirmary was quiet now, save for the faint hum of the heater. The blood had been cleaned off your skin, the deep wound on your side stitched and wrapped. But the pale cast to your face still gnawed at him, clawing at the frayed edges of his composure.

“C’mon,” he murmured, his voice low. His fingers brushed a strand of hair from your face. “You’ve fought through worse, haven’t you? Don’t make me sit here and talk to myself like a damn fool.”

He didn’t realize he’d drifted off until he felt your fingers twitch in his. It was subtle—barely there—but it sent a jolt through him. His head shot up, his heart hammering as your lashes fluttered.

“Hey,” he breathed, standing so quickly the chair scraped against the floor. He leaned over you, his hand cupping your cheek as your eyes cracked open. “Hey, there you are. You’re awake.”

You blinked sluggishly, your gaze trying to focus on his face. “Joel?”

“Yeah, baby, it’s me.” His voice cracked, his forehead lowering to press against yours for a long moment. His breath was shaky, his hands trembling as they cupped your face.

Then—in a move that to anyone but you that knew Joel would be uncharacteristic—he kissed your temple, your cheek, the corner of your mouth—his lips lingering as if trying to will you back to life.

But the reprieve didn’t last. When he pulled back, the familiar furrow of his brow returned, and his jaw tightened.

“What the hell were you thinkin’?” he growled, stepping back just enough to meet your eyes. The raw edge of his voice sliced through the haze of your exhaustion. “Throwin’ yourself in front of Tommy like that? You tryin’ to get yourself killed?”

The gruffness in his tone didn’t surprise you—it was Joel’s way of dealing with fear. But the storm in his eyes made your throat tighten.

“Tommy—he… needed help,” you rasped, your voice weak.

“I don’t give a damn what the excuse is,” Joel snapped, his hand raking through his hair. He paced to the foot of the bed, then back to your side, his frustration barely contained. “You think I can just sit here and watch you—watch you almost…” His voice broke, and he turned away, rubbing a hand over his face.

Your heart twisted at the sight. Joel Miller wasn’t a man who wore his heart on his sleeve, but here he was, raw and undone.

“Joel,” you whispered.

He turned back to you, his jaw tight. “You don’t get to do that,” he said, his voice low but firm. “You don’t get to make that choice for me. For us.”

The weight of his words settled between you, and you reached out, your fingers brushing his hand. He hesitated for a moment before taking your hand in his, holding it tightly like it was the only thing tethering him to sanity.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” you murmured.

“Well, you did. You scared the hell outta me,” he shot back, though his grip on your hand softened. “Don’t ever do that again. You hear me?”

You managed the faintest of smiles, your lips quirking despite the ache in your body. “Bossy.”

Joel let out a low, humorless laugh, shaking his head. “Damn right I’m bossy. And you’d better start listenin’.”

For a moment, the room was silent except for the hum of the heater and the quiet, shaky breaths Joel took to calm himself. He sank back into the chair, his head bowing as he rested his forehead against your joined hands.

“You’re stuck with me,” you whispered, echoing the words he’d once said to you.

Joel huffed, "Got that right.”

When he lifted his head, his eyes were softer, though the tension in his jaw hadn’t fully eased. He kissed your knuckles again, lingering for a moment.

“I mean it,” he muttered, his voice gruff but tender. “Don’t scare me like that again. I can’t…” He trailed off, the words hanging heavy in the air.

“I’ll try,” you said softly, your fingers brushing against his.

“That’s all I’m askin’,” Joel replied, his lips twitching into a small, reluctant smile.

He stayed there, his chair pulled close to your bedside, his hand never leaving yours. And for the first time in hours, the storm inside him began to quiet.

[jestersdlc]

It's funny how the order of character names generally denote to their dynamic, and the name first is the one METAPHORICALLY with more power (generally more for ships then anything else but still)

And it makes it curious to think of how my brain defaults certain characters name order (partially cause my silly wheel list and just near 3 am ponderings over this)

-Pink and Wildcard (I have no clue but I would not be surprised if its solely because Alphabetical order pref.....and calm vs chaos)

-Pink and Dahlia (This one mostly because parental figure/child figure for logistics)

-Dahlia and Sugartwist/Sugartwist and Dahlia (used interchangably, slight favor of the former but that may be general bias of alphabetical again and my bean tied to frens bean logic)

-Wildcard and Dahlia (Literal power dynamics. Dahlia is a lot smaller and can be easily harmed by Wildcard if dice isn't careful (Dahlia also has been often accidentally spooked/triggered by Wildcard....being Wildcard))

-Splendorpoet and Wildcard (Idk mayhaps alphabetical, or the taming of the feral one /silly (I'm meaning Wc and if it was Flirtatious who friended Wc and NOT Splendy poet uhhhh.....no it wasn't, the Jester totally did not forget who it was!))

-Splendorpoet and Pink (No bloody clue here! It's not alphabetical and I wouldn't say there's any reason like power dynamic or anything else....but on my silly wheel they're listed as Splendorpink and that is delightful to read)

-Pink and Icelandic (Need I explain? But anywho, besides the obvious; my brain just is not a fan of the other order for some reason and my brain sometimes unfortunately calls them pice which is awful.)

-Redacted and Pink (Power dynamics.)

Andddddd I can't think of any others so....neutral/no strong opinion to any others ^-^

[bosinclairsgff]

Slashers with a feisty reader victim

Includes: Otis Driftwood, Bo Sinclair, Albert Shaw, Jose and Longlegs

Warnings: abuse, cussing

A/n this was a request but I lost the request when I tried to save it to my drafts. It was really old anyways but I finally did it haha!

- Maybe at first he’s entertained by the way you acted. It gets boring when they always just give up.

- He’d let you keep up this attitude for a little while.

- Now and then you’ll go to far and he’ll backhand you or threatens you just to remind you.

- If you kicked and hit him ever you would be done for.

- He’d slowly start breaking you down. He would really enjoy that. Watching you start listening better and not talking back.

- Ohhhh he’d love breaking you down omgggg

- After you getting a good swing at his jaw onetime he ALWAYS keeps your hands tied.

- Likes to get a reaction out of you and hearing you talk back.

- Everyday Bo would break your spirit more and more. Loves to see you cry.

- Bo loves the face you make when he says something awful and you think about making a sarcastic comment but don’t. When at first you would have.

- He’d be annoyed.

- Constantly pissed off.

- Would definitely play “naughty girl” (CRINGE STOP) so much.

- Al would start to love being around you as he watches you slowly give up and stop fighting.

- Becoming docile and quiet.

- If you interrupted him I think he’d be annoyed with you.

- Wouldn’t hit you unless you hit him….(still bad and evil this is not an eye for an eye)

- Would think it’s funny when your feisty.

- Likes to push your buttons and try to scare you.

- I don’t think he’d want your feistiness to go away, I think he’d accept you but kinda mold you a little as well.

- I could see him crying if you were just like super rude and stuff but also he’d smack the SHIT outta you the next minute.

- Would threaten you with his connection with mr.downstairs.

- If you kicked or punched him he’d either just stare at you or choke you or throw you…

- Makes you say prayers to mr.downstairs, promising you’ll listen to Dale.

[localplaguenurse]

(Puts cracker in your mouth)

I am eating your blind reader right outta the pot and I was struck with a singular thought that hasn’t left my mind

What if when reader bumped into pants he ruined pants’ clothing in some kinda way (spilled drink/smeared ink from hands/food being smeared on etc)

For context: I was brainstorming a future fic starring a blind reader in discord.

You know what? It's not going in the current version so I'm writing this version here. Consider this a part one to the actual fic. (sorry beta)

Falling Head over Heels (Pantalone x Male Reader)

Notes: SFW, first meetings, Pantalone's kind of a dick, and so is Reader's dad. Reader has retinitis pigmentosa which is a genetic condition that causes your retinas to deteriorate over time. He has central vision but also experiences night blindness and loss of peripheral vision. Not beta read.

The sounds of merriment echo through the halls of your family estate, the clicks and clacks of your typewriter unable to drown the sound out as you work. The noises grow louder once the band kicks in, and grow louder still once dinner is served. The smell of fresh food does not travel to your study like the music and laughter did, this section of the manor is a little too remote for that, but you know with the chime of the clock on your wall that this is when it should be brought out.

While not an outright demand, your father had advised you wait in your office for a servant to bring you a helping. Your mother protested, saying there were plenty of people who would love to meet her darling sweetheart of a son, there's no need for you to stay cooped up in your study! You gently reassured her that it was fine, really. The deadline for your novel's first draft is coming up soon, so you really should focus on finishing it as soon as you can. Besides, there is some rather elite company attending the party, and you know your father does not want to risk you making a fool of yourself, and also him by association.

Time ticked on, and your stomach growled, breaking the concentration you barely maintained on writing. You look up, right at the spot on the wall where the clock is. While you can't really see the time at this distance, you know the staff should have brought you your helping some time ago. You sigh, and stand.

You don't dislike parties, you think you enjoy them as much as the next person actually. The problem is that you don't like large, crowded parties due to your condition. Your central vision is perfectly fine, but you've been steadily losing your peripheral vision ever since you were little. It's been especially bad the past few years, to the point you will trip over anything that is not directly in front of you, like furniture and people. When your parents throw elaborate parties or host networking events, your father will suggest you stay up in your room or your study (to avoid any blunders as a result of not seeing the millionaire standing right beside you). While you know there is good meaning behind it, it feels isolating, even a little patronizing at times.

Even if the darkness of the hallway renders you completely blind, you've walked down it enough times you do not worry about tripping. Hand on the railing, you make your way down the stairs, and the light of the estate grows brighter with each step you take down. Before you fully descend, you let your eyes scan the room to try and make a mental map of where everyone is to avoid bumping into anyone on your way.

You barely make it to the ground before you feel a familiar presence and smell a familiar blend of cologne and champagne on your right. You're glad you can't see out of the corner of your eyes because you know exactly what face your father is making right now. You know he's not happy to see you downstairs before he even speaks.

