#I need him in my general vicinity to sleep

[salty-icecream]

18 years old and I’m gonna cry over leaving my stuffed narwhal at home

I need him to sleep

[saltburnedme]

My requests are open! Message/comment to be added to the tag list!

Paring: Oliver Quick x Fem!Reader

Word count: 3520

Summary: You’d only been visiting family at Saltburn for a few weeks, but this time you couldn’t shift the feeling of something or someone watching you.

Warnings: SMUT (ONLY READ IF YOU ARE 18+) unprotected sex, oral sex (female receiving), choking, stalking? Kind of?, two way mirrors, vague horror ish themes, dubious consent, generally fucked up smut overall

Writers note: Hi friends! This is my first Oliver fic, I’m planning on writing more so let me know if you have any requests. I’ve only seen the film once so I apologise if my writing of him isn’t quite right yet.. just read his parts with his accent and I think it works! Please share, comment, like and all of those good things 💕💕

Part 2

21 days, almost a full month, that’s how long it had taken you to get to grips with the enormity of Saltburn. Most of that time had been spent mistakenly walking into a linen closet which supplied one of the many bedrooms believing it was the entrance to your room. You’d even drawn yourself a map by this point and somehow, you still managed to get lost, the house was almost as much of a maze as the actual maze in the garden was. You had checked off your room, all of the shared spaces and most of the other bedrooms, inhabited or otherwise, all marked down perfectly on your little map. There was only one wing of the house which you were not allowed into, Elsbeth called it the ‘bachelor pad’ something you know Felix would have at the very least groaned at. He’d been sharing this space with his guest, another student named Oliver. He was quiet, a bit of a mystery overall but from that you assessed that he was a man who liked his privacy, making you chalk up their reluctance to have you in that space no more than a matter of comfort. A comfort you wish that you could say you felt also.

You visited Saltburn many times as a child, the family themselves were distant relatives of yours which is why you always summered there when your parents were away on business. You’d never felt uncomfortable there before, but this time something was different even though you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. Maybe it was the heat getting to you, maybe it was the ever changing list of house guests that visited or the way that it seemed the eyes on the paintings of long dead aristocracy seemed to follow you around the room. Something had changed, if only you could put your finger on it.. or a toe.. maybe even an out stretched palm if you felt confident enough, anything to make this restlessness end. Every night that you laid in bed, you felt something, someone, watching you. You had checked, you’d opened every door, searched every shelf and wandered into every linen closet in the vicinity of your room and every time, nothing. Your well drawn map granting you no ease of mind, even with all of the labels you’d added to it over the last few weeks. The constant tossing and turning ceased only by one saving grace, you’d remembered to pack your vibrator.

Every night like clockwork your little buzzing friend would find the tingling mound between your legs, slipping in and out seamlessly like always, making you cum within a few minutes. That was until tonight, maybe you should have expected it. 21 days in a row of usage, the batteries were sure to go flat at some point, you just didn’t think it would be so soon. Placing it into the draw of the bedside table you go back to the constant pacing feeling in your mind as you attempted to sleep. The watching feeling was back, the hairs on your arms standing up, the feeling of the familiar prickling at the back of your neck as if something dangerous was approaching from the shadows. But sleep finally took you, once again.

The sound of knuckles tapping against the wood of the door early every morning tore you from your sleep, a much needed sleep. The curtains being torn open and the light hitting your face remind you of where you are almost immediately, at least this time with the maids in your room you knew who was watching you. ‘Breakfast is ready’ she says as she leaves the room as promptly as she arrived, off to wake another of the Saltburn family without a doubt. Crawling out of bed in your white night dress, you throw on a matching robe over the top, fumbling your slippers on, briefly checking your reflection in the full length mirror mounted to the wall across from your bed before wandering down the long halls to the breakfast table. Taking your usual seat you notice no one else has awoken yet, your tired eyes settling on the food in front of you, you almost fall asleep sitting up eating. The exhaustion of the last few days finally catching up with you. ‘You looked frustrated last night’ a low voice utters quietly a few seats across from you, the low muttering making you jump out of your skin with shock.

‘Excuse me?’ You question, a puzzled look on your face which could have been mistaken for anger, your words coming out harsher than you expected. You see the man across from you almost retreat into himself, he’d barely uttered a word to you in the last 21 days and now this? Your mind immediately flashing back to your frustration at your vibrator unceremoniously dying on you, surely that isn’t what he refers to tho.. right? ‘Oh Oliver, I’m sorry, I’m so tired that came out poorly. what do you mean?’ You question, making Oliver un tense slightly.

‘I saw you looking for something last night’ he begins. ‘Anything I can help with?’ He questions.

‘Oh, That. I was just trying to get a better lay of the land. Every time i visit I swear this place is rearranged, it’s like a new house every time.’ You reply.

‘Sure, that must have been it’ he replies, no follow up, nothing. Although it was more of a conversation than you’d managed with him this whole time, you expected maybe something else would have come from this. He could have offered to help you, anything. Although you hadn’t spoken that much you’d find it hard to argue that you hadn’t developed a little crush on him, his dark hair in contrast with his piercing blue eyes, surely that would make any girl swoon.

Just as you finally thought of something to say, the thought of offering him an invitation to explore the mansion with you to further expand your map, the rest of the family arrived, keen to discuss plans for the day. Your hopes of getting to know Oliver better shattered once again.

You continued your day like normal, a dip in the pool, a little bit of reading, another trip to a random room to expand the map and eventually dinner and straight to bed.

Once again you were kept up, tonight you indulged in wine a little bit more than usual, the knowledge of the lack of batteries to fuel your only release weighing heavy on your mind.

Crawling into bed you listen to the creaking of the wooden floorboards in the hallway, the sound of the old house almost swaying in the breeze as if that were possible. You try to ignore the familiar ache between your thighs as you long for sleep subtly grinding against the palm of your hand as you crave the release you know you can’t have. The feeling growing stronger and your movements becoming more unsubtle as you move the covers off of you, the fabric of your night dress pooling up around your hips as you grind, longing for that familiar feeling. ‘Ugh, fuck sake’ you groan, it’s of no use. You roll over frustratedly, your face buried in pillows as you let out a silent scream. That’s when you hear it, the floorboards creaking, the sound too loud to be from the hallway and it wasn’t just creaking this time, footsteps. But it couldn’t be, you’d locked the door to your room, the only other way in was through the window which you had ensured was locked.

‘Hello?’ You ask tentatively, sitting bolt upright in bed at this point. You weren’t sure if you prayed for an answer or not, at least if there were an answer you’d know for certain that you weren’t alone. But no answer came.

2:41am, you’d checked the clock at least 20 times by now every time you had almost drifted to sleep another creak on the floorboards would tare you from your dreams. It sounded almost as if they were getting closer, they’d began earlier by your mirror and by now they were approaching the head of the bed. Sometimes you even thought you could feel something touching you, lightly re arranging the way your hair fell on the pillow, or something lightly tugging at the blanket that covered your body. But this time you felt it for sure.

The weight on the bed shifted, while you lay in the middle, the bed dipped on the side, the unmistakeable feeling of someone sitting at the side of the bed. Another second and you felt it, a hand on your ankle wrapped tight. Terrified you sit, unable to move. You never imagined this is how you’d be in this position, you’d scream and fight when you’d imagined this scenario previously but you were wrong, so wrong. You lay there silently, only when you felt the grip on your ankle tighten did you even let on that you were awake as you were harshly dragged down the bed, now splayed out in the middle. Before you could scream a hand smacks over your mouth with a slap, silencing any sound that could have come out of you.

‘What were you thinking about?’ A voice in the dark asks, an accent of some sort laced in his words surely belonging to the owner of the strong hands currently pinning you against the bed. ‘Who were you thinking about?’ The voice continues, more demanding this time as the accent becomes clearer, Oliver? Surely not. The sweet, quiet man who sits across from you silenced by his own nervousness every breakfast, it can’t be him. You try to answer, your words muffled by the hand over your mouth, although you’re sure it would be less of an answer and more of a demanding to get out of your room.

‘Was it me? Tell me it was me.’ He demands, his hand dropping from your mouth to your throat, wrapped around tightly grasping at the column of your neck.

‘I-I Uhm’ your reply coming out as nonsense. He was right, you had been thinking of him. You’d seen his physique while sunbathing, sneaking a glance when you believed no one would notice. But now with his hand wrapped around your neck and his body pressing into yours your mind was blank.

‘Answer me’ he demands, hand tightening as his face grows ever closer to yours. At this distance you swear you can almost see the moonlight shining through the window reflecting off of his blue eyes, glimmering at you.

‘You.. it was you’ you stutter out quietly, your words shocking even you as they come out breathy and quiet.

‘What a good girl you’ve been for me’ he says, his grip loosening on your throat as he glides his index finger down your cheek.

‘Bu-but how did you.. where.. what’ you question, a full sentence becoming too much for your brain to handle, but the man on top of you seems to have gotten the gist of your line of questioning.

‘I’ve been watching you’ he replies. ‘You and your little map. Wandering around like you own the place’ his words laced with venom. ‘I’ll admit you did make it harder for me. You thought you were so smart checking everywhere, you never bothered to check within your own room’. He continues as your eyes fight with the dark, darting around every corner of the room. That’s when you spot it, the light reflecting off of the mirror slightly wrong, it was almost as if the glass was rippling, the reflection always seeming a little off, it was a two way mirror. From the spot where it was mounted on the wall, you realised that it was pushed slightly further than usual, the story all making sense in your mind suddenly. You hadn’t been imaging things, you had heard footsteps inside the room, someone was watching you, Oliver.

‘Our rooms share a serving corridor as these old houses do sometimes’ he says as if it was an obvious fact, something everyone would know. He could see a million questions whirling behind your eyes, snapping you out of your thoughts as his soft fingers against your cheek suddenly turn into a slap, grasping your face turning your lips into a pout. ‘Now, I know what you do to sleep and I took the liberty of removing the batteries from your useless little toy there’ he sneers at you, you can almost feel his smirk against your lips as he comes in closer. This was nothing like the man you had vaguely come to know over the last few weeks, he was mean, cruel even and you knew it wouldn’t be long until you admitted that you liked it, you loved this version of Oliver. ‘I thought, just maybe if you’d get impatient enough you’d come to me yourself. But the little miss never came’ he continues, finding himself amusing at his own pun. ‘So I came to you’ putting extra emphasis on his words to make a point as to almost poke at you. ‘Now, I can either leave and go back to my room or I can help you with your predicament. Would you like that?’ He questions, still holding your face in his hands ensuring you look straight into his eyes as your head nods, partially guided by Oliver’s hand moving your face for you. ‘Good girl’ he places a light peck onto your lips. ‘The former was never really an option anyway, did you really think I could leave all this now that I have you here?’ His question sounding more like a statement, he didn’t care about your answer, he decided you belonged to him the moment he stepped into the room. His hand slips from your face, grasping your throat once more before climbing further onto the bed, throwing the covers off of you and pushing your night dress up.

He sighs, the view of you almost making him cum on the spot. Oliver never imagined he’d actually do it, sure he’d thought of the thousand ways he could take you, he wanted to bend you over and fuck your brains out over the breakfast table every morning for the last month and now, in this single sigh he released a months worth of frustration. His desperate hands kneading at the supple flesh of your thighs, roaming up to where he was at his most desperate for you. The moment the pad of his thumb pressed against your clit a jolt of electricity raced through your body, moving you with a shocked flinch against the bed. His eyes bore into yours as if almost warning you to stay still, a warning you would absolutely heed. His eyes transfixed on yours as his thumb swirled around your sensitive nub, gathering slick from your entrance just to return to your clit, your climax building from the moment he touched you. You were almost there, your peak was in sight you could feel it building when he tore his hand from you. A smirk pressed against his lips as he bent down to kiss you, he was proud, he ruined your orgasm and he was proud of it. Just as you settled into the lack of his touch, his lips hovering against yours he plunged his fingers into you, without warning a loud gasp leaving your lips. You knew you’d fucked up the moment the sound left your mouth, his fingers being pulled from you once more.

‘Good girls stay quiet, do you understand me? We wouldn’t want the rest of them finding out how much of a whore you are now would we?’ He sneers, your heart rate increasing as you nod your head again. ‘Such a good girl for me. I’ll make sure to reward you, just stay quiet for me’ he continues, his words softer this time as his fingers return to your warm, wet entrance.

It was harder to stay quiet than you expected. His pace was relentless and now as he kissed down your body, your night dress torn from you and the remaining scrap of fabric now discarded to the floor, the want to moan for him was overwhelming. This was only made worse when his lips wrapped around your sensitive mound. His tongue and fingers moving at the same time, sucking on your most sensitive parts like a man starved. He was desperate for you and now, you were for him. You couldn’t resist it and he could tell, your climax was imminent as you rocked your hips against his mouth. From watching you he knew that you covered your mouth with your hand or bit down onto your fist when you came in an attempt to muffle the sounds. To compensate for this, at the moment your shaking orgasm rippled through your body he shoved his fingers into your mouth, the taste of your own juices heavy on your tongue as he suckled and licked you through your peak, his eyes still fixed on yours.

You thought that was it, he said he wanted to help you and he had, you’d half expected him to leave when he tore his own shirt over his head, pushing his boxers down his thighs as he pushes your legs further open with the weight of his own body. With one hand next to your head and his other white knuckle grasping his cock he glided his length through the slick of your pussy. His lustful gaze had left yours now, favouring watching his tip spread you wide for him. Just as your eyes left his face to watch the sight between your legs you were interrupted. ‘Look at me’ he demands ‘I want to see the look on your face when I split you open’ his words being of continuous shock to you, where had your quiet kind man gone?

Although you’d hate to say he was correct, he was. Even with your drenched hole and your legs spread wide for him the burn as he entered you was real. He was unbelievably thick and long, his length impaling you again and again as he begins thrusting into you relentlessly. He was as desperate for release as you were, maybe you should have known, your sweet man in his full right mind would surely never break into your room and do this to you if he wasn’t desperate you reassured yourself. This can’t be the real him after all, it had to be an act.

These thoughts stayed with you for merely seconds as your eyes rejoined his as they flutter open, your mouth hanging open in a silent moan just like his. As if you could both feel the sound about to release your lips came crashing together, muffling the sound of your joint moans as his tongue slips into your month. It was a dirty, sinful act and you loved every second of it. You’d never felt this desperate for anyone in your life. You wanted him to cum inside you, breed you and make you his.

‘Once I cum inside you, you’re mine. Do you understand? I fucking own you’ he says, making you question if he has a future in a career in mind reading. He doesn’t wait for an answer taking the feeling of your walls tightening around his length as the only reply he would ever need again.

His pace quickens his body pressed against yours as his hand clasps over your mouth silencing you, your head held still as he glares into your eyes. You can feel it, his climax nearing, his thrusts becoming sloppier and more erratic as he breaks his own rule, groaning loudly into your kiss as he cums within you, his liquid filling you to the brim. The sound reverberates against the walls, someone must have heard that you think as he continues to fill you up. Just as you think he’d stopped, almost possessively he begins to move again. The feeling overwhelming both of your senses as he fucks his cum further into you before pulling out and repeating the same process with his fingers, watching a little bit trickle out before pushing it back inside you once more.

‘You’ll keep this inside you, you understand? You don’t get to clean yourself up’ he demands. ‘You’ll be a good girl for me tomorrow, at 10pm sharp you’ll get into the bath across the hall and wait for me. Got it?’ His demands continue as he places one last harsh kiss onto your lips, your eyes flickering closed for only a second, re opening when your kiss has parted. Just like that he was gone. His clothes, every part of him had left you almost without a trace. Your night dress torn on the floor you ponder how you’ll explain that to the maids in the morning as they’ll have to fix it. You cover yourself with the blanket again, your head pressed against the pillow as you finally go to sleep, the best you’ve slept in 21 days.

Part 2

Message to be added to the tag list! - current tag list: @idontevenknow1359

[loveinhawkins]

goes without saying

ao3 Written for @steddie-week Day 1 prompt, “secret relationship.”

Dustin’s been trying to communicate with his eyes alone that Eddie is under no obligation to sit through his mom going on and on about whatever trouble Uncle Frank’s gotten himself into now. For one, Dustin loves his mom, but the story got old, like, within the first five minutes of her telling it, and two, she’s mostly just telling him anyway, while handing over grocery bags; Eddie’s only trapped in the general vicinity of the conversation which he could easily leave at any point, but he’s apparently got this fear of being rude that he’s never actually admitted to, but Dustin can read it pretty confidently.

Like now, Eddie’s sat on the front step, and one finger is tap-tap-tapping on his knee—it’s not quite the same as when he’s got a song stuck in his head, an anxious edge to it that Dustin can discern but not really explain; you just have to know how to look.

He abandons the silent communication as a lost cause—seriously, Eddie needs to get with the program and dramatically improve his telepathy skills—and heads inside, bags in tow.

Steve’s in the kitchen; he’d brought the first of the bags in. Thankfully he’s more than competent in telepathy, because Dustin just needs to raise one eyebrow slightly, hey, dumbass, he needs you, and he’s already nodding.

He’s stopped on his way out by a petulant miaow: Tews in the doorway.

“Sorry, dude, I don’t know which bag your food’s in,” Steve tells him earnestly.

Dustin rolls his eyes. And maybe it’s because he’s distracted by the groceries, or it’s just the fact that him and Steve are alone—either way, he’s not really thinking when he says it.

“Stop bothering my cat and go and bother your boyfriend.”

He doesn’t even notice what he’s said until he sees Steve’s eyes go wide and—

“Shit,” Dustin says, because this wasn’t the plan, not even remotely. His suspicions were confirmed over a month ago, the tail end of a phone call he hadn’t even meant to overhear, Steve murmuring, “Love you, too. Try and get some sleep, okay?”

Dustin had kept the conclusion strictly to himself—he was going to actually approach it sensitively, damn it.

But now there’s a flicker of trepidation in Steve’s eyes, and he can’t let it stand.

“I didn’t say anything,” Dustin insists. He waves his hands for emphasis, desperately hopes it’s enough to get everything across. It’s okay, you’re okay, we’re okay. “I’m a goddamn ignoramus and I know nothing.”

There’s a long pause.

Then Steve starts to smile.

“You’re a goddamn ignoramus and you know nothing.”

Dustin only has to look at the way Steve’s eyes are shining to know that’s not what he’s saying at all.

[pseudowho]

Grey

You live a vigilante life, taking down Curses and Curse Users on commission. When finances force you to take a job from Jujutsu High, you find yourself stumbling into Nanami Kento's lap, where he has a proposition for you instead.

