#Preferable from husk

[corpusdiem-seizethedead]

Angel: And here is my wall of inspiration.

Husk: Is that a picture of you?

Angel: Yes. I am big enough to admit that I am often inspired by myself.

[oceanmojis]

is there a way i could have an emoji of someone stimming with wings that look like husk's from hazbin hotel?

here you go!

[alchemy-and-royalty]

“Are you f—ing high??”

Uh. Maybe? Do y'all ever get a feeling where no, you aren't high, but you can’t walk in a straight line, words slur together both audibly and on paper, and have a massive headache? 

[angie-is-silly]

happy pride I'm having a gay panic because I'm in love with my partner

[myownwholewildworld]

gif by @\pedrospascaled

“for emergencies only” — an oldman!joel miller drabble

main masterlist | ao3 pairing: oldman!jackson!joel miller x f!reader summary: joel has a lil' accident, but you know exactly how to help. or joel cums in his boxers a bit too early and you feed him a blue pill for endurance. a/n: uhm... yeah, hi? i promise you this fic wrote itself, i almost had nothing to do with it. i am so fucking feral over this man, can't flush him out of my system. lord have mercy... 🙇‍♀️ tags/warnings: 18+, mdni. pwp. filthy smut. joel cums in his boxers like the old man he is. mortified!joel but you make him feel good i promise <3 use of viagra. kneading the bulge, kissing the bulge, worshipping the bulge. pussy eating. face/nose riding. squirting. fingering. your slick is his hair gel (scent marking? idk). blowjob. you go cowgirl on him because the poor man can't do extraneous exercise, protect his bones. unprotected piv. creampie. age gap, no age gap, your choice. petnames. no description of reader other than afab. w/c: ~4.2k

Joel let go of a big sigh, knees cracking as he sat down on the couch. Even taking a shower was damn exhausting at his age—he preferred it when you scrubbed his back in the bath, massaged his biceps and forearms, gently squeezed his dick while the movement created rippling waves in the water.

He’d only managed to comb through his dry, silvery curls, to throw a worn shirt and some loose boxers on, before he needed to take a break. He was getting too old to go on long, extenuating patrols. Perhaps Joel should take up Tommy’s offer and solely focus on managing the construction in Jackson. He’d have more time with you that way too.

His mind was drifting away, thinking about all the things he would do to you in his free time, when his most delicious desire materialised in front of him. His precious little thing—you.

“Why are you so lonely over here, handsome?” you teased, lips curling into a sinful smile.

You lost no time, sitting beside him, snuggling up to his side. Joel’s arm draped around your shoulders instinctively, his fingertips tracing lazy circles on your collarbone.

“I dunno, someone didn’t want to join me in the shower…” he pouted slightly, a laugh tearing up your throat as you poked his ribs with one finger.

“I told you to wait for me, but you’re a grumpy old man who has no patience,” you reproached jokingly.

His eyes rolled back in exasperation, but you were right. He’d just wanted to hop in the shower as soon as he got home, ready to dust off the fatigue of the day.

“Whatever,” he mumbled, shrugging.

His hand slowly moved away from your collarbone up to your neck. Carefully, his fingers dug around your throat, just enough for you to look up at him and gape for air—the sweet pressure on your trachea making you gasp like a little fish out of the water.

“Give your old man a kiss, will ya?” he husked, bowing down his head.

You reached up to him, mouth agape, almost touching his lips. You froze there, your sight simmering with need, awaiting his permission… and when his eyes flicked with lust, you closed the distance and pressed your lips on his.

The kiss quickly became sloppy, your spit coating the stubble around his mouth. Muted, needy moans bubbled up your windpipe—an irresistible call of nature, silently begging him to give you what you wanted, what you needed.

How could he resist you? Joel simply couldn’t, especially when your hand landed on his knee and the making out session came to an end, the tip of your nose tracing his jawline before you pressed a kiss to his beating jugular and buried your face in the crook of his neck.

Your palm squeezed the back of his hairy knee, slowly sliding it up his thigh whilst he manspread on the couch. His brown eyes tracked your every move, his legs’ muscles tensing as you playfully approached his groin. A pull in his soft tummy made him flinch when you reached the dip between his crotch and thigh, his cock hardening at the seductive tease.

A throaty moan rumbled through his chest when you tightly gripped the flesh of his inner thigh, thumb lazily stroking the outline of his shaft over the boxers.

“You’re a bit starved for touch today, aren’tcha?” you nudged him, lips pressed against the shell of his ear.

His cock twitched.

“And whose fault is that?” he snapped back, nerves on edge.

You simply giggled, shaking your head as your hand finally cupped his growing bulge. Gently kneaded him, massaging his aching balls over the fabric. Joel could feel the warmth of your touch seeping through the boxers, compelling him to grow bigger, harder, thicker.

Your palm rubbed against the covered length of him, then dropped to his sacks again—and, irremediably, his hips bucked up, bare heels dug in the wooden floor. He thoroughly enjoyed it when you cupped his balls like that—lovingly, languidly, exquisitely, taking the weight off him so he could find some bliss.

Seeing you so locked in on his pleasure, your tongue darting out to wet your lips… It just added to your appeal, another reason to love you. Because he did—fuck, yes he did, with all his fucking heart.

Suddenly, you squeezed his balls a bit too harsh, holding your grip as if your life depended on him, kissing his jawline. The unexpected squash on his testicles forced a moan out of him—and something else.

A firing pulse took a hold of him, surging down from his spine directly into his balls, and inevitably his cock throbbed with releasing strength. Joel couldn’t have stopped himself even if he wanted to. He first felt the sticky warmth soaking his boxers, and his eyes quickly shot down to his lap.

There was a wet, growing spot on his underwear. He’d fucking cummed in his boxers like an inexperienced teenager—or the old man he was, despite how adamant he was to deny it—and he wasn’t even fully hard yet.

Embarrassed wouldn’t even start to cover it. Joel was fucking mortified.

His mouth ran dry, heartrate throbbing in his eardrums like a shameful cacophony. This had never occurred before—cumming way too early in his loose boxers, the proof right there for you to see, staining the grey fabric. It happened so fast, so intensely, Joel hadn’t had the time to rein in his own orgasm.

His face flushed with abasement; the tips of his ears hot as embers. Unwrapping his arm from around your shoulders, Joel leaned back, his head slacking back and resting on top of the couch. He pinched the bridge of his nose, his free hand tight in a fist, before a trembling sigh escaped his lips.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he whispered, unable to look at you.

“Oh, it’s okay, baby,” you replied reassuringly, your tone too sweet for the circumstances you both were in. Your hand wrapped around his wrist, forcing his hand out of his face. “This just proves how much you love me, so much you can’t even resist me. It’s hot.”

Joel finally had the courage to look you in the eye, a cocked brow showing his disbelief.

“Hot? You think it’s hot I just came in my boxers with a lil’ tugging?” he repeated out loud, unable to believe what you just had said. “I’m not even hard, sweetheart. It’s… humiliating.”

You nodded to his question, your top teeth sinking in your plump bottom lip. Your eyes locked in on his as your hand travelled down his frame, your thumb stroking the obvious wet spot in his underwear.

“Mhm,” you cooed with a playful grin. “Very hot, not humiliating. And I can fix that. Fix him so we can have a good cuddle.”

“I don’t think I can…” you silenced him with a kiss before you got up from the couch and disappeared into the kitchen without another word.

A minute later you were back, towering above him with a sinful little smirk, one hand hidden behind your back.

“Open your mouth,” you requested.

“Huh?”

“Just open it for me, please?” you dragged the last word, blinking rather exaggeratedly.

Joel huffed his disagreement, but ended up obeying. His tongue slid out, patiently waiting for whatever you had in mind. With a flourish, you opened your fist to reveal a blue pill. His eyes lighted up in understanding—he thought he had run out of viagra.

“I always keep a secret stock,” you confessed, reading his mind. “For emergencies only.”

Slowly, you set the pill down on his tongue, your thumb caressing the tip of his wet muscle before you retreated to let him close his mouth. Before Joel could swallow, you bowed down to kiss him, your tongue pushing the pill down his throat with a little needy moan.

His Adam’s apple bobbed, the pill secure in his belly now. It was just a matter of time, but meanwhile…

“Let me make it up to you, sweetheart,” he growled, the taste of your sweet cunt haunting him. “You deserve to be eaten out—so thoughtful of your old man. It’s what you enjoy most, right? Having your swollen pussy drooling all over my face, leaking into my mouth…”

His words had an immediate effect on you. Joel knew exactly how to get you off—not that you needed any more encouragement. Your clit was already palpitating, your hole gushing for his attention. The promise of a good pussy eating was everything you’d hoped for after feeding him that viagra pill.

You straightened your back, ready to get started, and Joel slithered off the couch until he was sat on the floor, his achy back leaned against the bottom part of the sofa. He sat back a little, his head resting on the edge of the couch while your pants and underwear dropped to the floor.

“Someone’s eager,” he taunted when you kicked off your clothing to one side.

“Oh, that’s an understatement,” you exhaled sharply.

Joel curled one long, thick finger at you to invite you to sit on his face, and that was exactly what you did.

You knelt on the sofa, his head right between your thighs, and you anchored your hands to the back of the furniture. His warm breath fanned your pussy, a shiver running up your spine. His broad, calloused hands ran up the back of your legs, coaxing your ass cheeks apart so your slit would crack open for him.

“My sweet girl… You’re already so wet,” he tutted at you, pecking your perineum, the tip of his aquiline nose tickling your entrance. “You really like your old man, don’tcha?”

You were about to answer when Joel lapped your entire seam in one smooth motion before his mouth latched onto your pulsing clit. You sobbed audibly, head lolled back, fingers curling tightly around the cushion of the backrest. Only managing a hushed “mhm,” Joel suckled on your throbbing nub again, pulling the hood back with his tongue.

A myriad of stars danced behind your eyelids when Joel gently nibbled at your bud, his middle finger sliding in your tight hole to rub that precise spot inside your cunt. He ate you out diligently—sucked, licked, bit, flicked your clit… rinse and repeat. Your pussy fluttered around his finger, your moans louder than they should have been considering the thin walls of the house. Sensing your desperation, Joel’s finger slipped out with a pop, to quickly fill your drooling entrance with his tongue.

It was too much—deliciously so. When you thought you’d had the best head ever, Joel always outdid himself. His wet muscle thrusted in and your pussy reciprocated with stuttering squeezes on his tongue. He didn’t falter, not even for a breather—as if he was trying to pull something out of your cunt.

“Jo-Joel…” you mewled, half whimper, half prayer.

You were so drenched, you could feel a flood forming in your womb—a heap of your arousal waiting to drip into his mouth. A tight coil low in your belly with a strangling force, so intense your shut eyes were tearing up, the drops of your silent cries sliding off your temples. Joel didn’t leave a spot unattended, worshipping your puffy pussy lips, your gushing hole, your thudding clit with his tongue and teeth.