"I thought you were working on your manuscript?" he asks, the accusatory tone in his voice on the more subtle side.

You shrug. "I wanted something to eat."

"Colleen was supposed to bring you your food," your father retorts.

"If she did, I wouldn't have come downstairs, would I?"

Your father scoffs. "Look, just go back upstairs, and I'll talk to Colleen."

A second voice chimes in, softer and sweeter. Your mother. "Oh, sweetie!" Her face comes into view, and she seems happy to see you. "Are you done your manuscript already?"

"Colleen didn't bring him his food, apparently," your father says.

Your mom turns her head in the direction of your father's voice. "Dear, Colleen left early, remember? Wasn't feeling well? She said Adelaide was supposed to bring him his food." "That's a lie, I haven't seen Adelaide at all tonight!"

You raise a hand. "Or, or, I'm an adult who knows where the kitchen is and can get my own serving?"

Your mother cups your face in her hands. "No no, we'll get you something, unless you're here to socialize as well? I was just talking to this woman, she has a daughter about your age-"

"I'm just going to get my food," you quickly cut in, "maybe I'll play matchmaker next time, but I just want something to eat and then I'll get back to work."

"Let the staff get it," your father tells you.

You pull away from your mother and turn to glare at your father. "It's fine. I can get it myself."

You step around your parents but feel your mom clasp your arm. "You father just-"

"Doesn't want me bumping into people, I know, and I won't."

You take two steps before your left side slams right into a passing partygoer. You stumble and hit the ground, while whoever you bumped into manages to maintain their footing. Glass breaks, and when you hit the ground you feel wetness soaking the back of your shirt and the front as well. You hear your mother gasp, and the room goes silent. Even the band has paused their playing, and you can feel the eyes of the room on you.

"What is wrong with you?"

While the man's voice is melodic, it only serves to make your face burn hotter with embarrassment. This is why your dad doesn't invite you to join them at parties, you remind yourself. When you do not immediately answer the question, opting to instead push yourself up, the man continues to chastise you.

"Do you have any idea how much this suit cost? How much it's going to cost to have it properly cleaned?"

You roll over so you're sitting up. Red stains your shirt. "Sorry, I-I didn't see you there."

"Clearly! How painfully unobservant do you have to be to not see me coming through? I was right next to you!"

You drag your gaze up the man's body, as he takes up the entirety of your eyesight. Everything he wears looks designer, and as you take in his shoes, his dress pants, you make it to his suit jacket and shirt. He's wearing black with hints of indigos and dark blues, but the wine stain is still very visible on his chest. Your eyes continue, and you see a snarling, but handsome, but still very angry face. You don't recognize him from the long black hair, the glasses with the bedazzled chain, or the shine of his eyes. You recognize him from the pin on his lapel. At this distance you recognize the Fatui symbol, and your face blanches.

You just ran into a Harbinger.

You hear the footsteps of your father approach. "M-Mister Regrator, I am so, so sorry for my son's actions, I-I'm sure that's a very expensive suit and I am deeply sorry."

The Regrator does not take his eyes off of you. "Yes. Very expensive. Expensive even for you."

"I-I swear, I'm sorry," you stammer, "I didn't see you, I really didn't see you there, I-I-"

You feel your father pull you up by the arm. "I already told you to go upstairs."

Pantalone watches as your father drags you away. You only protest a little before accepting defeat as you are pulled up the stairs. He feels the scowl on his face worsen when your mother approaches with the most desperate and pitiful expression he thinks he's ever seen a woman of her standing wear.

"Are you alright, my lord?" she asks timidly.

Pantalone takes a step back as a maid comes over to clean up the broken glass. "I'm fine, thank you."

"I am so sorry about that, if you'd like, w-we can have our staff clean your suit for you."

"This material is incredibly expensive and difficult to thoroughly wash," Pantalone states, "I highly doubt your staff would know how to clean it."

The woman looks down, embarrassed. "A-Ah, I see..." She looks back up at him, her expression somehow more pitiful than before. "Please, forgive my son, it was an accident, truly. H-He didn't see you there."

"Oh, I know," Pantalone replies, grinning harshly at the woman, "I'm just surprised at how unobservant someone can be, it's almost impressive."

The woman bites her lip, clearly uncomfortable with the situation. Still, she clears her throat, though she does not meet the Regrator's eyes. "M-My son is going blind."

Somehow the room goes quieter.

Pantalone stares at the woman as the words echo in his mind. He blinks, and his expression dulls a little. "Your son is what?"

"Going blind." She lifts her head up a little bit. "It's a genetic condition, m-my father had it as well. He's been losing his eyesight little by little ever since he was a boy. The doctor at his last appointment s-said he's lost most if not all peripheral vision now."

Pantalone can feel the wine begin to soak through to his shirt now. His eyes scan the room, and the guests are clearly pretending they're not listening to the conversation. He turns to the woman, his voice displeased but noticeably softer. "So the, ah, 'unobservant' assumption..."

"He truly did not see you," the woman reiterates, "I-I can't speak for him, of course, but if he's anything like how my father was at his age, he cannot see anything unless it is directly in front of him."

Pantalone clicks his tongue. "Is that so?"

The woman nods. Silence fills the room for a few moments, and then Pantalone sighs.

"In any case, I have to leave," he says, "I do not have a change of clothes, and I really should have this cleaned as soon as possible."

"A-Apologies again, Lord Pantalone..."

Your mother watches Pantalone as he leaves, praying to any Archon who will hear her plea that perhaps the Regrator will take pity on you on account of your condition. She also mentally curses your father for even inviting the man over. Sure, things have been getting a little shaky financially for your family, but getting buddy-buddy with a Harbinger can't be worth it, can it? They're an unsavoury lot she doesn't want around, especially around you.

Your father is already in a foul mood when he comes back downstairs, having lectured you for literally blindly running into Pantalone. The two had plans to work together, after all, so that spectacle could have completely cost the family any chance at maintaining the dwindling fortune. He becomes more upset with your mother when he finds the Regrator has left already, sparking an argument that finally kills the party, leaving the guests to awkwardly mingle before finally leaving hours before the party is set to end.

Your father does not talk to you for a few days. Your mother offers smiles and reassurance that everything will be fine, but the spats echoing down the hall lead you to believe otherwise. You attempt to tune out the building stress in your household and focus on your work, but it's in vain. In the quiet moments between replacing the paper in the typewriter, or when you cannot figure out how a scene is meant to play out, you briefly picture the Regrator's face and feel your face burn up again. Is it anger? Embarrassment? A little bit of attraction? Yes, probably.

The tension in the house reaches a boiling point when a letter sealed with the Regrator's insignia is delivered to the estate.

"You're paying for the suit, boy," your father snaps, figure barely visible as he paces the drawing room lit only by the fireplace.

"W-We don't know if that's what the letter is," your mother remarks, "and he doesn't have enough to cover for it."

"That's the worst part! We would have to cover the majority of it!"

"Can you just open the fucking envelope?!" you finally snap.

Your father advances towards you from the darkness, suddenly right in front of you. "Don't you speak to me like that when this is your fault!"

Both of you flinch when your mother all but rips the envelope from your father's hands. She steps just out of your line of vision, and you hear the ripping sound of the envelope. After a few moments, she lets out a loud sigh of relief.

"He's apologizing and forgiving us for the misunderstanding," your mother says, "though he, ah, he does want us to split the cleaning costs..." You hear the flutter of paper, and she absentmindedly steps forward as she reads the letter. "Oh, j-just for the shirt. That is... oof, that's still a little much..."

You sigh. "I should have enough money saved. Might have to put off moving out for a little longer, though."

"Oh, don't be so down!" your mother awkwardly laughs. "We don't mind having you here a little longer. It gives me peace of mind knowing you're safe! And there are o better doctors out there than in Snezhnaya!"

Your dad has disappeared out of view, but you can still feel his stare. You don't think he's as thrilled as your mother is, but it's better than him paying the full cost of Pantalone's dry cleaning. You wonder if there's anything in the letter stating if he'll still work with your father, and if that means you'll have to see him again before you eventually move. You hope you never see him out of sheer embarrassment, but a part of you wants to. It would be nice to remember a more cheery expression on his handsome face before the day your central vision finally leaves you.

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

you're gonna go far

eddie & wayne picture fic based on this post

(long post ahead, but bear with me)

4/10/1984 Eddie,  I’m starting this letter after you came home with the letter from the school saying you’re not graduating this year.  I could tell you didn’t believe me when I told you it’ll be alright, that it’ll all work out in the end. That it did for me when I had the same talk with my pa.. but you eventually stepped back from the edge, I think, you’re in your room now. There was something else there too, which is really why I'm writing this now. You have the same look in your eye that I saw in my own reflection long before I got drafted, the look I saw in your dad’s when Lizzie told us she was pregnant.  You’re already planning your escape.  And I won’t hold it against you when you do kick rocks, I just pray you give me a little warning so I can say goodbye. And I ain’t a praying man. I’m tucking away some cash with this for when you go. Don’t have much, but I have you. And I wanna make sure you have the best start you possibly can.

10/11/1984 It’s been rough for you again. Working at Merrill’s has been good for you. Getting fresh air, sunshine, shit, even your gangly noodles you call arms are looking less noodley. But they just sent you home early today.. something wrong with the crop and they won’t need the extra hands this season. That, starting school again, even Ronnie leaving last week.. I know you two kids were close. You ain’t even getting all excited for halloween! Adding some more cash for you, little more than I could last time.  Just hang in there kiddo. 

6/5/1985 I think you think you don’t know, and I’m willing to let you pretend for a little while longer, but shit, Eddie, you think I wouldn’t know when graduation was supposed to be just because you weren’t the one to tell me? You know I won’t be mad at you. If you don’t say anything for another week, I will. 6/7/1985 - There it is.