ThatHigurumaBathScene! But with Nanami Kento. Post Shibuya AU.

Warnings: AU!MorallyGrey Nanami Kento, Hot/ColdDom Nanami Kento, 18+, deep throat and other goodies, you know what you're here for.

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I hate to say I'm beginning to see My own reflection in my adversaries [...]

What's the price of a soul? What's its worth versus gold? I tried to beg for mine But it was already sold

Does nobody think twice? What does your hell look like? Does everyone have their price? Where they finally break

-- Sylosis, A Sign of Things to Come

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"So what can you tell me about this...Rogue sorcerer, that will make him easier to find?"

The backstreet diner was dimly lit, with a sickly orange light flickering above the window outside. Sounds and smells of greasy cooking seeped into your ears and clothes.

You swirled a spoon in your mug, already pissed off with the Jujutsu High representative, who seemed to find new ways to be spectacularly unhelpful with every answer he gave.

"He uses...a blunt blade of sorts. Wrapped in white cloth. He usually wears a suit. A tall man, I hear."

"Tall and in a suit. Right. That narrows it down. Thanks a lot."

The representative bristled. "You come highly recommended, despite being...unconventional," he sneered at you,  "The sorcerer in question has been tracked to somewhere in this vicinity." A marked map, along with a slim folder, was tossed across the table to you. The representative stood, brushing imaginary crumbs off his suit. "You know your task. Convince him to come back and work for Jujutsu High again, or eliminate him. He's too unpredictable. He threatens the fabric of sorcerer society."

You were silent, appraising the folder's contents. "Threatens the fabric of sorcerer society," you scoffed. They said the same about you. Any sorcerer acting independently of the higher-ups' control, whether a danger to good people or not, was seen as a danger, a rogue element. You would make your own assessment of the man, if you found him.

For now, it was late, the sun long gone down. You had insisted upon all expenses paid, alongside a generous wage, and were surprised when your price was agreed upon immediately. As such, a very exclusive hotel had a room reserved for you, for as long as you needed it. It was of no real comfort to your sinking loneliness, but a warm bed came second to a warm companion, when living on the move never guaranteed a good night's sleep. Picking up the folder and your bags, you headed to your hotel, to begin your hunt for the nameless rogue sorcerer first thing in the morning.

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The hotel had a beautiful restaurant, you considered, sipping your wine with quiet hums of approval. Leaning forwards, your chin on your arched fingers, you pondered over dessert. As you perused the menu, you barely glanced at the tall figure pressing briefly against your side on his way past your table.

"Excuse me," murmured a low, smooth voice. A spiced, warm cologne filled your senses as you turned briefly, watching a tall blond figure walk away from you. You thought nothing more of it.

After dinner, on your way up the hotel room's corridors, you felt through all of your pockets, certain you had picked up your key card, but hopelessly unable to find it.

By the time you reached room number seventy-three, you were forced to accept you had lost it. Yet, you were about to turn on your heels and head back to Reception when you noticed the door, already slightly open. Sensing a trap, and holding little but disdain for traps, you walked in with confidence, closing the door behind you, locking it.

Scanning the room, you called out; "I'm not that easily spooked. I'm not trapped in here with you. You're trapped in here with me."

You heard a low, sultry chuckle from the bathroom, the gentle swish of water sounding as something shifted in it. You may have been forced to eat your words, when a rush of Cursed energy that was so powerful, so heavy, hit you, a sandstorm on a desert. You had a sinking realisation that your rogue sorcerer may have hunted you down, before you'd hunted him.

"Are you going to come in?" the smooth voice called from the bathroom, as you forced yourself to take a breath. "I don't bite." Shaking yourself off, you pressed your body flat to the wall, concealed, as you pulled open the bathroom door. A few moments passed, and nothing happened. You heard the man, humming a song to himself. Slow swishes of water.

Glancing in, your tummy twisted as you took in the sight before you. Lying spread-eagled in the full bathtub, fully-clothed, was a man as well-grown and vast as his Cursed energy. Long legs, clad in an expensive black suit, and thick thighs pressed over the lip of the tub, wet clothes clinging to every peak and mountain of the man's body, leaving little to the imagination. In his hands, a small pair of dark glasses. His face, as of yet, not visible, but his left hand and his neck were covered in thick, red burn scars.

"Somebody's been using my bath," you offered, more nervous than you sounded. Heat pooled in your belly as the man chuckled again.

"Does that make me Goldilocks?" he asked, "I always thought I was more of a Daddy Bear." He lifted his head, looking at you now, and you blushed. Outstandingly handsome, even with deep scarring, you groaned inwardly to yourself, why are the problematic ones always so handsome?

"I've heard a lot about you," the blond man mused, swirling the water with his fingertips, his visible slim brown eye burning up and down your body, and you felt so completely seen, feeling his gaze burn even through his eye patch.

Outwardly cool, you smiled slightly at him, eyes narrowing; "Then you probably already know what I'm here for." The man sighed, in equal measures amused and exasperated.

"Jujutsu High have been after me returning to their sloppy little books for years. What did they think sending you after me would do?" He polished his glasses, before looking to you sternly, "Unless they've recruited you, hmm? Is that it? Are you a honey-trap?" You scoffed, your blush only deepening, much to the blond man's amusement. Swiftly and to your alarm, the man began to climb out of the bath, water cascading off him. Your stomach clenched again, desire coiling within. This man is an Adonis.

He raised his hand to you as you flinched, reaching for your weapons; "Calm down. I have no interest in hurting you." The man straightened, dropping his suit-jacket to the floor with a wet slap. "Those pieces of shit at Jujutsu High, however..." He approached you slowly now, looming over you, disgust in his eyes, "...who have no regard for your wellbeing, or any of their own sorcerers and students for that matter, would happily send you to try to threaten me back, even when they know it would be a fight you could never win."

He pressed against the wall above your head with his forearm now, leaning down to your ear and whispering.

"What was it you said, Little Bear? I'm not trapped in here with you; you're trapped in here with me." Your heart thumped behind your breasts, but you raised your head to meet his eye, one hand on his chest to prevent him getting any closer. He grasped your hand, pressing it to him, "The name's Nanami Kento. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Shit shit shit. "Nanami Kento? The Nanami Kento?" you cried, "They sent me after you? You're not even--" you faltered, and Kento smirked as you caught on.

"Not even, strictly speaking, a Curse User, no," he finished for you, "Just not at their beck and call. I hunt what I want, when I want. Freelance, if you will. Just like you, Little Bear. So tell me, are you in such dire straits, a talent such as yourself, that you needed to accept me as a job?"

You huffed, head turning to the side, and Kento traced his eyes down your breasts, hardening inside his wet trousers.

"You don't only kill Curses, Nanami," you deferred, "you're a man-killer too. Your kill count is impressive to say the least."

Kento eyed you shrewdly, voice low and slow, "Would you call them men? Rapists, abusers, murderers...there are all sorts of monsters in this world." You gulped. You didn't disagree with him. It was becoming rapidly apparent that you could not complete this job. Despite his assurances that he would not hurt you, his huge frame blocking your exit, the way he had stolen your key card at the restaurant to intercept you, and the threat you posed to his vigilantism, spoke differently.

"You could always come with me," Kento purred, "we're kindred spirits already.  And a bit of company might be a pleasant change. I'll pay you whatever they promised." His soft assurances were warm and honeyed against your ear, and you felt acutely how lonely you were.

"I don't need your money," you spat, pushing him away now, furious with yourself for even considering his offer. Kento stepped reluctantly away from you, a prize which he had every reason to allow himself to be caught by. You, the stories of whose exploits Kento had drank up, coming to hunt him down? He was flattered and thrilled when his informant at Jujutsu High warned him.

"Imagine what a team we could be," Kento growled, pacing in front of you, incensed that you couldn't see how simple and beautiful the solution could be.

In truth, you saw it. You saw yourself working with this man on your shared aims. You saw yourself ridding the world of Curses and monsters without agenda, but with him. It was with a sinking feeling that you knew if you chose to go with Nanami, the brittle mutual understanding you had with Jujutsu High to leave you alone as long as you offered them occasional services, would be lost. You risked becoming an enemy, a rogue element like him.

"It's not what I came here for," you responded stiffly, Kento wide-eyed with fury at your rejection, scarred skin strained against his eye patch. You straightened, putting a brave face on your fragile resolve as you turned your back on him, grabbing the door handle. "I won't be coming with you. I'll tell Jujutsu High exactly what you think of their offer. It won't be me who bothers you anymore."

As you moved to leave, you felt strong, corded arms move around you to hold the door closed, one wrapping tightly around your waist. Your heart nearly leapt out of your mouth.

"Stay," Kento urged, pulling you back to him.

"I thought you killed rapists," you spat at him. His arms stiffened around you.

"Please, don't compare me to scum. I don't need to rape you to get you into bed with me." Despite yourself, your pulse throbbed in your ears, and between your legs. "You're lonely. I'm lonely. We have shared goals. We could defy their system together." His mouth ghosted against your neck and he was delighted to feel you shiver against his tongue.

Feeling bolder, Kento laid his hand over the back of yours, grasping, and pressing them flat together against the wall. As he leant you forwards, his teeth sank into the back of your neck, and the wetness from his suit seeped through your clothes. He was so close, you couldn't tell where you began and he ended. The urge to give in was dizzying, images of chasing a different life with this man rushing through you a mile a minute, and you felt him pause for a moment, shivering against you.

"Cold," he murmured on your neck. "Have you ever taken a bath in your clothes?" You couldn't answer him, too overwhelmed by the press of his cock, insistently rigid, against your back. He kissed your neck again, hard. "Just to feel something." His fingers, cool and rough, slipped underneath the bottom of your shirt, nails grazing against the sensitive skin of your stomach.

"I don't...Nanami, I'm not..." He groaned, still breathing heavily against you.

"I want you," he intoned against you, "Maybe you can have something better than what you came here for."

"You're...you're a stranger to me," you gasped, resolve crumbling, body crying out for affection and release.

"I don't have to be," Nanami pressed, squeezing your hand, joined with his against the wall, "so let me show you what being needed really is...and then you can decide what you want to tell Jujutsu High."

Kento turned you round to face him, his one visible warm brown eye hooded with desire, beginning to unbutton his own shirt as he stroked your jaw, maintaining eye contact. You stared him down, vulnerable, tearful and overwhelmed. His thumb swiped across your eyes, hushing you softly.

"I know you don't want me to stop...do you?" he purred, his voice low and dangerous. You trembled, never wanting to find companionship like this, but sinking into Nanami's insistent control felt so intoxicating. Increasingly fearful of your own desires, you backed away to the wall again, pursued by Nanami, who blocked you in place, his knee pressed against the wall and between your legs.

"Please..." you began, begging him for...what? Pleasure? Or escape? You warred with yourself, as Nanami finished removing his shirt, wet and peeled off his body, and gods was he a sight to behold. His taut muscles and roughly hewn burn scars drew your eyes to his chest, drinking him in. Nanami smirked, tilting your chin up to him and pulling you in firmly for a kiss which broached no argument. You gasped at the sudden intrusion and Nanami took full advantage, plundering his tongue into your mouth, filling your senses with whiskey and smoke. Your arms, numb with shock, were grasped by Nanami, one by the wrist and placed against his burned chest, and one slipped under his belt, your palm flat against the trail of hair on his abdomen, just deep enough for your fingertips to graze the base of his cock.Your fingertips flinched back, and Nanami's hand pressed over yours, holding your fingers in place, his tongue trembling against yours as he shivered.

"Do you want me to stop?" he rumbled again, his mouth beginning to make a course down your jaw and neck. Leaning away momentarily, he read your face, flushed with pleasure, tears of rage in your eyes. Nanami chuckled behind your ear, nipping your earlobe hard until you squeaked and cringed. You didn't want him to stop, but couldn't be a part of making this decision for yourself. Nanami pushed your hand deeper behind his belt, the flat of your palm now pressed hard against his throbbing erection, happy to make the decision for you. Tentatively, you squeezed him, cock pulsing enticingly against your fingers, and he groaned into your mouth.

Nanami's last reservations about your willingness fell away completely, and he grabbed your jaw roughly, his hand extending to your throat and squeezing the sides, deepening his kiss. You squeaked again, your nails digging into his chest, heat flooding through you as he maintained the pressure of your hand holding his cock behind his belt, rutting forwards into your palm. Nanami felt his pleasure beginning to peak, too early, and held his hips and your hand still for a moment,your panting breaths mingling together.

Silent, heart visibly racing through the thick veins in his neck, Kento dropped to his knees in front of you. His expression stern, determined, he gripped the front seam of your trousers and ripped them open as if they were made of paper, maintaining eye contact with you the whole time, daring you to stop him. Lifting your thighs onto his shoulders as you gasped, wordless and chest heaving, your hands fell flat against the wall behind you, and Nanami rubbed his nose and lips against your puffy folds, all but completely exposed behind your soaked underwear. You clapped your hand over your mouth to keep from crying out as he inhaled deeply through his nose, euphoric in the smell of you.

"Do you want me to stop?" he hummed, the vibrations rumbling through your clit as you moaned, a high-pitched keening sound. Instinctively, both hands came off the wall to sink into Nanami's damp blond hair, pulling hard at the roots, holding his face between the heat of your legs. Rumbling his approval, Nanami's fingers swiped your underwear to the side, his tongue delving deeply between your folds, immediately beginning to flick insistently over your clit.

All rational thoughts went out of the window as Nanami licked and sucked between your legs, full attention paid to your pleasure, as you fell apart around him, thighs squeezing his head. Nanami's strong hands cupped your bum through your trousers, kneading the plush fat as he took your clit into his lips and sucked, feeling you shake as you approached the edge.

"Do you want me to stop?" he growled, and you couldn't stop yourself from whining your displeasure as he halted just before your orgasm hit you. Giving you no chance to answer, he took your clit firmly between his lips again, mouth and tongue hot and wet between your folds as you came, crying out and trembling, both hands clawing desperately at his hair, blinded by the peppering lights in your eyes.

Giving you no time to snap back to reality, you felt yourself being lifted and heaved over Nanami's shoulder.  He kicked the bathroom door open, carrying you through to the bedroom and lounge, dimly lit by the Tokyo skyline outside. Nanami dropped you on your back onto the table, positioning you until your head hung off the edge. Neck extended as you stared up at him, panting, eyes glazed, Nanami hummed as he slowly fingered the outline of your throat, his other hand undoing his belt. You gulped, mouth watering as you realised his intentions.

Lifting his heavy cock out of his trousers, Nanami began to stroke it, thumb swiping across the leaking tip, and he looked down at you, pupils blown with lust. He pressed two fingers into your mouth, shuddering with anticipation as he felt your tongue run against his fingers, licking the precum off his fingertips.

"Do...you want me to stop?" He forced out, pupils dilating as you opened your mouth for him slowly, invitingly. "Oh, fuck," groaned Nanami, pressing his length past your lips, hissing as the sensitive tip glided over your tongue and hit the back of your throat, curving to its shape, and he bucked into you, hands gripping your jaw and throat with bruising force as you gagged around him.

Nanami pulled out for long enough for you to take a deep breath through your nose, before fucking your throat with total abandon. Your wet gags and sloppy occasional breaths sent him reeling, his fingers resting on the outer edges of your throat thrilling him as he felt his cock bully past them. Hearing Nanami cursing, his voice breaking with stuttered moans, you felt heat coil in your belly, hands reaching out to grip his wet thighs to ground yourself. You felt so used, eyes streaming into your hair as he reached down your body, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he reached between your legs and curved two fingers up into your pussy, still wet from his tongue, his thumb swiping urgently over your clit. You convulsed, your hypersensitive clit tossing you into a painful second orgasm as your muscles fluttered against his curled fingers.

"Do you...do you want-- ahhh, fuck, take it take it, you're such a good girl," Nanami caged youin, hands flat on the table beside your waist, his balls hot and heavy against your nose as he came with a shout, rivers of cum trickling down your throat as you gagged, nails digging into his thighs as he rutted into your mouth, stunned by the strength of his orgasm. He pulled out of your mouth, sweaty and panting, his abs heaving in front of your face, stroking drops of his seed away from the sides of your mouth as you gasped and coughed on the table.

"Not enough," he gasped, stroking himself, half-hard already as the sight of you, spread and messy with cum on the table, "it's not enough. I'm not finished with you yet." You began to sit up, turning on the table, moving slowly towards him as he spoke again, stumbling and sweating, "Do you want me to--" Nanami was cut off by your kiss, forceful and determined as you locked your arms behind his neck.

Groaning appreciatively, carrying your weight as you locked your legs around his waist, Nanami stumbled to the bed, kicking off his trousers and beginning to rip your clothes off you. Your breasts freed, he latched aggressively onto your nipples, growling against you, completely absorbed in his plan to pound you into the mattress until you saw stars.

You bit into his shoulder blade as your trousers and underwear were flung unceremoniously aside, grabbing his cock and guiding it to your entrance, where he bottomed out in one smooth thrust, making you shriek as your pussy stretched, and you grasped onto him as you struggled to accommodate his size. Unexpectedly intimate, Nanami clasped his hand to yours, joined as he braced on his forearm above your head.

"I can't...I can't stop," Nanami choked out, slamming into you with a force that had you reeling. Barely held in place as his hips slammed yours up the bed, you locked your ankles behind Kento's hips, and he grasped you, pressing your knees to your chest until you were folded in two. Feeling his eye patch about to slip loose, and momentarily afraid you'd be disgusted by him, Nanami buried his face in your neck, grunting with every thrust as you mewled in his ear, your fingers deep in his hair, causing shivers down his spine.

You groaned, sultry and guttural, as his thick cock pounded your cervix, shuddering as you came, heat deep in your belly as Kento collapsed onto you, weak and drained as his seed filled you again, so overwhelmed by pleasure that he thought he may have seen god for a moment.

Flopping beside you on the bed, Nanami patted around above your head for his eye patch. Your hand reached up, grabbing his, lowering it to clasp together between your bodies. Nanami felt his chest clench, momentarily touched by your companionship and easy acceptance of his broken body.

"...what the hell am I going to tell Jujutsu High?" You groaned, as Nanami laughed richly, shooting you a wicked look.

"You'll come with me, then?"

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

[furybymoonlight]

Power

Pic credit: LFC

Warning/Genre: romance, fluff, tiny tiny angst, slightly suggestive scene in the end

Pairing: Trent Alexander Arnold x OC/Reader

“You have so much power over me…sometimes it kind of scares me.”

Author’s Note:

As usual, apology in advance for all errors since I am not a native.