Unable to rein in your own lust anymore, you dropped one hand and fisted his hair, forcing him to stay put, still between your trembling thighs. Your body was asking to take control, to let go of the tethers of decency—not that you had much left anyway.

“Wanna ride my face, hm?” Joel muttered with a shaky laugh.

“Mhmmm,” you moaned, shaking your head yes, your bottom lip twitching.

“Go on, baby, use me,” and then he rolled your bundle of nerves between his teeth.

That was the last straw—his words, your undoing. So you did exactly that. Still anchoring his head to the couch, you rocked your hips on his face, just once. His nose traced the entirety of your slit, catching on your clit, and you whined. A second later you were completely sat on his face, almost smothering him, while you rode not only his face, but specifically his nose.

Looking down, you saw his forehead reappear when your hips moved back. Every time you glided over him, the coil tightened and the flood dropped further down in your uterus. Stilling, you circled your waist on his mouth, and then resumed the riding.

It happened too quickly. Suddenly, the dam in your pussy just gave way, and you squirted all over his face while the most wanton moan tore up your throat, your vocal chords feeling raw from so much screaming. The biggest wave—no, tsunami—of your life washed over you, your thighs quivering like crazy while you locked them shut around his head.

Joel eagerly drank everything you offered him, groaning below you like a thirsty man who had not tasted water in days. For a long minute you couldn’t control the spasms of your cunt, dripping onto his nose, mouth and chin, your slick running down his neck and wetting the neck of his shirt.

Heaving, all your muscles finally relaxed, and you dropped to one side to release Joel from the imprisonment of your thighs. A side glance at Joel told you that he was licking off your juices from anywhere his tongue could reach, and that vision made you whimper again.

“I… Uh…” you mumbled, incapable of finding the words to describe what had just happened. “That was… the best head you’ve ever given me, you handsome old man.”

“You mean the best head you’ve ever had, full stop. Right?” he joked while he planted his hands on the edge of the couch to push himself up and sit besides you, his knees loudly cracking.

You laughed, nodding vehemently as you curled up to his side. His face was still wet from your cum, so you swept off some of it for him, kissing it away. The curls freely hanging over his forehead were damp with your slick too, and just that sight made your clit throb again. Raking your fingers through his salt-and-pepper hair, you combed it back with the product of your arousal.

“You don’t need hair gel if you’ve got me,” you said with a smile, and Joel tsked before letting go of a hearty chuckle.

“My personal hairdresser,” Joel quipped.

His laugh died in his mouth when your taunting hand flew to his bulge again. This time, he was extremely hard. Balls loaded and heavy, cock drumming.

“How’s my toy doing? Ready?” It was a rhetoric question, you could feel how ready he was.

“All… yours,” his words hitched, eyes darkening with a burning desire.

Without wasting another second, you knelt before him on the floor, his thighs spread open to house your frame. You couldn’t resist to lean forward and kiss the wet spot on his underwear, stealing a quick taste. Licking off the stain, you gazed up at him.

Joel was watching your every move with predatory attention, his tight fists resting to either side of him. Trying to convey calmness, but you could feel the eagerness simmering under the surface.

You buried your face in his bulge again, rubbing him over the fabric with your mouth, lips and cheeks. Kneaded him with worshipping heed, pulling the textile between your teeth, drunk with the crispy, sticky sound the wet boxers made when they unglued from his damp cock. Feeling his heartbeat, you inhaled keenly—his scent swarming your senses.

You could spend hours like this, with your face tucked away in his groin, feeling the length of him hardening against your cheek. But you were anxious to shove him down your throat.

Your fingers curled around the waistband of his old man’s loose boxers, and Joel lifted his hips off the pillows just enough for you to pull them down his legs, tangled around his ankles. His dick sprung free, swaying in front of you like a tasty lollypop. Cockhead flushed and painfully red, the vein on his underside visibly pulsing, his heavy, full balls tightened up into the base of his dick. And then the cum he’d been so embarrassed about, topping his mushroom head and sliding off his shaft.

It really was a beautiful sight. You pushed his girthy length against his soft tummy and lapped at his balls first, to then find your way up his shaft until your lips sealed shut around his angry cockhead, cleaning off all his nutty spent.

Joel groaned above you, shifting his position ever so slightly, and was gentle enough to caress your cheek with his thumb before he gave you a soft smack.

“Careful not to choke, sweetheart. Take it easy,” he growled, words dying off when you pushed him down your mouth, the hoarse curls at the base tingling your nose. “Easy does it.”

With your mouth full, you gave free rein to your instincts. Took him out completely, a bridge of saliva linking your lips to the tip of his cock, and then shoved him down your throat again. You gagged and whimpered at the same time, precum and spit overflowing from the corners of your mouth. How the end of him hit your uvula, breaching past it… it was the most elated you had ever felt.

Your pace quickly picked up, and soon enough you were bobbing your head on his lap to the point that tomorrow you’d have a stiff neck. But it would be completely worth it. Sucking him off, your tongue swirled around his leaky cockhead to then nip at it. Closing your mouth, you slid his tip over your clenched teeth and lips, making a mess of your face.

“Eaaaasy… Fuck, stop,” Joel tugged at your hair.

You had been so lost in the moment, you looked up at him bewildered. You didn’t want to stop, you could never have enough of him. But realisation quickly hit. His balls were twitching against your chin, a sign that Joel was about to lose it.

“I could have my dick in your mouth all day and night, sweetheart, but I need your pussy now,” he husked, half plea, half threat.

Joel relaxed against the couch when you got up to your feet and straddled him, your knees sunk in the pillows to either side of his legs. Reaching behind you, you grabbed at his throbbing cock, gliding it over your entire slit until it hitched in your entrance.

Biting your lip down to stop a slutty moan from coming out, you locked eyes with him. Watching his façade tumble down every time you descended on his lap was one of the most beautiful sights. So slowly you impaled yourself, taking in how Joel’s face loosened up, his hands firm on your hips—how the crows’ feet kissing the corners of his chocolate eyes would smooth out, how his cheeks would flush, how his nose would do a cute little scrunch, or how his lips would part, letting out a heavy sigh.

Joel tried to fuck up into you when you lifted your hips and you tutted at him, pinning him down so he wouldn’t move.

“Nuh-uh. I’m doing all the work tonight, baby. You just lean back and relax, let me fuck you,” you warned him, an edge to your tone advising him to refrain from complaining.

He’d been on patrol out all day—you knew how tired he was, how his old man’s bones would crack with the gentlest of moves.

“But—”

“No, no buts. If you stay still and behave, I’ll let you come inside. Be good for me, please,” you cooed, your mouth moving against his with every suggestive word.

Joel finally grunted in agreement, and the smile on your face couldn’t be wider—even your cheeks hurt. Despite how badly you wanted to say “good boy,” you didn’t press your luck. Joel was quite dominant, but you enjoyed these subtle shifts in your relationship when he was very tired. So tired you could boss him around with no reprimands.

Once he had settled down, you began riding him, his reassuring hands kneading your hips for encouragement. At first it was slow-paced, his cock lazily swallowed by your labia only half-way through. With every pump, you let him slide a little bit deeper, sweet desperation building up behind his adoring eyes.

And after a few minutes, you were bouncing up and down on his throbbing shaft with heavy, quick dives. You laced your hands behind his neck for support, your forehead resting on his, your sweats mixing. Every time he exhaled, you inhaled his needy groans, high with the passion burning between you two.

His cock filled you up to the brim, especially when he was fully seated in your crying cunt. His tip would kiss your cervix, sending firing signals up your spine, numbing your mind. He was so girthy, your inner walls parted like the Red Sea to greet him, to house him. Every time he pulsed inside, your pussy squeezed him hard—as if they were talking to each other. Joel was the perfect fit to you, in every fucking sense.

His cockhead dragged along your anterior wall, putting pressure on the exact spot that always had you gushing. You were so close to nirvana, you could almost touch the sky with your fingertips. Understanding how close you were—probably because your pussy was uncontrollably fluttering around him—Joel took it upon himself to tip you over the cliff of your pleasure. One of his hands flew to your clit, pressing tight circles on your nub as you, quite literally, jumped on him like a demon possessed—and your whole brain short-circuited right there and then.

“Come for you old man, sweetheart. Squirt all over my cock, drench my lap. Wanna feel her sing around me, milk me fucking dry until my balls are completely empty,” Joel husked against your lips, his thumb quicker on your clit now, pushing back the hood to expose your bundle of nerves to his incessant touch even more. “Can you do that for me, hm?”

You did exactly that the moment Joel stopped petting your clit and, instead, he gently tapped at it with four fingers, the squelching sound driving you crazy. The clapping of skin on skin driving you wild. You finally came, screaming at the top of your lungs, while your hips stuttered above him. Incapable of maintaining any pace now, you sat on his lap—his thudding cock buried down to the hilt in your quivering pussy, the best orgasm of your life hitting you at once.

Your entire body was quaking, your pussy flitting arrhythmically as the last squirts left your insides. Joel was throbbing inside you, grown to a point you thought he might explode. And with the last bit of energy, you clamped down on him as strongly as you could, burying your face in the crook of his neck.

“Fuck, that’s it, sweetheart,” Joel moaned loudly, head tilting back against the couch.

He pulsed one last time, and then finally filled you up. His cum flooded your pussy with long, thick ropes—so much that it was soon gushing out, mixed with your own arousal. It was warm and comforting, knowing that his seed was safe in your cunt. You squeezed once more to completely drain his balls, and he gifted you with some more drops.

You hummed in approval, so satisfied you almost felt sleepy. Joel smacked your right buttock and then hugged you around the waist, feeling your weight on him like a blanket. Neither of you moved, his cock still snug inside your pussy, your breathings loud and heavy.

“We still have a couple of hours before they serve dinner in the community hall. Can’t go anywhere in this… state,” Joel snickered, kissing your cheek.

“Gonna have to take care of this for you, ain’t I?” you whispered, batting your eyelashes at him before you grinded your hips on his lap. Your clit twitched in response, overstimulated. “I need a minute though, I feel like my whole nervous system is on fire right now.”

“Take as long as you need, sweetheart. I could be here all day right until the last minute,” he muttered, his hands gliding over the sweaty skin on your back.

“You’ll need to at least take a shower before we leave. I made a mess of your hair,” you laughed, nudging the vein on his neck with the tip of your nose.

“No, I like this hair gel better. I ain’t washing my hair.”

Your eyes shot up to him. The mere idea of him leaving the house with your slick dampening his hair, him being in public bathed in your pussy scent… while talking to others, fully claiming him as yours… Right then, you brain chemistry was changed forever.

Your clit throbbed, and you purposefully clutched around his still hard shaft.

“I’m ready again.”