7/22/1985 I was able to talk you down again that night, and you ‘re getting back to your old self again. I still can’t believe you had your whole room all packed up like that. I’ll give ya that speech all over again as many times as you need, but I’ll write it down here for you: You’re gonna go far, Eddie. You’re gonna tear outta here next year and you’re gonna knock ‘em all dead. You are so talented, you are much more than any of us Munsons have ever been or will ever be, and you’re gonna be the biggest star in the world. You mark my words. And I know you’re gonna fight leavin’ when the time comes, thinking you need to take care of me or some crap but I promise you: The birds’ll still sing, the trailer will still creak, the leaves will die and fall like they do every year, but I’ll be here whenever you need to come back. I’ll be here as long as you need. If that’s forever, so be it.

8/15/1985 I’m taking you up north this weekend. Just to get away, y’know? Before your LAST senior year starts. Might be cutting it a little close on funds, happens when you’re trying to survive, but we’re overdue for a change of scenery. We ain’t living just to die. Only a little going in this time, but I’ll be damned if I don’t add something along with a new note.

10/5/1986 Been a while since I added to this, huh? Well, it’s finally happening. You are leaving tomorrow and boy did you make a stink before you did. Went on a whole tirade about needing to get out of this damn town, about not being able to get anywhere when everyone except me is against you. I wanted to point out that you’ve got your band guys and that Harrington boy in your corner too, but I didn't think you’d like me interrupting your whole big speech about who it is you love and being queer and all that with a “Yeah. I know. You and Steve make moon-eyes at each other all the damn time.” I’ll make sure to pass on your info to him when I get it. He doesn’t seem like one to hold a grudge (or at least not hold it long), so I'm sure he’ll be the first in line to greet you the next time you find yourself in our neck of the woods. Those kids’ll miss you too y’know. They’ll be college age before you know it. I’m gonna pack up this envelope and stash it in your stuff somewhere I know you’ll find it again. so you can find it when you need it. Can’t believe I managed to save you close to a grand. Not enough by a long shot, but it’ll help ya for a while. Been saving for a years now, y’know..  Now Eddie. I told you all this last year, and just now before you slunk off to bed, but here it is again, just in case you need to hear it: - I’m proud of you. - I love you more than you’ll know. - You love whoever it is you want to love (as long as i’m on that list somewhere) - I’m glad you’re getting out of here when you can. And I’ll continue to be glad that you did even when things get hard. When I’m doing all the chores around here myself, when I go visit Al in county even though I know all we’re gonna do is fight… I’ll be so grateful you’re making your own way in the world far from here. I’m not angry at you, Teddy. But you’ll be the greatest thing I’ve lost. I’ll always be here if you need me. Wayne

some notes!

-i hc wayne as a military man ofc and bc of that, my own sloppy, all caps, post military handwriting is perfect for him!

-i like to think eddie thinks he's slick and wayne didn't know he liked boys until he was about to leave but wayne knows. of course he knows. al told him why he kicked eddie out, wayne just didn't think it was his place to bring it up before eddie did.

-didn't think too much farther after this, but let's just say that steddie happens when eddie comes back to hawkins in a couple years when the shitheads graduate.

[fishsticksloser]

If it's alright - And if it's not then i understand if you're going to delete this - to request about Rise! Future! Leonardo x Rabbit yokai!fem!Reader? (NSFW S3x), where Leonardo and reader get into roleplaying as cowboy Shierff and an outlaw female criminal. Leonardo is the dominating one while reader is the submit side.

And yes it would involve things like; ropes tying, rough S3x, Leonardo getting to cowboy accent (?)

/ 🐔 Anon reader /

If You Can't Be Good, Be Bad With Me

f!Leo x fem!reader

Warnings: Smut with a tiny plot, p in v, rough sex, light bondage (handcuffs), ear and tail pulling, spanking, slight Sir kink, Leo has a country accent, Leo calls you a good/bad girl (sue me...), rabbit yo'kai!reader, FAKE guns, swearing, enemies to lovers if you squint really really hard

A/N: I've spent like 2 months writing this because I was just sitting there looking at it and going "wtf do I do?" But here you are, so sorry for the wait. I actually threw out the first draft because I hated it so much... This is a little different than the prompt and I apologize, my brain couldn't do it. :/

"My, my, my... What have we here?" Leonardo's voice was deep, soothing, and with a faint drawl that spoke of Texas. His words were slow and measured, just before he'd bring the hammer down with that thunderous attention. Leo squinted at you, narrowing his gaze before slowly walking towards you. "You look like you're on the wrong side of the law there, doll." Leo stops in front of you, hands on his hips just above his holsters. "What're you doin' on this here land, Miss?"

"Doin' what I can to survive, sheriff." You answer, continuing to stuff your pockets and bag with whatever was in reach. You seemed completely unbothered that the sheriff was standing over and watching you. "Is that a crime?"

"Well yes, it is." Leo responds cooly, his stance loose and relaxed despite you obviously committing a crime. His hands hover over his holsters, his tone becomes more intimidating. "The punishment for those crimes tends to be less uh... agreeable. And yet... I could be lenient with you." Leo's face softens as he looks down at the small, humanoid rabbit. He kneels down to get a better look. "And what exactly is in your pockets, little one? Come now, let's have a look."

You open your bag and empty your pockets. Its not like you were stealing much of anything really. Some bread and not so valuable things like knick knacks and trinkets. Nothing that's really worth anything.

"No guns?" He mutters, eyeing you up and down with a sly, teasing smirk. "That makes things so much sweeter." Leo's eyes twinkle in the sunlight as he stand up. His gaze seems to study every little crevice in your face, taking note of your expressions, trying to figure out everything about you. "You're not from these parts, are ya, darlin'? What's your pretty face doin' so far down south?"

"Got kicked outta town for not marryin' my suitor. Left with nothin'." You repond, repacking your bag and pockets. "Train only took me this far..."

"Not bein' married? Why, now that's a crime against the holy union of man and woman, darlin', 'specially out here." Leo shakes his head placing a hand on his face, feigning disgust. His other hand still rests on his holster. "Can't just leave you out here in this hot dust storm." Leo's eyes flicker up to your face and he grins widely.

"I've got nowhere to go." You say, pleading. "Please just let me go, I'll... I'll go find a place to settle down and be law abiding."

"Well, I'm afraid I can't let that happen, darlin'," Leo responds, his tone slowly becoming slightly more forceful. "The folks 'round these parts say you've done some unsavory and illegal things. I can't just let a law-breaker roam free like that." Leo seems to enjoy your pleas, leaning in more. He leans his body close to yours, whispering close to your ear. "Unless you want to do something for me..."

"And what would that be, sir?" You ask quietly, a shiver running down your spine as his breath fans over your ear. Leo grins as he leans in, his lips inches from your ear.

"You could do all sorts of things for me. It's such a shame for a pretty little thing like you to be caught for crimes you definitely didn't do. But, I'm feeling generous today, and, as the local lawman, I can definitely overlook your sins, darlin'." The corner of his lips curl into a smug grin. "All for a few private favors from you."

"You catch my drift?" He asks, his voice talking on a more predatory tone as his fingers graze down your waist and back. His hot breath caresses down the back of your neck, his eyes burning into your form before glancing back at your own. "Such a delicate, pretty thing..."

"Yes, sir. I understand." You mutter, your ears standing tall and twitching slightly.

"Good girl." He whispers as he leans in close. "And you know if you do well, maybe I could be generous and let you off of that punishment." Leo's voice comes out low and smooth, almost sultry as he leans back just enough to let his fingers stroke along the side of your face. "All you have to do is play nice, understand?"

"Yes, sir." You nod firmly, his eyes seem to study you once more. His fingers slide down and grasp your chin, gently tilting your face upwards as his other hand reaches for your waist.

"Good girl." He says, his eyes burn like hot coals as he bring your face inches from his. "And you know, when I get back to town, I have to write a report. And if I see my girl following through with our little arrangement, I'll make sure they know what a good girl you've been. If you're a good girl. Got it, darlin'?"

Who knew you'd end up here?

"Yes, sir."

"Mm... That's a good girl." Leo whisper as he closes the last few inches between you and him, pushing his lips against yours in a quick but firm kiss. He pulls back slowly before speaking. "You don't mind if I let these hands wander now, do you, darlin'?"

"No, sir." You mumble as he kisses you again, eyes fluttering closed and your hands move to cup the back of his head. Leo grins as he continues to kiss you, his body slightly tilting to get a better grip on you. HIs right hand wraps around your waist and pulls you closer as his left searches through his pocket for something. He fumbles around for a bit more before pulling out a pair of handcuffs.

"Oh, and I almost forgot. Can't be letting my pretty, lawbreaker darlin' roam free... 'specially after getting caught." He chuckles and beings to fasten your arms behind your back with the cuffs. You don't protest, letting him fit the cuffs on your wrist comfortably. "Good girl. Now, I have just the punishment in mind." He says with a smirk, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you closer. His other hand grips your chin as he kisses your neck softly. "Maybe I could show you what being a good girl for me would get you, darlin'. If you play your cards just right, I might be feeling generous with another reward."

You let out a small whine, basically having no other option and really not in the mood to say no. You give him a small nod and tilt your head to the side to give him better access. His lips meet your neck again, travelling upwards to finally find those sweet, soft lips of yours.

"That's an obedient girl... You know, you're lucky I like good girls. I mean, you could be in big trouble if you had been a bad girl." He whispers, his hands massaging your hips, slowly sliding them upwards. Leo decides that his lips are not the only way of satisfying the desires, sliding his hand under your dress, his fingers running over that soft, silky skin. His eyes are burning with hunger, the heat of the desert finally getting to him. The heat of his breath blowing across your body, breath mingling, your lips coming together in a hungry kiss.

꒦꒷⚔️꒷꒦

Everything's a blur, but you find yourself in the sheriff's station. Leonardo laughs a little at all that nonsense before pulling your head up enough for another kiss. He holds you by the ears, he smacks his hand harder on your ass with your tail twitching with every hit. Your dress bunched up around your waist as you bend over his desk, your legs spread wide apart, offering yourself to him completely.