Trent rubbed his eyes, walking groggily along the dimly lit corridor of his house. He had been asleep when he suddenly woke up, reflexively reached to the other side of the bed and found his girlfriend missing.

“Babe…are you here?”

He entered the quiet living room. Finding it empty, he continued to seek her from room to room with no avail, when he noticed something through the grand window of his living room.

The lukewarm summer night wind greeted him as he stepped out to the patio. He found his baby girl lounged on the outdoor sofa, holding a cup of coffee in her hand. She smiled as she saw him, putting the cup on the coffee table before sliding to the side to make way for him. Sitting beside her, he drew her to him, making her sit sideways on his lap. He hated having distance between them, no matter how short.

He kissed her softly before smiling at her, one large hand cupping the side of her face. She smiled back at him again, but a hint of melancholy adorned her beautiful face. He frowned, muscled arms tightened around her midriff. Something was not right.

“You should be sleeping….what is going on angel?”

She nuzzled him on the cheek before tracing the worry lines on his face, down to his nose, then to his plump lips. As always, her heart fluttered inside her chest whenever he was in the vicinity.

“I love you.”

She said softly to him and she felt the tension in his body lessened, but not gone.

“and I love you…so what’s wrong?”

It was hard to think with her securely wrapped in his arms. Everything felt so perfect for her, he was so perfect for her, so right, too right, that she feared when the ground finally shifted, she would just fall into a deep abyss and never resurface. She was a planner, she had a great career and she felt like her life was mapped out. She wasn’t used to feeling like this…like she was not in charge of her life.

“You have my heart Trent…and I’ll do anything for you…you know? I just…don’t know what I’d be without you…if you leave me...”

She felt instantly cold at that possibility. She kissed him then, fleetingly, as if just wanted to assure herself that he’s still there with her.

“You have so much power over me.... sometimes it kind of scares me.”

There, she said it. She sighed and closed her eyes. Great, now she sounded like those clingy whiny overly dependent girlfriend character in those tv soap operas, which she hated by the way. The calling of her name in his deep low voice made her open her eyes.

“Princess…I am not gonna leave you...besides, if the table turns, you think I am…what? I’ll be just fine without you?”

“Well…not in the beginning, but eventually…I mean…you’re Trent…you have everything in life, world class football player, the whole world knows who you are, people worshipped you, dubbed you generational talent, you even have a mural in this city, honestly.”

The scouser couldn’t believe his ears. He had loved her for what felt like forever, she was a part of him, air-level essential to him, didn’t she realize that? He cupped her face between his palms and looked straight at her.

“Baby…football is a large part of my life…it’s true, and I know I am blessed to live this life...”

He kissed her then, suddenly felt he needed to convey his emotion in more than words. Pressing his forehead against hers, he looked into her eyes and continued.

“You said I’m living my dream and that’s true as well…but having you by my side is part of that dream. Baby girl…football is my present but you, you’re my present and my future. I love you...to the moon and back.”

“You do?”

Her eyes brightened with love and affection as dimple appeared in her soft cheeks. His heart skipped a beat. It didn’t matter how long they had been together, she would always have that effect on him. He pressed her against him, though they were already as close as they could be, and claimed her lips in a fervent kiss.

She was his and he’d always be hers. She said he had so much power over her? Well, she ruled him, completely. His eyes darkened as he considered the possibility of living without her. It was unthinkable, and the length that he’d go to for her was limitless, he’d even give his legs, and more, to keep her safe by his side.

“Of course I do baby…”

He whispered against her lips, which were now swollen due to his ministration. His palm slipped beneath her t-shirt, caressing the smooth skin of her back. His lips tugged into a naughty smirk as he felt her shivered beneath his touch, the worry in her eyes gone, replaced by pure passion.

“I can of course, perform a demonstration…to fully convince you.”

He devoured her mouth then, all the while carrying her back to their bedroom and proceeded to do exactly that.

End Note:

Wrote this because I just need to escape the gloomy situation of LFC transfer window yet again.

Hope the boys win today!

Anyway please check out my other Trent fics:

See Me (Now)

Master of Assists

Thank you for reading <3

So….thoughts? :3

[vaultdwellerbarbie]

i want your midnights

javi rivera/f!reader (3.2k words)

summary after spending a week and a half away from javi, it becomes clear to both of you that you'd rather not spend any time apart at all.

content warnings pretty much just p with very little plot, smut, unsafe sex, car sex, making out in public, also with a hint of domestic bliss at the end

before you inquire "august, didn't you just say you were throwing up blood last night??? how did you find time to write smut???" when you're a real fucker, you always have time. also... twisters leaked in hd where are my javi gifs??

Agreeing to take a later flight was the right thing to do, the kind thing to do. Coming back to Oklahoma after a pitch-meeting with Kate that had gone on for well-over a week was draining, but you would have felt especially guilty if young boy - who looked like he couldn’t have been older than fourteen - needed to wait hours to get home to his family. So, you agreed to take the next soonest flight home.

One delay led to another, and you didn’t get to leave the airport until five hours after you originally intended upon leaving. Kate felt bad, but you reminded her that you had made the decision and that you would see her tomorrow. Javi, on the other hand, seemed to be losing his mind every time you spoke to him.

It was as if he was growing progressively more unhinged with the second, and you weren’t sure how long he had been hanging around the general vicinity of the airport. It wasn’t that he was mad, he just seemed sad that you weren’t there. Granted, you missed him more than you cared to admit.

Having been a Wrangler, you weren’t really supposed to speak to Javi. The two teams didn’t like each other, most of the people he worked with at the time were stuck-up and rude. It was toward the end of a summer, when things were starting to wind down, that you struck up a conversation with him. He was incredibly attractive, he looked good in everything he wore, and when his hair got all wet and more curly than it already was you felt like you were going to go insane. But you didn’t live in Oklahoma, and as soon as winter hit, you weren’t going to see him again for a long while. 

One thing led to another, and for the rest of the season you were sneaking around with him whenever you got the chance to do so. Whether it be because your team was in the area, or because his team had branched out and gone to your area. It really didn’t matter, what mattered was that you consistently found a way to hook up with each other even though you both knew that you probably shouldn’t.

If that wasn’t bad enough, you figured out eventually that it wasn’t normal to describe your ‘casual hookup’ as ‘the most beautiful, angelic boy in the world - and have you seen his freckles??’. Turns out, it wasn’t really casual at all. Thankfully, he stopped working for Storm Par, and with a bit of convincing from Kate, a partnership was formed. A partnership that meant that you no longer had to hide your relationship or pretend that it was just hooking up when you both knew it was a lot more than that. 

The plane-ride wasn’t even that long, but it felt like an eternity. An eternity of knowing that Javi was just sitting there waiting for you, an eternity of wishing that you could see him now - or could have seen him hours ago. At some point, everything that happened on the plane became irritating. If the bathroom was occupied for two seconds when you needed to use it, it was a problem. If a child made too much noise, it was a problem. When someone snored a bit too loud, it was a problem. Every little thing became a problem, you couldn’t even claim to be fond of your own playlist by the time that you finally landed. Perhaps it was because you were sleepy, and you couldn’t sleep with the anticipation of knowing that you would soon see Javi. But that thought alone had you thinking about him again, it was going to be about ten at night by the time that you landed, and he would have spent most of his day sitting around in that airport just waiting for you to get back. You wanted to thank him in some way, but nothing felt good enough - you’d just never really had anyone willing to go to that length for you, even though he really didn’t have to. 

By the time that you did land, you were rushing through the airport to find him. It didn’t take too long, because there he was waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs. Your lips spread into a wide smile, rushing down the escalator and letting your bag rest beside you as you nearly tackled him in a hug. The airport was predominantly empty, at least in this area, since it was getting late and you weren’t in a massive city. There was nobody to complain about you stopping right at the bottom of the steps or even too many people to worry about taking your bag for the few moments that you have it set down. 

Javi didn’t seem to mind, though. He encouraged you to tackle him, if the feeling of him keeping your legs around him for more than two seconds was any indication. His lips were against yours in an instant, your fingers tangling into the back of his hair until he deepened the kiss.

“Javi- Javi, we should go outside.”

“Mhm.” He pressed a kiss to your cheek, another one against your neck, before you pressed a finger against his lips.

“You gotta put me down.”

“I can carry you, you’ve had a long flight.”

“But my bag-”

“I can do both.”

It took about one step for you to realize why he was insistent upon carrying you. “You really missed me, huh?”

“It’s been like torture, especially today.” He complained, another absentminded kiss pressed against your neck as you moved to hide your face in his shoulder. Even though barely anyone was there, people were still around. PDA wasn’t something that you weren’t used to with Javi, but never to this capacity and never around strangers. But he was needy, you could tell from the feeling of him pressing against your thigh. 

“Javi, baby, just get me to the car at least.” 

“You got it.” 

How he managed to get to his car as quickly as he did was beyond your own comprehension, but he did. The moment he got to the car he let you down, keeping an arm snuggly around you as you both worked to get the suitcase into the trunk. Javi shut the truck, but made sure to push you against it after a moment. You let him kiss you for just a minute, stopping him the moment that his hand got down to your ass.

“Javi-”

“I need you.”

“In the parking lot?” You took his face into your hands, your thumbs brushing against his cheeks. He was so beautiful, even if you could only see him under the light of dim streetlights and the further away lights coming from the airport’s runway. His skin was always so soft under your hands, and the feeling of his warm body against yours made you want to forget about all of the voices in your head telling you that having sex in the parking lot was an absolutely terrible idea. But, the sight of headlights pulling in had you sneaking away from his grasp. “Take me home, and we can do whatever you want.” 

“It’s a long drive.”

“It’s not that long.” 

“It’s like… thirty minutes.” You turned to face him as he settled in his seat, though he looked far from settled. With one glance toward the predominantly empty section of the parking lot you were in, you moved so you were on his lap. Javi’s hands instantly moved to cup your ass, holding you against him as your lips crashed against his. 

“You should take me home.”

“A little hard when you’re on top of me.” He responded, a buck of his hips against yours causing a yelp to come out of you. The thin fabric of your leggings didn’t seem to be doing you any favors, but they seemed like a good idea earlier in the day - comfortable, not going to bother you on the plane, not like you could have accounted for how horny your boyfriend would have been the moment you stepped foot in Oklahoma. 

“You’re not making this easy for me, Javi. It’s been a week and a half.” You mumbled, your lips trailing to his chin, reaching his neck. Finally, you pulled back. “I need you, too.” 

“You have me, if you’ll let me.” 

Glancing out, you sighed. There were people, not a lot of people, and you weren’t sure how likely it was that they would see you since it was so dark out. “You’re evil.”

“I’m not-”

“Evil, Javi.” You responded, moving back to your seat; not without a fleeting kiss to the corner of his lips, but back to your seat regardless. “Please drive.”

Javi was silent for a few moments as he drove, letting you take the time that you needed to pick out what you wanted to listen to. The issue, similar to the one that you had been having on the plane, is that everything was annoying you. Nothing you listened to made you happy because the only thing that could make you happy was Javi’s hands on you, but he kept those firmly planted on the steering wheel. It wasn’t until the fifth time that you changed a song that you typically liked that he realized that he was definitely getting under your skin. 

“Want me to help you?”

“Sure, you can pick a song.” 

“Not what I was referring to.” 

Turning to him curiously, your breath hitched in your throat upon feeling his hand on top of your thigh. 

“May I?” 

“Promise not to crash the car?”

“I promise not to crash the car.” 

Once you gave the go-ahead, he grinned at the sight of you parting your legs for him. Still, he took the time to feel you through the leggings, quirking a brow at how you had seemingly gotten wet enough that he could feel it through the thin fabric of your pants. 

“You want me that bad?”

“I told you, you weren’t making it easy for me.” You replied, watching him as he moved his hand further up your body just to slide his fingers into the fabric of your leggings. Despite his neediness, he took his time. His hand ran all along your thighs, played with the fabric of your panties, everything that you figured that he wouldn’t have time - or energy - to be doing. But, clearly he did. 

“Javi, please.” 

“I’ve got you.” His voice was so soothing, but he continued to tease you for at least a few seconds before his fingers moved where you really needed him. Your head fell back against the seat as you kept your eyes locked on him. He really was a sight, but he knew that you liked looking at him. “You need to look at the road.”

“W-why?” Your mind was elsewhere, the feeling of two of his fingers pressing into you caused a whimper to leave your mouth.

“Because if you don’t, I’m going to pull over.” 

You glanced out toward the road, there really was nothing going on past the airport. The treeline was dark, and you were pretty sure you hadn’t seen any cars for at least a few minutes. Maybe it was that, or maybe it was how good his fingers felt pumping inside of you, but whatever inhibitions that you had were gone. 

“Pull over, Javi.”

“What?”

“It really is a long drive.” 

Finally processing what you were asking him, Javi pulled over into an empty parking lot that he was about to drive by. Whatever the place was, it was certainly abandoned. The moment the car was off he had you in his lap again, your hands fumbling with his pants while he worked on getting the seat back as far as it could go. 

“You have no idea how badly I’ve needed you all fucking day.” He complained, moving his hands from the seat to your leggings. You moved off of him a bit, letting him remove them from your body before he harshly pulled you back down onto his lap. The moment he was free from his pants he had his head thrown back, your hand covering the length of him. He let you do what you wanted for a few moments, but there was only so long that either of you could go before giving in to what it was that you needed. 

“I have some idea.” You responded, sighing at the feeling of him rubbing the head of his cock against your cunt. “A lot of idea, actually.” 

“Did you miss me, baby?”

“More than you know.” You responded, your forehead falling unceremoniously against his shoulder as he pushed into you. Moving your head away from him, your hand covered his cheek again. “I love you, Javi.”

“I love you too.” His tone was softer, but it was just as needy as it had been when you had first kissed him. As contained as you were trying to be, it was clear that both of you were having a difficult time keeping your hands off of each other. Granted, he was the one who started it since he was the one who couldn’t keep his hands off of you in the first place. 

The moment his lips were against yours again was the moment you started moving. He helped guide you, but you were pretty sure it was mainly because he wanted to keep his hands on your hips. Despite all of the weird places that you’ve had sex with Javi, a car hadn’t been one of those places for quite some time. The last time you’d done this together in a car, it had been when you were still sneaking around and weren’t sure where you could go that nobody would notice. His car seemed to be the only option at the time, but it was never preferable because of all the windows. Plus, that time was different - you were in the backseat that time, so you had a bit more room. 

“I wish I had more patience, I wanted to take my time with you.” He admitted, parting from your lips. His lips trailed down your neck, resting for a moment before he looked at you as he moved to tug your shirt up. Giving him the room he needed, you allowed him to remove the shirt before he reached behind you to unhook your bra.

“If you take that off, I’m just warning you-”

“It’s not going back on, I know. I know you.” He replied, a gentle smile covering your lips as you let him do what he wanted. “Just make sure to bring it inside so the neighbors don’t give us looks.”

“Deal.”

Once the bra was off, you resumed your movements while Javi kissed lower down on your chest. Arching your back towards him reflexively, you squeezed his arm slightly when he took your nipple into his mouth. The feeling of him inside of you, against you, with his mouth on you - it was a lot, since you had gone a week and a half without even being able to see him. It felt like an absolute eternity, and you were partially grateful that it took you so long to actually see him today since you weren’t too sure that you wanted your other friends to see him be incredibly, incredibly needy. 

Perhaps that slight overwhelmed feeling was why you didn’t really notice when he moved a hand down the front of your torso until you could feel his finger pressed against your clit. 

“Fuck, Javi- feels so good.”

He moved his head up, leveling his face with yours. The kiss was sloppy, your hand moving to the back of his neck and your fingers lacing into his curly hair. Neither of you seemed to mind, though. His fingers continued to work against your clit, your grinding becoming more and more erratic as he started to thrust his hips up into you. You were certain that, if you got a little bit more distracted, you were going to end up hitting your head on the roof of the car. Still, you couldn’t be too concerned with that. The only concern on your mind was how good it felt to be with Javi in that moment, and how you never wanted to be separated from him for that long ever again. 

“I’m- where-” Javi was no better off than you were, already thinking about where you wanted him to finish. He always made sure to ask, even though you could both sometimes forget important things like condoms. But you were on the pill, and you also weren’t so sure that you were going to be able to give him the time to pull out even if you wanted him to.

“Inside- please, do it inside.” Plus, you kind of liked the feeling of him finishing inside of you, but that was a conversation for another day. 

As Javi brought you to your climax, the feeling of your cunt squeezing around him was what brought him over the edge. Your lips melded with his, your moans coming together to the point that you weren’t sure who was louder. By the time that you did pull away, there was a big goofy smile on his face that just made you want to kiss him again. 

“Have I mentioned that I love you?” Your voice was breathy, but it only made his smile grow wider. 

“A few times. Have I mentioned that I love you?”

“I few times, I could always hear it a little more, though.” 

It was… a struggle to get you off of him so you could go back home and it was even more of a struggle to figure out how to get dressed again in the car. Eventually, you managed, and by the time that you made it to his house, whatever adrenaline had been keeping you going was wiped out.

“Can I carry you again?” 

“You don’t need to.”

“It’s the gentlemanly thing to do.” He replied, grabbing your suitcase from the back and holding an arm out for you at your door. 

“At least let me take my own suitcase to the door.” You replied, stepping out of the car. But, Javi was persistent. So, even though the walk was only a few feet and you definitely could have made it even though you were exhausted, he insisted. But it was nice being held by him, being against him. He was warm and comfortable and he felt like home to you, that was a feeling that you could never quite get enough of. 

For the first time in over a week, you were able to cuddle in to the warmth of Javi’s chest, and he’d be damned if he let you go. Anywhere, for the next day. You both may have been exhausted that day, but his touch-starved tendencies continued on throughout the next day and they ended up being mildly contagious. Some part of you blamed the fact that you had to delay your flight by a few hours, and that part of you is eternally grateful that you were ever given the opportunity to do so.