[pir8]

so sick of having to be a real person..... i wish i could be invisible and not have to interact with anybody but Also all my friends know who i am and love me. i just dont have to ever express who i am or anything about myself while still getting to know people and experiencing all the benefits of mutual human connection. i think this is a fair thing to want

[angelltheninth]

Hazbin Characters + How They Sleep

Pairing: Alastor, Lucifer Morningstar, Charlie Morningstar, Vaggie, Angel Dust, Husk, Adam, Vox, Valentino x Reader

Tags: sfw, cuddles, literal sleeping together, wings, tail shenanigans, horns, possessiveness, kissing, established relationship

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: Idea I had while talking with @massivementalitynut. had to write it because the idea wouldn't leave me alone.

Alastor begins with sleeping on opposite sides of the bed but as your relationship progresses he allows you to get closer and closer. But not to fully cuddle with him unless he initiates it. The most he will allow you to do is hold his hand while you sleep. Anything else must be on his terms.

Lucifer always wraps his wings around you like they're a huge fluffy blanket. Since he's a bit touch starved right now he is very clingy in his sleep, always seeking you out and kissing you lazily. Actually prefers to be the big spoon when sleeping because he never knows when his horns might pop out, so it's safer for you.

Charlie wraps her tail around your thigh when you go to bed. It's a possessive gesture that she used to apologize for many times until you told you that you like knowing she thinks of you as her beloved. Since then she's never shied away from it, even using her tail to pull you in closer when you have, in her mind, gone to far away on the bed, even though you never do go that far.

Vaggie fought against being the little spoon when you slept together. She had a reputation to uphold and she was worried that you might make fun of her if she acted too cute, little did she know that her cuteness was actually one of her greatest weapons. Eventually she did accept it but she still kept her spear near by and her arms tightly locked around your middle.

Angel Dust sleeps on his back, head turned away from you but always has two arms thrown over you. He wants to be able to get you close if he wants to and doesn't mind if you end up on top of him and using his chest floof as a pillow. Why not let you do that when both of you know that he is much softer and better then the pillows you do have, and this pillow will also kiss you any time you want.

Husk never holds back a purr when you have your arm thrown just below his wings, scratching his back. It's rare that he shows you his stomach while he sleeps but that's not your fault, he has to trust you a bit more first. But just the fact that he's letting you hear him purring and isn't denying it is a huge step in your relationship and shows the amount of trust that he already has in you.

Adam takes op the whole bed as his wings fan out and push you off. He yawns like he's bored when you complain about his sleeping habits and really doesn't feel like getting into an argument over it. Eventually he does tell you to get on top of him, in a kind of dismissive tone but then as soon as you are on top of him he grabs you and holds you close to him, so you don't fall again.

Vox doesn't need that much sleep actually but he likes the idea of having you close to him while he does. In fact he can sleep in his chair, with the cables charging him up faster and you sitting in his lap while you wait for him. Occasionally his screen with flicker back on, eyes unfocused for a bit until they land on you and he grins, giving you a quick kiss and telling you he's almost done.

Valentino cocoons you with his wings, almost trapping you against his body, in his bed, in his arms. Kissing you and making you gasp early in the morning is the best way for him to fully wake up and get ready to start his day. His four hands are always touching you in some way, one holding your hand, one on the back of your head, one around your waist, and one on your thigh.

[cjjohansson]

- dirty girl -

natasha romanoff x reader - 18+ - smut - reader has a penis - 1.7k

“This is the best idea you’ve had…” You moan as Natasha pulls you into her bedroom, pushing you up against the door and pressing hard kisses into your neck. Your hands comb through her hair to get a firm hold of her, pushing her harder into you, her hands moving to unbutton your shirt. 

“Don’t know how your ex-girlfriend would feel about it though…” You groan after she scratches her nails down your chest towards your trousers.

“How about we don’t talk about my ex while we do this? Huh?” Natasha mumbles back against your lips her hands finally undoing your trousers and pulling them off of your hips, watching them fall to the ground. 

“Now, you either fuck me or you can go back to the party, your choice. I know which one I’d prefer…” Natasha says as she takes a step back, pulling her dress off of herself and leaving her standing in white lacy lingerie. 

You don't bother answering, you simply take a step forward, your hands falling on her waist as you pull her into yourself and meet her lips.

Both of your hands roam each other's bodies, your hands squeezing her breasts while hers go for your crotch. 

“Fuck, you're so beautiful.” You moan as you start moving your hands south, the wetness already clinging to her panties. Your underwear becomes tighter having to accommodate your length. 

Natasha makes quick work pulling your boxers down, your member standing at attention as she takes off her lingerie at record speed. Pulling you down onto the bed leaving you to lay on top of her, her legs instantly surrounding your waist as your member rubs against her wet, slick folds. You both can't stop the moans falling from your lips.

“Now fuck me…” Natasha smirks, her legs tightening around you as you waste no time entering her.

“Shit!” You practically shout, her wet walls tightly contracting around you to accommodate your length. You press your hips slowly against her own, letting her get used to your size before she whimpers and nods her head for you to finally move. 

Natasha’s moans drown out your own, pure pornographic screams falling from her lips as your hips move at an animalistic pace. You’ve wanted this since the moment you laid eyes on her but she had been taken, but now your time is finally here after her breakup only two weeks ago. You should feel guilty, but with the moans falling from her lips, her nails scratching down your back and the way she clenches around you so hard that you can hardly pull out, the guilt leaves you as you completely become focused on her. 

“FUCK-ing hell, you feel so good!” Natasha screams, her body stilling before she falls over the edge, her body then convulsing as she lets go. You slow your thrusts letting her ride her high before you pull out and sit on your heels, watching her cum drip down herself. 

Your member throbs, begging for release. You need to cum. 

Natasha’s eyes meet yours before she smirks, rolling over onto her stomach, and moving to arch her back while on her knees and turning her head to you. 

“What are you waiting for?” She husks, arousal swirling in her eyes as she wiggles her ass towards you. You jump on her instantly. Filling her whole while grabbing her hips and pulling her down hard onto yourself over and over to meet your thrusts. You won't last long, not with this view. Not with your hands gripping her hips so tightly you're sure that you're going to leave bruises. Her curves perfect as you get lost in them. 

One of your hands leaves her hip, grabbing her hair to pull her back flush against your chest. Your hand moves to her neck to hold her against you securely. Her head leans against your neck, her mouth right next to your ear, moans and gasps leaving her lips only driving you crazy. 

“Natasha?” Someone speaks through the door, your thrusts stopping for a second before you recognize the voice. Her ex. 

“Answer her.” You whisper to her, your hips starting to move again as she shakes her head no.

“Answer her, or I stop.” Your hand tightens around her neck, her eyes bore into yours as she clenches around you over the threat. 

“Yeah?” Natasha says shakily, her mouth opening in a silent moan as your hips start moving again. 

“Good girl.” You whisper. Her eyes roll into the back of her head in response.

“Can we talk? Please?” Natasha's head lulls to the side, her teeth biting into your neck to hide another moan from a hard thrust she is given. 

“Now isn’t a good time!” She shouts back. A moan slips through as she speaks. 

“Natasha, are you okay?” Her ex says again, but Natasha can’t respond, too lost in the pleasure she is receiving when your hand leaves her neck and moves to her clit, rubbing hard circles onto her as you finally near your own orgasm, wanting her to fall apart with you. 

“Ugh, Fuckkkk, I’m-I’m fine!” Natasha moans, no longer caring about being heard through the door. 

“You dirty fucking girl. You want her to know someone else is in here fucking you, don't you? I bet she never made you feel like this, huh? Couldn't fuck you as well as I am?” You moan against her neck, letting your teeth sink into her and sucking, making sure to leave your mark.

“No, she didn’t! Shit! I’m gonna cum!” Natasha breathes into the room, your thumb speeding up on her clit as you somehow get your thrusts to speed up even more as you near the edge yourself.

“Natasha! I’m coming in!” The door bursts open. 

Natasha’s head turns towards the door, her body convulsing as you meet her hips a final time, your own orgasm flashing through you as you paint her walls white, your cock throbbing inside her, her cunt squeezing you for every last drop as her ex stands at the door staring at Natasha falling apart for you. 

You blink and her ex is gone, door wide open as your body falls back against your heels, Natasha's body moving with yours as she sits comfortably on your cock as she continues to squeeze you tightly, making your dick hard all over again. A groan falls from both of your lips as you pant into the room. 

“Well, that was…HA, well.” You mumble. Your breathing all over the place over what just happened. 

“That, that was…wow…” Natasha whispers against your neck.

You go to move her off you, worried about how she might be feeling over everything that has just happened. But you stop when Natasha turns her head, her mouth moving over yours as she slips her tongue into your mouth, one of her hands resting on the back of your head to hold you against her, while her hips slowly start to grind down on you.

“Oh, no, no, no. I’m definitely not done with you yet.”

[corpusdiem-seizethedead]

Angel: Dammit, we’ve practically been through my whole collection, and not one lipstick is kiss-proof!

Angel: You must be so bored of this experiment, huh.

Husk: *sitting on Angel’s bed, covered in lipstick prints, purring the smallest bit*

Husk: ☺️

Husk: Wait, what?

[cumironi]

YOU ARE GOOD TO ME jjk men

feat. gojo, geto, nanami, toji, sukuna, shiu, higuruma

summary. “i would like to join you in acknowledging the difficulty of your life,” you said when your boyfriend have a bad day. why? you too have no idea, maybe because the fact that you don't know how and never once in you life comforting someone. genuinely. again genuinly.

warning. non-sorcerer! jjk men, crack, fluff, petnames,

GOJO SATORU

the apartment door slammed open like he’d just escaped war, and satoru gojo stumbled in dramatically with his white hair sticking out in every possible direction, sunglasses askew, and his coat only halfway on. he groaned as if gravity had quadrupled just for him. “i’m a broken man,” he announced, kicking off one shoe and somehow missing the entire genkan floor, letting it fly into the wall. “a shell. an empty husk. your poor boyfriend’s gonna die, babe.”

you looked up from your laptop on the couch, blanket wrapped around you like a burrito, eyebrows raised. “you say that every time you have to walk up stairs.”

“these weren’t stairs,” he collapsed face-first onto the couch beside you, not even bothering to move your legs—just burying his face right into your thighs like they were some heavenly pillow from ikea. “this was hell disguised as productivity.”

you let your fingers run through his messy hair, watching him melt under the touch. he peeked up at you through the curtain of silver strands and whimpered. “aren’t you gonna comfort me, sweetheart? tell me i’m a strong, hardworking man? kiss my forehead? lick my—”

“i would like to join you in acknowledging the difficulty of your life,” you interrupted dryly.

satoru paused. blinked. then wheezed out a laugh like he’d just short-circuited. “what kind of weird-ass therapist talk is that? are you trying to seduce me or initiate a cult?”

you shrugged. “i read it online. it’s for people who are bad at comforting others.”

he burst out laughing again, rolling onto his back and yanking you down onto his chest with him, despite your protests about needing to finish your assignment. “baby, that was the worst attempt at comforting i’ve ever received. and also the funniest. you’re not supposed to make me wheeze when i’m dying. you’re supposed to kiss it better. preferably with tongue.”