The desk creaks under both of you, his lips on your neck as he rocks into you, your bodies meeting with a wet slapping sound. You're open for him. Each thrust sends waves of pleasure through you, your mouth left hanging open, moans echoing throughout the room.

"Oh yeah, take that, darlin'!" He whispers, his voice thick with a low purr as he grabs on to your hips. "You're my good girl." He moves down to your ear, his lips nuzzling against it.

You moan, standing in your toes so he hits a better angle. You moan loudly as he hits that soft spot inside you. Your legs shake and you ball my fists in the part of your dress you could reach, you arms still cuffed. You feel his hand connect with your ass with a loud smack and you squeak, jolting at the sting. "Good girl," he breathes, his voice low and husky as he rocks into you harder, going a little faster. He bites on the side of your neck before whispering to you ear. "Such a good girl, darlin'.. you'll get it good.." He lets off a low hum to match the pace of his thrusts.

He brings his free hand down to your tail before giving it a light tug, laughing as you squirm and whine. "Aww, such a good, sweet thing," he sighs, his tone low and husky before biting on your neck again. "I love the way you take it so well, darlin'.. you're so good for me, such a sweet darlin'," he whispers to you, pulling you closer so he can kiss the side of your face.

He spanks you hard one final time before moving his hands over to tug on your ears, holding them tightly in his fists as he goes even harder and faster, his hips bucking aggressively to meet your thighs. "Such a good girl!" He whispers, his voice turning low and throaty as his eyes bore into yours. "Take it all, darlin'.. such a good girl!"

"C-Close, sir!" You whimper, tears falling down your cheeks. He tilts your head up to look at him, but makes sure to keep your body against the desk for him. It puts you into an uncomfortable arch.

Leonardo moans loudly, his expression turning more feral with every thrust as he rocks into you. His hips moving as forcefully as he could, he pushes harder and harder like he was trying to drive you through the desk, his free hand still holding onto your ears. Finally, his climax is about to peak and he lets out an, "Ahhhh… such a good girl, darlin'.."

At your releases, Leo lets out a groan and lets his thrusts die down a bit, pressing against your back with his chest as he slowly rocks into you. His face is buried deep into your neck, "Shhh... be a good girl.. be my good girl for me," he whispers to you, his voice low and husky. His free hand is playing with your tail, rubbing it up and down before giving it another tug for good measure and he slowly pulls out. "Such a good girl..." He murmurs, letting go of your ears and giving you a light tap on your ass.

[cherrysha]

To Be Alone

Pairing: Sukuna x Reader

A/N: Getting this tf outta my drafts,,, banishment style. if its formatted wrong its because im tipsy and im too lazy to fix it,,, itll get fixed in the morning <3

Word Count: 4K

Warnings: Paranoia, weed, dubcon (since reader is under the influence), slight body horror

It’s already dark outside when you get to Yuuji’s apartment. Streetlights glimmer with a low electric buzz as you make your way up the concrete stairs. Its unseasonably cold outside, autumn air chilling through the light jacket you found haphazardly stuffed in the back of your car. He’s still blowing your phone up, probably ‘where are you??’ messages like he hasn’t been texting you that for the past fifteen minutes. Like he doesn’t know how far your work is from his apartment. You'd been friends long enough now to know when to answer his texts and when to ignore the incessant buzzing of your phone. “Jesus” you mutter as his ringtone plays. It’s been years but he’s always like this. A little too eager, like a child. Hitting mute, you finally round the corner and knock on his door. Yuuji could be so impatient sometimes.  It only takes one rap against the metal before you can hear the bolts turning, your friend’s cottony pink hair greeting you, eyes scrunched in a bright smile. You can't be mad, not when the smile that covers his face is so genuine.

“You're insane” you huff out at him, stepping into the threshold and shimmying out of your coat in the process. His apartment is always so warm, a little too warm, but his older brother blew a gasket any time Yuuji tried to turn down the heat for you.

 “Am not!” you giggle as he puts a hand to his chest, mock annoyance coloring his face “You just need to be quicker… making me wait and all.” You ignore him, haphazardly kicking out of your shoes before stepping deeper into the apartment.

“isn’t Junpei coming? We have to wait for him anyway.”

“He, uh, didn’t feel like coming out tonight” you can hear the disappointment in his voice at the statement and it’s contagious. Yuuji’s had a crush on the boy for almost an entire year, which is hard to believe given his short attention span and lack of romantic interest. With an audible ‘tsk’ you ruffle his hair, smiling at the little indignant look on his face that threatens to spill over at the touch. 

“There’s always next time, Yuuji” he nods, smile returning as he follows you into the living room. 

“Was thinkin’ we could watch Cast Away, since you don’t like the scary stuff”. If Junpei were here, you know he’d make you watch a horror movie anyway. Probably send you off to his room during the really scary parts so you wouldn’t ruin the mood. The thought makes you smile, and you eagerly nod as you sink back into the sofa. Yuuji sits down next to you with a huff, fiddling with the remote until the movie starts in the background. He’s probably watched this one a dozen times. You know you’ve seen it with him too many times to count. Without much thought he turns it up before setting the remote back down and picking the blunt up off the coffee table. Thank God he figured out how to roll them up. The last thing you wanted was another thirty-minute session of trying to show him exactly how to do it himself. 

Tom Hanks’ boring little life plays out on the screen in front of you as Yuuji mumbles something about how you would’ve rolled it better, and not to judge his sloppy technique. He’s still learning and all. You don’t look his way to reply, only muttering “Free weed is free weed.” as you focus on the movie. He's never told you who his dealer is, and you’ve never outright asked. Whoever he was, he never seemed to be in short supply. All the dealers you’ve met at college were either professional frat boy scam artists, selling little baggies of trash weed to stupid rich boys, or untrustworthy as hell. The type to sell you laced product and not even bat an eye. Good dealers were hard to find. It wasn't surprising Yuuji hadn’t told you, and it didn’t matter since he rarely liked to smoke alone. Yuuji leans back into the couch as he lazily hands the blunt to you, coughing a little at the end of his exhale. You don’t think about it as you take it from his hand. 

Friday nights at Yuuji’s feels like routine at this point. Leave work, smoke a blunt or two on his couch as he monologues about the random movie he’s put on, sober up and go home to your empty apartment and sleep in until Yuuji blows your phone up again. Sometimes Junpei or Nobara join in too, but most of the time it’s just you and him. Like it’s always been. 

Time feels like syrup as you listen to him ramble, voice a breathy sigh as he tells you behind the scenes facts about the movie. How Wilson actually had his own lines in the script, how none of the sound was useable and had to be added in during post production. A treasure trove of useless facts that you happily indulge in listening to. It’s odd to think of him taking his time to learn such trivial things. The image of him blankly staring at the cast away wiki during lecture swirls in your mind, pulling a chuckle from your dry throat. He’d definitely do something like that. Probably wouldn’t care if he was caught either. 

“What’s so funny?” he mumbles, lazy smile almost infectious as you just nod your head at him, eyes averting back to the screen. 

Toms already stranded on the island, you think this is the part where he rips out an infected tooth, at least you hope it is. You didn’t want to be around to see that on the screen again.

“You want somethin’ to eat?” you mumble at him, pushing up from the couch.

  “Uh, can you get me a bottle of water?” you nod, with a small chuckle. His eyes are glazed over, half lidded as he watches the screen like he’s absorbing any information that’s being presented to him. In about five minutes he’d probably be asleep. 

You hear the scream from the kitchen as Tom finally pulls the tooth out with the blade of an ice skate. You were too squeamish to look at the screen the first time you watched it. Even now, the sound alone was enough to gross you out. 

Yuuji’s cupboards are always well stocked with garbage. Chips, candy, instant noodles, anything you wanted. You take another drag from the blunt, head fuzzing over with smoke as you stare at all the options. Sukuna kept most of his food separate, not that you had to worry much about accidentally eating it. The healthy stuff was all his. Mostly stuff that had to be prepared and cooked. You weren’t looking for that shit tonight. 

“You should probably eat something!” you call out to him. After a few seconds with no reply, you peek around the corner, unsurprised to see him snoring away loudly on the couch. Go figure.

He usually fell asleep later, during the first half of the second movie. When the blunt was at least half finished.  At least he left room for you on the couch this time.

Not thinking much about it, you grab a pack of cookies and two water bottles. One for you, and one for the bonehead if he decided to wake up any time soon. 

