#Loud reader

[rememberwren]

Thinking about how when you’re drunk—and I mean really drunk—you get it in your head to catcall men. They could use a little harassment. When you reach that point, your friends immediately know it’s time to cut you off, acting like the Secret Service as they usher you out of the bar and towards the Uber. But they couldn’t anticipate the group of men standing outside the bar swapping laughs and smoking.

Of course you pick the scariest one of the lot and:

“Hey!” you shout, half giggling. “Hey—you, in the mask!”

The man turns. You can’t see his mouth with the surgical mask in place but you can tell his eyebrows are raised. He’s fucking huge, towering over his counterparts (who are nothing to sniff at), thick and strong. His head cocks in silent question.

“Can I get your number?” you shout, licking your friend’s hand when she slaps it over your mouth. All your friends rush to brush the guy off, but he’s already ashing his cigarette under his boot, slipping his hands into his pocket, and crossing the street quietly.

He stays a healthy distance away, aware of how it looks: a man his size approaching a group of young, inebriated women. You think he’s come to harass you in return, or maybe just to mock you—either way you are stunned silent, mouth agape, eyes wide. He’s so much taller up this close.

“Got a pen?” he asks.

He only approaches then, shoulders hunched to make himself appear smaller and innocuous. He takes your hand in his own and writes his phone number on your forearm.

When you wake up hungover the next morning, his number is there on your arm along with a reminder that you hadn’t been able to see in the dim lighting of the parking lot: XXX-XXXX—S. Drink water.

[seventhseian]

I imagine people would assume Katsuki's type of women would be someone who's as tough as him, but then he'd be proving them wrong when the paparazzis catches him putting his drunken crybaby girlfriend at the front seat of his car, and she looks like she's had the worse night of her life because of her very tears stained cheeks.

Now, people gossip instead of dismissing the assumption of Katsuki's type of women. From what they've seen on the photos taken from last night's occurrence, Katsuki's girlfriend seemed to be the complete exact opposite of him that it starts to worries the netizens of what actually happens behind close doors. Is Katsuki careful with his girlfriend? What if Katsuki doesn't know how to treat such a soft lady? What if Katsuki's actually abusive?

What a loud of bull.

So what if he fell in love with someone who's the exact contrast from him? Just because he's loud and he's brash doesn't mean he'd simply lift a hand on someone, let alone his girlfriend. People were quick to assume these days, and they didn't even get the first assumption right!

So in order to dismiss these gossips, Katsuki decides to post a picture on a random night.

Sat on his lap facing him with arms wrapped around his neck and your face buried on the crook of neck, Katsuki places a hand on your plush waist and snaps a pic from above that perfectly encaptures what really does happen behind close doors. Nothing abusive, nothing out of line, just him and his girlfriend who can't get enough of each other every single day.

Honestly, he doesn't really care if the gossips continue to erupt over time, he just wanted an excuse to show you off with him as your very own personal watermark.

[gracieheartspedro]

For Cryin’ Out Loud

pairing: post-outbreak! joel miller x fem!reader

how to help the palestinians and what it means to write for the last of us characters

word count: 7.9k

description: living with joel is complicated, especially when you can’t sleep due to nightmares. when you find yourself in his bed, you can’t help yourself. but joel sure can. give him a day to mull it over.

warnings: pretty slow burn, kinda forced proximity, kinda angsty, unspecified age gap (don’t like it, don’t read it), joel gives you tons of nicknames (darlin’, kiddo, etc.), discussions of nightmares and possible mental illnesses, some fluff, reader isn’t really described, joel is kinda a gaslighter, he’s also a bit pervy, unprotected p in v (wrap it y’all), oral (f! receiving), dirty talk, joel like worships you!!!!!, joel licks his fingers clean, giving genitalia pronouns, joel’s a big boy. think that’s it. lemme know what I missed!

author’s note: I really enjoyed writing this. the idea is pretty simple but I love domestic jackson!joel. I promise i’ll try to switch it up soon and write something that isn’t jackson!era lol. support your fav fics by reblogging and commenting!! thanks love ya <3

For some reason, you always find yourself standing at the threshold of the front door when you cannot sleep. 