“you’re so dramatic,” you mumbled against his neck, feeling the vibration of his chuckles under your lips. but he felt warm. exhausted, yes—but warm. arms tight around you like he needed you to keep him from sinking through the earth.

he sighed, running a hand down your back. “you know what, though? i actually like that stupid line. ‘i would like to join you in acknowledging the difficulty of your life.’ that’s hot in a weird way. mysterious. do it again, but whisper it in my ear like you’re about to tie me to a chair and interrogate me.”

you laughed into his collarbone, swatting at his side. “you’re unhinged.”

“and you’re terrible at comforting,” he grinned, lips pressing to your temple. “perfect match.”

he nuzzled into your cheek, breath soft and warm as he murmured, “thanks for not trying to fix it. just… lying here with me. even if you suck at words. i love your stupid mouth anyway.”

you blinked. “is that your version of affection?”

“it’s my version of proposing,” he teased, then added seriously, quieter this time, “you’re my favorite place to fall apart.”

you didn’t need to say anything back. just the way your hand found his and curled your fingers together said enough.

GETO SUGURU

the door to your shared apartment creaked open much slower this time. suguru didn’t have the dramatic flair of gojo—not unless he wanted something—but you could hear the unmistakable sigh as he stepped inside, shoulders heavy under the weight of whatever hell he’d just endured. he didn’t say a word, not even a greeting, just kicked off his boots, loosened the black tie around his neck, and tossed his coat over the armchair like a man who’d just survived an apocalypse and wanted absolutely no questions about it.

you peered up from the floor where you’d been lying belly-down with your laptop, typing an essay due in four hours and slowly accepting your fate. “hey,” you called softly. “you look like a ghost.”

“feel like one,” he muttered, voice hoarse as he stepped over your textbooks and dropped down beside you, his tall frame curling next to yours like he was seconds from passing out right there on the floor. “every joint in my body hates me. my brain is soup. and not even good soup. like lukewarm instant ramen broth.”

you scooted a little closer, until your thighs were touching. you didn’t know what to say. you were never great at comfort—it always felt forced, like reciting lines from a textbook. but you tried. “i would like to join you in acknowledging the difficulty of your life.”

geto froze.

turned his head slowly toward you with a blank stare.

“…what the hell did you just say?”

“it’s a thing!” you defended quickly. “for people who suck at comforting others, you’re supposed to say that. it shows solidarity.”

he blinked once. then again. then he made a deep, guttural sound from his chest—one that started as a chuckle and very quickly turned into a full-blown laugh, his hand dragging down his face like he couldn’t believe he’d just heard that come out of your mouth.

“baby,” he said between breathless laughs, “that sounds like something someone would say to a war criminal before interviewing them on a podcast.”

“well, i’m trying,” you muttered, looking away. “do you want a hug or not?”

he reached for you instantly, arms wrapping around your waist and tugging you into his lap like a man starved for affection. “yes, i want a hug. i want your shitty comfort. i want your confused college girl energy. i want all of it. come here.”

your legs tangled together as he nuzzled into your neck, his voice muffled against your skin. “your awkward little line is staying with me forever, by the way. next time someone tries to lecture me, i’m just gonna stare at them and whisper, ‘i would like to join you in acknowledging the difficulty of your life,’ and see if they cry.”

“maybe they’ll fall in love with you like i did,” you offered, biting back a grin.

he kissed your shoulder. “they won’t. i’m saving my unhinged affection for you.”

you turned toward him, brows lifted in mock curiosity. “unhinged affection, huh? is that what you call pressing your nose into my cleavage while you sigh dramatically?”

“don’t disrespect my rituals,” he said solemnly, burying his face between your boobs like a man returning to his homeland. “this is how i recharge. spiritual energy. it’s science.”

“you’re ridiculous,” you laughed, letting him pull you fully into his lap, arms tight around your waist.

but he didn’t say anything else for a moment—just held you there, cheek pressed against your chest, breathing steady and warm. when he finally spoke again, it was quiet. tired.

“you don’t have to say the right thing. i just… like when you’re here. even when you’re awkward and quoting therapy twitter. especially then.”

you smiled, combing your fingers through his soft hair, brushing it back from his temple.

“i’d like to join you in acknowledging how bad you are at expressing emotions,” you said sweetly.

“you little shit.”

“you love me.”

“unfortunately, yes,” he whispered, kissing your collarbone. “very much so.”

NANAMI KENTO

you heard the apartment door click shut before the wall clock even hit 8 p.m., which meant something was wrong. nanami was never home this early. it wasn’t his style. he worked late, came back when the world was quiet, shoulders tight and tie loosened, jaw clenched like he was still arguing with someone in his head.

but tonight, it was different. he didn’t say a word when he came in. just walked in like his bones had betrayed him, hands in his pockets, tie already undone, and that golden tan trench coat of his draped over one arm like it weighed fifty pounds.

you sat up from your spot on the floor, where textbooks and half-drunk iced coffee cups surrounded you like a shrine to academic burnout before rise to your feet. “hey…” you said softly. “you’re home early.”

“burned out,” nanami said simply, putting his coat on the back of a chair like he was laying a body to rest. “utterly depleted. mentally, physically, spiritually, emotionally—choose your adjective.”

you stood there awkwardly for a moment, unsure of what to do with your arms. you weren’t the best at emotional first aid, and nanami was so… composed. always so damn calm, even when the world around him was on fire. it felt wrong seeing him like this—shoulders slumped, voice dull, his usual neat hair slightly tousled from stress.

so you cleared your throat. “i would like to join you in acknowledging the difficulty of your life.”

nanami froze.

slowly turned his head toward you like you’d just spoken in tongues. “pardon?”

“it’s supposed to be a comforting phrase,” you explained quickly, cheeks heating up. “for people who don’t know what to say but want to be supportive.”

he blinked at you for a long, silent beat.

then, deadpan, he said, “i feel like i just got emotionally mansplained by a motivational instagram reel.”

you sputtered, trying not to laugh. “you’re not helping.”

“no, you’re right,” he sighed, stepping closer until his hands found your waist, his head dipping down to rest on your shoulder. “i appreciate it. even if it sounds like something someone’s overly enthusiastic coworker would say in a corporate support group.”

his arms wrapped around you slowly—deliberately—like this was the only thing anchoring him to the floor. you could feel the tension melt away in pieces, each exhale grounding him a little more in your presence. “you’re terrible at comforting, by the way,” he murmured against your neck. “but you’re warm. and soft. and you smell like that overpriced shampoo i bought you, so i’m not complaining.”

you snorted. “so you do notice when i use it.”

“i notice everything,” he said, leaning back just enough to look down at you. “especially when you walk past me in those little shorts you think i don’t see.”

your mouth dropped open. “nanami kento.”

“i’m tired, not blind,” he muttered, leaning in to kiss the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, then your jaw. “let me rest my forehead on your boobs and pretend they’re a stress ball.”

you smacked his shoulder, giggling. “you’re supposed to be the mature one.”

“i have a professional reputation,” he mumbled as he guided you to the couch with him, sinking down with a deep, grateful sigh. “but not here. here, i’m your very tired, very needy boyfriend who just wants to be held and babied and—”

“don’t say babied.”

“—and smothered,” he continued stubbornly, resting his head in your lap like it was a luxury pillow. “preferably to death.”

you stroked his hair, soft and slow, and smiled down at him. “you want a bedtime story too?”

“only if it ends with you riding me into the sunset,” he murmured, eyes already half-lidded from comfort.

you blinked. “…sir.”

“you offered. i’m just being imaginative.” he looked up at you with that small, rare smile—the kind he only gave when he was too tired to hide how much he adored you.

“seriously, though,” he added quietly, fingers lacing with yours. “thank you. even when you’re awkward, you’re everything i need.”

TOJI FUSHIGURO

he didn’t even knock. he kicked the door open like it owed him money, his tall frame slouched in the doorway, one hand on the back of his neck, the other holding a plastic bag of convenience store food that looked like it had been crushed under his boot.

“hey, baby,” he called out, voice already heavy with exhaustion as he kicked the door shut behind him. “i think i tore my soul today. like, straight up. my legs are vibrating. that ain’t normal, right?”

you looked up from your laptop where you were halfway through a research paper, eyes dry and fingers twitching from too much caffeine. “you look like you just got hit by a truck.”

“mm.” he dropped the bag on the kitchen counter and slumped into the couch like gravity was trying to eat him alive. “probably did. can’t remember. the day was a blur of dumbasses and testosterone.”

you blinked at him. he looked so done—shirt halfway unbuttoned, tie hanging like a noose, hair a mess, one eye twitching from what you could only assume was the sheer mental stamina it took to not punch someone today.

you closed your laptop and stood. time to try.

“i would like to join you in acknowledging the difficulty of your life.”

silence.

toji turned his head very slowly to stare at you from the couch.

“…the fuck was that?”

“it’s a thing,” you said, crossing your arms defensively. “i’m trying to comfort you. don’t make fun of me.”

his lips twitched. you saw it. the way his eyes lit up like he’d just found his new favorite toy. “that was you trying to comfort me?”

“yes.”

he let out a low, slow laugh, leaning his head back against the couch. “baby, i love you, but that sounded like you were about to put on a headset and guide me through a meditation app.”

“okay, rude. i’m literally trying to be there for you.”

he patted his thigh lazily. “then get over here. bring those soft little thighs i like and come help me ‘acknowledge the difficulty of my life.’”

you rolled your eyes but walked over anyway, crawling into his lap and straddling him as his hands immediately settled on your waist like muscle memory. he looked up at you, eyes heavy-lidded, mouth pulled into a lazy grin.

“you’re bad at comforting, but you’re hot, so i’m willing to overlook it,” he said, sliding his palms up your thighs under your oversized shirt. “wanna kiss it better?”

“kiss what better?”

“my brain. my bones. my soul. my—”

“toji—”

“—cock. obviously.” he gave you a smug little smirk, resting his forehead against your chest like he was about to fall asleep right there. “’m serious though. lemme stay here a bit. you’re warm. and soft. and smell better than anyone I’ve touched all day.”

your fingers drifted into his hair without thinking, stroking back the messy strands. “you’re such a menace.”

“yeah,” he mumbled, already dozing, “but i’m your menace. the tired, aching, sex-deprived, emotionally-stunted mess you chose.”

you snorted and kissed the top of his head. “if you weren’t so hot i’d slap you.”

“do both,” he whispered against your chest. “get creative.”

but then, quieter, he added, “thanks for trying. i like it. even when it sounds like a therapy robot malfunctioning.”

you paused. smiled. and hugged him tighter.

“anytime, menace.”