Yuuji had left another blunt unattended, letting it idly burn away in the ashtray while he snored unashamedly on the armrest. It wasn’t really a problem, if anything it meant more for you. Yuuji wouldn’t mind, if anything he’d probably be happy that it didn’t go to waste… He probably wouldn’t mind if you smoked the third one either…

~~~

Idly you sip the water, heart pumping faster than it should be, skin feeling clammier than normal. You didn’t feel normal. Nothing felt normal.

He’s been passed out for too long to be easily woken up by the time you start feeling it. ‘It’ being the ever-pressing creep of paranoia along the edges of your psyche. Tom Hanks is screaming as Wilson bobs away from the makeshift raft and you can't help but to think the neighbors hear. That they’re calling the cops for a wellness check as you sit there, unmoving. The ambient lights flickering in through the curtains no longer feels warm, but rather very, very insidious. What happens if you go to jail? Will you lose your scholarship? Do you even have a fucking scholarship? You shake your head to try and clear the thoughts away to no avail. Yuuji’s groaning in his sleep, drool pooling out of the side of his mouth and the sudden impending doom bubbles back to the forefront of your mind. What if he chokes on all that drool and dies and you go to jail because you weren’t keeping an eye on him? Is it possible to choke on your own spit? 

Your fears seem to be confirmed as the apartment door swings open, deafening compared to the low mumble of the tv and Yuuji’s deep snores. You can hear whoever it is close the door before walking down the hallway. What if it was the cops? Or even worse, someone here to rob Yuuji? Fuck, if that were the case, you'd have no qualms with them taking everything they wanted. It’s Yuuji’s fault he didn’t deadbolt the door.

You let go of the breath you'd been holding when Sukuna rounds the corner. Eyes flickering to his brother, then to you, then to the blunt burning away in the ashtray. 

You must look startled, wide eyes locked on him as adrenaline surges through your body. You must look a little suspicious too. 

“You good?” he asks, and you can't help but look away from his heavily tattooed face, eyes instead focusing on how his chest slowly moves under his plain white shirt with each breath. You blink, trying to mimic the natural motion, the steady in-and-out of his lungs filling up and exhaling air. 

“Yeah… yeah. I just thought you were someone else.”

“Who?” his voice is demanding, sharp. Its always been that way. Deep and rich and hard to ignore. The only time you’ve been able to hear him speak more than a few words is when he’s bitching Yuuji out over something.

Taking, what you think is a very short moment, you answer.

“The cops?” he’s sighing at the sheepishness in your voice. Obviously connecting the dots as he moves to snuff the lit blunt out in the ashtray.

You can't help it as you continue to talk, to give him more proof of your paranoia as you try to defend your own emotions to him. After too long, he stops you. Hand coming to rub his face in a movement that exposes his true irritation.

“I just wanted some peace and quiet” Sukuna groans. He takes a moment to stare at the ceiling. 

Silence hangs in the air like smoke as you try and find the words you need. Tell him that this is a mistake, a misunderstanding.

“I can go, if, if that’s what you wa-“ 

“Just shut the fuck up y/n.” he snaps, eyes finding yours just as tears threaten to spill. You don’t know why you were being so sensitive. Maybe it was because you’d never even met eye contact with the man, maybe it was because of your mental state, who was to tell. He groans again, moving closer and placing a hand on your head. Big arms encircle your waist as he hoists you up, free hand wiping at the tears sliding down your face as he walks down the hallway. 

He’s so warm, how have you not noticed before? It’s not like you had ever been this close to him to truly know. In fact, this is the closest you’d ever been to him, physically and emotionally. You’d never felt comfortable enough, even the other times he’d come home to find you and yuuji stoned out of your minds, he usually left you two to your own devices and acted as if you weren’t there.

Before you know it, he’s plopping you down on his bed, and even just being in the quiet dimly lit room with him is more comforting than it should be. After all, he was being kind, a side of him you rarely saw.

“Still in your work clothes” he mumbles to himself, that layer of irritable disappointment still threading through his words as he curses again. Whispering something about kicking Yuuji’s ass before his big frame disappears out of the room. It hits you then just how focused he is on your well being. He’d focused in on something you thought was a non-issue, fixated on your comfort even if you weren’t.

You can hear him, doors creaking open and rummaging noises distantly echoing from down the hall, but all you can focus on is how the ambient light in his room looks sinister now that you’re by yourself. It doesn’t take long before he’s back, tossing you a pair of Yuuji’s sweats and sitting a glass of water down on the bedside table. 

“Come out and let me know when you're changed.” he mumbles, but you already have a hand around his wrist. The touch softly begging him to stay and let you find comfort. Even if Sukuna is as comforting as a rock, it felt wrong being alone. You know it’s wrong, this is yuuji’s older brother, his older brother who’s rarely home, who’s done nothing but ensure your comfort, and yet, you can’t stop the well of feelings bubbling up in your chest at his casual decency. He stays, begrudgingly sighing as he sits down on the edge of his bed. You don’t expect him to give you any privacy, and he doesn’t, but you're too focused on keeping your cool to truly pay attention to the way his eyes roam over your exposed skin, eyebrow raising at the sight of you undoing your bra and tossing it into your pile of clothing. 

When you’re finished he asks if you're tired, quieter now, observing you as if he’s come to some new realization while watching you undress. You nod your head, hesitantly sitting on the edge of the bed. Hoping that maybe if you were lucky he wouldn’t make you sleep in yuuji’s room. The thought of being left alone with your own thoughts much scarier than the man in front of you. Even if he kicked you out, you’d probably find yourself on the couch next to yuuji, being kept awake by his incessant snoring. Even now you could faintly hear it, the sound reverberating through the hallway and into Sukuna's room.

Before you can think too much about it, however, hands find your hips, maneuvering you onto Sukuna’s chest as he lays down with you. Every inhale moves your body on his, deep breaths as he slides his palms up to the back of your head, lifting it so you have no choice but to stare into his eyes. 

“Feel any better?”. Vaguely, you think this is the nicest sukuna has ever been to you, even if he is forcefully tilting your head back. Usually, you only see him in passing, any words spoken on his part come out as a grunt and nothing more. Yuuji had told you that you were Sukuna’s favorite, whatever that meant. And when you had pressed Yuuji on that sentiment he had clammed up. Said Sukuna only let you stay the night, had only ever been himself around you. Of course you hadn’t known what he meant by that; Sukuna barely acknowledged you, never speaking to you unless he could do so in monosyllabic words or grunts. But tonight, he'd been nothing but kind, at least kind in his own right. 

You nod, breath hitching as he mutters out a “good girl” before kissing the crown of your head. There’s nothing further than that, and after a while his deep breaths even out. You feel like a cat, some sort of small animal that their owner has allowed to sleep on their chest. It’s all too docile. Slowly you find yourself drifting off as well.

Your rest ends up being shorter than you would’ve hoped because Its hot. Too fucking hot. Too hot to sleep, too hot to breathe. You need out. Slowly, you slip off the huge t shirt, uncaring of your bareness underneath. You need relief in some form. It takes a few tries before you can roll the sweatpants off of your hips. Maybe if you were sober you would’ve remembered that this was not the time nor the place to be laying yourself bare, but for right now, its hard to remember your propriety. In truth, you forgot about the fact that your were a guest in a grown man’s bed, In truth, you really didn’t stop to think about repercussions. By the time you’re done, you realize you have an audience. Sukuna’s eyes are staring down at you, fingers digging into the meat of your hips to still your movement.

“Sukuna I’m sorry-“ 

“You trying to start something?” 

“No, no I just got hot and- “

“You could’ve gotten the fuck off of me” it only takes a moment before tears threaten to spill at the harsh words, at the mean look on his face as he stares down at you. Its embarrassing, mortifying, that he’s right. Before you can make much progress on getting your body off of his a tight grip on your hips stills you as he readjusts, and places you squarely back on top of him again. 

“Such a crybaby” his hips rock up, hands pressing you down further as he moves languidly against you. “Feel that crybaby?” you nod, eyes still focused on his as he continues moving. He’s hard between your legs, every press of his hips squishing into that soft spot at the apex of your thighs, igniting a new type of heat inside of you.

“There’s no use trying to take advantage of me like that,” he grunts, still moving against you “coulda just asked. I’m more than happy to give you what you want.”

Its not like that, at least in your head it wasn’t. You had made too many bad choices tonight, and all of them had led you here. Straddling his wide hips, hands on his chest as you slowly grind back and forth on top of him, gasping at the delicious friction with every swivel. Its surprising he allows it, but Sukuna just calmly rests on his elbows, transfixed with the way the material of his sweatpants moves underneath you, how he can feel the heat radiating from your core like a furnace. 

Before long he sits up, hand wrapping around your hip to force you to still. He laughs at the whine that bubbles up from your throat, eyes searching your face as his free hand tangles in between you, pressing in between your bodies until he finds what he’s looking for. His thumb presses down softly at first, gentle and languid strokes over your clothed clit until your eyes flutter shut and you mouth drops open at the sensation. The syrupy feeling doesn’t last long, only a few minutes of his hips bucking up into yours, jostling you each time as his thumb traces careful circles, until he’s had enough and presses down on your clit harshly. His body shakes with laughter as you cry out in overstimulation.

 “such a glutton” his mouth finds your throat, lips closing over your pulse point as his eyes flutter shut  at the feel of your whines vibrating through the skin there. On a harsher thrust your nails accidentally scratch down the expanse of his muscular chest, ripping a growl from him in the process. Before you can apologize, he’s cursing again, hips moving against your own as he pulls and pushes you against him. Your best friend’s brother, beneath you, panting and groaning at the feeling of your nails in his chest. It doesn’t seem real, if anything it’s more believable that you passed out beside yuuji and ended up in a fucked up dream. Unfortunately for you the dull, bruising, ache of his hands on your hips solidifies this as reality, and unceremoniously you're dumped onto the bed, underneath him as he pants above you. 