The air was especially brisk tonight. You wrapped yourself in a gray chunky sweater you found in the lost and found in Jackson’s thrift store, hoping to regain some warmth. Your bed may have been comfortable, but it was the place where nightmares usually plagued you. 

It was too late to be awake, and you knew that if you were caught, you would hear it from Joel. He always reprimanded you. Every time he caught you up late, it was like your father woke up and found your hand in the cookie jar. 

The dynamic between you two had changed since arriving in Jackson, and you almost resented him for it. When it was just you, him, and Ellie, you were managing a family unit. Joel was always the protective father, you being the mom or the voice of reason, and Ellie being chaos. 

When Ellie and Joel’s relationship shifted, he took on a fatherly role for you. It bothered you. A lot. 

In a moment of contemplation, you hear footsteps coming down the steps behind you. 

He’s wearing flannel pajama pants and no shirt, his hairy tummy something you did not see often. 

“What are you doing awake?” He questions, his voice groggy with a twinge of annoyance. 

You do not feel like explaining yourself, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to get out of this situation without a justification. 

You huff, leaning your back against the door frame so you can get a full look at the broad man. “Can’t sleep. Thought staring into the darkness would help.”

He grunts, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “How’s that workin’ for you, sweetheart?”

You could not close your eyes without the haunting dreams that seemed lively and so real. Every night, you had the same recurring ones. You were being chased, hunted, or murdered. Or all of the above. You would wake in a cold sweat, not wanting to shut your eyelids ever again. 

“Hm,” You say, staring back outside for a brief moment, “‘Was better when you weren’t looking over my shoulder.”

He chuckles, “Get back to bed.”

“I can’t, Joel.”

“You can and will. You’re no good when you’re tired.”

“If I close my eyes, Joel, I will just have the same goddamn nightmares I have every night. And I will end up doing what I’m doing now, which is trying to get some fresh air to forget them.”

“You’re not gonna forget ‘em with some fresh air. You just need to… get over them.”

The breeze picks up as soon as he says it, almost like the world knew the tension would have to be broken with some frigid air. You retort with, “And how do you get over yours?”

"I just accept them," he says, a hint of defensiveness in his tone. "I don't have time to dwell on them. There's always more important things to worry about."

"I'm more tired in the morning when I just endure them." You explain, trying not to cry about it. But you are so sick of them. The same thing every night.

“I get it. One day they will subside, I’m sure of it. But for now, you gotta-”

You just want him to shut up. At the same time, your mind is trying to remember the last time you did not have a nightmare. The memory makes your stomach churn. “You remember that one time we were forced to share that sleeping bag? Back in Pittsburgh?”

“Yeah,” His tone was wary, “What about it?”

"That was the first night I didn't have it." You explain, your voice a bit shaking at the insinuation. You don’t want to face the fact that Joel, the man that you have known for going on 10 years, kept your nightmares at bay. The same man who continuously rejected you and told you that he was old enough to be your dad. The same man that told you no, I don’t like you like that. I never will. That Joel. 

“And? Why are you bringing this up now?”

"Because every night I go to my bed and I'm forced to face them alone. When you were there... they didn't even bother holding my mind hostage.”

He took another step closer, closing some of the distance between you two. He towers over you and you can’t help but stare up at him in awe. Joel has always been a complicated part of your life. You consider him your sexual awakening, honestly, but he will never ever know that. Over the years, he’s only gotten more handsome. 

But now, he has a curious expression written all over his face.

"Are you saying you want to share a bed with me?" he asks, his voice gruff and low.

You suck in a deep breath, not wanting to answer. You knew that was stepping over a boundary for Joel. He liked his space. He didn’t like you impeding on that space, especially. Your bedroom was the furthest away from his for a reason.

"I don't know." You manage to say.