RYOMEN SUKUNA

you didn’t expect to see him on the couch like that.

sukuna was always loud—annoying and smug, lounging across your bed like he owned the place (because he absolutely believed he did). he talked too much, flirted too shamelessly, and got under your skin so easily it was practically a talent.

but right now? he was quiet.

legs spread wide, forearms resting on his thighs, head tilted back with his eyes shut like he was trying not to bite someone’s head off. the black markings on his skin seemed duller than usual, and his eyes—usually narrowed and gleaming—looked heavy, like the weight of the world had finally pressed down on him for once.

you tiptoed over, unsure, nervous. sukuna wasn’t like anyone else. he didn’t want sympathy. he didn’t even believe in comfort.

but still…

“i would like to join you in acknowledging the difficulty of your life.”

his eyes cracked open.

slowly. like he was wondering if he just hallucinated that.

“…what.”

you shifted on your feet, hands behind your back. “i’m not good at… emotional stuff. but i read that line somewhere. it’s supposed to help.”

he stared at you. dead silent. not blinking. eyes locked onto you with the intensity of a man who had never in his life heard anything so baffling.

and then—

he laughed.

not a chuckle. not a snort. a deep, full-body laugh that came from his chest and shook his shoulders, one hand dragging down his face like he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard.

“you’re such a little idiot,” he wheezed, grinning now, eyes gleaming with mischief as he sat up straighter. “what the hell was that? who the fuck wrote that? i wanna thank them for the comedy gold.”

“shut up!” you pouted, smacking his arm. “i’m trying to be supportive!”

“supportive?” he scoffed, grabbing your wrist before you could pull back and yanking you right onto his lap, like he was done pretending to need space. “you sound like you’re reciting a spell to make me spontaneously combust.”

“maybe i am.”

he grinned again. slow and lazy. “you trying to kill me, baby?”

“no,” you muttered, cheeks warm as your legs straddled his thighs, hands braced on his broad shoulders. “just… you looked tired. and i didn’t know what to say.”

he hummed, arms sliding around your waist without hesitation, pressing you closer until your chest touched his. “i am tired. but if you keep climbing on me like this, i’ll forget all about it.”

you rolled your eyes, but your hands slipped up into his hair anyway, tugging gently. “you’re so dramatic.”

“and you’re so soft,” he murmured, burying his face in your neck, his voice suddenly quieter. rougher. “smell nice. feel even better. mm. i should fall apart more often if it means you’ll climb into my lap and say weird shit.”

you felt him exhale, long and slow, against your skin. he was warm. heavy. not just in body but presence—like he carried the weight of centuries and finally, finally let someone else hold him for a minute.

“you okay?” you asked, voice quieter this time.

“i’m fine,” he replied easily. “i’m always fine. just… annoyed. tired of dealing with people. bored. everything feels stupid.”

you nodded. “i get that.”

he pulled back just enough to look at you, two of his fingers tracing along your jaw. “you don’t need to say anything smart, you know. you just gotta be here. let me touch you. let me forget the rest of the world.”

“…you really are a pervert.”

“you say that like you’re not grinding on my lap while calling me tired.”

“sukuna—!”

“you love it,” he smirked, dragging his fingers down your spine until you shivered. “and i love you. even if you say weird comforting lines like some emotional AI.”

you blinked.

“what.”

“don’t make me say it again,” he said, too smoothly. “i’m only saying it once. i’m exhausted, not weak.”

you stared at him. for once, he looked flustered. not red-faced, not babbling, but that little twitch at the corner of his mouth gave it away.

you leaned in, whispered against his lips, “i would like to acknowledge the difficulty of your heart finally admitting that.”

“i swear i’ll spank you right now,” he growled, mouth already crashing against yours, exhausted and starving for you all at once.

SHIU KONG

you heard the door before you saw him—soft click, slow open, followed by the sound of a deep exhale and the thunk of expensive leather shoes being kicked off without care.

he rarely came home this quiet.

you peeked out from behind your textbook, still in your oversized hoodie and fuzzy socks, hair up in a lazy bun, half a bag of chips already devoured beside you.

he looked like hell. beautiful, expensive hell. black coat half off his shoulders, tie loose, eyes low-lidded with a dangerous kind of fatigue.

he didn’t even glance at you. just walked straight to the bar cart, poured himself a glass of dark liquor, and sank into the leather armchair like he was made for it.

you padded up to him quietly, awkward and unsure. your lips parted, brain short-circuiting, and then you blurted out, “i would like to join you in acknowledging the difficulty of your life.”

shiu froze mid-sip.

he slowly lowered his glass and turned his head toward you with the slow, deliberate grace of a man wondering if you’d just tried to initiate a séance.

“…what the hell did you just say to me?”

“i’m trying to comfort you,” you said quickly, a little embarrassed now. “i read it online. it’s supposed to validate your emotional experience.”

he blinked.

then—deadpan, flatly—he asked, “are you high?”

“no! i’m being serious. you just look… really exhausted.”

he stared at you for a moment longer before his lips twitched. he took another slow sip of his drink, watching you over the rim of the glass like a predator watching its prey try to act tough.

“you’re lucky you’re cute,” he murmured, voice low and amused. “because that was the most HR-approved way anyone has ever tried to flirt with me.”

“i wasn’t flirting!” you gasped.

“mm. so you just randomly walk up to me and talk like a guidance counselor in the middle of an emotional crisis?”

you flushed, crossing your arms. “okay, you know what? forget it. next time i’ll just let you rot in your classy little despair cave and do nothing.”

he grabbed your wrist before you could walk away, gently tugging you into his lap with practiced ease. his hand slid under the hem of your hoodie, warm palm splaying against your bare thigh.

“you’re not leaving me alone when i’m like this,” he said, voice dipped in that tired, rich silk tone that made your stomach twist.

you settled against him reluctantly, your head resting on his shoulder, fingers curling into the fabric of his dress shirt.

“i didn’t know what to say,” you muttered. “i’ve never seen you this tired. you’re always so… put together.”

he chuckled, low and bitter. “baby, you’re the only person i’d even let see me like this. the rest of the world gets the polished version. you get the man underneath the suit.”

“…so you admit you’re actually a cryptid.”

“a very expensive cryptid,” he murmured, letting his lips brush your temple. “one who only wants his bratty little girl curled up on his lap when he feels like throwing someone off a balcony.”

you laughed softly, fingers playing with his tie. “do you feel any better?”

“no,” he said honestly. “but i’m enjoying the view now. keep sitting there like that and i might forget how many people pissed me off today.”

“you’re such a perv.”

“i’m exhausted and in need of emotional support. and by emotional support, i mean your thighs.”

“…you’re impossible.”

“and you love it,” he whispered against your ear, nipping gently. “now be a good girl and keep acknowledging me. preferably without sounding like a therapy hotline next time.”

HIGURUMA HIROMI

he didn’t even greet you when he walked through the door.

his shoulders were tight. his expression, unreadable. briefcase in hand, tie loosened just enough to tell you he’d been fighting with it in the elevator. he kicked his shoes off, dropped his keys in the tray, and exhaled like the weight of the whole goddamn justice system had been balanced on his spine.

you blinked from the couch, still in your pajama pants and tanktop at 6 p.m., cuddled up with your laptop and a cup of tea you’d already reheated twice. he hadn’t even looked at you yet.

so you stood up, heart softening, and approached him slowly like he was a wounded animal. his eyes finally met yours—tired, heavy, rimmed with frustration and fatigue.

and you said, completely earnestly, “i would like to join you in acknowledging the difficulty of your life.”

he blinked.

paused.

just stood there, stunned in his wrinkled white dress shirt and undone tie, looking like you’d just offered him a lifeline made out of cling wrap and good intentions.

“…what?” he asked, voice hoarse.

you fidgeted. “it’s supposed to help people feel seen. and supported. and stuff.”

he stared at you.

and then—without a word—he set his briefcase down, stepped forward, and just…

collapsed into you.

face first.

straight into your boobs.

you froze. arms still awkwardly midair. hiromi was usually so composed, so careful about touching you, always asking permission like a gentleman even when his eyes darkened with hunger.

but now? he was clinging to your waist with both arms wrapped tight, burying his face in your chest like it was his only safe haven, letting out a muffled, broken little sigh.

“…you really are something else,” he mumbled into your tits, voice low and muffled by your skin. “who even says that?”

“i was trying to be comforting!” you squeaked, cheeks warm as you slowly wrapped your arms around his shoulders, one hand carding through his soft hair. “this is my first time dating a tired, hot lawyer.”

“you’re doing horribly,” he said, not moving an inch.

“…but you’re still nuzzled into my boobs.”

“they’re warm. soft. significantly better than anything else that happened to me today.”

you smiled, holding him closer. he melted against you, hips pressing to yours like he needed to feel all of you at once, breathing in the scent of your skin like it grounded him. your heart fluttered, cheeks on fire as he sighed again and murmured:

“do you even know what you do to me?”

“uh. judging by the fact that your face is in my cleavage right now, maybe?”

he laughed softly. almost shyly. and then—still with his face hidden—he admitted, quietly, “i was so close to snapping today. just one more word, one more file on my desk, and i think i would’ve lost it.”

you pressed your lips to the top of his head.

“i don’t need you to be perfect, hiromi. just let yourself be held sometimes, okay?”

he didn’t respond at first. just nuzzled in deeper, like he wanted to climb inside your skin and stay there forever.

“…you’re dangerously good at this,” he whispered finally. “even with the weird lines.”

“i practiced in the mirror.”

“adorable.”

“horny.”

“also true.”

he finally tilted his head up, resting his chin against your chest as he looked up at you, eyes softer now. the kind of soft that made your knees go weak. the kind of soft that made you forget he could probably ruin a man in court without blinking.

“can we stay like this for a while?” he asked.

you nodded.

he kissed your sternum, then let his head fall back into place with a content little hum.

“…you smell like cookies.”

“you smell like burnout and moral crisis.”

“perfect. we balance each other out.”

[deathbxnny]

Loved your writing of arcane characters saying things they regret during an argument. Would you be willing to do a version with Jayce, Viktor and Silco? I apologize if you don't prefer to write about these characters, you can ignore this

Arcane men saying things they'll regret during an argument. | Viktor, Jayce, Silco x Gn!Reader

Oh, I absolutely am willing to do that, Anon!! These are going to be pretty irredeemable, though, so there is not going to be a part two to this... anyways, enjoy!!<3

Content: Season 2 spoilers!!, heavy angst, hurt/no comfort, break ups, swearing, gaslighting, toxic behavior, sfw

Reader has no mentioned pronouns.

((Not proofread))

》VIKTOR

"This... isn't you anymore, Viktor. A-And I refuse to keep lying to myself like this either!" You hissed out one night, unable to keep it in any longer. You were losing your mind in this compound of his, unable to understand how seemingly no one was able to recognize how wrong everything was. People who were "healed" by him weren't the same after. They turned into robotic and uncanny husks of their old selves.

A terrifying sight that unnerved you deeply. And only you here.

The nail in the coffin was perhaps the skeptical appearance of Councilor Salo. Never in your life had you ever seen him give a damn about anyone but himself. He lived a life of riches and materialism, far from the selfless and minimalistic lifestyle found here. But after your boyfriend healed him of his inability to walk, he suddenly preached the same ideals that everyone else did.