His eyes look crazed, an inch away from terrifying, as he sloppily rips your underwear from you, ignoring the sound of the fabric protesting at such harsh treatment. It feels wrong, and that alone turns you on further. Sukuna’s chest rises and falls in his excitement, and two fingers push into you, gathering slick and messily smearing it over your pussy. His hand is still wet, glistening in the low light as it wraps around your knee, pushing both of them together and up. 

“Sukuna – “ 

 “who told you to speak?” he’s lining himself up, eyes focused as he slowly rolls his hips forward. You never even noticed his sweats came off, never wanted it to get this far, but before you can find your voice -

You expect to feel the harsh burn of him pressing inside of you, but it doesn’t come. instead, his cock is pushing through your thighs, glistening head squishing through sticky flesh as he starts to set a harsh pace. The underside brushes along your folds, gathering the slickness there with every pass as his pace only gets faster. 

“Fuck” he groans, hips twitching as he stills, trying to catch his breath at the sensation, at the fucked out expression on your face. He hasn’t even fucked you and yet you look an absolute wreck. You don’t feel much better either. Every slide of his hips forces more wetness from you, more noises from you. The feeling of his fingers digging into to crook of your knees keeps you firmly planted in the moment.

“All of this,” he sighs, finally picking up the pace after being a tease the entire night, “right under my nose this whole time.” the air is pushed out of your lungs as his cock finally rubs against your clit. 

The sound of his body slamming against your own fills the room. Sukuna leans down, and for a shocking moment you think he may actually kiss you, but his head goes even lower before you can feel his teeth biting against your neck. There’s no room to breathe with him like this, your hands curling into the red sheets, his mouth unabashedly leaving marks against your throat, its all too overwhelming. The sound of slapping echoes through the room. You’re left adrift in the sensation of Sukuna fucking your thighs so vigorously, the wet schlick of skin on skin, the sound of his panting breaths. Only a few more thrusts against your clit before you’re whining, thrashing against the bed, close to an orgasm that doesn’t come. 

“Did you really think I’d let you?” He breathlessly laughs “i’m not that kind sweetheart.”

Sukuna pulls back at the last second, hand on his cock as he jerks off in front of you, kneeing at your spread legs until you’re situated just the way he wants: legs spread, breathless, as he pumps his cock in front of your tits. 

“Such a pretty thing” he murmurs, “shame this is all goin’ to waste… maybe one day-“ the groan, and sudden release that bathes your chest, is startling. You’d never thought of yuuji’s brother in this way, moaning above you as he paints your chest white. But now the truth of it was jarring enough for you to see the truth for what it was. You had fucked your best friend’s brother. Had let him finish on your chest, even let him clean you up afterwards and croon sweet nothings into your ear during the process. You were even shameless enough to fall into a peaceful sleep next to him.

When you wake, the room still faintly smells of sex. Fear grips you as you hear something down the hall. Sukuna is long gone, something you’d expected before you even opened your eyes. You know he’s probably left the apartment already, that’s not what scares you. The sound reverberating down the hall is yuuji. Singing over some shitty pop anthem blaring through a speaker. How could you explain away fucking his brother?

[your-unfriendlyghost]

in the vaguest way possible……. what are some scenes u’re excited for people to read abt? or maybe like some favorite bits of out of context dialogue to be jumpscared (/pos) by later on, perhaps… characterizations u’re proud of.. scenes u might wanna draw… 😼 ur writing/art is some of my favorite I’ve found since getting back into the s.e. hinton-verse suuuuuper pumped to find out more whenever u get ready to share the final thing 😎👊

Okay here’s some stuff! Cannot wait to share the final thing this AU is so fun for me holy helll

-Mark has to borrow Angela’s clothes b/c he only has one fit lol (can’t resist a crop top Alex Winter moment ig) (I AM NOT GAY I JUST SHARE THEIR BELIEFS)

-Angela goes on in her inner monologue about how pretty Mark is for a paragraph or two while she’s dying his hair. It’s immediately followed by this interaction:

  Mark grinned. “You’re makin’ me look like uh…oh jeez, this is the cut Curtis goes for! You got a type, huh?”

  “Yeah, and that type ain’t you.”

-The “there’s only one bed” trope is settled by sleeping on the couch because Mark is an asshole

-Angela re-pierces his ears (they’d closed up from his month or so without earrings in)

-Their love language is arguing 

-Angela has a bunch of Evie, Tim, and Curly’s old clothes

-Mark and Angela talk/act like they hate each other- and they do, kinda- but they also know it’s the two of them against the world now. They both are shocked when they realize they no longer hate each other.

Some outta context bits (note that these are all in the draft and may be changed lol):

-

  “You’re both so young to be getting married! High school sweethearts, are ya?” the woman cooed.

  “Guilty as charged!” Mark grinned too wide, speaking through his teeth. Angela tried not to cringe.

  “Still can’t afford a nice ring though, can we, sweetheart?” Angela said, smiling. Under the counter, she kicked Mark in the shins. 

  His eye twitched. “Well, we get along alright, don’t we darlin’?”

-

 “How old is he?”

  “Forty-six,” Mark said, grinning. 

  “Pardon- what?” The clerk said, eyes narrowing.

  “The secret’s to stay outta the sun and drink only rabbit blood,” Mark winked. 

  “Excuse me?” said the clerk.

  “He’s twenty,” Angela lied, elbowing him. “Sorry. He thinks he’s funny.”

-

  “Okay, the princess’ll take a cup of…nothin’,” Mark said, rolling his eyes. “More for me.”

  “If you keep callin’ me that I’m leaving you here.”

-

  “No, I- thanks,” Angela said. “Thanks.”

  “Oh. Well. Yeah,” he muttered, taken aback. “Umm…yeah.” He rubbed the back of his neck, and opened his mouth as if to say something, but decided against it.

-

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mark, with his nose wrinkled and eyes narrowed. She flashed her eyes at him, and he rolled his eyes and went back to drinking (her!) rum and coke. 

-

 “Hey,” Mark said, catching the door before it shut, “if he tries anything, use this,” he said, producing a small switch from his back pocket. 

  Angela already had a switch, but she took it anyway.

-

“Why do you hate me?” she said. Against her will, her voice wavered.

  Mark gave her a look, dark-gold eyebrows knitting together. He looked away and busied himself with re-folding his jacket. 

  “You got a guy to break a busted bottle on my forehead, baby,” he said lightly, not making eye contact.

[atsadi-shenanigans]

Fingers Sifting Black Earth 1 - That Awkward Moment When

Happy Yuletide, motherfuckers! Next story's up.

On AO3.

It is important for me to be down on my knees, my fingers sifting the black earth, making those things grow which will grow. —Ann Struthers, Planting the Sand Cherry

So you’re in hell. The air scorches the back of your throat and your pits are beyond dank. Your new (relatively) tunic clings to your back beneath your new (also relatively) drow armor, and your tit region is a full blown swamp.

Even Astarion, famously undead, shines with sweat.

“Everyone present and accounted for?” Gale says. Poor man is more soaked-through than you. Turns out wizard robes, without cooling enchantments which he’s short of at the moment, ain’t all that good for running around a magical forge embedded in a mother fucking lava lake.

“Let’s just get out of here,” Shadowheart says. She at least got a sweet, new set of armor outta that forge.

Lae’zel sways, and then glares when you notice. You don’t say nothing.

Only Karlach stays chipper. She’s waiting over with Wyll next to the big ass lever. On Gale’s nod, they manage to kick and shove the creaky bitch down. The metal platform y’all stand on groans. Jolts. You expect, for a pants-shitting moment, for the fucker to crack in half and drop y’all onto that lake. You read somewhere that people don’t actually sink into lave, like that volcano movie. Cause it’s melted rock with the same density. It’s a lot more like dropping a square of cold butter onto a hot-ass, stainless steel pan. Lots of sizzling and skittering around as the water in the body boils off. Course, you’re dead before you hit, since the superheated air sears shut the lungs—

Everybody’s staring at you. Wyll grimaces.

Oops. You’re all up in the brainworm group chat with that one.

“Sorry,” you say.

“That’s pretty accurate, actually,” Karlach says.

To which Wyll turns his horrified look to her. She just shrugs.

The platform shudders. Wheezes. Screams a little. And then starts to rise. All in one piece.

You sigh and slump. Let your head fall back to try to keep breathing the oven-hot air. You grew up in Oklahoma-sticky, been caught out in one-hundred-thirteen degrees with ninety percent humidity and northerners are always surprised when you tell that that yes, you can actually sweat on the backs of your hands.

Ain’t none of that compares to this hellscape. Literally.

Eventually, the first drafts of cooler air brush your cheeks. You’re beyond things like modesty right now, so you loosen the sides of your armor—thank you Gale for the perfect-fit enchantment—enough you can flap your tunic and try to relieve some of the tiddy sweat.

Catch Astarion watching you with one eyebrow quirked.

You try not to think about that just now.

It’s been a helluva few days. Fresh off escaping a drow hunting party, y’all ran into a group of duergar slavers working a bunch of gnomes half to death to free some Absolute cultist piece of shit. They’re all dead, now. Between them gnomes, the cave buffalo, and all y’all, you’re pretty sure every slaver got ganked.

Astarion…

He really does not fucking care about other people. Not even people in a position a lot like his own. You met others like that. You were others like that for a while. But when he made that “joke” (cause it ain’t never actually a joke) about “motivating the staff” (and by that he meant “torturing defenseless people”) you cold-shouldered him. Hard.

He’s been slinking around your peripherals ever since.

You wipe the sweat from your face as best you can. Which mostly means smearing it around.

It ain’t right to let him carry on like that and treat it like it’s fine. It ain’t. And you’re pretty sure he knows that—you try hard not to think of him as a dog tiptoeing around after getting yelled at. Especially since this dog seems way more used to kicks than words. But you ain’t sure what you should do about it. If you should. Because…you care about the stupid shit. And then you think you shouldn’t because the man has screaming red flags. But…but so did you. When Sasha first tried to talk to you, you went full, flaming Testimony on her.

But she didn’t give up. She saw something in you. The part you would later find in the root cellar, covered in sticky pear juice, staring down at a piece of shattered glass. All the talk you ever heard—the books, the podcasts, anything you could listen to before it got too much and your chest got too tight to breathe and you was right back there again—says that bringing people outta shit like that is work. It takes time. Patience.