Joel's gaze darkened, his expression was completely unreadable. You wish you could read his mind, but you should be grateful you can not. 

Because in Joel’s mind, he’s trying to formulate a way to convince you to stay away from him altogether. The wall he has built over the last decade was intentional. He did not want to hurt you any further. He already knew you had feelings for him, but he was an old man. He did not want to drag you into his mess, all the baggage he carried. He looked after you, he shared a home with you, and that’s it. Strictly platonic. 

He shifted on his feet a little, unable to tear his eyes away from you. You shook like a little leaf.

"You don't know?" he repeated, his voice a low rumble.

You nod, "I don't know if I want that."

You do want that. But you want more, too. You knew you would be playing with fire. You would just be disappointed. 

Joel’s temptations are buried deep but they still fester every now and again. Some days he would catch a glance at you getting dressed in the crack of your door and have to take a cold shower. As soon as he felt those emotions bubble in his chest, he would try to distract himself. Maybe he would take a longer patrol. Maybe he would go to the Tipsy Bison and try to find a woman to take home. That one never really worked. 

“Well, what do you want then? Because standin’ at the door and letting all the cold air in ain’t gonna work for me or you.”

You look down at your picked-over fingernails and contemplate your next sentence. You don't want to be heartbroken in the morning when you wake up and he's there sleeping peacefully next to you and you're not... his.

"I want to sleep with you."

Joel was not expecting such a blunt response from you, but he appreciated you not beating around the bush about it. He gestures for you to step out of the doorway so he can shut the door, which you do. 

He looked down at you, his eyes raking over your face, taking in the exhaustion and uncertainty. 

"You sure?" he asked, his voice a gruff whisper.

You just nod as he locks the front door. You couldn’t believe you were doing this. 

Joel couldn’t believe it either. Maybe it was the tiredness or the instincts he felt to protect you, but he was not mad at the idea of sharing his bed with you. 

You signal for him to go upstairs, “You lead the way.”

-

Joel’s room was always off-limits to you. So when you step into his small little world, you take it all in. 

The artwork around the room was mainly nature landscapes. He had a big dresser right at the room's entrance with picture frames of Sarah, Ellie, and other family members. You were even included in one photo—a picture of you and him on some horses from last year. 

A shirt littered one side of the bed, so you took that as it was probably his side. Unfortunately for you, it was the right side. You felt a pang of guilt realizing you would probably end up restlessly lying in Joel’s bed if you were stuck on the left. 

Before he can pull back the blanket for himself, you stop him. 

“Uh, can I sleep on that side?”

He completely halts in his motions, turning his head towards you with a blank expression. “My side? Why?”

You lick your lips, already regretting this whole thing. 

“Because I have had this superstition since I was a kid that I could only sleep on the right side of the bed."

Joel wants to laugh, but he doesn’t. He can tell you are at war in your head about the question, your expression practically anticipating his rejection. 

"Superstitions, huh?" he said, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips."You and your weird beliefs."

You watch as he crosses to the other side of the bed and lifts the blanket. Is he actually letting you have his side? Maybe he doesn’t hate you. 

“You could also call it a compulsion, but superstitions seem more fun and less like a mental illness.”

He laughs this time, his deep chuckle making you feel a bit more relaxed about the situation. You did not feel like a burden as much. You walk to the right side and pull back his navy blue sheets and blanket. The spot looks warm and inviting so when you crawl in next to Joel, you start to realize that you’re back in the same situation you were in years ago in that sleeping bag. He was so close and warm and you wanted nothing more but for him to hold you and keep you comfortable.

But then another thing came to mind before you could imagine his arms around you. 

You usually sleep on your right side or back, but now you don't know what to do because you didn't know how Joel slept.

"Do you sleep on your side or back?"

Joel studies you as you fidget beside him, your uncertainty causing him to smirk slightly. It was almost endearing, seeing you be completely out of control of your surroundings. He remembers back when you were traveling with him you had an obsessive need to straighten up everything before you fell asleep. You had to roll yourself up in your sleeping bag the same way every night. 