[jettwrites]

poltergeist!art anon again, lovedd what u wrote abt him! sorry I love this au I have too many thoughts...

hmm I was thinking that he may have a human form that he can turn into but he can't really control it fully bc he never really had the need too, since you're the only interesting person to move in (it's always been elderly couples). He looks the same as before he died just kind of off... his skin a little too pale, his eyes more greyish than baby blue, etc.

side note, when he finally gets to fuck you, your tummy glows bc of his phantom cock <3 (going insane w this thought).

and idk If this sounds mean but art soo looks like he would drown in a pool ☠️

anon never be sorry i am currently rotting over this au so you are just my supplier. SORRY THIS TOO ME SO LONG BTW!! totally lost motivation for writing in general, but now i’m working through my inbox!! feel free to send me any thirsts or asks 💗

but OMFG him drowning is so smart. it explains why his lips are tinted a bleak blue and the temperature of his oddly pale skin is unreasonably frisk. he’s trapped in the vicinity of the old creaky house due to drowning in the pool out back — enclosed by invisible fences. if he dares to travel past the barrier, he’s immediately brought right back to the place where he lost his life.

he’s been trapped there for decades, growing even more bored with each new tenant. he quite literally gets enjoyment out of watching the walls deteriorate, floral wallpaper warping into something grotesque. normally, ghosts are supposed to get a kick out of tormenting and scaring the life out of whoever crosses their pass. however, this is not the case for art. the boy prefers to keep himself invisible and would rather not have to bear the panicked shrieking from an elderly couple at the sight of his decaying drowned corpse. doesn’t even want them to see his previous living form — afraid of them running away, leaving him with only his own company once more. instead, he opts to stay completely hidden.

when you walk in — all giddy and excited to finally be living on your own — something sparks inside him. a strange sensation he hasn’t felt in he can’t even remembe how long. maybe it’s your hopeful eyes or the way you carry yourself. the way you dress, or your naive mind. it causes him to constantly keeps a watchful of you. spectates your day-to-day schedule and stalks the douchey men you bring home. the ones you let defile you. he watches you undress by lurking in the corner of your room, lacey panties, and matching bra ending up in a pile by his feet. he finds himself stroking his heavy leaking cock over your body countless times, fisting the length in a tight vice-like grip. imagines pumping you deep with a feeling he hasn’t felt in ages — love — stuffing you full to watch the bulge that forms around your pelvis. poking from the inside with each thrust in and out, in and out, in and out. wishing to one day see the way your belly glows due to being pounded by his phantom cock, tucking his luminescent seed inside your tight cunt that milks him ever so lovingly.

it’s sick and twisted the way he thinks of you. the way he protects you like a guard dog. the way he watches your every move like a hawk. the way he lightly runs a heavy thumb over your plush bottom lip while you sleep. how he glides over your teeth and pushes into your mouth. it’s crude — but he just can’t help himself, having been deprived of this feeling for soo long :((

[lucienarcheron]

That Single Thread of Gold [ Elucien ]

Prompt: Inspired by @eospaint lovely elucien piece here. I went a little nuts in the tags of it but then couldn't contain it and had to write this little fic! I love writing elucien being caught up in their awkward feelings stage. I hope you enjoy! | AO3

He told himself it was for the best if he didn't see her this time. It was almost always awkward. Tense. Lucien could do without the stress of their uncomfortable interactions this visit; he was here to see Feyre, after all. He had given Feyre enough notice that she would inform Elain and there would be no need for them to cross paths. They had no need to see each other, especially when she had clearly never expressed the desire to see him anyway. 

So Lucien sat and waited in Feyre’s living room, let in by one of the twins. He sat and waited and tried not to let the crumpled pieces of his stupid heart hope. Tried not to set himself up for disappointment. His fingers drummed on his knees as he glanced towards the half open door, waiting for his friend to arrive. 

Instead, her scent flooded his senses. 

And then she appeared in the doorway. 

Lucien didn’t know what to do with himself as she blinked at him in surprise, almost as shocked as he was that she was standing there. 

Elain hadn’t even meant to stumble into the room. She knew he was coming today – Feyre had given her the heads up but – but something about her had been different today. Today felt different and she wasn’t sure why. Normally, Elain had no desire to meet him and allow herself to feel all the things she did whenever he was close. Normally, she was very good at being a coward and avoiding him. 

But today…that tug of the bond had pulled her into the room before she could stop it or realize what was happening.

She stood by the door and blinked, then blinked again. Elain hadn’t even realized he was already here.

Lucien stood immediately and as anticipated, the expected awkwardness unfurled between them, quickly followed by that strained tension.

Touch. Taste. Claim.

Lucien fisted his hands by his side and instead bowed graciously, murmuring, “My lady.” 

He said nothing more as his mate watched him, a muscle flexing in his jaw at her gaze, because here she was staring at him like she had no idea what to do with him and Lucien felt heat rise in his body. He swallowed, then cleared his throat and casually said, “I’m here to see Feyre. It seems she’s running a little late.”

“Oh.” is all Elain could think to reply and a flicker of emotion passed his expression quicker than she could read it. She licked her lips, her hands fisting in the folds of her dress and Elain couldn’t help but catalog every inch of him; she normally didn’t allow herself to look at him for too long and Elain wasn’t sure what it was this time around compelling her to take him in. 

Was it because it had been a while since she’d seen him? Was it the lack of sleep? Was it the thread of gold that chafed at her whenever he was in the general vicinity? He always seemed to handle himself so well around her despite what Elain had heard about the mating bond doing to males; he always handled himself so well.

She wished he’d yell at her, if only once. So she had a reason to actually avoid him. So she had a reason to resist him, to be justified in cowering. 

But no. He was always so polite.

Realizing a few moments had passed and she hadn’t said anything, Elain cleared her throat and said, “I’m not sure when Feyre will be back.”

Lucien tried not to fidget beneath her gaze despite the urge to shift on his feet. She’d never looked at him so directly before. It was unnerving him but Lucien didn’t let himself hope. He squashed down any possible emotions he could feel and instead nodded. “I understand. I’ll take my leave then.” he said and gave her a thin smile. “She knows where to find me.” 

He didn’t allow himself another word and instead, took a step aiming to leave but – but then Elain took a step towards him and he froze. 

All her senses went on high alert as Elain realized that she too had paused in that half step. A half step she had taken towards him before – long ago. Her eyes widened slightly and she watched as Lucien’s brows furrowed, his body strained as her pulse quickened beneath her skin, her heart pounding.

Lucien tilted his head, straightening, her reaction confusing him. “Is there something else I can help you with?” he asked tightly. 

And it was Elain’s turn to swallow because she didn’t know. Was there something else he could help her with? She hadn’t been alone with him in – in a long while. She had made sure of it.

She went out of her way not to actively think about him, not to have him in her mind so he wouldn’t follow her in her dreams the way he did anyway on so many nights. But now he was here standing in front of her and she wasn't sure what to do with him.

Her pulse was fluttering and Elain wanted to be angry with him even though none of this was really his fault. She wanted to be mean to him even though he didn’t deserve it. She just wanted someone who sees how wretched she feels about it all. She wanted someone to see behind her stupid fake smiles and her distance from him. She wanted someone to understand why.

And the longer she stood staring at him, the more Lucien seemed to read her mind. That single thread of gold between them…he seemed to understand the whirlwind of feelings she was battling and his expression softened for a moment. Like he really did see.

Elain almost hated that even more but she wasn’t even sure why and the thought threatened to release tears she had no business showing in front of him. Her bottom lip trembled for a breath before she straightened and shook her head.

Lucien stood still for a moment then forced himself to take a step then another until he stood in front of her and slowly, held out his hand. Then waited.

Because he could feel her. He could hear her heart and Lucien couldn’t stop himself from trying to bring her comfort in some way. The instincts beneath his skin wouldn't let him walk away when he knew his mate was on the verge of tears, even when Lucien had no idea if he was the reason for them.

This fae life – this mating bond had been thrust on her and the way she had been pretending to adjust since then was one of the main reasons he never pushed. He felt her confusion, her inner turmoil. He knew what it was like to swallow it all and play pretend. The least he could do was allow himself to be the guiding light through the dark for her. Even if he wasn’t sure she’d want that from him. Lucien couldn’t help but offer. 

Elain glanced down at his hand and she felt her throat tighten. They didn’t touch. They rarely even stood so close. Did she want to touch him? She didn’t know what his skin felt like but in her dreams – in her sleep she wondered – she felt like she knew – 

Before she could let herself doubt any further and even as the battle of emotions threatened to swallow her whole, Elain couldn’t help but slowly, carefully slide her hand in his. 

And it felt – it felt –

Elain felt herself take a breath. She waited for the discomfort. For the prickling anxiety that usually haunted her. For the wretchedness to snap at her heels.  

But his hand was softer than she imagined. Strong, calloused – a warrior’s hand but – it didn’t feel bad at all. It felt…better than expected. It was gentle. Warm.

She glanced at him then away, suddenly embarrassed and truly not sure what to do with herself. He was so patient and it only made her feel so much worse about herself. She owed him nothing and he owed her nothing and yet…

Lucien only held out his other hand and Elain met his gaze as he gave her a small knowing smile.

Elain’s throat bobbed and even as she slid her other hand into his, she whispered, “Why?”

The simple question seemed to make Lucien’s shoulders sag because even to Elain, her one question asked about a hundred more. Why was he still here? Why did he still try with her? Why did she hesitate to even speak with him? Why did she hide? 

Why? Why? Why?

“Because you looked like you needed some comfort.” he said quietly and shrugged. “And I know what it’s like to need a steady hand.” 

And it was like he’d snatched the breath from her throat. 

Had her sisters been right about what a mating bond could do for those blessed with one? About what her mate could do for her? Was it indeed a blessing then? Had she really only been hurting herself with her distance? She had only slid her hand in his, touching him so very lightly and yet…with this simple touch, Elain had found herself willing to stand in this room with him a little longer.

“A steady hand?” she repeated softly and the brush of his thumb against the back of her hand seemed involuntary.

“A steady hand and a good friend make all the difference.” he said and hoped his yearning wasn’t too obvious as she met his gaze again. 

“A good friend?” she repeated once more and the corner of his mouth lifted, the movement highlighting his scar as he nodded.

“Indeed.”

A friend. 

The thought seemed to hit Elain so suddenly and the sheer longing of it almost overwhelmed her. 

A friend. 

She needed one more than she could put into words and Elain could only stare at her mate. The rapid beating of her heart seemed so loud in the silence between them but for once, it was a comfortable silence. 

Comfortable enough that Elain found herself asking so very quietly as roses bloomed on her cheeks, “Do you happen to know any good friends available?”

His lips twitched and Lucien was sure the rapid beating of his own heart now matched hers as he answered in that same quiet tone, “I daresay, I have the perfect person in mind.” 

[skylarsblue]

⛤Bo Sinclair ~ Fluff Alphabet⛤

Content: Gender Neutral Reader, the occasional mention of past abuse, mentions of his temper. Note: This is very old, in fact, I forgot it existed. But I re-read it, and it still held up well enough for me. Given my silence as of recent, I figured I should post...something. Divider By @v6que

A = Attractive (What do they find attractive about the other?) Bo’s a bit superficial, admittedly. It’s not something he can really deny, nor does he try to. He’ll readily admit to a few past flings that were insufferable, but pretty. It’s not hard for him to be lured in by plush curves and some simple sweet talking. Deep down, he’s a lonely man with a hard time finding connection. I will say he’s a bit of a chubby chaser, for one. It’s not required but he certainly likes his plushness. In general though, though he’s got vanity, he’s not picky. Pretty is pretty, there are many kinds. Be it a nice ass, a doe eyed gaze, or an alluring voice. 

What’s harder to understand is what he looks for in personality. Again, he won’t be actively looking for a deep, intimate connection on an emotional level. It sort’ve just…happens. He’s not sure how and he probably tries to resist it. But this is where it stops being about what he wants and more so what he needs. He needs someone with a lot of patience, some sternness, and the ability to read between lines. He’s not good at expressing how he really feels, sometimes he doesn’t even know what he’s feeling, so he doesn’t know what he should do about his emotions. That’s where you need to be able to notice and take action for him, even if he bitches about it.

B = Baby (Do they want a family? Why/Why not?) Bit of a 50/50 here. He’s never thought too hard about it, because he didn’t see a need to. He never planned on getting tied down in any form, and he definitely doesn’t see himself as the fathering type. But, while he’s unaware of it, he has a soft spot for kids somewhere in that hardened shell. Bo just doesn’t know it’s there. Be it of his own blood or a bundle of joy left on his doorstep in a woven basket. At first, he’s terrified. He leaves, he isolates, he panics. But it doesn’t take much more than an innocent giggle and a wide eyed gawk to get him softening. Somewhere in his ribs there’s a child aching for the care he and his brothers never got. He can’t get a do over, but he can prevent it from happening again. He raised his brothers, he loves them beyond words. Being in charge of a baby was basically what he was when Lester was born. Even if it scares him to death, he could be convinced. 

C = Cuddle (How do they cuddle?) Bo will swear up and down he’s no cuddler, and he’s an absolute fucking liar. It’s just hard for him to find a cuddling position that doesn’t feel too restrictive, which is why he thinks he’s not into it. But he’s starved for gentle contact, and he enjoys the rare feeling of safe peace. During the day, you’re only likely to get subtler stuff. Getting to sit across his lap, letting you mess with his hands, hug his arm, etc. 

But at night, no matter how far away on the bed he starts, he ends up in your vicinity. One of his favorite positions, aside from classing spooning, is when he gets to lay on top of you. Between your legs with his head on your sternum, listening to your heart. It’s one of the few times he lets himself stop being on edge, to fully relax. Bonus if you run your nails along his back and shoulders. Hum a lullaby if you feel like it. Best sleep he’ll ever get.

D = Dates (What are dates with them like?) He doesn’t really take you on dates. Not that he doesn’t like them or anything, he just doesn’t often have the time or energy to take you places. Especially if it’s early on. He’s got trust issues, for the first few years he’s worried you’ll run. But that doesn’t mean it never happens, unlike the case with most slashers, he has the means, money, and the lack of a wanted poster on a bulletin somewhere.

He probably won’t go for anything fancy, it’s not his style and it makes him uncomfortable. He’s a vain humble man, an oxymoron. The town outside of Ambrose has its local diner, its little shops, a bar. These are the typical places he’ll take you. If it’s an anniversary and you show you want something more conventionally romantic, he’ll take you to Baton Rouge or a picnic, depends on your preference.

E = Everything (You are my___ (e.g. my life, my world)

   “My do-over.”

It sounds insulting at first, but that’s not how he means it. Bo has been in a routine his entire life, and every stage, every routine, has always been with big negatives. As a child; he’d act out because of the treatment his parents gave, they’d “discipline” him, he’d do it over again. As a teen; he’d get into trouble, weasel his way out of it, do it over again. 

But what he’s never gotten is an actual restart on life. He’s never gotten to, in his soul, start over. He’s always been carrying all his bad decisions and pain with him. So, when you show up, and give him a break in the pattern, it gives him the ability to get a do-over. Nothing will change on the outside, not immediately anyway. However, on the inside, he feels different. You make him feel like a different man even if his behavior hasn’t changed. 

F = Feelings (When did they know they were in love?) It’s hard to say. He knows his attraction to you is deeper than normal, but the concept of love scares him. It’s a bit too new, a bit too vulnerable. Still, he can’t help but enjoy it. It’s slow to set in, slow to be put in place. He’ll rarely, rarely, say it, and when it finally hits him that his feelings for you aren’t going away, it scares him away. But he comes back. It’ll at least take two years to properly be set, but you’ll see the signs near the end of year one. If you’re observant, that is.

G = Gentle (Are they gentle? If so, how?) Bo is all sharp metal and stinging cuts. He’s never been treated gently and his hands show it, both in scars and in his grip. It’s not that he really means to be rough with you, not in a way that’s unenjoyable anyway. You’re obviously in a very different situation than anyone else, so while he knows how much pressure to apply to your throat, or the crease of where your thigh meets your hip, his gentleness is unpracticed. It’s shaky and uncertain. His gentleness comes from inside, allowing you to see him more as himself than the mask he puts on for strangers, or the hardass he pretends to be for the sake of his emotional safety.

It’s in long glances with admiration behind the pupils. In the slope of his shoulders as they come at ease beside you. The hand he rests possessively on your lower back when you’re in the kitchen. It’s in the moments you catch him at his weakest and he doesn’t run away, but to you instead.

H = Hands (How do they like to hold hands?) Bo’s not much of the hand holding type. He prefers his hand in your back pocket, around your waist, or you hugging his arm. Still though, every now and then it’s that little bit of contact he needs, without being too much. Usually when driving. He’ll lock your fingers together, feel the skin of your palm press against his. Especially if your hands run cold, he’ll always make a comment about it, blow hot air on the back of it in order to warm your hand up.

I = Impression (What was their first impression?) The same as everyone else, really. Likely finding you attractive, another pretty face he’ll have to shoot at. His opinion only changes when he sees how you behave, how the others around you treat you, how you treat him as a stranger. It’ll start to shift. He’s met nice people before, even let a few go because of their situation. Like a single mother looking for gas or a young teen boy on the run from his parents. 

He could justify why he’d let you live, what he doesn’t understand is why he can’t let you go either. Not just because you could tell the cops. But something deeper in him aches at the thought, that long loneliness that he’s been denying for so long.

J = Jealousy (Do they get jealous?) He absolutely is a jealous man. As confident as he can be, he hates gawking eyes running over you. He’s possessive, and while you’re not an object, he does feel like he owns you in a certain way. You can have your free will, but he’s stamped his name on your heart, and he intends to put his initials everywhere he can reach. He won’t show it all the time, it’ll start subtly. Cracking his jaw, a glare, a little less southern kindness in his act. 

God forbid someone come onto you though. It’s not jealousy then, he’s enraged at the audacity. He’s a murderer, one with little to no morals and a severe lack of empathy. But he draws the line at you. Doesn’t matter if he’d a hypocrite, if he had behaved in a similar flirtatious way with taken individuals before you. With you, no one gets any leeway. 

K = Kiss (How do they kiss? Who initiated the first kiss?) 50/50 based on time, but most likely him. If your timeline includes heavy resistance on your part, he’ll initiate it. It won’t be sweet, it’ll be a move for power, even if he’s gentle. If your timeline includes you being more willing, and open, then it’ll likely be you. This way, you can make it sweet. Convey the kindness you have to him again in unspoken words, allow him to melt against you for once. It’ll be the only kiss he actually remembers. 

L = Love (Who says ‘I love you’ first?) Definitely you, and he won’t believe you at first. No matter when you first say it, or how, he’s taken aback. He thinks you’re exaggerating or you’re outright lying. Aside from brotherly love, no one has ever loved him. Not earnestly, not honestly. They may love what he can do, what he can provide, his face. But he knows at the core of his soul, he’s rotten and covered in razor wire. He understands no one wants to hold something that hurts them. But yet here you are, cradling his heart covered in razor blades, letting your blood fall down the arms he leaves kisses on in the dark, when he thinks you’re asleep. 

He’ll say it back after you’ve shown him you mean it. You haven’t walked away, you haven’t hated him, you haven’t dumbed him down to the untalented version of his twin. You’ve stayed, and you’ve cared. He says it softly, almost uncertain if the words can leave his throat. But he means it. 