If it can be done. If the person ain’t too far gone.

If your sorry ass can possibly navigate the fucking minefield you’re starting to realize that man is.

Fuck.

At least y’all found explosives. Lots of them. Including a giant fucking barrel of something called “rune powder” that y’all sorta stole that made all them other gnomes real fucking nervous about. You’re gonna find whatever controls the cult and the fucking brainworms, and you’re gonna paint “fuck you” on the side of that barrel before you have Karlach—or Lae’zel, actually—chuck it right at their face. There’s an easy answer for one of your problems (ninety-nine problems and that man is one).

The rest of the group is run fucking ragged right now. Between all the murder and the coups y’all have initiated, between the fight with that murderfuck Absolutist and the giant fuck off robot at the forge, y’all can probably sleep for a collective week.

Astarion is still watching you.

Shadowheart raises an eyebrow for you to catch. Turns out stepping off a boat with your neck fucking purpled from hickeys tends to tip off everybody that you was fooling around with that goblin of a vampire man. Elf. Shithead.

You look away.

You just don’t know. He kissed you and you liked it. You liked the whole fingerbanging, too. Like, a lot. Then he ain’t letting you talk to him about it, then suggested you two do it again, then goes off to be a fuckhead racist and then y’all almost got squashed by the iron giant.

And now he’s sidling up to you just as you’re starting to savor the suggestion of cooler air on your skin.

“Hello, darling,” he says.

Okay, fine, he’s stupid handsome. You actually see it now, despite the granny hair (fine, it adds to his “bisexually hot” vibes). Now he’s all sweaty, and that’s gross, but the gross part of your brain fucking perks up anyway.

“Hi, Astarion,” you say.

The elevator rattles and clanks around you. Y’all are lifting up through a shaft cut so smooth, you’d think it had to be made with either water, or modern Earth drilling equipment.

Probably fucking magic. Fucking Middle Narnia.

The magma glow has receded, and now the only light comes from Karlach’s thrumming hellfire heart engine and the tiny flames dancing through her hair and on the tips of her nails. And from Shadowheart’s glowing face-smashing mace that Astarion stole, which then obliterated a whole ass Githyanki creche.

It’s enough to give the illusion of privacy.

“You know, I can’t help but feel we’ve grown somewhat…distant, the last few days,” Astarion says.

“We been kinda busy,” you say.

He hums. Shifts beside you. Then he leans in, his breath cool as it tickles the hairs on your neck. “We never did find an answer to my question, either.”

You know damn well what he’s talking about. Sidling up next to you in that dead temple. Leaning in as he’s doing now, his scent washing over you, voice low and silky in your ear when he asked “your tent or mine.”

“Huh,” you say. Like a smart person.

You got no idea what you’re doing. No idea what you should be doing. You are stumbling around in an unfamiliar, pitch-black room, half drunk, tits swinging, banging into every goddamn piece of furniture in there.

“So,” Astarion says. Leans so close he could kiss your cheek if he moved another inch.

Seems he wants that answer.

What are y’all? What is this? A one-time fling after surviving some bullshit? Stress relief? A new hobby?

You ain’t never done this before. Certainly not with someone like him. Don’t know the rules. You…you’re scared. If you ask him, if you question this or press him for any of the thoughts in your head, he’ll spook.

And deep down (maybe not so deep), you’re a greedy little shit yourself. A whole childhood denied things like cellphones and internet, like steady meals and safety and any kind of privacy and not getting publicly switched in your underwear. And then coming out of that and the group homes, the food stamps, the public health insurance and barely scraping by until so, so recently.

When you got kidnapped by a squidward alien and dropped without so much as a stitch of clothing (but with a fucking dildo, jesus) into another dimension.

You want something nice. Just for once. Just without having to think about the shoulds or should-nots. The morals and the risk and being able to fucking afford it.

This is a terrible fucking idea. Maybe you really are a weak piece of shit. Because you turn to look at him. In the dim glow of y’all’s companions, his eyes reflect a predator’s shine: two copper pennies glowing in the gloom.

You gotta figure all this shit out. Sort the mess in your head. Maybe after y’all find this cult shit and throw a bomb at it and the brainworms is gone.

Astarion is a bitch and an asshole. He makes you laugh. He stabbed a man like eight times for you, and goddamnit, kissing him feels like it paints your skin in electricity.

God ain’t real and neither is sin. And if sin ain’t real, then there’s no reason to feel shame or guilt about engaging in consensual tomfoolery.

Right?

You clear your throat. “We can, uh. Mine. I guess.”

Jesus.

His fangs is shockingly white when he grins. He brushes the tip of his nose against your cheek. “Excellent. I can’t wait.”

“Aww,” Karlach coos.

Right as Shadowheart says, “Do try to remember we can all hear you.”

You jerk away so fast you almost trip right off the edge of the magic fucking elevator. Which they all saw, and which makes you consider hurling yourself off on purpose just so you don’t have to deal with any of this.

Until a faint sound bounces down the shaft at y’all.

Shadowheart lifts her face. Squints. “Is that a dog?”

[uceyliyahh]

UNDER YOUR TOUCH

Summary: After her difficult breakup, Tiana wanted to start anew with her life. That's when she realized her life would be better when she met him.

This fanfic is 18+! NO MINORS ALLOWED

word count: 3247

smut warning; it’ll come in the story randomly so PLEASE PLEASE look out for it I’m not really good at writing ✍🏽 smuts but I’m improving at the moment.

Jey Uso x Tiana

AWFUL GRAMMAR IM GETTING BETTER I SWEAR LOL.

comments, likes, repost are appreciated I would love the constructive feedback in what area I need to approve in. 🤍

ALSO! I don’t not want nobody stealing my fanfics or take it as theirs that will be an issue fasho so keep it cute respectfully.

I only own my OC along with the make up scenarios

But I’ll be writing along the way since this story is in my drafts on Wattpad right now so yuh. 💁🏽‍♀️

TAGS ⬇️ lmk if you wanna be tag 🏷️

@pinkwithhearts @jstarr86 @biancasreign @empressdede

@angiedawn02 @fearlesschimera @paigereeder

5.

JEY I was on a mission to plan out this surprise for Tiana later tonight with the help of Bianca, Trin, and Jon. Of course, I wanted to make things official with her because her aura and energy felt so good to me. I love being around allat.

I was at the mall shopping with Bianca while Trin was making decorations. We went inside Pandora to check out some jewelry that I got for Tiana. She's a special girl and definitely deserves it.

"Do you know what size ring she wears B?" I asked as she nodded her head.

"Yeah, of course. She's a size six, and I Ion' know if you've been paying attention to her jewelry lately, but she loves bracelets, especially charm bracelets, " she said as we went to pick out the jewelry.

"I'll keep that in mind for the future then." We both laughed at each other.

After we left Pantora, I went to Foot Locker to get her some new kicks, while Bianca went somewhere else. We'll meet again.

But I went inside the place, finding her some shoes that she'll like or that we can match one day, so I just picked out whatever.

'Yes, I am spoiling the fuck outta her'

I came out of the place, seeing Bianca with a Victoria Secret bag in her hands. My eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and she looked at me with a grin.

"Who is that for?" I asked.

"Well, it's for Tiana. Don't tell her that, though. It's something that she could pull off in front of you, and if you like it, so." Bianca said.

"Ight bet then you finna get her in trouble, B." She chuckled at me as we walked towards the car.

✧.*

After we did all of our shopping together I had to stop by the flower shop to get Tiana some white roses because I knew that those were her favorites as I paid for the roses I was headed out towards my car before I could do that I've seen Kehlani with her hoe ass friends while her eyes darted my way.

She had a smirk on her face as she and her hoe-ass friends came right up to me while I put the roses in the front seat next to me.

"Hey papi, are those flowers for me?" Kehlani said as she rubbed all over me.

I felt uncomfortable with her being up all on me I only like it when Tiana is like this with me so I just gently pushed her off me.

"No, these roses aren't for you, and secondly, back up off me." I said sternly while folding my arms.

"This must be for yo' bitch, huh? Jey, she's not better than me, and you know it." She said as I scoffed in disbelief.

'This girl is delusional as fuck dawg.'

"I ain't goin' to repeat it; watch your mouth, Kehlani, and she is better than you."

"Nigga whatever you know where home is, boy, stop playing with me."

"Last time I checked, my home is with my girl, not with you, so please take your delusional ass and your hoe ass friends somewhere else with allat I got things to do." I retorted while grabbing my keys out my pocket.

I went inside of my car as I turn on the ignition switch while pulling out the parking lot seeing her face being pissed off knowing her hoe-ass friends were comforting her.

I texted Tiana, telling her that she needed to be ready around nine because I wanted to take her out to dinner somewhere private, just me and her. Even though Trin, Bianca, and Jon would be there, they'll be hidden somewhere.

I pray that she'll like it and don't feel overwhelmed by this.

✧.*

TIANA I was finishing up my clients nails for today as usual when she paid me and gave me a huge ass tip for today I sighed with joy, knowing that I love doing my job.

But I got a text from Josh telling me I needed to be ready around nine, which confused me a little bit, especially since I didn't see Bianca today, only Montez. So I wonder what he has planned for tonight.

As I was cleaning up my equipment and space, I received a text from an unknown number. I sighed, thinking that it was Malakai, but when I saw the text, I already knew who it was.

Unknown number: Jey is cheating on you girl so don't flatter yourself. Tiana: Girl you know I'm not stupid right? So you can shut that shit up honestly. Unknown number: he doesn't want you he know where home is at. Tiana: how about you take yo' delusional ass of my phone and tell somebody else that also get blocked hoe.

I blocked his ex-girlfriend's number while closing up shop. As I headed towards my BMW, I unlocked the car and threw my purse in the seat next to me as I started to pull out the parking lot.

I was listening to some music in the car on my way back home when Josh called.

OTP Jey: mamas what you doing baby? Tiana: I'm driving home Josh so I could get ready for tonight. Jey: ight baby, you good? you seem irritated. Tiana: somewhat like that Jey: what happened? Tiana: Your ex Kehlani I don't how she got my number but she was texting me some bullshit. Jey: what? Tiana: yeah I had to block her ass. Jey: what was she sayin' Tiana: she was saying how you know where home is and that you didn't want me.

I heard him scoffed over the phone while chuckling.

Jey: god she is so delusional and desperate man. Tiana: I know it's crazy. Jey: well I'll come pick you up for tonight. Tiana: what do you have planned Josh? Jey: you'll see mamas I'm not spilling. Tiana: fineeee, I love you Jey: I love you too baby.