"Usually on my back," he said finally. "But I can sleep on my side, too."

You swallow, trying to picture yourself sleeping. For some reason you felt the urge to have control of the situation, dictating exactly how he has to sleep, too. "Can I... I'll sleep on my side if you can sleep on your back? Is that okay?"

Joel had to suppress a smirk at your request. You knew he was trying to hold back a snarky remark. Instead, he surprises you.

"Sure, you can sleep on your side," he agreed, shifting his body weight onto his back, "’n I'll sleep on my back. No big deal."

You turn to face him, tucking the pillow further under your head. You can tell his eyes are heavy from exhaustion. You know it's time to shut up, to go to sleep, but you feel the need to say something else to him. Sometimes your brain concocts questions and statements and you know you shouldn’t say them, but your mouth betrays you.  

"When was the last time you had a girl in your bed?"

Why the fuck would you ask that? You think to yourself. It fell out of your mouth like drool.

Joel's eyes widened at your blunt question, surprise and a hint of embarrassment coloring his expression. You knew he was probably just expecting you to lay here next to him, maybe roll around a bit, then sleep. But instead, it’s an interrogation.

He took a deep breath, his mind rattling around as he tried to think of a response. He didn't want to admit what his genuine answer was to you, but he too could not help himself.

"Why do you want to know that?" he asks, his voice steely.

You hate that he even responded because now you needed to defend yourself.

"I uh, don't know. I don't know why it matters."

Joel chuckled softly, noting that you probably just had a case of word vomit. You always told him you were infamous for putting your foot in your mouth, especially in awkward situations.

"Curiosity got the better of you, huh?" he asks, rubbing his face with his hands. “You just can’t help yourself, sweetheart.”

He shifted slightly, rolling onto his side to face you, his gaze studying your expression.

You smirk, grateful that he's letting it slide. When he turns onto his side and he's at eye level with you, your face drops a bit. He is ruining the vision in your head. He’s throwing a wrench in your plans.

"You're supposed to be on your back, sir."

Joel couldn't help but chuckle softly at your comment. He knew he was supposed to be on his back, but the new angle allowed him to see you better in the faint moonlight.

"Don't worry," he said, a hint of humor in his voice. "I'll turn back over in a minute. Just... enjoying the view for a bit."

You roll your eyes, lifting your hands from under the covers and lightly hitting his arm. You knew he was just fucking with you now. 

"Okay, for that, I want to know the answer to my stupid question."

Joel let out a low laugh, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. He shook his head, amused by your persistence. You start to think about it and you have never really seen him bring anyone home. Maybe it had been a very long time and he was embarrassed. 

"Alright, alright," he said, a hint of resignation in his voice. "Last time I had a girl in my bed..."

He paused for a moment, his eyes dropping to the covers, his mind racing to find the right words.

"Go on..."

Joel took another deep breath, his voice dropping even lower as he spoke.

"It's been a long time, kiddo," he admitted, his voice pierced with a bit of shame. "Almost ten years, if I'm being honest."

Your eyes widen in surprise. "No way... You've never just... got it on with someone in bed?"

Joel's face flushed with embarrassment at your blunt question, a mix of shock and slight irritation flashing across his eyes.

"Jesus, you really don't hold back, do ya?" he muttered. He shifts a bit, trying to get comfortable in a different way. He hadn't expected the conversation to turn so personal, so quickly and he did not want to face you anymore. He was mortified. 

You mentally slap yourself in the face.

"I'm sorry, I am just tired and delusional. Uh, you don't have to answer that."

Joel could practically feel the humiliation radiating off you and he too felt the exact same way. You knew how to add to an already awkward situation.

"No, no, it's fine," he reassured you, his voice a bit gentler now. "I get it. You're tired, and your filter has taken a backseat."

"Yeah, exactly..."

He shifted on the bed, turning onto his back again, his gaze shifting to the ceiling, avoiding your curious stare.