M = Memory (What’s their favourite memory together?) Coming home to you after a long day and seeing you seem like you’re enjoying yourself. Like you’ve settled into the home, like you’re no longer a prisoner and instead a member of the family. Lester & Vincent were in the same room, chatting, though Vincent silently, and laughing with you. At ease around you like he was, you at ease with them in return. With a warm meal on the stove and a pleasantness in the air. He can see you at your brightest. He swears that day you made the world slow when you looked at him, smiling, beckoning him in on the conversation.

N = Nickel (Do they spoil? Do they buy the person they love everything?) Usually he does so on dates. Though dates are sparse, you never come home without him spending at least 200$, half of which went to you specifically. Does he bring you a gift home every day? No. But he knows when you deserve a spoiling, and he follows through consistently. He also struggles saying no to things you want, within reason. Suddenly, 200$ seems like a small price in comparison to your joy. Don’t think you get away without a little comment though.

“You’re a real spoiled brat, ya know that? Better thank me, at least”

O = Orange (What colour reminds them of their other half?) Bo’s not one for caring about colors. He knows his favorites are black and denim blue, but that’s about it. Still, the colors that seem to invoke emotion in him, that bring you up in his mind? The colors of the sunset. Pinks blending into purples, and eventually a deep blue. It brings him a sense of peace, and it reminds him that it's the end of the day, so he can come home to you. Listen to you rattle off about something, or sit in silence with the aura you bring into the room. Especially when the dipping sun hits your face just right. Every time it happens, it makes his breath catch in his lungs. And every time he wonders how someone so awful as him got someone so celestial as you.

P = Pet names (What pet names do they use?) He’s a Southern man, he’s got a surplus to pull from. A classic “sweetheart”, “hun”, and “baby” are frequent. Sometimes he throws in a “sweet thing”, or thang, if we include the accent. Darling missing the ‘G’ and sugar make an appearance now and then. But he’s also likely to give you at least one fond nickname based on something you two have discussed. 

“Anyone ever tell ya you look like a lil rabbit? Cute lil’ bunny, eh? Oh don’t get shy on me now, you had all that talk a second ago!”

As for ones he enjoys, he prefers them simple, nothing that’s over the top. “Love” & “babe” work best most of the time, but he’s got a soft spot for being called “sugar”. One that he pretends to hate but he adores? “Lover boy.” Call him that, trust me.

Q = Quaint (What is their favourite non-modern thing?) Bo isn’t really for new things anyway, aside from maybe TVs. Even his cars he prefers are old. He’s a pretty firm believer in the “quality back then was better” idea. Still, his heart always goes back to old cars, trucks specifically. He’s a simple man, he wants a simple truck that’ll do its job and last him years. He’ll never understand the hype behind sleek sports cars and shiny leather interiors. 

R = Rainy Day (What do they like to do on a rainy day?) Rain doesn’t do much for him. Unless it’s a heavy storm, he’s gonna do what he needs to do, albeit in a slightly calmer mood. He finds rain calming, even if he’s not super fond of the mess of mud Jonesy tracks in the house. Storms however, especially heavy ones, worry him. It's not that he’s afraid of lightning, and they’re far enough from the water to not have much worry of any flooding. It’s because Lester hates thunder. On these days, he tries to make an excuse to go see his baby brother. When you catch on, don’t comment, but encourage. Lester always appreciates it and it helps you see Bo’s softer side to being a big brother.

S = Sad (How do they cheer themselves/others up?) Bo’s self destructive, we know this. He doesn’t cope well and he doesn’t like people giving him advice on how to handle his emotions, even if he needs it desperately. On a rough day, he smokes more, he might crack open a beer, but worst of all? He hides, metaphorically. He gets loud, he snaps, he hurts the feelings of people around him because he’s upset. And apologizing isn’t his forte. The longer he’s with you, the calmer he gets, and the more likely he is to direct his anger out, but not at you and his brothers. Coax him into a rant, while he goes on about his gripes, do small things to make him comfortable. Slip a drink in his hand, sneakily place an ice pack on his sore bruises, gently play with the hair near the nape of his neck. By the end of it all, he’ll be tuckered out. Ready for a little couch nap and maybe some lovin’, if you’re alright with him laying on your lap, that is.

T = Talking (What do they like to talk about?) Bo’s actually the quiet type. Unless he’s angry, he doesn’t say much unprompted. He can carry a conversation though, and he has his subjects that he’ll gush about, you just have to bring it out of him. Aside from rants on cars and some random history facts from his phase as a teenager, he likes to talk about what you bring up. If you’re the talkative type, he enjoys the long conversations with all the topics you seem to pull from thin air. Lighthearted debates and such. But if you’re also the quiet type, he’s more than happy with silent company. He doesn’t need words to be entertained.

U = Unencumbered (What helps them relax?) His hobby of fixing up cars, a cigarette, the occasional beer at dinner time. Laying on you at bed time seems to work really well, he goes as limp as a corpse, almost like his limbs are weighted by how relaxed he gets. Petting Jonesy helps, but he only does that if no one’s looking. He had other things that worked, up until someone ruined it for him.

Piano, poetry, and photography were all things he used when he was younger to ease himself. Each time though, criticism and comparison to Vincent killed his passion for it. He could pick these things up again though, should he have someone the encourage him

V = Vaunt (What do they like to show off? What are they proud of?) He’s cocky, let’s be honest. He likes to show off his looks, since it's one of the few things he’s always had over his brothers, according to others. He doesn’t flaunt things like his truck or the rings he wears, although he takes pride in his appearance. Best bet he’s proud of having you beside him though. He brags a lot. To the point that the people at the bar he visits are sick of you before they even meet you. “I dunno why the bartender don’t like ya, hun. Just don’t worry bout it, she just don’t know you like I do.”

W = Wedding (When, how, where do they propose?) He takes you out to a picnic on the back of his truck, sent a rare prayer to the lord that the weather will match his plan. You’ll probably notice how stiff he is, the tenseness in his muscles is impressive. He’ll drive you two out to a little pasture out of Ambrose, a patch of land surrounded by trees, likely near a large pond or lake. He made sure to do it in Spring, having convinced himself that doing it on the same day he got that first dream would give him better luck. 

He sits with you and slowly relaxes as you coax him out of his shell once more. Like you did all those years ago. Showing what all that barbed wire around his insides is hiding. He’ll get to reminiscing, ensuring to make you laugh. When he stops talking, it worries you. He’s just as worried. He had a speech rehearsed, he forgets it all the second his fingers touch the velvet box in his pocket. Still, Bo will manage to stutter out some paraphrased lines, keeping his gaze down. His confidence is gone, and he feels like he’s five again, begging for the approval he feels he doesn’t deserve.

But then you say yes, you say it with enthusiasm and raw emotion. Suddenly the world has air again and he can bring himself to smile, allowing you a glimpse at his soul when he gets the ring on your hand. The ceremony won’t be anything but a church service in the next town over, in his tux, you in whatever you chose. Only his brothers and Jonesy will be there, but it doesn’t matter to him. As sappy as he feels, it doesn’t feel like a bad thing.

X = Xylophone (What’s their song?) ⛤Middle Finger - Bohnes ⛤Cowboy Casanova - Carrie Underwood ⛤Wrecking Ball - Mother Mother

Y = Yes (Do they ever think of getting married/proposing?) Bo has never seen himself as the type to get married. He’s never considered it really, not until you come along. For a long time, he still doesn’t think about it, until a dream hits him out of nowhere in the Spring and it tips the first domino. Whether his brain put you in a tux or white lace, it doesn’t matter, his heart palpitates all the same. It scares him. So, while the thought is now there, it still takes years for him to actually consider doing it. When he sucks it up and buys a ring, it takes him another five months to actually plan and go through with it.

Z = Zebra (If they wanted a pet, what would they get?) He’s not much of an animal person. Jonesy was found by Lester, and Vincent was the one that convinced Bo to let her stay. He still swears he doesn’t like the dog, but he’s brutally beaten a man to death with his bare hands for kicking her. Simply put, if he had to pick, he’d be a dog person. Pitbulls specifically.

[asleeponelmstreet]

Burnt (part 2)

Part 1 Part 3

Charlie takes you to a show, and you are confronted by your past.

Tags: Alastor x female reader, Blitzø x female reader, eventual smut, lots of angst, panic attacks, drug use, Charlie and Angel Dust being the best friends a reader could ask for

wc: 3,244

This takes place after S1 of Hazbin Hotel and before Helluva Boss S2 E7 Mammon's Magnificent Musical Mid-Season Special. I don't know if that timeline is canon, but it's what works for my story so that's what I'm doing.

You can also read this on AO3 here if you'd prefer.

Minors DNI!!!

Fuck.

This was not fucking happening.

Your muscles stiffened the moment you stepped outside of the bright pink limousine that took Charlie and you to the show. A tingling sensation crawled up the tips of your fingers as you realized the mistake you had made, not asking the princess who you were seeing in the first place. Now you found yourself facing a grand concert hall adorned with a gigantic banner for the most famous clown in all the seven rings of Hell, the great Fizzarolli.

Your chest tightened at the sight of him plastered on every available surface in the general vicinity. It had been impossible to ignore one of the most well-known faces in Hell, but you did your best to shove down all the emotions that just the mention of his name evoked from you. But here, surrounded by all these pictures of your long-lost friend, it was just too much.

A high-pitched ringing filled your ears, drowning out all the noise of the city as well as your heartbeat thrumming in your chest. After thanking the driver, Charlie grabbed your hand and pulled you towards a side door away from the main entrance. You let her tug you along, not trusting your own feet to carry your weight. You could vaguely hear her say, “Being the princess of Hell comes with some perks” through the buzzing in your ears.

She led you up a small flight of stairs, into an elevator that sped towards the top floor and through a doorway guarded by security and a red velvet rope. The whole time you wracked your brain for a way out, but you came up with nothing. Your mind was about as useless as soup, alphabet soup. The letters only came together to form self-hating words and phrases that were not helpful right now: Idiot. You should have known better. Coward. This is on you. Traitor. It’s all my fault. That last one is the only one not in your own cruel voice.

The room you found yourself in was elegant, almost entirely built of glass walls along with an open front window facing the stage. If you weren’t brimming with dread and starting to feel a bit nauseous, you would be giddy with excitement at the prospect of seeing a live performance from these luxurious box seats, fit for demon royalty. Growing up an imp from a poor family, you never dreamt of being somewhere like this – getting to see how the other half lives.

Velvet couches faced the stage with a few cocktail tables brimming with finger foods interspersed throughout the room. A fully stocked bar took up the back wall, complete with a bartender who didn’t appear to be drinking (or sleeping) on the job. A part of you wished Husk was behind the bar instead to bring some much needed comfort from your new life into this blast from the past. “Soooo what do you think? Isn’t it amazing?!” Charlie asked excitedly, waving her hands around as if she couldn’t keep her happiness to just her beaming smile.

Someone else entered the room before you could answer saving you for a few more moments. You didn’t know how it was possible, but Charlie’s face lit up even more when she saw them. “Uncle Ozzie!” she practically screamed as you turned to face the person who had joined you in what you had thought was a private space. You would have recognized him even if Charlie hadn’t said the name – though, you didn’t know him personally. Asmodeus, the King of Lust.

Your friend did a running jump into his arms, wrapping him in a great big bear hug. He reciprocated the tight embrace, planting a chaste kiss on the top of her blonde head before settling back down on the floor as if she were a child and not the tall, lanky thing before you.

“It’s always a pleasure to receive one of your strangling hugs Charlie.” His voice was as deep and smooth as you imagined the finest bourbon. “I’m so glad you finally made it to one of Fizz’s shows! How’s that dear old dad of yours? Haven’t seen him in quite a while.”

Charlie talked with THE embodiment of Lust as if he was a close family friend, but your mind wouldn’t let go of the familiarity in which he said Fizz’s name. You knew at that moment that the gossip columns you tried your best to avoid were right. Hell’s worst-kept secret was true. The powerful demon had a much more intimate relationship with your old friend than just working together on the popular sexbots made in Fizz’s image.

“Forgive me, I should introduce you two,” Charlie said. At the mention of your name, you thought you saw something — maybe a flicker of recognition in his eyes. You wondered if Fizz told him about you. But you quickly pushed the thought away, not wanting to think of what he would have revealed to the powerful demon now standing before you.

The show was about to begin, and Asmodeus motioned to you two to join him on the couch. You complied, but you were still on edge, trying to decide the best way to get out of this situation without offending Charlie who so sweetly invited you out tonight.

After all these years apart, you were about to see Fizz perform with his secret beau sitting only a princess of Hell away. You tried to ignore him, the way he looked at you as if you were a puzzle to be solved. Looking out into the crowd below was worse. Fans decked in merchandise featuring Fizz’s name and likeness filled the seats. They were screaming his name, cheering him on even before he appeared on stage. Some of the freaks were even debauching their sexbots right there in the crowd.

It was still hard to think of all the freaks who had their hands on him (even robot versions of him) since the last time you touched him. The overt sexualization of Fizz made you feel even sicker than you were before if that was even possible. You had seen it all before, but only in small doses. You even came across several of his robot clones throughout the years but did your best to steer clear of them at all costs. If you ever did, you had to remind yourself repeatedly that it wasn’t him – even if the RoboFizzs looked identical in every way.

But he was everywhere here. His name, his face, his fucking body. His body. Just thinking about what the fire did to his body made bile rise in your throat. And what they did and are probably still doing to his body today. The room started to spin the more you got lost in your thoughts, you gripped the armrests to ground yourself. That’s when you noticed Asmodeus eying your nails digging into the supple velvet.

The curtains parted and his small figure appeared center stage. Your stomach lurched and you felt tears coming. Damn, you’ve already cried so much today. You didn’t think your ego could handle it anymore. But it was too much. His arms and legs stretched out to unnatural lengths as he said something, but you couldn’t hear it over the sound of your heartbeat and the roaring crowd. That’s it. I’m out of here, you thought. “I’m going to the bathroom,” you ran towards the door cradling your stomach. Charlie jumped up to show you the way, you assumed, but you bolted towards the door before she could catch up to you.

Once you locked yourself in the bathroom stall, you fell forward releasing the contents of your stomach into the toilet bowl. It burned – probably from the hot sauce – and tears stuck tufts of your hair to your forehead. You tried to pull at your hair to keep it from falling into the bowl as you retched, but it was no use. You were a mess.

The knock at the stall door didn’t startle you. You knew who it was. “You know there’s a private bathroom a bit closer to our seats…” she paused as if reconsidering what to say. “Can I help you?” You gave in because damn you really did need help. You fumbled at the lock on the door until it opened, and she was down on the floor by your side.

“I can hold your hair back for you,” and with that, she took the ribbon from her hair and tied it around your own. Even with it tied back she gently held your hair keeping it from falling over your shoulders as you continued to throw up.

Once your stomach was emptied of everything that you had eaten that day, you lay your head against the wall and let yourself cry. “I’m sorry you’re missing the show,” you choked out.

“Shh, it’s okay. I can come back any time,” she cooed. She took your hands in hers and just held them in silence as you continued your embarrassing meltdown. After a few minutes, she asked, “Do you think it’s something you ate?”

“No—uh, yeah. Maybe?” You said, shaking your head. You just blew your best excuse. Why hadn’t you thought about feigning sickness? Probably because your brain was just about as functioning as that summer when you spent all your earnings on heroin and horse tranquilizers. That would be preferred to how you were feeling right now.

Charlie moved in closer to your side, wrapping your shaking body up in her long limbs and rubbing soothing circles into your sore muscles. “Would it help to talk about it?” she asked. “If you don’t want to, I understand. I can tell you’re holding a lot in. But if you’re not ready, you’re not ready.”

You were so used to holding it all in. Holding it all back. Her comforting presence made you think that if you opened up just a bit, it may provide some relief. But you wouldn’t crack, you knew better. If you told her everything, she would never look at you the same way again. You couldn’t lose her or the hotel. They were the only things that gave your life a purpose anymore. “I’m not ready,” you said. She didn’t frown or let disappointment show on her face, but you imagined that she expected you to open up. She lived for those sappy heart-to-heart conversations that you avoided at all costs.

Charlie sat with you on the floor of the bathroom in silence until you were ready to leave. She explained that she just needed to say goodbye to Asmodeus and then the two of you could go back to the hotel.

Once you were back in the private room, you hung back while she told him you weren’t feeling well. Charlie had done a good job at helping you fix up your makeup and hair in the bathroom, but you knew the demon of lust didn’t have to be very perceptive to know why you had missed the start of the performance.

Before you could escape the door, his eyes locked with yours. His gaze startingly soft. “Charlie has my number if you would ever like to see Fizz. I can speak with him.” He danced around it as if not wanting to reveal anything, but you knew. The fact that he said see and not meet. He knew something and this was an invitation.

The ride back was silent as stared out the back window, thinking about what Asmodeus said the whole way home. What did it mean really? Was there a possibility that Fizz didn’t hate you? Or that he could forgive you? You couldn’t even begin to wrap your mind around it.

You walked into the hotel lobby, expecting to have to make up an excuse for why you were back hours early. Luckily, it was just Husk asleep with a half-empty bottle of liquor behind the bar. Charlie pulled you in for one last hug, reminding you that if you needed anything she would be there before the two of you went your separate ways.

Once you were in the privacy of your room, you slumped on your newly made bed. You didn’t bother to bathe or change before you curled up into a ball. You wouldn’t cry, you couldn’t. You had already shed more tears today than you had in your entire life. More than after the fire. More than when you learned your parents died. More than when Fizz refused to see you. More than when he left.

Sleep didn’t come. No matter how many times you tried to empty your mind of all the thoughts clouding it. You squeezed your eyes shut, but the darkness behind your eyelids gave way to Fizz’s face. Seeing it plastered on every poster in the concert hall and briefly on stage before you made a run for the bathroom brought back so many memories. His little head tossed back in a fit of giggles, that smirk he threw your way amid a round of applause and those wide eyes full of hope before you turned your back on him.

After tossing and turning in bed for over an hour, you gave up. You tiptoed to your dresser where you found your hidden stash in your underwear drawer. Sitting astride the open windowsill that looked out on Pentagram City, you thought about how you found comfort in the place you least expected.

As you exhaled smoke, the tension in your body released a little. A few more inhales silenced your unquiet mind, letting you focus on the better parts of the day. Like Angel rushing to your side in the morning. And how kind it was of Charlie to invite you out in the first place. And was that a compliment you received from Alastor – of all the sinners in Hell? That overlord may have come from Earth, but the stories about his reign of terror preceded him.