CALLED ENDED.

Hearing him say he loves me just brings me joy every day. It feels like I am in a dream or something. I wasn't expecting to be in a relationship so good.

It was so much better being with Josh than Malakai because Kai had never done these things with me. All we ever did was fuck, and that was it.

It made me feel like I was being used for my body and not being loved by him like I am with Josh.

✧.* I checked myself out in the mirror, seeing that I looked good for tonight. I was nervous because I knew that Josh had something planned up his sleeve. He wasn't slick, but I played the role for now.

I saw a car pull up, knowing that it was Josh. Montez was calling for me, and I walked downstairs, seeing Bianca coming, including Josh. He never fails to look good.

He smiled at me, holding my favorite roses in his hands. I smiled back at him. God, he looked so good and fine.

Wearing all black and with his silver chain on his neck, including his Rolex on his wrist, I saw Bianca smile at me while she whispered.

"I've got a surprise for you when you get there, girl," Bianca whispered as I nodded my head.

I walked up towards Josh, standing on my tippy toes. I kissed him on the lips and looked into his eyes.

"You ready princess?" Jey asked as he handed me my roses.

"Yes I'm ready." I said.

We interlocked our hands together while leaving the house. Jey opened the door for me as I got in, and he shut the door next to me before heading inside his car.

As we were driving to the place, Jey and I were listening to music until this song, ' Get You,' came on. I and he listened to the song while his hand was on my thigh.

'Through drought and famine, natural disasters My baby has been around for me Kingdoms have fallen, angels be callin' None of that could ever make me leave, yeah'

I darted my eyes towards Jey, who was focused on the road. Seeing him drive with one hand just did something to me, but he looked so good. Everything was so good about him.

His side profile was so pretty that I couldn't stop admiring him. I think he noticed that I was admiring him as he stopped at a red light, turning my direction.

Grabbing my face he placed a few kisses on my lips as he pulled away and continued to drive.

'Every time I look into your eyes, I see it You're all I need Every time I get a bit inside, I feel it'

These lyrics were deep because of how Jey and I are right now; it just feels so right. That's when I started singing the lyrics to Jey.

"Ohh, who would've thought I'd get you?" I serenade to Jey as he smiled at me

'Ooh, who would've thought I'd get you?'

We finally pulled up at the restaurant, and it looked so aesthetically beautiful. I wasn't expecting us to be going here, but I knew that this was going to be my favorite restaurant.

He held his hand in mine as we walked inside, opening the door for me as I looked around the place. It was so fancy.

Josh was speaking to the greeter about our reservations as they walked us towards the elevator. I was honestly confused as to why we were going up until I saw why.

We were on the top floor, and my mouth went wide open. The view was absolutely beautiful. Words couldn't even describe how he put this together.

He saw my reaction as we walked towards our table while sitting down.

"This is just half of it baby." Jey commented as my eyebrows furrowed a bit.

"What do you mean half of it Josh? What is happening right now?" I asked him, being the impatient person I am.

"You'll see baby calm down girl." He said.

We were enjoying ourselves while we were drinking some wine, as I saw him getting up and holding his hand out.

"C'mon mama dance with me." He said as I held his hand into mines while we began dancing.

'And when we're making love, uh Your cries, they can be heard from far and wide It's only the two of us Everything I need between those thighs'

'Every time I look into your eyes, I see it You're all I need Every time I get a bit inside, I feel it'

Jey spun me around as he bent me down while holding my back as he held me up. He can dance really well, so what isn't he good at?

We looked into each other's eyes deeply while pulling our bodies close together, I can't believe that this is actually happening to me.

He placed a kiss on my cheek, whispering in my ear, "I got a surprise at the hotel, mama." Damn how many surprises does this man have?

We continue to dance while embracing each other more closely.

✧.* After a few more drinks, we finally made it to the hotel. Jey covered my eyes. Honestly, I was terrified to see what the hell this surprise was. He guided me through the room while removing his hands from my eyes.

When I told you I wanted to cry, I wanted to cry so bad. It was so beautiful, and all of the gifts I've seen on the bed just warmed my heart.

I turned around to hug  Jey so tightly as he hide the same giving me a kiss on the lips.

"You love it mama?" Jey asked.

I sniffed my nose while wiping my tears away from my eyes.

"Yes, I love it so much, Josh. Omg, you mischievous man," I said while hitting him in the chest.

"Ight, ight girl calm down." He said.

'Ooh, who would've thought I'd get you? Oh yeah, oh yeah, babe Ooh, who would've thought I'd get you?'

My eyes noticed a dart towards the Victoria's Secret bag on the bed, and then it clicked to me about what Bianca had said about a surprise she had for me.

I went towards the bed, grabbed the bag, and saw two pieces of red lingerie in there—my favorite color. I love my bestie so much, so I took it out; it looked so good.

Until I saw Jey walking towards me with a smirk on his face, he stood in front of me.

"Why don't you put that on baby? Lemme see how it look on you." He said as he held my chin up.

'Ouu Bianca what did you do girl?'

SMUT WARNING.

Jey had pulled my lingerie to the side as he was beating my shit in, as my eyes were rolling in the back of my head, moaning his name loudly.

I felt him put pressure on my back as he dug his dick deeper inside of me, causing me to grip the sheets tightly.

'And I'll take some time Just to be thankful That I had days full of you, you Before it winds down into (Got someone you like, feel something that's right) The memories, it's all just memories (Somebody, just tell somebody) Now'

"Fucccck Dadddy..." I moaned as he smack my ass.

"Uh-Huh...mama, this daddy's pussy.." Jey grunted as he moved his hips faster and deeper inside of me.

My back was hurting as I tried to get up only for him to push me down while making me feel miserable underneath him.

"Nah keep that shit arched mama." I loved when he is dominant and aggressive with me.

'(If you've got someone you like) Don't you love when I come around? (Feel something that's right) (Somebody, just tell somebody) Build you up then I take you down (If you've got someone you like) Don't you love when I come around? (Feel something that's right) (Somebody, just tell somebody) Build you up then I take—'

As he was pounding me to oblivion, I felt him grab a whole head of my hair as he pulled me up toward his body, making me look at him.

He smirked at my facial expression knowing that he was fucking me good, giving me a good dick. He grabbed my throat firmly, continuing to thrust into me deeply.

"Fuck, mama looking so good in this lingerie baby." He cooed.

"Y-yeah D-daddy?" I breathed out.

"Yeah, mama look so sexy.." I felt myself clenching onto his dick, causing him to groan softly in my ear was music to my ears until he let me go while pulling out, which caused me to whine.

He turned me towards the side of my body and got back to work at it, thrusting into me deeper, causing me to moan loudly.

He was hitting my g-spot so good I was seeing stars in the back of my head as my mouth parted open as I made eye contact with him.

Grabbing me by the throat yet again as he pound into me vigorously, hitting my spot so good.

"J-Joshhhh! W-wait!" I cried out tapping his arm.

"Nah gimme that shit mama, make a mess on this bed." He purred as he smacked my ass.

'Ooh, who would've thought I'd get you? Oh yeah, oh yeah, babe Ooh, who would've thought I'd get you?'

I felt myself squirting on this man as I cursed under my breath as tears came out of my eyes as I felt my legs shaking uncontrollably knowing that he didn't give a damn as he kept going.

'This feels like summer Boy, you make me feel so alive Just be my lover Boy, you'll lead me to paradise'

My moans became very high-pitched noises as my facial expressions were growing more intense the more he kept thrusting inside of me.

The way his dick stuffed inside of me going in and out of me.

"you belong to me baby?" Jey cooed.

"Yesss, Josh, I belong to you." I whimpered weakly as my eyes went to the back of my head.

Both of us were moaning and groaning loudly and cursing as his dick was stretching me out so good.

"she so wet for me, fat Ma knows what it is right baby?"

"God! Yes Daddy!" I managed to get out I couldn't even comprehend or get the first few words out of my mouth.

I felt drool coming down my face going straight on the sheets, "You fuck me so good, Josh." He smiled down at me, knowing.

"Oh, I know ma."

I didn't know how much I could take from this, as I felt that same pit in my stomach again. Jey noticed my facial expressions.

That gave him the opportunity to go deeper inside of me, causing me to squeal loudly as his hips found the perfect rhythm to make me reach my second orgasm.

"cum for me again, princess, make a mess." He growled while pushing into me deeply.

I grabbed his arm that was wrapped around my neck still as I let it go cumming all over this man, feeling defeated.

My legs were uncontrollably shaking and aching as I was breathing heavily up and down, his movements were getting sloppier and sloppier knowing that he was going to nut.

As he kept his rhythm going, I couldn't even moan anymore as I felt defeated and lost. My mind was foggy from this sensation.

"Imma fill yo' pussy up like a Twinkie mama." He meant that shit, too as he gave his all while cursing underneath his breath.

He groaned loudly as he filled me up like he said he would. It felt so warm inside of me while he pulled out of me, gazing down at me.

SMUT OVER.

I was breathing heavily as my chest was going up and down while looking up at Jey, who was gazing down at me with his hands on his hips.

I tried to get up but ended up falling on the ground laughing as Jey held me up by my waist, holding me tightly.

"C'mere mama let's go take a shower together." Jey said as he carried me to the bathroom.

I just knew I was going to get fucked yet again.

Under Your Touch.

tianasworld, zillafatu, biancabelairwwe, and 300,000 people liked your post.

uceyjucey: my perfection 🫶🏽😮‍💨 tianasworld: I love you so much baby. 🤍 uceyjucey: @ tianasworld I love you too mama you deserve it. 🤍 zillafatu: okayyyy uce i see you spoiling yo' girl did you finally make it official? uceyjucey: @ zillafatu yessir 💁🏽‍♂️ biancabelairwwe: omggg 🥹🤍 theyhatelani: wtf why didn't I get that type of treatment? uceyjucey: @ theyhatelani didn't yo' ass cheat on me? Oh yeah I forgot you did.

Read all 100,456 comments.

uceyjucey replied to your story: you deserve it mama. biancabelairwwe replied to your story: i love this for you girl finally. 🫶🏽 shelovekai replied to your story: bro tf you mean by that I did everything for you. shelovesemma replied to your story: oh my goooood Tiana did your new man do this??? shelovekai replied to your story: bro he ain't better than me Tiana.

Phewwww man oh man, Jey did his big one with this I hope yall enjoyed this chapter lmk in the comments.

Stay Ucey