You could not help but stare at his side profile. A prominent straight nose. His downturned lips are surrounded by some fine lines that show his age. He was a beautiful man now, but you can’t help but imagine him back in his 20s. He had to have been a hit with the ladies back then.

Joel could feel your gaze on him, studying his face. And while you were not scrutinizing him, he felt like a commodity in a museum or something.  He forced himself to keep his gaze on the ceiling, refusing to meet your eyes.

"So… ten years and no sex?”

You could seriously, not help yourself.

"Correct.” He grumbles, still not meeting your stare.

"Damn, Joel." You mutter, adjusting a bit to sit up a little more on your pillow. "I seriously thought you were sleeping around the whole time we have been in Jackson.”

He finally turns your way, a bit of offense on his face. “Why would you think that?”

You shrug, not wanting to insult him. But that’s how you formulated your grudge towards him. It was easy to just chalk everything up to problems with random women you have seen around town. 

“You just give off the energy…”

“What?”

You huff, laying back on the pillow. “I don’t know, Joel! I feel like when I’m around you all the ladies think you’re handsome. They stare.”

“They are staring because you’re always following me around and we aren’t married or… together. They think we are odd.” 

You had never heard such things around Jackson, but it does sort of make sense. Everyone was probably just confused because you two lived together but were not a couple. You can admit it is bizarre, but it just did not feel like an option any other way, in your mind. So Tommy gave you two a bigger house and you set up separate rooms. 

But in actuality, Joel secretly told Tommy that he did not want you too far from him. So when Tommy couldn’t give you any other houses nearby, Joel just told him that you two would be roommates.

“Well fuck ‘em.” You mutter, trying not to sound too offended by the thought of people gossiping about you two.

Joel just nods. You settle by tucking your arm under your pillow. You yawn, the exhaustion now taking over your body. You watch Joel grab a pair of reading glasses from the side table and a book. You decide not to bother him, especially because he probably wanted to just read himself to sleep instead of being interrogated by you any further.

You close your eyes and eventually fall asleep. The deeper you get, Joel notices how your breathing pattern changes. When he’s finally ready to get some shut-eye as well, he watches as your body crawls closer to him. Your arm swings over his stomach and rests on his forearm. He is so shocked he does not move a muscle. 

You adjust some more, not knowing what you are doing. Your leg creeps up and tucks right between his. You snuggle your face right into his chest. The only movement Joel decides to make is slinging his arm over your shoulders to pull you in tighter. 

It’s the first time in years that you two slept soundly, with no interruptions. No nightmares, no sudden intrusions, nothing. Silence and snores fill the room and that’s it.

-

When you wake up, it’s slow and gradual. Your brain hardly computes that you’re laying on top of Joel’s shirtless frame, until your hand runs across his warm tummy. 

You crook your neck up, looking at the handsome man you are spreading across. 

His lips are slightly ajar, letting out hardly-there snores. They are so pretty and pink and you cannot help but touch them with feather-like fingertips. You would feel so guilty waking him up-

His eyes slowly open taking notice of your actions even though you tried not to stir him. Your eyes fly open in shock, but he does not seem very annoyed. He smiles. 

“Mornin’ darlin’,” He says in a deep sleep-laced voice. You smile back at him, loving that he decided to call you the nickname you always got giddy over. You press your fingers into his chest before replying.

“I didn’t have a nightmare.”

His hand comes up from your shoulders and tucks some hair behind your ear as he stares down at you, “That’s good kiddo. I’m glad you slept well.”

The intimacy is almost too much. The way this is how it would be if you woke up to Joel every morning. It sends your brain into overdrive and you force yourself to ruin it a bit.

“Woulda slept even better if you didn’t talk so much in your sleep.”

Joel froze for a moment, his cheeks immediately flushing pink with embarrassment. He sits up a bit more, adjusting to the brighter lighting in his room. He knew he had a problem with talking in his sleep. Ellie used to talk about it all the time. He dreaded hearing what he was saying while curled up next to you.

"Uh... what did I say?" he asked, trying to maintain his composure.