A soft knock at your door had you scrambling to put your joint out and hide it along with the rest of your stash behind a curtain. Probably not the smartest move, but you weren’t exactly thinking clearly.

The door creaked open, and the top of Angel’s head peaked into your room, “It’s just me. Don’t worry the fun police is fast asleep.” You sighed in relief. Though you had a feeling Charlie would have been a bit more understanding of your rule-breaking after the day you had. “Is that fuckin’ grass, babe? What are we in the fourth grade?” the spider teased.

“It helps with the nausea… and my nerves,” you said tossing your hair out of your face before relighting what was left of your joint. You motioned for him to join you if he wanted. Though, you had a feeling he would have preferred some of his namesake or at least some Devil’s Dandruff as Charlie liked to call it.

For all that teasing, the porn demon still didn’t refuse a high. Angel joined you on the windowsill and took what was left of the joint you offered him as you lit another. “I saw Charlie earlier,” he said slowly between puffs as if he was trying not to rile a rabid animal. “Are you feeling any better?”

“Yeah, some.” You mumbled, perfectly content with smoking in silence but also not hating the company. Angel looked out at the skyline, gazing over all the bright glittering lights from all the buildings filled with sinners who never seemed to sleep.

“Why did you come here?” He asked. “You could’ve gone anywhere in Hell, but you moved to this tacky-ass hotel.” You smiled, knowing it was all a façade. Maybe he crashed at the hotel for a free rent at first but since you’ve gotten to know him, you knew he cared about it, about Charlie and her dream of redeeming sinners. “We don’t even know if sinners can get into Heaven.”

“I know there’s no way for imps to get into Heaven. That’s not why I’m here.” You let out a sigh. “But there are other ways to redeem yourself even if you’re not getting anything out of it.”

“Isn’t that the whole point of redemption?” Your immediate thought was no, but you did technically want redemption for selfish reasons even if they weren’t the same as his.

“I guess, but I’m not trying to get into heaven. I just wanted to help, and I thought it might help me find some relief.”

“Relief from what?”

“All the guilt.” You looked down at your lap, knowing it sounded stupid.

Angel cackled. “What do you have to be guilty of? You’re a fucking demon.”

“Well, I’ve killed more than I can count.”

“Ha! Haven’t we all?”

“True. And I don’t feel guilty for most of it.”

“Then, what is it?”

Although the conversation was getting a bit too serious for your liking, you felt like you owed him some truth. “I hurt the people I love. And even after losing everything, I keep doing it over and over again.”

Angel’s expression grew serious, and he thought for a moment before speaking. “We all do that. It comes with the territory.”

“No, you don’t understand.” You looked away from him. “It’s different.”

“Everyone thinks they’re different, hon. You’re not special.”

“I guess.” You pouted, wanting this conversation to be over. Maybe you could change the subject to something else. “Alastor complimented me today…” You noticed the time on the alarm clock beside your bed. “Or I guess, yesterday.”

“Al complimented you?! Didn’t know he had it in him. Are you sure he wasn’t sizing you up for a meal? What’d he say?”

“He said I looked absolutely divine,” you used your best impression of the radio demon when saying those two words.

“Oh, yeah. He totally wants to eat you.” You giggled, but Angel went on. “And not in a sexy way. I don’t think he’s interested. I would know because he keeps turning me down. Me!”

“Maybe he plays for another team,” you mused.

“Or he doesn’t even play the game at all. Because anyone would be all over this.” He emphasized his point by motioning to his body and doing a slutty little hip thrust that almost shifted him out the window. You grabbed him by the shoulders to make sure he didn’t fall as you tried to contain your laughter.

“You’re right. Anyone who refuses you is out of their mind!” You leaned your head on his shoulder.

“Hey, don’t mock me. You know it’s true. I’m surprised we haven’t hooked up yet.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

“I like you too much, Angie. I haven’t had a real friend in a long time, and I wouldn’t want to ruin it.” You also had a feeling he’d much rather be fucking Husk or Al than messing around with you.

“Why would it ruin it?” He leaned into you seductively, close enough that your lips were almost touching. “C’mon, it’d be hot,” he purred.

“Don’t think I haven’t thought about it,” you crooned. “Maybe someday, but not today.” You could see it being fun, but that’s all it would be. And although you weren’t a saint, you tried to avoid those kinds of situations now.

You nuzzled into the crook of his neck, wondering if Angel knew how much you needed this distraction.

Thank you so much for reading! Hope you enjoyed it. I know Alastor isn't in this chapter but he'll be back, I promise. And if you're patiently waiting for Blitzø, don't worry I am too. I had to post this so I would stop worrying about it and finally be able to focus on the next part. It may have a little bit of spice. But shhhh... you didn't hear that from me.

tag list: @sirens-and-moonflowers @whoknowswhoiamtoday y'all literally made my week, thank you <3

[quixotical-lymbo]

Hi- I was wondering if I could request separate Wukong and Macaque headcanons for a reader who forgets to do important stuff? Not like work stuff or anything like that- but like- vital stuff? Like sometimes they forget to eat or sleep or take care of themselves properly. It’s not that they don’t want to, they just forget sometimes. But with their friends and people they care about, they never forget. Always reminding the group to eat and rest and stay hydrated while pushing their own needs to the side? only if your comfortable doing this of course!

Pairing: Wukong, Macaque & gn!Reader Rating: SFW Warnings/Tags: Y'know the drill, fluff, brief mentions of starvation, lack of sleep, and some crack from you-know-who.  Word Count: 500+ words 🍜 - didn't know if you wanted romantic or not, but I guess you can decide for yourselves if want it to be either or!

WUKONG

☀️ At first, Wukong thought you were playing some long con joke. I mean, there's no way you could forget to take care of a few important factors in your small, mortal life? I mean, even he knew not to miss a meal or nap if he could help it!

☀️ However, Wukong managed to witness it himself whenever he had the opportunity to visit PIgsy's shop. You seemed fairly normal, save for the heavy dark bags under your eyes and the way you took a few seconds to reply to anyone, but overtime Wukong could tell you hadn't slept a wink last night.

☀️ He'd bring it up in a joking manner, and when you sheepishly reveal that you forgot, his joking tone would turn into that typical older brother tone and remind you about the importance of sleep and how your body is a temple yadda yadda yadda. 

☀️ After it happened a few more times, Wukong would feel a bit exasperated ESPECIA-FUCKING-LY when you would remind MK or Mei to get enough sleep or eat their meals on time. 

☀️ Literally would be like, "Oh, you're one to talk." or "Are you sure you aren't reminding yourself to do these things?" 

☀️ At this point, he's gonna bully you into remembering. 

☀️ Overall, underneath all the teasing and playful gestures of him forcing food into your mouth–Wukong is worried about your forgetfulness, even if you don't mean to forget. 

MACAQUE 

🌙 Assuming that the two of you tolerate each other to be above the acquaintance stage, he wouldn't care at first. I mean, people normally forget to do things in favor of other responsibilities–and he wasn't your warden, so who was he to remind you to take care of yourself? Plus, with how often you remind the others to eat and drink water, he assumed you were on top of your shit. 

🌙 Oh, how wrong he was. 

🌙 Macaque didn't think he'd end up being the one to supervise how much you ate, drank, and slept without your knowing. Without being obvious, he'd sometimes slip a cup of water in your general vicinity, an apple here and there, or even kidnap you and bind you to your bed until you closed those annoying eyes of yours. 

🌙 You were very…persistent in your forgetfulness that Macaque stopped keeping an eye on you just to see what would happen. 

🌙 Well, you passed out in the middle of the street due to dehydration. 

🌙 Never again. 

🌙 Anyway, he learned to not stress himself out with this problem as he turned to MK to take over his duties as your 'mom.' 

🌙 From time to time he'll check up on you, but he'll keep his distance unless the situation calls for him to step in and make sure you're safe. 

🍜 - I do not give permission for anyone to translate, copy, republish, or plagiarize any of my written works. I provide no permission for any of my literary works to be used in artificial intelligence. sparkle banner(s) by @adornedwithlight !!

[zoeyslament]

a nischa oneshot i just never published???

here. *shoves a generic sickfic in your face* eat up

Mischa rolled over on his thin-as-paper mattress, feeling his sweat seep into his pillowcase. He groaned, staring at the cement wall beside his lousy excuse for a bed. His whole body felt hot, and not in the way that meant people swoon over you. Beads of sweat rolled down from his hairline, his skin blotchy and red. His stomach growled, but he didn’t even want to get up and eat.

He fished his phone out from the comforter beside him, flipping it over to check the time: 9:30. He’d slept in later than ever, as if his body knew it needed rest. However, it was Sunday, meaning the choir was getting together for their weekly outing. 

Ever since the 6 of them had miraculously survived a roller coaster accident together, Ocean had been taking initiative to get the group together. Some weeks it was shopping and walking around downtown at whatever little shops remained, some weeks it was the mall, but today they’d planned a little hiking expedition. 

Mischa was almost never the biggest fan of these get togethers. First of all, it meant being stuck in the same vicinity as Ocean O’Connell Rosenberg for at least three hours. Secondly, it meant listening to Ocean for at least three hours. And lastly and probably worst, it meant not complaining about the little ginger scumbag for the entire time, or all hell would break loose. 

The real reason Mischa went at all was to spend time with his boyfriend, Noel. The two of them had grown close as they recovered from their accident, and Noel had been there for every step of Mischa’s growing musical career. Most of the time, Noel’s work schedule made it difficult for the boys to spend time together. Taco Bell execs didn’t really take “need time to make out with my boyfriend” as a valid excuse for missing shifts. However, “mandated outdoor socialization” was acceptable, apparently, so choir outings were fair game. 

Mischa ran his hands through his greasy, matted hair, yawning. His eyelids felt like they were made of steel, weighing him down and just wanting to close, keel over, and sleep. Even the way he carried himself, usually with his chest puffed out like a lion on the hunt, was different; slouched over and painful to even move. 

His phone vibrated in the back pocket of his sweatpants, evidence of a text message coming through. 

Noel: babe where r u! u said u would pick me up @ 9:15

He winced. Shit…

Noel set his phone down on his desk, turning back to the mirror to look at his makeup: on point as usual. Slumping back in his chair, he wondered where Mischa was. 

It’s not super unlike him to sleep through his alarm…he can sleep through my snoring after all. Maybe he stayed up late? Which is weird, because usually when he stays up late it’s because he and I are texting or something…Is he ignoring me? Shit, am I gonna have to ask Ocean for a ride? Damn it…

He picked up the phone again and dialed Mischa’s number, and to Noel’s delight and relief, Mischa picked up. 

“Hey babe…You alright?” 

Mischa, at that moment, let out just about the loudest cough Noel had ever heard, hacking into the phone. 

“Sorry, I slept through my-” he paused to yawn, “-alarm. I will be there in ten minutes, Poet.” 

Noel’s heart absolutely melted at the sound of his partner’s voice. He sounded hoarse and just all around awful.

“Sweetheart, no offense, but you sound like shit. Are you feeling okay?”

“Fine. Just fine, honey. You wait and I’ll- ACHOO”

The sneeze just about made Noel have a heart attack with the sheer volume of it. He wasn’t so sure he loved the idea of Mischa even leaving the house in this condition, but he also knew how much of a stubborn asshole his boyfriend could be. Talking Mischa into staying home was not going to be easy in the slightest.

“Mischa…are you sure it’s the best idea for you to come get me? I can ask Ocean for a ride if you’re sick, you need rest…” Initially, he was going to scold Mischa, but his ‘loving boyfriend’ mode took over in a heartbeat. “I don’t even have to go today! Just get back to bed, drink lots of-”

“No, no.” Mischa waved him off. “I am going to go get dressed, and then I will come get my special boy, okay? I love you, Noel.”

“I love you too, which is why I want you to-”

He hung up. He fucking hung up. 

This was gonna be a long day.

Mischa had taken driver’s education. He knew that driving while sick could lead to accidents, because being sick made you drowsy, right? But Mischa wasn’t sick, he couldn’t be. Mischa didn’t get sick, at least that’s what he’d gaslit himself into believing. He got into the driver’s seat, rearing on the gas and speeding out of the driveway, almost slamming into his foster parents’ mailbox on his way out. 

Noel’s house wasn’t too far away from his, nowhere in Uranium City was very far away from any other place, to be honest. That was just how small towns worked. He turned onto Noel’s street and pulled up in front of the house. He parked, slightly crooked in the driveway, and trudged to the front step. 

“Noel!” He croaked out, his voice cracking. He rang the doorbell. 

The shorter male opened the door and looked Mischa up and down with a satisfied smirk on his face. “As expected, you look like someone pushed you out of a car window and then ran you over with a pickup truck. Bed, now.” 

“What? No! We have the hike-”

“I already texted Ocean and let her know that you’re sick and thus will not be attending. Now please go lay down, you know where my room is.”

“But…that just means I am going to get you sick! “So what? You’re the love of my life, I think I can handle your cooties.”

For once, it was Noel being the stubborn one. It was clear he wasn’t going to hear another word about it. Mischa allowed himself to be escorted (read: dragged by the collar of his shirt) upstairs to Noel’s bedroom. 

“Get your ass under the covers.” Noel demanded playfully. “Mom’s working another late shift, but I don’t have to work again until Monday afternoon. We could spend all day and night right here if it would make you feel better.” 

Mischa yawned and plopped down on Noel’s bed, having made the decision to be cooperative for once. “And do what? Talk about how shitty I feel? Because I feel like…big…bleh.”

“I know you do, darling.” Noel kissed his boyfriend’s forehead, giggling. “If you would lay down like I told you to and rest up, you might feel a little bit less bleh. Have you eaten today?”

“No.” He admitted. “I was not hungry.”

Noel sighed. “I’ll go get you some toast or something. You really gotta start taking care of yourself when you’re sick.”

“I am not sick.” Mischa protested. “Just a little tired.”

“Either way, you need rest.” Noel pressed his boyfriend down, hand splayed out over his chest. “Lay down, Mischa. Spare me my sanity.”

Mischa rolled his eyes. “I do not need to lay down, poet. Sleep is for the weak.”

“No, dumbfuck, sleep is for the idiot boyfriend who won’t admit that he feels like he was hit point blank with a sack of bricks!”

Mischa pondered Noel’s innate ability to know exactly how he felt, because the sack of bricks thing was fairly accurate. He felt like he was going to topple over onto the floor, but would his cocky ass admit that? When pigs fly.

“Sleep is for the weak.” He repeated instead, sitting back up. If he was going to get in bed he was not going to lay down and he was also going to make it everyone’s problem. 

“Whatever you say, dickwad,” Noel sighed. He was ever so creative with the pet names. “Sit still and don’t, I don’t know, set the house on fire. What do you want to eat?”

“I told you I am not hun—” he started, but he knew there was no winning this argument. “I guess…toast?”

Noel went downstairs and fished a loaf of bread and the toaster out, tossed a slice in, and promised himself he would not scream when the toast popped up. 

He broke the promise.

Anyway, he took out the golden brown bread and slathered it in butter, taking it back upstairs to Mischa. 

In the time it took Noel to make a piece of toast, Mischa had flopped over and fallen asleep. Noel made a soft tsk tsk sound, setting the plate of toast on the nightstand. He gently climbed into the bed, pulling the covers over both Mischa and himself. Rolling onto his side, he came face to face with a peacefully dozing Mischa and a pool of drool already staining the pillow (not that Noel really minded). He brushed Mischa’s chestnut curls out of his eyes, giggling softly.

“Yeah, rest easy, tough guy.” He whispered. “My fucking idiot.” He snuck a quick kiss onto Mischa’s forehead. “I love you.”

[curlycarrion]

Popsicles

Reader: gn reader

Warnings: nsfw but nothing too bad. More suggestive than anything actually happening

MDNI

Context: When walking through town the both of you decide to get something sweet

Wc: 2.1k

A/n: Howdy y'all! I'm relatively new to writin and decided I wanted to give it a shot. This is my first fic so I hope y'all like it

It was a rather nice spring day on the island that you had found yourselves docked at. A cool breeze blowing by occasionally with the faint scent of flowers carried along with it while it kissed your skin with each pass, fresh grass having sprung up from it's winters sleep and swaying calmly in the wind, and the sun shining overhead with a spare cloud occasionally passing in front of it. It really was a nice day for exploring what the island had to offer.

Most of the crew had broken off into their own groups to do what they liked in this nice little break from the sea. Luffy running of to decimate the local food population, Nami and Robin meandering through the streets of the town looking for anything that may catch their eye, and you tagging along with Sanji as he decides to walk through the local markets for any new ingredients or spices to collect or try. Making idle chat between shops to occasionally fill in the silence, not that you really needed to. The rare silence actually being a welcome change of pace from the typical noise and banter the crew seems to create wherever they go. The silence wasn't the only benefit of this little trip of course. The trip gave you an opportunity to watch Sanji while he's not in a state of falling over himself whenever any pretty little thing walked by or working to fill the stomachs of the crew. No this was a moment where you could watch him calmly go about his day. The tall man seeming almost like a normal person while he appraises the wares of each market on the street you stop at. No sign of annoyance in a furrowed brow from the captain's yelling and antics or the swordsman's bickering and fights, no shows of the superior strength or abilities you've seen him demonstrate with ease countless times, and no cupped hands quickly brought to his nose in an attempt to keep blood from running down his chin to his throat.

Instead it was just Sanji, sweet kind-hearted Sanji. The man who puts his friends and loved ones first even if it means he gets hurt in the process. The man who could easily snap someone like a twig without breaking a sweat that handles his cooking and the women in his life with a gentle care that'd lead you to believe he was handling the most fragile glass. The man who was, most of the time, always dressed so nicely you'd think he was prepared for a fancy dinner or date at anytime.

"Y/n? Are you ready to go?" The sound of his voice quickly breaks you from your thoughts. Realizing you had zoned out while he was talking to the merchant and hadn't noticed him trying to grab your attention for a few moments.

"Oh right yeah, yeah sorry my thoughts were elsewhere." You apologize with a smile as you begin to follow along when he begins down the street. Noticing how he seems to have shortened his steps a little to slow down his pace so you don't have to walk quickly to keep up. The smoke from his cigarette trailing lazily behind him with each step. Managing to move your lingering eyes from the tall man beside you to observe your surroundings. The stalls of the markets filling the air with various scents and sounds that cover the smell of spring in their vicinity. Most of the fragrances coming from a little further down where there's various people selling street foods, baked goods, and snacks in general that leave you with a thought of grabbing something for yourself.