Peace, love, and community.

Those were the important pillars of this idyllic place Viktor had created, and yet you couldn't see past the clear red flags that weaved themselves in their white attire. You were never much of a genius like he was, but it didn't take much brainpower to understand that this was not a great place to be in. No matter how hard he attempted to convince you of that.

"... I'm sorry you feel that way. But I'm afraid I can not follow your reasoning for this claim. I am myself... just someone greater. More meaningful. Isn't that beautiful?" His voice was so gentle and patient in comparison to yours. Something that wasn't unusual to him. But the way he used that tone now made you sick. "Terrifying is a better word, actually... Why can't you see that this is just wrong? You're not healing anyone-" "-But I am. Look around you. Is that not enough for you to finally believe me, my love? I want to create a better world... one in which we can live freely together." Your mind spun, his words ringing in your head dangerously. And you hated every second of it.

This isn't the man you loved anymore. He must have died that fateful day when the sky fell from above, and he covered you with his body to save you. His last act of kindness as your boyfriend and lover before he perished and left behind whoever he was. And you'd be damned if the last good memory got tainted too.

"No. I will not let you play with my mind anymore. I've had enough." You pushed past him, wanting to finally escape this borderline cult. Originally, you had only followed after him because you couldn't bear being without him. Jayce was right, though. He really was different now.

"Hm... it seems like I was right about you after all." You stopped in your tracks yet didn't dare face him. "You truly are not worth saving... you can't grasp the beauty of what I have made. I suppose everyone's claims for your low intelligence were, unfortunately, right. What a shame." How could a devil have such a soothing, loving voice? Why did the monster that now lurked in your shadow have to have your lovers face? The cruelty was too much to bear.

Who would have thought that you'd finally leave him for good after all the years you've taken care of him? This moment felt so surreal and yet ironically freeing as well. The end was near. "Did you... ever even love me?" You asked aimlessly, but didn't wait to hear his answer.

Perhaps if you had, however, you would've seen that sudden spark of surprise in his eyes, as you slipped out of his fingers for good at last.

》JAYCE

You had looked everywhere for him. And after also asking everyone under the sun if they had seen your boyfriend, you had eventually determined that he must've somehow gone missing. Worried sick, it pained you knowing that there wasn't much you could do either, considering that everyone was too busy getting ready for a borderline war and Caitlyn became unreachable as a result. Yet just as you began to lose hope, your dear lover finally returned... but he wasn't the same.

He didn't look the same, nor did he act the same, in fact. He looked so different that it even visibly startled you when you found him rummaging through his once shared laboratory. You had just returned from another wrap around the building in hopes of finding it, and whilst you'd consider yourself lucky this time around, all you now felt was genuine dread.

"Jayce...? What happened to you? I looked for you everywhere and-" You stilled at the intense look he gave you, his face flinching for a moment, as though his mind couldn't comprehend your image. Glancing over at his peculiar weapon of choice, you felt unnerved at how even that looked uncanny. The entire situation was unnerving you deeply, to say the least. "You... You shouldn't be here." He finally muttered, his voice deeper and colder than it ever was. Jayce always had such a fun and warm voice. If you didn't know any better, you would've questioned who he was a while ago.

"Hey... tell me where you were, okay?" You said, trying a more gentle approach as you neared him, eyes focused on his clearly injured leg. Had he been kidnapped? You doubted it. So what made him end up like this? Nothing you could come with explained his appearance. His hair and beard were way longer than they should have gotten in the short span of time he was gone, too.

Reaching down carefully, you tried to inspect his leg, but he seemed less receptive to the idea. Or so you assumed, after he shoved you away roughly and held the hammer to your face at impressive speed. His eyes were glossy, as though he wasn't entirely all there. He was reliving a terrifying moment in his mind, unaware of the horror you were going through. Never could you have ever thought of ending up in this position with him. "Jayce! What the hell are you doing-?" "-Get away! I know what you are... you've been sent by him too, weren't you?" You let out a shriek when he swung the hammer at you, only giving you a fraction of a second to jump out of the way.

Falling onto your behind, you quickly crawled backward and away from him, tears welling up in your eyes. Your scream seemed to at least wake him up, though, as he finally lowered his weapon and blinked at you in surprise. "Fucks sake! What is wrong with you?" You yelled out, yet as fast as his face softened, it hardened again. "... Sorry... I need to leave." Quickly making his way past you, he only barely escaped your presence before you grabbed onto the fabric of his pants. "Why? Where are you going? Why can't you tell me anything?"

The look in his eyes made you shrink away. This wasn't your Jayce anymore. "... The future of everyone in Piltover hinges on me being there on time. Now, make yourself useful for once and get out of my way." Shaking you off harshly, he left you crying on the cold floor of the once lively laboratory, not once looking back.

》SILCO

When you first met Silco, you were both still leading simple lives in the last drop with his brother and all of your other friends in Zaun. The lanes were harsh and, at times, cruel, yet you fought through the agony of it all together. Years down the line later, you find yourself still reminiscing on those heavenly days, particularly those of your lover who had turned for the worst in the time being. And the question of why you didn't listen to Vander's warnings came to mind again then. Perhaps you were just too used to excusing everything his brother did, especially after he had attempted to drown him so horrifically, which left him permanently injured.

But even so... why didn't you just listen? Why did it take so many years for you to finally throw the towel and leave for good? Finally realise that the man you loved was a monster? A disgusting and evil monster who was willing to use the plight of others for his own gain. And for what? Money? Fame? Power? It was all an ego trip you had far more than enough of. Zaun was his playground, and an escape was impossible. You'd be, however damned if you didn't at least try to anyways. Even if just in Vander's honor as a long-awaited apology.

Pushing past the crowd in the stuffy, full Last drop, you finally reached his office upstairs. Not caring about formalities anymore, you knocked and opened the door without awaiting a reply. If death met you behind it, then so be it. "Ah, darling, in a hurry today, aren't you?" "We need to talk. Alone." Short and straight to the point. Raising a brow, he shared a look with Jinx, who was just done giving him his daily "medicine". Oh, how you hated your lover's dearest creation. Shimmer. The exact thing that had ruined your lives for good. But you pushed away your disdain for the task at hand.

Giving Jinx a dismissive wave of his hand, you waited for her to be gone for good before taking a breath to speak. But Silco beat you to it. Always so painfully perceptive. "The answer is no, if you're here asking to leave. I refuse to let you go, dear. You have no one else but me after all. You wouldn't survive on your own." He always underestimated you, so this wasn't an all to surprising response. And if you were just a couple of months younger, you would have maybe agreed and backed off. But you were sick of his games.

"I didn't come here to ask for permission, Silco. I'm here to say goodbye." The slightest, softest crack at the last word gave you away horribly. You certainly didn't expect your feelings for the man to betray you, but even that won't stop you now. Said man just hummed in response as he stood up to face the window. His hands calmly lit a cigar, very much unbothered. But you knew that your sentence had gotten to him anyway with how his hand shook ever so slightly. Out of anger, most likely.

"So you think you can do whatever you want? Leave after you've spent so many years at my side? Your hands aren't as clean as you think they are, darling. Even yours are a bright violet." A reference to the shimmer vials on his desk. He knew how much you hated it, so this felt like a jab. A jab at the deep guilt you felt every day for enabling the death of all of your friends indirectly. If only you had stopped him from the start... then maybe you wouldn't have to feel the dread that ruined you from the inside anymore.

"I've accepted my flaws and sins a long time ago. I may not be better than you... but sometimes, in order to end the cycle, you have to walk away and leave some things behind." You suddenly felt so content, his cold and terrible words not reaching you anymore. You were so close to leaving. So close to leaving Zaun and Piltover like you've always dreamed. But Silco just scoffed in disbelief.

"Hah, don't give me that self-righteous shit... I've been there for you for so many years, dear. I've taken care of you, fed you, and loved you to my best ability for so long. The least you could do is be grateful for my kindness." "So you think I'm a burden?" The silence was deafening, but it was enough to confirm your long-standing suspicions. He had lost his love for you a long time ago. Perhaps the side that loved you so purely drowned in the river with him.

"... Goodbye. I hope one day you can walk away too." You turned and began walking out then, suddenly realising that it's finally over. Shoving your hands into the pocket of your coat, you felt the ticket for the skyship you had to take. "Don't you dare leave. Don't you dare it-" All bark and no bite as usual. There was no stopping you now, and he knew it. He was letting you go after all. You could just hope that one day he'd listen to your words and end the cycle, too.

What a shame that you won't be there at his side to see it, however... maybe in another life then.

[lalalalalalakakakak]

This was all I could think of looking at this Image I AM SORRY OKAY?

All my brainrott is written in the tag just because

[kayharrisons]

Caught up in a moment, lipstick on your face [Erik Campbell x Fem!Reader] [18+]

Erik Campbell has escaped death - narrowly.

So, naturally, his first pit stop on the way home is to the first dive bar that crosses his path.

The dive bar where you just so happen to be working that night.

His ex girlfriend. The woman he never got over.

The one that got away.

A/N: ok I know I said I wanted to get my other works out first but I just saw FD6 and 🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️ I'm in love with Erik RICHARD HARMON I'VE LOVED YOU SINCE THE MURPHY DAYS anyway have this lil oneshot!!! Happy FD6 release day (note: it was release day when I started writing this LMAOOOO)!!

Warnings: fire mentions, injuries, drinking, smoking, death mentions, making out, thigh riding ehehe, piercings ;) , use of the word cunt and whathaveyou, lot of swearing from our boy LMAO, spoilers for FD6!

Minors dni!

Heat still licks at his skin.

The fire that could have killed him, should have killed him, is looming over him like a frigid chill. Ironic, he knows, but the goosebumps all over his entire fucking body speak for themselves.

If he'd worn one of his band shirts, or literally any-fucking-thing else, he'd be dead.

Lucky, the fire fighters had called him.

Erik prefers invincible.

He certainly felt it, in that moment.

Relief, yes. Smug at his cousin's theory being a big fat wrong-o, most definitely. Still jittery with nerves after literally falling into fucking fire, being branded and almost having his sweet as hell piercing ripped out, absofuckinglutely.

"Get ahold of yourself, Campbell," he breathes, laughing to himself as he trudges away from the smoked husk that was once his livelihood. Boss'd be pissed, but fuck him, he left him to lock up when he wanted to go home, grieve his father and drink himself into a fucking nice long sleep.

Yeah, fuck him.

Ri-fucking-p that sweet leather jacket too, by the way.

Saved him, sure, but god at what cost?

He should go home. Should change out of the ratty band shirt that is a few sizes too big and had been left in the lost and found box at work. Should cling onto his family tight and laugh at his luck.

He doesn't.

His feet, he finds, take him on a fun little detour, boots clomping against the pavement in a rhythm that's oddly soothing, like that of a heartbeat.

He's alive. He's alive. His heart is very much still beating, air is still flooding his lungs.