"Something about it felt so good to be pressed up against someone, I don't know..." 

You could not help yourself and started to laugh. You knew you were going to get a rise out of him. 

Joel's face flushed an even deeper shade of pink as you started to laugh, clearly amused by your joke. He could feel his heart racing in his chest, his mind racing as he tried to come up with an excuse. He was just dreaming, it was not about you. 

"W-what?" he spluttered out instead of making an excuse. "I didn't... I didn't say anything like that."

You have a shit-eating grin on your face and you press your hands on his chest to prop yourself up. You enjoyed watching him squirm.

Joel's eyes flickered down to your hands on his chest. He sickly thought they felt so right placed there. He imagined what you would look like fully mounting him. 

He tried to keep his expression neutral, but you could see through his stone-cold exterior.

"You're messing with me, aren't you?" he grumbled, a hint of suspicion in his voice.

"Fully fuckin' with you." You giggle, hoping he is not really that mad at you. 

“You’re a brat.”

You move your foot slightly, running it up his leg. It sends shockwaves up his body, having you so close and moving around so seamlessly. 

"No, you said something about how beautiful, alluring, and incredible I am. Said I was the girl of your dreams…"

"Yeah, right," he said, a hint of playful sarcasm in his voice. "You expect me to believe that?"

"So, you don't believe me?"

"No, I don't believe you," he says, his voice stern but playful. "I think you're a dirty little liar, trying to play me for a fool."

"A dirty little liar, huh? Well, it's good to know that you don't think I'm beautiful, alluring, and incredible." You giggle at his acknowledgment, knowing he caught you red-handed.

"Oh, I never said that," he smirked, a hint of teasing in his voice. "You are all of those things, darlin’. But you're also a dirty little liar who likes to play games."

"So you think I'm beautiful?" You crack, the biggest smile painted on your face. You don’t even care that he’s calling you a liar because it does not matter. Joel thinks you are beautiful. 

“‘Course I do.”

You push yourself up onto your butt, sitting crisscross next to him. He secretly wishes you were still curled up on top of him. 

“You always this nice in the morning?” You ponder, your fingertips starting to toy with the hair on his stomach. He tries not to pay mind to it, letting you have full access to touch him. 

But it’s driving him insane. The way you look freshly woken up, completely enamored with the idea of him calling you beautiful. You have some puffiness under your eyes and your lips are more swollen than usual.

“I am always nice to you.”

You let out a scoff, “No, you’re not.”

He notices the shift in your tone and starts to get defensive, “Now you’re just lyin’.” 

Joel always loved to gaslight you in these situations. You knew better than to let him get away with it, especially now. “No there was that one time you told me you did not like me and that you would never like me. How you are old enough to be my dad-”

“Because I am!”

And there’s the wall. The only constant in you two’s relationship. He was so good at throwing it up when feelings were being expressed. When vulnerability was presented, Joel could not help but reject it. 

“And the world’s fuckin’ ended, Joel! Big deal!” You almost yell, moving your hands from him. 

Why does he already miss your hands?

He huffs, crossing his arms over his soft chest. “We have had this conversation for the last 10 years.’M not sure why we keep rehashing it.”

“And every time you turn me down it’s another fuckin’ stab in the heart.”

“You know why we can’t,” He practically growls. You can not stand to even look at him anymore with your bitterness and irritation taking over. 

“Whatever, Joel.” 

As soon as you say it, you’re already leaving his room and heading to your own. When you slam the door, you hope you have made your point. You want to scream and punch a hole in the wall, but instead you just furiously stomp around the room and grab your clothes. You had patrol at noon, so you needed to get to the mess hall before breakfast was over. You try not to cry as you strip down and get dressed.

Joel sits in bed, reeling. He hates that it has become a conversation every six months. He hated that rejecting you always sent you into a spiral of hating him for extended periods. It’s not that he did not want you, it was simply just not in the cards. He was too old to be in love. He was too old to play house with you. He just could not submit to the idea of leading you on, especially because you had so much more life to live. 