"Would you like to get something mon cheri? You deserve a treat for choosing to accompany me when you could've spent time with Nami and Robin instead." He offers with a sweet smile, almost as if sensing a rise in your interest in the idea of food. Looking around your surroundings you spot a little stand in the distance selling frozen goods, feeling a sweet tooth pop up at the prospect of something cold and sweet on the spring day.

"You say that like I need a reward for spending time with you, getting something sweet is just a bonus." You tease lightly as you take his hand and happily lead him over to the stand, not noticing the smile that comes across his face at your touch and the words that had left you. Letting you lead him along to the stand before paying for your choice of popsicle while ignoring your protest.

"Now what kind of a man would I be if I let you pay for your own dessert?" He asked rhetorically as he gave your hand a gentle squeeze as it was still wrapped in his. Taking the opportunity he finds a spot a bit away from the busy streets of the market to rest and enjoy the frozen treats you had gotten in peace. Sitting under the shade of a tree on the soft grass as you both settle and lean against the trunk.

"Sanji yours is going to melt before you end up finishing it." He blinks a couple times as he registers your words before quickly turning to his own dessert that had sat in his hands forgotten. Right he had something of his own.

"It's a lovely day today," He comments idly with a calm smile gracing his features as he continues with a sweet tone "perfect for enjoying with equally lovely company." He steals a glance over to you after speaking while taking a bite of his sweet before nearly choking on it. Seeing you beside him licking a stripe up the side of your popsicle before sucking on the tip of it with a pleased hum at the flavor.

"You're too sweet Sanji, if anyone's the lovely company here it's you." The words fall on deaf ears as he finds his focus set more on the movement of your tongue and lips as you take the treat into your waiting mouth once more. Watching the brightly colored dessert disappear between your lips and swallowing in tandem with you when he sees the movement of your throat when you swallow the fluid that had melted in your mouth. Unable to help but imagine other situations in which your mouth would move in a similar manner. Feeling heat begin to rise to his ears and the familiar twitch down below at the thoughts beginning to form in his head. Unsure of how long he had been lost in thought for until you turned your eyes up to him beside you. Seeming unknowingly innocent of what you're doing to him as you slowly pull the popsicle from your mouth and lick your lips. Clearly able to see the color staining your tongue from the bright flavoring when you point to his hand.

He feels a small wave of guilt wash over him for a moment at being lost in lewd thoughts of you, though a small part of him can't help but want to see more. Caught in an internal battle between the two as he chastises himself while simultaneously replaying the image in his head. Resuming in eating his dessert as an attempt of a distraction from the tantalizing sight beside him. This is his friend after all. He shouldn't be having these thoughts while you sit right next to him, naively pushing the popsicle deeper into your mouth after you'd finished speaking. Blissfully unaware of how much the sight of your lips wrapped around the sweet treat made his composure crack and the blood threaten to sting his nose. How he manages to keep the blood in he doesn't know. Wanting nothing more than to pull you close and taste the flavor to see what made you so glad to invite it so deeply into your mouth without a second thought. To see if you'd react the same way if it was replaced with something of his own. If you'd just as happily sink your pretty lips down around him if given the opportunity, maybe even happier to do so. Maybe you'd be shy about it. Careful in your movement as you look up at him with doe eyes for approval.

God he needs to stop thinking about this. Each thought gets him closer and closer to cracking and possibly doing something he'd regret. He'd never hurt you of course, god no he wouldn't even dream of it. If he had the opportunity to even touch you in a more than friendly manner he'd treat you like royalty having come down from the heavens themselves, something greater than himself that he'd gladly get on his knees and worship to. You deserved nothing less as someone who sends his heart souring with just a smile sent his way. No he needed to stop his thoughts so he didn't accidentally push you away.

You were his own angel. A dear friend. Someone who brings both joy and calm to his life with each breath you take. He can't ruin this with his own lustful desires that simmer just beneath his skin and threaten to boil over with each sinful swipe of your tongue. Watching what isn't currently buried into the warmth of your mouth begin to melt and drip down in-between your fingers and palm as it reaches the inside of your wrist. Feeling his control hanging by a thread, a single rapidly fraying thread that snaps at your next movement. Noticing the dripping you remove the half gone popsicle from your mouth and bring your wrist up. Eyebrows furrowing disapprovingly at the sticky sensation between your fingers as you tongue moves to clean the juice moving down your wrist.

"You taste divine mon cœur, surely you'd make anything sweeter with just your touch. I hope you don't mind me tasting more." He compliments with a smile that looks both flirty and genuine. His eyes locking onto yours as his tongue wraps around your fingers before dipping between them in a lewd gesture that sends your heart hammering against your ribs. While he had flirted with you before, frequently in all honesty, this was a whole new level that the both of you had yet to reach until now.

Sanji moves without thinking, the possible consequences that might arise the furthest thing from his mind as he grabs your hand. Leaning close to you as his lips meet the inside of your wrist in a short and soft kiss, watching your eyes grow wide at the sudden movement as his tongue tastes the flavor sticking to his lips. Realizing what he did he goes to let go with a rapid apology for his behavior before stopping when he looks at you. Not seeing any disgust or anything negative in your expression or eyes, no. No you were surprised, your attention was on him, and most importantly.. you didn't pull away.

Feeling a small surge of confidence he decides to test the waters. His tongue coming out once more to follow the sweet colored line left behind from your wrist to your palm. Happy to find your surprise growing along with a flustered expression joining your features.

"S-Sanji?" You manage to squeak out in a slightly stammered voice. Clearly unexpecting of the action as heat quickly crawls to your cheeks and ears. Pleased by your reaction he decides to continue in his ministrations both to see how far he could go with this and for his own desires. A quiet groan rumbling from his chest at the taste of the popsicle combined with your skin.

The feel of his facial hair against the skin of your hand. Those grey-blue eyes staring dead straight into your own almost daring you to look away as he drinks in your every expression. And his lips parted to make room for the wetness of his tongue to travel across your skin in a manner that sends your thoughts to a similar trajectory of his own. It was a sight that seared into your mind, making you suck in a sharp breath and and ache to pool in your lower stomach. While you hadn't known how you had affected him and what had caused him to suddenly become so bold he was well aware of what he had done to you. Knowing exactly what affect his purposeful movement had done from the look on your face.

One thing became crystal clear at the end of the day, and that is that you'd both be the death of each other.

[neetily]

↳ EVENT 19. M!Whitney (Breeding & Incest)

— ✧ warnings: stepcest, Creampie, Breeding, Baby Trapping, pregnancy ment — ✧ word count: 3,432

— ✧ A/N: reposting from my old account since i was asked to! formatting might be off, but it's still readable.

The number one worst thing about having a hot step sister glued to his side at all times is that every day he has to fend off all the disgusting creeps that show up to his door, because you're too fucking dumb to see their true intentions and rely solely on him to be your moral compass. You've got a tight fucking body, don't y'know that? No, they don't wanna date you, idiot. They don't wanna court you, or take you on some romantic trip like they so often claim. They just wanna use your holes and milk you for all your sorry ass is worth because you're too pretty for your own good. How does he know that? Well, because he isn't any fucking better himself, truthfully. Throw him in with the rest of the town and you'd not be able to tell the difference between him and the guy next door— but you trust him too much, don't you? More than that, you need him to protect you. It's what big brothers do, despite how he may feel internally, and despite how often he speaks against that ideal; he wants to keep you safe, too. Even if only for more self serving reasons, driven mostly by how his cock thinks, rather than his brain.

Because of that, the second worst thing about having a hot step sister within his immediate vicinity is the fact that he's always hard when you're around. And he can't easily escape you, given that you're literally right through the fucking wall from him. Pining, yearning to bury himself balls deep in your little sister cunt to seek solace for the feelings resting sickly thick in his tummy every time he sees your stupid face. A burning bile, rising to the tip of his tongue when he sees you smile, threatening to spit venom at you when you act all aloof and cute like that. Like you've got no idea what sort of things you do to him, or the general public. Ignorant to how pretty you are, so fucking annoying, especially when you unknowingly leave him with blue balls every night, causing him to fuck his fist to only the memory of you like some sort of seedy stalker.

But isn't he kind of just that? Watching your every move, making sure you don't step too out of line or too out of his eyesight in fear of you straying too far. Late at night, when his fist is wrapped too tight around his fat cock and even fatter beads of precum drool from his red hot tip, he convinces himself that he's just looking out for you. Just being a good big brother at the end of the day. Pleasuring himself to the thought of you in private because that's what good big brothers do. Stealing secret glances of you in the kitchen while petting his fat bulge because that's what good big brothers do. Stealing your panties to sniff at them while his fist fucks his needy cock before placing them right back where he found them; only now a little stained sticky with seed, because that's what good big brothers do. In that, he's tried so hard and for so long to treat you as he's supposed to. Protective, perhaps a little too much so, but nonetheless genuine in his attempts to shield you from the harsh realities of this world. Even at the cost of his own sanity, and his poor cock.

But as he lingers around your open door, shoulder resting against the frame, one foot tucked behind the other, he gets an idea. An insidious one at that, borne out of sheer desperation to reconcile with himself in such a selfish manner it's almost shameful, but an idea nonetheless. Encouraged by the tiny little sleeping shorts you've decided to wear tonight, ass facing him like an invitation, face pressed close to your phone as a display of submission. He briefly wonders if you've even picked up on his presence yet, caught on to the fact that your big brother has been busy for the past few minutes simply staring at your ass, nursing a growing erection with an open palm circling his tip. Because if you have, you certainly haven't let on. But the thought of you being so fucking dull, enough not to feel his ever watching presence at your back side, has his cock twitching for your attention, drives him insane with sexual frustration. Horny at how well you ignore him, God, you're so pretty but so dumb. Fucking slut, you better not be doing this on purpose— riling him up without even fucking trying, it's so beyond frustrating that he has half a mind to treat you as unfairly as you do him, just like how all those abusers outside would like to ruin you. Though, on a more positive note, your complete and utter lack of self preservation only strengthens his secret resolve. You need to be taught a harsh lesson, at the very least, to be more aware of your surroundings.

There's really only one way to keep you by his side forever, to be the best big brother you could ever ask for; eager to provide you with whatever you may need so long as you can satiate the ever growing hunger he feels for you. And besides, it's not like he's technically going to be doing anything wrong... Right, step sis?

Carefully, he creeps towards you. Stalking prey, straying from the creaky floorboards he intimately knows about, reaching the foot of your bed before you know it and pounces. Calculating his fall so that he's got your wrists pinned above your head and your legs locked under his own. A breathy laugh follows, he can't quite believe just how easy you are to catch, but isn't that further proof that you need big brother to be by your side forever? See, he's doing you a fucking favour by keeping you under him.

"Got you." He mumbles absentmindedly, smiling down at your squished into the pillow face as you writhe and wriggle around for freedom under him. You're not helping his hard on, y'know that?

"Whitney! What's your fucking deal— Ouch, that hurts, asshole—"

"Quit yer fuckin' whining." He sighs, dismissing your petulant cries by tightening his grip on your wrists anyway to show how serious he is, and tilting his head to the side, lowering his upper body to get closer to your face. And for a few moments he merely stares at you. Takes in the sight of your confused expression, the furrow of your brows. Cute, he thinks to himself, cautious not to let his hips drop down too low in fear of rubbing himself against you. Usually others appear more scared when he's on top, but like a good little sister you intrinsically know the trust him, right?

In that case, fuck it, he thinks. A split second decision, coaxed into giving in to his more baser instincts by the pretty pout you send his way, a low mutter of you're heavy, can you please get off? as if it were even a fucking question. It's your own fault, really. Should have known that displaying your innocence in such an honest fashion would only lead to others wanting to corrupt. To dirty you, stain you as vile as they are.

Which doesn't exclude your own brother, especially as he yields to his perverted fantasies and drops his hips in one fell swoop, heavy hard cock resting between your ass cheeks that he knows you can feel the outline of. Shoulda worn something less provoking, then. The pretty gasp you let out at the contact causing his own brows to knit together in focus, biting down on his tongue to withhold expletives when you question his ethics.

"Are you— Are you hard, Whitney? Really?"

"Yeah, what about it?"

There's no use denying it, not when his hips are pressed flush against your backside. His heart racing, thumping hard against his chest at the prospect of finally getting a taste of you, his precious, highly sought after, baby sister. He's in your room for only one reason tonight, a selfish seeking to protect you. Whether you agree to it or not is of no consequence, he's only doing what's best for you, okay? And besides, he's so much stronger than you, isn't he? Bigger too... There's nowhere you can run that he won't find you, if you ever get the opportunity to escape.

Given his nonchalant answer, he hears you sigh in response, a deep sound that has his cock dripping more pre just for you. And he can't stop thinking about how lucky he is to hear your resignation. To be resting his weighty cock on top of your pretty ass just to have you simply accept it as par for the course.

And though he'd love to take his time with you, to really enjoy everything you have to offer, to make you cry on his cock— he's been wanting this for a long time. Seething in secrecy, longing for a taste of your sweet sister cunt; he can't wait any longer. Not now that he has your unvoiced blessing, watching as you bury your face back into your pillow and wiggle your ass against his cock— fuck, you already feel so good against him.

"C'mon then," Your voice is muffled, but nonetheless encouraging. A pang of pain in his heart at the way you seem to be wanting him too, a comfortable hurt borne out of disgusting adoration for the one person he isn't supposed to have. And here you are, supporting his lewd love for you. Releasing one of your wrists with the intent to get a move on like you're asking, but instead his hand stops mid air when he witnesses you tugging down your shorts for him. "Before mom and dad get back, okay? Just want you out my room so don't... I don't wanna do it when they're here."

"Fuck me—"

He hears your stipulation, of course. It makes total fucking sense. Fucking his little sister? Perfectly fine. Fucking his little sister when other people are in the house? Fucking weird, don't fucking do that. But he curses loud and proud at the sight of your no panties, like you knew he was coming in to steal you away for the night. Had he stolen your pair tonight? He can't quite remember, mind empty beyond the thought of finally attaining what he's worked so tirelessly for. Helping you pull down your shorts the rest of the way; or at least until they rest by your ankles because he's too eager to get his cock wet already.

Immediately, impulsively, he spreads your legs wide enough to accommodate him. Letting go of your other wrist to allow you breathing room, but also so he can selfishly explore your body. Running his hands up and down your ass, spanking you a few times for good measure. Cock pulsing at the yelps his hands smack out of you, biting down on his bottom lip when he drops his pants low enough only to let his cock spring free. The cool air that hits his sopping tip is almost sobering, if not for the way you pout his name so prettily. An effortless attempt to turn him on, no doubt.

"Yeah yeah, I got it. Want me to hurry up and fuck my slut, right?" He sneers, not even gracing you with eye contact as he spreads your cheeks apart to get a greedy look at your holes. His hips fucking forward on their own at the small glimpse he gets, prompting him to hang his head in shame so that you don't catch the way his cheeks heat up. How the idea of keeping you all to himself, truly turning his baby sister into his little slut fills him with so much joy that he can't help himself from rubbing his cock against your ass, humping his hips against you in barely there snap thrusts just to provide himself some sort of stimulation. Just something to take the edge off as he gathers the courage to put it in already.

Because once he does, he knows he won't be able to stop. And that's a little worrying, considering he's so used to having control over you.

He hadn't intended to wait for you to respond to his rhetorical question, but the way you practically beg "Please." is music to his ears. God, he can't even compare it to the countless faceless sluts he's fucked in the past, completely focused on how his baby sister drips slick for his tip to collect, angling his cock down to catch on your pretty little hole for the first time ever.

And it feels so fucking good to finally have contact with you like this, holy shit. Even just letting precum bead out against your hole would be enough, he thinks. Enough to have him feeling better than he has before, dirty slut, you've only went and ruined his hand for the rest of his life. You better fucking own up to that, yeah? Let him cream your cunt with the intent of knocking you up so that he can be your big brother for life, that'd be a good start, don't you think?

With the way you wiggle against him, leaking all over his cock as if he wasn't providing you enough lubrication with the abundance of precum your simple existence coaxes out of him, he automatically rolls his hips into you. Into your cunt. Gasping for air the second he pushes past your entrance, choking at the way your insides wrap around his tip, and soon enough his whole length when he can't stop himself from ruining his pretty little sister now that you've given him permission.

And after the first few little humps he has you endure, he's settling an unfairly fast pace. Pent up frustration, almost resentment expressed in every relentless thrust over how fucking perfect you are, so much so that your cunt practically shuts him up for once in his lifetime spare some crass comments about your pretty body, or about how fuckin' tight are you? fuck, can barely fit inside, God, look at how pretty my little slut is bouncing on my cock. Mean words as an attempt to hide how downright in love he is with you, how he wants to fuck only baby sister cunt for the rest of his life, moaning openly at the sound of wet skin on skin slapping with how hard and fast he thrusts into you. Like a dog in heat, drool collects in his mouth as his eyes roll to the back of his skull, hands innately finding home on your hips for stability, like they were always meant to be there.

You feel so fucking good it's cruel, cock aching with every pulse your cunt offers around him, every suck of your insides begging to keep his cock inside as he repeatedly fucks you up the bed. You were right, it's best to do this was no one else at home, else you get exposed for being the dirty little sister slut that you are— taking big brothers cock so well, aren't you? Fucking made for him, babbling cute strings of nothing from how frantic his humps are, accidentally cutting you off mid mumble with every greedy fuck; he just can't stop himself. Hasn't a hope in Hell of showing a mere modicum of control while inside of you, head empty and cock hard for you.

And as he's fully sheathed inside, groaning out at the feeling of his balls slapping against your backside, intimate with the way his thighs are tacky like your own from every gush of your wet little cunt around his too big cock, he remembers exactly what he came here to do. The sole reason why you're a moaning mess on your bed right now, tangling the sheets in your cute little fists as if that was gonna help the stretch of his fat cock bullying your insides. His voice comes out hoarse, having to choke on a cough to clear the lust coating his tongue as he continues pumping away inside of you.

"Gonna fuck ya pregnant, kay?

Almost immediately, lagging a little from that good dick, aren't you slut? You start to whine. That same petulant tone you used earlier, and just like earlier, it goes straight to his throbbing cock, makes his balls all taut and his muscles all tense as he keeps you pinned in place with large hands. Greedy hands, bruising in their grip of your body so that you know who's in charge. So that you can't escape him, this is all for your own good, remember?