Take that death, motherfucker that you are.

A lamp-post sparks above him, and he flinches back with surprise, blinking at the light as it flickers weakly and then sputters to a dim end.

He holds up his hands, whistling low. "My fucking bad, dude. Jesus, can't even keep my thoughts to myself now?"

A pause.

"I'm not like grammy. Not gonna start that shit and yabber to the fuckin' walls. Fuck you."

That's all he has to say on the matter before he continues down the sidewalk, flipping the bird to the lamp-post as he saunters on down the street.

He shoves his hands in his pockets, kicking a loose pebble and watching it skip across the sidewalk as it would upon the flat calm reflection of a lake.

It's strange, wandering with no sense of purpose. Well, beyond heading home, but he knows that won't be his first stop of the evening.

It's just a matter of what catches his interest on his way there.

Initially, he debates stopping in at 7/11, debates grabbing himself some seriously unhealthy chips and an obnoxiously large slurpee that'll give him an intense as shit brain freeze and make him wish he was dead.

Ha.

But his feet pull him past 7/11, away from cherry syrup and fake cheese covered nachos.

They instead pull him to the end of the street, where the street corner diagonal from him is dimly lit red by one large sign;

BAR

Erik's lips curve up into a toothy, wide grin.

You take the last drag of your cigarette, tilting your head back against cool brick and watching the smoke curl from your lips and fade into the stars above you.

It's been a long night, so far.

Some firefighters had stopped in earlier after their shift, talking about the shitty tattoo shop a few blocks away that had burned down, about the poor man that had only lived by the skin of his teeth.

Or, rather, the leather of his jacket.

You can't help but think of Erik, wondering if it was his shitty tattoo place that had burned, if he was the one who had been inches from death.

No, you decide, flicking your cigarette butt into the trash.

Can't have been his.

Or else he'd have sauntered in here by now, would've taken the best seat at the bar and asked for your shittiest beer all the while staring down your shirt at your cleavage.

Or, well, that's what your boyfriend would've done.

You haven't seen him in a few months. Not since your last argument, your last screaming match post break up that was fucking Oscar or Emmy worthy.

You'd fucked him that night.

Because of fucking course you had.

You don't know what it is about Erik, even at his worst, or more terrifyingly his best, you would crawl back to him and beg him to fuck you like a goddamn bitch in heat.

The man melts your damn brain.

You can't help but wonder if he used one of those damn tattoo guns to etch himself deep beneath your skin, if he's penned himself into your bone marrow; the deepest and most intimate parts of you certainly feel like he has.

With a sigh, you push yourself off the wall, smoothing down your black shirt, your miniskirt, before heading back into the bar.

The juxtaposition of the sweet silence of your alleyway compared to the deafening dad rock of the bar is jarring.

You feel the beginnings of a headache, as you always do when coming back into work. It nips at your temples, the base of your skull. But it will pass, as it always does once you readjust to the noise level.

"You blow through a whole pack out there or something?" Todd asks you as he pours whiskey over ice, giving you side eye as you tie your apron back around your waist.

"Debated it," you hum, tying the ties in front of you in a neat little bow. "Why, you get a hoard when I dipped?"

Judging by the fact that there's only one guy at the bar and the tables are half empty... you're gonna go with a big fat nope.

"Just don't pull bullshit like that again, alright?" Todd scowls, to which you smile angelically back at him before turning around with a roll of your eyes as you start to polish glasses.

Fucking Todd.

You aggressively wipe at a smudge in a martini glass. Fucking Todd and his inability to clean his damn fingers before he touches glasses. Fucking Todd who's worked here not even a year and he thinks he owns the place. Fucking-

"Polish that any harder and you're gonna break it," comes a sing song voice from the end of the bar.

Your head whips around so fast it's a wonder you don't give yourself whiplash.

Erik is sat at his usual seat, elbows leaning against the bartop and expertly dodging any sticky patches. His hands are clasped in front of him, and you follow them up to his wrists, then his left forearm, which now boasts a piece of gauze likely covering a new tattoo.

"Doodling on yourself again, are we?" you ask, arching a brow as you instinctively reach for the shittiest lager you guys have on tap. Just the way he likes it.

"Less doodle, more memoriam," he shrugs, taking a swig from the pint with a content sigh and smack of his lips.

Your expression softens, any venom and fight leaving you within an instant, "I heard about your dad," you frown, reaching over and settling your hand atop his. "I'm really sorry, Erik. He was a great guy-"

"You believe in fate?" he blurts out, those icy blue eyes of his locked onto yours. You feel as though you're stood on thin ice, watching your breath in the air as you wait for it to shatter and pull you beneath and into the freezing depths. "Coincidences? Luck? Any of that bullshit?"

"Like... step on a crack, break your mother's back? That kind of thing?" you clarify, furrowing your brow.

Erik clicks his tongue a little. "No, not quite. Just... fate, like I said. Say every member of your family died a horrific death by the time they were twenty-seven-"

"Morbid."

"My dad got his face mown finer than the damn grass on the fourth of July, literally fuck off. Anyway... they all die by the time you're twenty-seven, but you live past your twenty-eighth birthday... what would you call that?"

You purse your lips in thought, considering your ex a moment as you lean against the bar. His eyes drift down your throat, glimpsing at your cleavage before flicking back up to your face.

"Luck, maybe," you concede, tilting your head. "Divine intervention, maybe."

Erik barks out a laugh, spraying some foam from his lager across the sticky bar. You scrunch up your nose, grabbing a rag to start cleaning.

"Fuck, sorry, babe, just... kind of riding on a high," he explains, pushing his dark hair out of his face, setting his glass down on one of the beer mats.

You'd instilled that into him during the early days of your relationship, ranting about customers who never had the goddamn thought to use the little mats.

Erik, at least when you'd dated him, had never set a drink on the bar.

You arch a brow as he leans in, his smile wide again. "I feel kind of fuckin' invincible right now. Legit on the greatest high of my life."

"Are you high?" you ask, giving him a quick once over.

"What? No. Do I look edible induced to you?"

You grumble your agreement that no, he does not.

"The tattoo parlour burned down," he informs you, casually, as if it's a completely normal thing to drop mid conversation.

Your heart stops in your chest, even if only briefly.

"Erik! Jesus Christ- are you okay-?"

"Fucking obviously, babe. Look at me, not a scratch on me- oh! Telling a lie, I did get this sick branding-"

He moves to lift up the gauze, and you wave him off. "Fuck- no, no. Don't wanna see that, you freak. Cover it back up, slut."

"How is this slutty?" he asks, bewildered, as he waves his left arm around. "In what universe is this slutty?"

"It's you," comes your flat remark. "You once humped a mailbox and asked if she was a good girl."

"...so?"

"You can make anything slutty, if you try hard enough." you say, tutting at him.

Erik considers you a moment, before his lips curl up into a devious smile. Like that of the Cheshire Cat.

You point a threatening finger at him. "Not an invitation, Campbell."

"Not even a little bit?" he asks, batting his lashes.

You hate that it's working.

"No."

"Boo." he pouts, before taking another sip of his lager. "...I almost died tonight," comes his soft admission, eyes glued to the tiny bubbles in his lager. "Literally was on fire. If I hadn't worn that damn leather jacket then... Jesus, I'd be right alongside my ole pops some time next week."

You reach out again, fingers gentle as they rest upon his.

He exhales, shakily, eyes flickering up to meet yours. "I almost died."

"But you didn't," you remind him, thumb gentle as it rubs back and forth along his knuckles.

"No," he agrees, voice softening in that way it always does with you. The same tone that turns your insides into mush. "I didn't."

And with that, he leans over the bar and kisses you.

You startle, lips tingling even as you lean back. "Erik!" you chide, shakily. "This is- we're broken up, we can't keep doing this. It super goes against what being broken up means-"

"Our break up," Erik breathes, eyes glued to your lips as if hypnotised. "Our rules."

That's all it takes to convince you.

It never does take much, when it comes to one Erik Campbell.

"Smoke break!" you bark out to Todd, as you toss your apron aside and dash out from the bar, grabbing Erik's t-shirt and pulling him along behind you.

"Fucking AGAIN?!" you hear Todd cry out indignantly behind you as the door closes, which you pay no mind to.

Erik has you pressed up against the cool brick wall in seconds, your face cradled in his palms as he slams his lips against yours.

You moan at the sensation, at the familiar feel of his hands, of his mouth.

His tongue pushes past yours without a second thought, in no mood to play fight for dominance. No, tonight, he's the one in control.

You slide your fingers beneath his tee, fingers lightly scraping up his chest, tracing designs of familiar tattoos that are burned into your memories.

You wonder if he's gotten anymore recently. It's tempting to rip that shirt off and find out.

But you control yourself, for now. Though your fingers do creep up his chest, lightly brushing over the piercings in his nipples.

Erik groans deep into your mouth, the sound reverberating in your mouth and straight down to your cunt which pulses with want.

You whimper, your hips bucking instinctively. You want him so badly it fucking aches between your legs, your underwear flooding with warmth as you think of his rock hard length filling you up. As you think of that damned piercing he got whilst drunk, and how it feels so fucking good when he-

Erik shifts, sticking his thigh between your legs. "C'mon, baby," he pants against your mouth, hands moving from your face and down your body. His fingers trail fire in their wake, leaving you feeling as though your skin is burning. His digits only briefly linger over your breasts before continuing southward and finally settling on your hips. Gently, he moves you forwards upon his thigh, and then back, then forwards again. "Be good and ride it for me, yeah? C'mon, sweetheart-"

You whimper again, and do as you're told. It doesn't take much more coaxing from Erik before you're leisurely rubbing yourself up and down his thigh. Your panties are a fucking mess already, and you know for a fact that Erik's jeans are going to follow suit soon. "I've missed you," you admit, eyelids heavy as you pick up the pace, grinding harder against his thigh as that ever familiar delicious ache begins to build.

"Missed you too," he murmurs, leaning forward and tipping his forehead against yours. Your noses brush with every desperate grind of your hips against his thigh, and his breath is heavy against your skin. "Fuck- didn't realise just how bad until-" he cuts himself off as he surges down, pressing a heavy kiss to your lips.

Your fingers reach up and tangle in his hair, holding him closer as you move faster, and faster and oh god yes you canfuckingfeelityou'resofuckingclose-

"Dude your smoke break is going on a little lo-OH MY GOD-"

Both your heads snap in the direction of a wide eyed Todd, who is averting his eyes from the pair of you.

"FUCK OFF TODD!" comes your joint yell, to which Todd does, in fact, fuck off, stumbling as he shields his eyes and returns inside.

All the while you are still grinding against Erik's leg, desperately chasing your release. It crashes over you just as the door slams shut, and you cry out softly as you come against Erik's thigh, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles against your hips.

Like you said; the man practically reduces you to a bitch in heat.

You pant softly as you come down from your high, leaning your forehead against Erik's shoulder as he noses at your hair, pressing kisses to your temple and forehead.