He finally works up the courage to get out of bed and put on some clothes. He opts for putting on his typical jeans and thick flannel. It was getting colder and he knew by the end of the winter, you would end up with half his flannels anyway, so he had to enjoy them while he had them. 

You storm downstairs, going to the back door for your boots when you spot him in the kitchen. 

“You got pat-”

“Yes.” You respond quickly, shoving your foot into your shoes. He stands behind you with a mug full of tea, watching your every move. 

“Who are you-”

“Jesse.”

He was asking his usual questions, which you were not in the mood to answer. 

“Hey, can you-”

You snap your head back at him, giving him the glare you gave him as a warning usually. By now, he takes it as a hint and backs off. But not this time. 

“Can I what?”

He rolls his eyes, “Can you fuckin’ not be a brat about this?”

You wish your glare came with knives. If that were the case, Joel Miller would be dead on his kitchen floor. 

You are so thrown off by the question that you just watch him get angrier when you do not respond. 

“Are you serious, right now?” You press, keeping your voice from cracking. 

He brings the mug up to his mouth, taking an obnoxious sip. When he pulls the mug away, you notice how steaming it is. “You always pull this shit-”

“No, you do! You do this shit to me every fuckin’ time, Joel. You sweet talk me, make me feel comfortable, have me lapping everything up in the palm of your hands, and then you snatch it away. Then have the audacity to get mad at me!”

You are yelling now and it is throwing him off. Joel knows better than to interrupt you like you do to him. You were the kind of person who would calm down if you felt heard. 

The way he knew you down to your core made this all so painful. Because if he was not so stubborn and true to his convictions, he would have fucked you the moment you touched his lips this morning. 

“I ain’t tryin’ to make this harder than-” “Too fuckin’ late.”

You think back to the moment last night when you knew you were going to hurt your own feelings by sleeping with him. You knew better, yet here you are, still blaming him for your stupidity.

He stands there, still holding his mug, staring you down like a wounded doe who got pierced with an arrow. He feels guilty like he misled you. Before he can say anything, you are lacing up your boots and leaving out the front door without another word. 

-

All day long, Joel wanders around the house trying to get rid of the pit in his stomach. Nothing works. A shower. Reading a book. Cutting wood. As soon as he tried to use laundry as a distraction, he reached into his hamper and found one of your t-shirts. He held it close and smelled it, trying to wrap his head around how he got here. 

You spend all day, silently fuming on horseback with Jesse. When he tries to get you to open up, you ice him out and tell him to focus on the trail in front of him. 

You get back by sundown, the sun setting making it a lot chiller than you expected. You decide to take the long way home, wanting to avoid being home for as long as possible. You were not ready to face Joel, let alone share a space with him. But unfortunately, during your patrol, you fell into some mud and needed a shower. The more time it spent on your clothes and body, the grosser you felt. 

You open the front door, announcing that you are home. It was a habit you and Joel developed after you both pulled guns on each other during late-night arrivals. 

You hear Joel mumble something from the living room, but you do not stop to listen and continue on your way upstairs to the bathroom. 

You strip down as soon as the door is closed, tossing your muddy clothing into a hamper in the corner. You would get them washed and hung as soon as you shower off. 

You hear Joel’s footsteps creaking around the upstairs hallway as you scrub your body with homemade soap and warm water. 

When you start to dry yourself off, you hear Joel grunting something in the hallway. You wrap yourself in a towel and peek your head out the door. He’s on his hands and knees wiping something off the hardwood. “What’s goin’ on?”

He looks up at you, your body only covered in a bleach-stained blue towel. It makes his head spin. He can’t even be mad that you tracked in mud. 

He swallows, gripping the cloth he’s using tighter. “You got mud everywhere.”

You step out, not even really thinking about the fact that you are not properly dressed in front of Joel. You were still mad at him, anyway. Who cares what he thinks?

“Sorry, I could’ve cleaned it up.”

He returns to wiping the wood, “It’s fine, I got it, kiddo.”