"Whit— don't, stop I— Ah—!" It's no use though, is it? His cock feels too good in your tight little cunt, big brother just wants to make you feel good, okay? He just wants to feel your cunt suck him off so well, your body is begging for his seed, right? And because he's such a good big brother, he's more than happy to give you a taste. Over and over again, until his seed takes to your womb and you're stuck with him for life, tension building in his tummy at the thought of walking around with you hand in hand, big pregnant belly scaring off anyone who even dares to look at his sister. His slut, whining like a pretty bitch as he drags your ass back down to meet his every thrust, can you feel how desperate he is for release? So eager to stain your insides white in an effort to prevent others from touching you, to keep you safe forever; it's just big brother duties, it's okay if dumb little sister minds can't understand his reasoning. All you have to do is lay there and fucking take it. Take his pounding, take the pinches and slaps on your ass, take his sticky precum coating your thighs, just as well as he honours the ring of your cream at the base of his cock. You're so pretty, his eyes trained on the spot where he disappears over and over again into your tight little hole, greedy little cunt. But he's fucking it too fast for it to truly capture his attention, instead his head is thrown back with a dopey grin tugging on his lips, sheer pleasure rolling down his spine with a gasped: "Shut up, doin'— 'M doin' ya favour. Fuuuck, jus' like that—" before shooting a load deep into your sister cunt. Still fucking himself through the orgasm that washes over him, that has him drooling from how fucking good it feels to finally claim you as his own, hopeful that his stink will scare off anyone else from even attempting to get close to you in order to abuse you the same way he has tonight.

And, if he's lucky, the continued thrusts he provides your tender, swollen hole, milking himself for all he's worth against your cervix, he'll have successfully filled you up enough to impregnate you. Doesn't that feel good? Poor baby was probably just a little worried like he was, right? His breathing is laboured, heaving for air by the time he's done emptying his balls inside of you, but still the first thing he does is collapses on top of you. Smiles to himself at the soft little oof you let out with his added weight, but he's not here just to laze around.

From now on, you're officially his. And he likes to take good care of his sluts, especially if they're as precious as his little sister. Step or not, he cares about you enough to wrap his big arms around you with a chaste kiss to the back of your head, hiding his face against your neck to nose at your scent as he calms down.

"Gross." You whine at his affections, and he agrees. Rolling you over onto his side with him so that he can sneak a hand between your legs, warming his spent cock in your hole still as he brings attention to your puffy, touch starved clit. The resulting moan you let out is thanks enough for securing your future with him.

Though, what's worse is that he's thinking about doing the exact same thing tomorrow, planning to leave the house only once.

You'll need some pregnancy tests, won't you?

[ceilingfan5]

thankpologies

(another @taznovembercelebration delight, for sick)

“I can do it,” Kravitz murmbles hoarsely from under about fifteen blankets. He stares blankly up at the dark ceiling. Taako wants to put him in his pocket and he isn’t even wearing pants yet. 

“Yeah?” Taako shuts off their fourth alarm. And the fifth one, you know, preemptively. “You sure there, bud?”

“I can do it,” he insists, like he’s trying to convince himself, too. “I’m……………………….good.”

“You’re good?” Taako’s trying not to laugh, he promises. Kravitz looks miserable. He looks like a wet sack of marbles left behind in a dead mall. What were those marbles for? Why are they wet? Is someone going to miss the marbles? Who can say. But they’re going in Taako’s pocket. 

“Sooooo good.” Kravitz tries to sit up, fails, and squinches his eyes shut, groaning. “I’m, good. I’m good. I’m good I’m good I’m good. I can do it.” 

“What if,” Taako says, “Hear me out.” 

“I’m not staying h— ome.” Kravitz swallows, once, twice, a third time, none of them looking less unpleasant. “Home,” he corrects. “No way. Got. Too much work to day. Do.”

“Hear me out though,” Taako says. “Perhaps, correct me if I’m wrong, the county coroner should maybe not look like a zombie.”

“I d- doh- hhh. Zombie.” Kravitz tries to sit up properly, and it makes Taako wince just to watch him. He unwraps another single cracker from the Freshstack ™ they were working through at two in the morning, and hands it to him. Kravitz nibbles on it like the world’s most pathetic mouse. Like if a mouse was divorced, and crying a little, and wet, like a sack of marbles. He gets about a third of the way through this monumental obstacle and then lets his hand flop down, and Taako is very normal and makes no crumb comments, because his boy is ailin’. 

Ooooh, is he ailin’. So ailin’ he’s from another planet. 

“Let’s write your boss an email, and then tuck you back in, buster.”

“Noooooo,” Kravitz whines. 

“My guy, my handsome criminal empire cohost, you get that you are making Taako be the voice of reason, yeah?”

Kravitz considers this. 

“Haven’t barfed yet,” he says, petulantly. 

“Sit up and put on your tie,” Taako challenges. 

There’s a long beat. 

“No?”

“That’s what I thought, asshole.” Taako reaches over and squeezes Kravitz’s hand with affection. He hands him his phone. “Let’s just, be brief. Dear boss, can’t come in today, so sorry. Love you, bye.” 

Kravitz drops his phone on his face. 

“Fuck,” he says, delayed. Taako covers a snort. Poor beast. He takes the phone and can’t cover a second one. “Oh, buddy.”

“Yeah?” Kravitz blinks, and rubs his general face zone. 

“Your beautiful schnozz hit send on this masterpiece?” Taako shows him, but not until after taking a screenshot and sending it to himself, for posterity and also social media crimes. 

To: queenra@nwcountyfr.fakegov

Subject: ow

DEAR HELLO Cannot’nt come to death today, I am maybe am not well enough to help bodies thankpologies K

–sent from my iPhone

“What’s wrong with it?” Kravitz says, grimacing. 

“Yeah, you’re not goin’ fuckin’ anywhere, beloved,” Taako decides. He hands him his damaged little sadboy cracker and kisses his forehead and tucks him in, and starts doing the Get Ready Shimmy. “I’ll be checking in on you on my lunch hour, unless you think I need to call in too, and take your sorrowful mouse ass to the hopsicle.” 

“Probaly not,” Kravitz cannot manage a whole lot of conviction. He nibbles the cracker. Wetly. “I’ll…watch the price is right?”

“You’ll sleep.”

“I’ll sleep,” Kravitz confirms, snuggling down, forgetting about the last third of the cracker right then and there. Given permission to burrow back into his pathetical little mousehole, his whole body relaxes, and somehow he manages to look even greyer. “I’ll sleep so many.” 

“So many.” Taako pats something in the vicinity of his shoulder. “Poor bastard. If you get me sick, I am going to kill you.”

“No promises,” Kravitz sighs, almost immediately dozing right back off. 

Shame Taako loves him so much. 

[id: a space themed game board with 15 spaces and a cat, fish, and "good worker" sticker on 1, 2, and 3 respectively]

[imaginesfordifferentfandoms]

Sparks Fly

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Prompt - ‘I run my fingers through your hair and watch the lights go wild.’

Warnings / This fic contains smut - you can skip it if you want, you won’t miss anything!💜

Notes - Happy Speak Now month! Request a fic for any of the remaining Speak Now tracks, click my masterlist to see which songs are left!!💜

The problem with Matt Murdock was that you had known from the moment you had met him that he was a bad idea. At first he had been all pleasant smiles and soft words but once you had gotten to know him his words turned flirty and his smiles were charmingly attractive. You were glad for the fact he couldn’t see you, glad for the fact he could never witness you blush under his gaze, see as you shifted in your seat or watch the way your breath hitched when he stood too close.

Everything about Matt was a bad idea, falling for him was the worst one though. As much as that man loved flirting with you and everyone else in his general vicinity, you knew at the first sign of real feelings he would run and hide, ignoring it because he was so scared of something you didn’t understand.

You’d met Matt by chance, running into Foggy first after your boss rented out the office space opposite theirs and he invited you inside. The two of you were fast friends but meeting Matt, letting his hand wrap around yours as he introduced himself, feeling sparks between you, you had known then and there it was a bad idea to stick around Nelson and Murdock and yet after that first day you seemed to spend more time in their office than you did your own.

It went on for months, Matt oblivious to how you felt whilst you silently pined. You couldn’t count how many times you’d lost yourself in a daydream, your traitorous thoughts creating all sorts of impossible scenarios where Matt would just grab you, pull you close and kiss you until your lips were swollen and you struggled to breathe.

You knew Matt was a good person, even if he did have a reckless streak, one you’d bore witness to yourself and heard about in length from Foggy. You knew that he would never date somebody seriously, preferring to sleep around rather than stay with one person, you knew you should let go of your crush for him but it was impossible.

Some days you were convinced Matt knew how you felt. When the three of you went to a bar together after work and he sat a little too close to you, his knees brushing against yours and your arms rested against each other. You knew he couldn’t see the way you glanced at the way he sat so close, knew he couldn’t see your smile as you resisted the urge to shift close and yet you always caught a smirk on his face aimed in your direction, some flirty comment following it.

It didn’t matter because you knew for Matt it wasn’t nothing but a fun little game to flirt the night away with you. It didn’t matter how much you told yourself it was just a crush when you knew your feelings went beyond that because nothing would come from them.

“Let me walk you home.” Matt insisted like he did after every night spent at the bar. It had been over a year since you’d met him and he had never once failed to make sure you got home safe, despite your insistence that you’d be fine.

“You don’t have to.” You told him, a scripted response that Matt had come to expect in the time he’d known you and you didn’t need to see him without the red tinted glasses to see he was rolling his eyes behind them.

“I’m gonna walk you home.” He grinned at you causing you to laugh as he headed off in the direction of your apartment, you following him straight away.

Matt walked by your side, close enough that if you were brave enough you’d be able to reach out and brush your hand against his, thread your fingers together and feel his hand against yours. He was close enough that if you turned to face him and leaned up you could press your lips to his.

He was close enough to touch and yet the distance between you seemed wider than ever.

“Everything ok?” Matt asked softly, startling you out of your thoughts and you prayed that he hadn’t somehow been able to tell what you had been thinking about.

“Sorry, lost in my own head.” You chucked, hoping he’d let you brush it off and change the subject but Matt was never one for letting the people he cared about suffer, always wanting to do something to make it better.

“Seems to happen a lot.” Matt stated and you tensed slightly, Matt noticing straight away but he didn’t let it show. “You know you can talk to me, right?”

Did you know that? Sure, of course you did, you could talk to Matt about anything, anything except for the fact you were in love with him, anything expect for the fact that all you could think about was him kissing you right now on the sidewalk, how you wanted nothing more than for him to tell you that he felt the same way.

“I know.” You smiled, letting all the things you most desperately wanted to say go unsaid. “But there’s nothing to talk about.”

Matt clearly didn’t buy it if the frown on his face was anything to go by and as much as you hated putting it there, as much as you hated lying to him you knew it was easier this way. Losing Matt would hurt infinitely more than silently wishing for him.

Matt knew what was eating you up, he knew that you were as desperate for him as he was for you. If it had been anyone else, if he had met you years ago he wouldn’t have hesitated to cup your cheek and drag you in for a kiss, he wouldn’t have given a second thought to taking you to bed, he wouldn’t have wasted any time in making you his.

But it wasn’t years before, it was now and now he had Daredevil in his life. He couldn’t risk another person getting hurt because of him, he was already risking more than he’d like with Foggy knowing but you…he couldn’t risk anything happening to you because of him.

And yet he wanted you. He wanted you so bad. Hearing your heart rate speed up when he brushed his hand against yours, feeling the heat spread to your cheeks when he made a suggestive comment, hearing the way your breathing hitched when he wrapped his arm through yours, knowing you wanted him was driving him crazy.

He felt like a man starved when it came to you, barely holding back from his desires to just give in and kiss you, to feel how good you felt for him, he wanted you. He knew he had feelings for you and all he wanted to do was act on them.

The rain started to fall when you were five blocks from your apartment and began to pour down by the time you were two blocks away. Matt’s hand found yours and you felt the same familiar sparks you always seemed to feel whenever he touched you shoot through your hand.

Matt took off in a run and you had no choice but to follow after him, the two of you laughing and gasping for breath by the time you stood under the small roof at the door of your apartment complex.

The rain had stuck Matt’s suit to him, his hair flat against his head as droplets fell down his cheek and nose. You wanted to reach out and brush his face, wanted to follow the path of the rain drops and trail kisses all the way down to his lips.

Matt could hear the way your heart had sped up even more, having nothing to do with the rain and everything to do with whatever thoughts were running through your head. He wanted to know what you were thinking, wanted to give you whatever you wanted, he was torn, so close to throwing everything out the window and giving in.

The two of you went silent as you turned to each other, your eyes drawn to Matt’s lips and you watched as he ducked his head, watched as he went to lean in before you closed your eyes.

“I should go.” Matt breathed out and you bit back a huff of disappointment, letting your eyes open to look at his sad smile.

“Okay.” You murmured, debating on whether you should be the one to take the risk and close the distance between you, suddenly so sure that Matt wanted you, but you weren’t brave enough.

You knew you’d spend the rest of your life regretting that.

You didn’t want to spend the rest of your life regretting it though, even if Matt couldn’t give you what you wanted you knew he wanted at least one night with you and you’d do anything for it, anything to feel how electric Matt’s kisses were, anything to feel how good his hands running along your body could feel, anything to run your fingers through his hair to pull him into a kiss.

You watched as Matt stepped out into the rain, watched him walk to the end of your street before freezing. You decided you were going to be brave, didn’t let your mind become overwhelmed with all the reasons this was a bad idea and instead followed him out in the rain, feeling a shiver run down your spine and not knowing whether it was from anticipation or the cold.

Matt seemed to have the same idea, turning around on his heel and meeting you halfway, cupping your face in his hands and practically smashing your lips together in a rushed and messy kiss, your noses knocking against each other as your hands gripped his wet suit.

The kiss was everything you had thought it was going to be, if you thought Matt brushing against your hand was enough to send a rush of electricity through you then it wasn’t nothing compared to the sparks flying as he kissed you.

The two of you stayed out in the rain kissing until you had to pull away for air, both of you drenched through but not even noticing as Matt rested his forehead against yours, the two of you breathing heavily against each other.

Matt gave you a second longer to catch your breath before his lips were on yours again, this time his hands found your hips and he nudged you until you were walking backwards towards your apartment, Matt managing to pull himself away so you could open the door before he attached himself to you again, the two of you somehow managing to get up the stairs without breaking apart.

Matt slammed your back into the door, pulling away from your lips to nip at your neck, trailing kisses and pausing to suck bruises into the skin causing you to muffle soft moans as you tried several times to open your apartment door.

Once you were inside Matt wasted no time moving you both to the bedroom, by the time the two of you got there you had both been stripped off your wet clothes and left only in your underwear. Matt sat down on the bed first and pulled you on top of him so that you were straddling him, feeling how hard he was for you.

You moaned as you ran your fingers through his hair, he wet locks tangling around your fingers and you tighten your grip to pull him into another rough kiss, Matt groaning into as you grinded against him, his hand moving towards your hips and dragging you closer, bucking up into you.

“Fuck Y/N, need you so bad.” Matt grunted into your neck when you finally pulled away from each other, his hands running up and down your body causing you to moan.

You shifted down Matt’s body, trailing kisses down his chest until you settled in between his legs, wasting no time in removing his boxers and moaning at the sight of his hard cock, already leaking with pre-cum.

Matt couldn’t stop himself from thrusting into your mouth when your lips wrapped around the head of his cock, forcing his dick half way into you before he restrained himself, listening as you choked and moaning loudly, his hands gripping your hair as you took a breath before you started sucking on his cock like you were made for it.

Matt felt himself hit the back of your throat, moaning even louder as he felt you relax and take him even further. You were making such a mess, he could feel your drool all over his cock, leaking from your mouth and down your chin, he could feel your gaze on him, knew your eyes would be bright and wide especially when he stilled you with the hand in your hair and took over, letting himself lose control as he thrusted himself deep into your mouth.

He had to force himself to pull out before he made an even bigger mess on your face, tempting as the thought was, he needed to be inside of you, needed to feel how good you felt on his cock.

Matt shifted you so that you were laying underneath him, as he settled in between your legs he dipped his head down to smash his lips against yours and feeling the mess you had made had him groaning into it before he pulled away.

You moaned loudly when you felt the head of Matt’s cock pushing at your entrance, spreading you open and stretching you wide. Your hand gripped the bedsheet as you felt him push deeper into you, already feeling fuller than you’d ever felt before he was fully inside you.

Matt kissed you again as he pushed his cock fully inside you, feeling the way you stretched perfectly around him, unable to stop the moans and grunts that escaped him. You were so tight on his cock, the little gasped breaths that left you as he stretched you out ran straight to his cock.

The way he could hear your heart hammering against your chest had him thrusting into you after giving you a minute to adjust to him and you were crying out in pleasure as he set a rough pace, slamming in and out of you like he couldn’t control himself, his fingers rubbing against your clit causing your toes to curl and back to arch as you fisted the sheets and moaned mindlessly.

Matt trailed kissed down to your neck, tasting sweat against your skin as your head fell to the side and he wasted no time in covering your skin in even more bruises, marking you as his whilst he slammed into you, whispering praises, telling you how good you felt, how perfect you were, how much he loved feeling you on his cock.

Eventually it was all too much for you and your hands found Matt’s shoulders, fingers digging into his skin as you felt yourself come apart, practically seeing sparks fly as you came on his cock whilst he continued thrusting into your sensitive pussy, his fingers still rubbing at your clit causing you to whimper and gasp.

Matt continued thrusting into you, feeling like he was in heaven when he felt you cumming all over his cock and lasted only a few moments longer before he stilled, burying his face in your neck and cumming inside you, giving a few lazy thrusts before he managed to pull himself out of you.

You felt a trail of cum leave your pussy, groaning at how empty you felt now that Matt had left you, the man laying on top of you and trailing lazy kisses along your chest, your hands moving up into his hair, running your fingers through it gently and smiling as he leaned into your touch.

“What is this?” You couldn’t help but ask after a while, keeping your voice soft so as not to disturb the peace between you.

Matt knew he couldn’t leave now, not now that he had had you. He wanted you to be with him, he wanted to be with you in every way possible. He’d do everything he could to protect you, to keep Daredevil and the trouble that seemed to follow the masked vigilante far away from you.

“I love you.” Matt confessed, smiling as he felt your heart stutter before speeding up. “I was scared but I love you, Y/N/N, I want you to be mine.”

“I’d like that.” You murmured, letting your lips press against his hair. “I love you too.”

You were ecstatic, for so long you had thought you would never know what it would be like to have Matt feel anything other than friendship for you and now he was here, in your bed, telling you he loved you. It was better than all your wildest dreams, holding Matt close and falling asleep in his arms, glad you had been brave enough and knowing you wouldn’t have to live the rest of your life wondering what would have happened if you’d just kissed him in the pouring rain.

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