"...that'll teach him to fucking knock, huh?"

"We're outside, dumbass." you can't help but laugh, swatting at his chest.

"Dumbass that you just came all over," Erik sing songs, nothing but smug pride in his tone.

You lean back a little, eyes dancing over his face with a little smile. You could have lost him. You haven't been together in months and yet... the thought fills you with a terror you've never quite experienced before.

You've never not been in love with him.

"...I'm glad you're okay." you say softly, brushing his hair out of his face.

Erik nods, turning his head and pressing a kiss to your palm. His lips linger, his eyes flutter shut as he takes a minute.

Takes a minute to soak it all in, to soak you in. To think about whatche could've left behind, had the fire killed him.

But it hadn't.

And standing out here with you? Your slick heavy against his jeans, the smell of your perfume lingering in his nostrils, your warm touch...

If he thought surviving a fire made him feel invincible...

You make him feel infinite. Immortal. Everlasting. Untouchable.

"Yeah," he agrees, pressing another kiss to your palm. "Me too."

[alastor-simp]

Horror Movie Night😈 - Alastor x Reader

Charlie wanted to find an activity to bring everyone together, since a lot of the personalities in the hotel would clash. She had made a list of ideas, but majority of them were turn down for being too childish. The last option was a movie night with everyone, and surprisingly everyone agreed. The genre of movie was the real problem. Charlie wanted a musical. Vaggie had a preference for drama. Angel dust preferred either a steamy flick (aka porn) or comedy. Niffty voted for romance. Husk didn't really care, but he wouldn't be upset if it was an action movie. Sir Pentious was interested in historical / documentaries. Alastor was not a big fan of modern technology especially television, but he would give it a try if the movie was a horror. You enjoyed all genres of movies, so it didn't matter which one you saw. Coming up with an idea, you suggested pulling a name out of the hat, to decide the genre of movie that gets picked. Borrowing Husk's hat for a bit, everyone wrote their name on a piece of paper and tossed it in. After a quick shake, you grabbed the first piece of paper and pulled it out.

Yelp, looks like it was going to be a horror movie as Al's was the name you pulled out. Everyone had made their way to the couch, while some of them sat on the floor. They were all dressed in their pajamas. Niffty had made popcorn and drinks for everyone to enjoy during the movie. Charlie was lighting some candles to add some effect when the movie was playing. Next to you on the couch was Alastor. He was wearing a red stripped top, and black lounge pants. He seemed very cozy. "Hey Al. What movie did you pick?" Alastor looked at you, smiling big as always. 'Well my dear, I picked whatever seemed interesting! I hope you will enjoy it!" Giving an awkward smile back, your eyes turned toward the TV as soon as Charlie pressed play. You didn't mind horror movies, but being the scaredy cat that you were, they still made you scream.

The movie that Alastor picked was "The Descent." The start of the film was a bit slow, but it slowly began to build up overtime. It got to the point in the movie where the characters had entered into the large cave, to explore. Yeah, that was already a red flag. Scanning your eyes around the room, you took in everyone's reactions. Charlie and Vaggie were hugging the life out of each other. Niffty was smiling, but she was clutching on to her plushie very tightly. Angel was on edge and tried to cling on to Husk, only to be pushed back by him. Angel huffed and decided to a least grab Husk's hand for comfort, and Husk allowed that at least. Sir Pentious was cowering on the floor, wrapping his whole tail around him. Alastor was just smiling next to you, obviously enjoying where the movie was going. You, on the other hand, was getting a very bad feeling in your stomach as the characters kept exploring the cave. The pillow that you were holding was being used as a shield as you kept hiding behind it, waiting for something to happen.

The climax of the movie had arrived when the grotesque bat-like monster had made an appearance and proceeded to feast on one of the characters. Everyone in the room had screamed and jumped, including you, as you covered your face with the pillow. There was a chuckle to your right as Alastor was laughing, at both the movie and your adorable reactions. From the start of the film, Al was seeking glances at you, wondering what your next reaction would be. The face you made when the dread set in was highly entertaining to him. However, he did pity you a bit, as he could see that the movie was frightening you tremendously. Unbeknownst to you, you felt someone drape their arm behind your shoulders, pulling your body closer towards them. Looking up from the pillow, it was clear that it was Al who had done it. His eyes were still watching the movie, clearly enjoying the gruesome moments. Not saying a word, you continued to watch the movie, but the feelings of fear had diminished a bit due to Alastor's actions. The movie had finally ended, as the credits began to flash on the screen. Everyone gave a sigh of relief, except Al . Clapping with glee, he found the movie quite invigorating. Vaggie rolled her eyes at him, while whispering "creepy weirdo" under her breath. It had gotten super late, so it was time to head for bed.

Wishing everyone a good night sleep, you carried yourself back to your room, despite the prickling sensation that you felt crawling up your back. That movie was still on your mind, but you tried to push the fear away. Alastor was following from behind , since the both of you were next door neighbors. "Feeling alright, my dear? That picture show had you shaking like a leaf!" He was definitely smirking when he said that. "No s✪✪✪, Sherlock." Grumbling your response back at him, you continued to make your way to your cozy abode. Having arrived at the door, you turned to Al, who had just arrived at his door. "Good night, Alastor." "You as well, my dear!" Making over to the bed, you laid down and got under the covers, adjusting yourself to get comfortable. It took a while, but the droopy feeling had taken effect on your eyes, and you fell into a deep sleep. Pitch blackness was all around you. The muscles in your body felt like they had been ripped apart. The air felt heavy, almost dry like you were underground. Something was moving around you, circling you, watching you. The monstrous sounds it made created a haunting echo. You begged your body to respond, it was no use. The sounds were coming closer. No. NO! You bellowed out a scream.

"Y/N!!" Someone was shaking you, causing your eyes to snap open. Your body was shaking and there were tears in your eyes. You slowly realized that you had a nightmare. Alastor was in front of you, hands on top of your shoulders. His glowing eyes eyeing you with concern, yet his smile was still present. "A-Al? W-what's wrong? W-why are you in m-my room?" Struggling out a response, your eyes looked at Al in confusion. "My dear, I had heard your shrieks of terror and rushed over! It appeared you were having a nightmare! A rather horrible one at that!" He was still holding on to you, which gave you some comfort. "Oh, I'm so sorry if I disturbed your sleep." Taking in a few deep breaths, helped tremendously as you were able to talk properly and control the shaking. Shaking his head, Al had let go of your shoulders, and moved his hands to your cheeks. "Darling, there is no need for you to apologize! But, may I ask what were you dreaming about?" Massaging your cheeks like a cat, Al smiled down at you, softness in his eyes. Explaining it in full detail, Al realized that the film you had witness, was the main cause of the night terror. He had known that you were scared, but not to the point it would result in you kicking and screaming in your sleep. He needed to rectify this.

"Come along, my dear!" Your body left the sanctity of your bed, and ended up in Alastors arms. He was carrying you like a bride. "W-what Al?! Where are you taking me?!" Whispering at him, while your brain was trying to wrap around this situation. Cocking his head to the side, he gave you an optimistic smile. "To my room!" There was no time to refute back as the both of you had arrived at his door. Creaking loudly, the door to his room had opened by itself. His room was like something out of a story book. One side was the normal room decor, illuminated with candle light. The walls were plastered with Alastor's personal trinkets and stag heads. The other side was saturated in moss, tall pine trees looming above. Chirps of crickets could be heard and glowing fireflies were flying around. Eyes widening in amazement, you continued to gaze around the room, earning a laugh from Al. In the center of the room, was an enormous bed, covered in satin sheets and black pillows. "How... How were you able to do this?" You breathed out, as Al placed you on the bed. Raising an eyebrow, he smiled down at you, wagging his finger. "Ah ah ah! A magician never reveals his secrets, my dear!" A thought popped in your head: "Where was he going to sleep." Snapping his fingers, Alastor used his powers to snuff out the flames from the candles, leaving only the fireflies as a source of light. Realization hit you, causing you to jump off the bed, leaving Al staring at you in confusion. "Wait Al! Are you okay with this? Sharing a bed?" Alastor looked at you, head crooked to the side. "Why of course! Are you oppose to the idea? Haven't you had your share of sleepovers with the effeminate spider?" Well yes you had, but this situation was different. "I'm not opposed to it, but I don't want you to do something you aren't comfortable with." You told Alastor this, rubbing your arm with your hand.

He was still befuddled by your statement until he began to wrap his head around of what you were saying. How charming you were! Thinking of him and his aversion to physical contact. "Darling, There is no need to worry." His body moved to crawl under the covers, sitting on the bed and looking at you. His finger pointed towards you, beckoning for you to return back to the bed. Still hesitant about the whole situation and observing his body language, it came to your decision that he was really okay with it. Your feet carried you back over, and slowly made its way under the covers, plopping your head on the pillow. Al huffed, a little annoyed that you didn't follow his instructions. He grabbed your wrist, pulling you towards him. Your head was engulfed in his chest, feeling his chin, nuzzling it. "Comfortable, Y/N?" A warm breath whispered into your ear. His voice sent chills down your back, while also causing your heart to skip a beat. "Mmph" was your response, as your mouth was muffled against his chest. Hearing a hum from above, you felt Alastor nestle closer, hooking his leg over yours. The static emanating from him had quieted down and the thumping sound of his heart sounded much clearer. Extending out a yawn, your eyelids began droop while listening to the calming sound of Al's heartbeat. Soon, your eyelids had closed and you fell into a deep sleep.

Managing to stay awake, Al had watched you, making sure you were able to relax. He never in a million years thought he would be doing something like this. He was the radio demon, the most fearsome and all powerful overlord. Everyone trembled in fear from the sight of him, yet here he was now, cuddling you in his bed. He was getting soft, which displeased him greatly, yet he couldn't help but find it comforting as well. Your very-being was changing him, in both a good and bad way. Sighing, he pushed his thoughts away as he had a busy schedule tomorrow and needed to be well rested for his broadcast. Nuzzling closer, Alastor hugged you tighter. His glowing eyes dimmed and he had fallen asleep as well.

[dinodanicus]

A portrait of beloved professor Elias Scrimshaw. Elias is one of the stranger creatures from the species exchange program. An intelligent parasitic entity that can live in and manipulate a host's body for hundreds of years. Elias's species keep active only the bodily systems that are most needed, such as those involved in locomotion and eating. The unessential parts of the body are consumed, often Reducing the host species to what is essentially an animated husk which is kept preserved with a special cocktail of antibacterial fluids produced in Elias's strange asymmetric body. His preferred field of study deals with the biomechanics and life cycles of extraterrestrial parasites. His unique perspective and insight has offered great leaps in interstellar medicine by helping provide treatments for rare and often deadly parasitic infections. Not wanting to offend his host planet he took over the form of a stray cat which he assumed to be a local source of food before realizing it was in fact a common household pet. He has since expressed his deepest apologies for this mix up and has advised cat lovers to perhaps reconsider taking his class.