You accept his response and move on to your room, but the draft you leave behind drifts to Joel’s nostrils. Your soap smells like lavender and it always sends his mind racing when you are fresh from a shower. He clears his throat, trying to get through the emotions filling his chest. 

But it’s been like this all day. You’re all around him even when you’re not physically here. How can he get away from you? Why is he trying to run in the first place?

He’s on his knees in your hallway, cleaning up your mess, sniffing the air you leave behind because he’s fucking in love with you and he cannot help himself anymore. 

Joel starts to think about how peaceful he felt having you next to him last night and how he would love to feel that way every night. For once he’s not thinking about what everyone else would think. For once he’s thinking selfishly and caving into every desire he has ever pondered about you. How would you feel under him? How would your lips feel pressed against his pulse point? 

His body was on fire, thinking about you. 

You are fiddling with some clothes in your dresser after you flick on the overhead light. You do not hear him come into your room behind you. 

You are so wrapped up in your own thoughts that when he clears his throat to announce he’s in your room, you scream. Loud. 

“For cryin’ out loud, woman!” 

You grip your towel tighter when you turn and see him standing at your mercy. 

“Joel, what the fuck?” You yell, gesturing to the fact that you are practically naked. He does not care, of course, and his ears are ringing from your piercing scream. He gathers himself as you shift back, trying to create some distance from him.

He is trying not to gawk at the fact that your grip on the towel against your chest is only pushing up your cleavage. He’s biting back everything. “Can we talk?”

“Talk about what? The fact you crept into my room when I was trying to change? Are we past boundaries now?” 

You are pissed, trying not to rattle off another million things to discuss with him. He’s only really talking about one thing. 

He scoffs at your last statement. “Boundaries were already out the window when you crawled into bed with me last night.”

Silence fills the room as you completely stop breathing. The anger you originally felt dissipates. 

“Joel-“

“I ain’t doin’ this back and forth anymore,” He starts shifting in his spot, unsure if he really should be doing this. “I can’t live how I've been livin’. Somethin’s gotta give.”

You furrow your eyebrows, confused. 

“You are the one who won’t give, Joel.”

As soon as you say it, he practically drags himself over to you. Completely destitute. You have never seen him look so desperate before. You can tell that he’s been at war with himself ever since you left this morning. His eyes never lied.

His hand creeps up your bare arm, leaving goosebumps in his wake. 

But then you remember his words from this morning. You start feeling like this is just a moment of weakness for him and that he will regret it later. You had to stop it before it was too late. You did not want to deal with the consequences. 

“Joel, you said we can’t-”

“Fuck what I said,” He cuts you off, “Do you want this?”

You stare into those brown eyes, searching for a sign of hesitance. You cannot believe Joel is being this vulnerable with you. 

But, you do want him. God, you have wanted him so badly for so long. You have searched for him in every man you have ever been with since knowing him. 

Your mouth opens but nothing comes out. He takes note of your parted lips, every word failing you at that moment.

“Darlin’-”

“Yes,” You finally manage. “Yes, I do want this.”

It’s all he needs. He closes the gap between you two by wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into his space. His lips crash onto yours, not wasting another breath of air waiting to indulge in his sickest fantasies. 

You are all Joel ever dreamed about. He knew that once he caved and physically gave in, his world would be shot and everything would revolve around you. For years it had been a teetering object on a cliff, one nudge would have him falling. He always managed. But now, he was falling head first. 

His lips move so perfectly with your own. Your hand released your towel and found the tufts of his curls at the base of his head. You did not care that the article pooled around your feet, leaving you completely bare in front of Joel. You have wanted this all along. To be uncovered, to be stripped down to the rawest form. He broke the kiss briefly just to scan your naked body, his forehead pressed against your own. 

“Fuck, you are so beautiful.”

Your heart stutters as his hand traces your stomach down to your hips, all the way down to your ass. He stops there, grabbing a handful. 

“I need you,” You choke out before pressing your lips to his over and over again. “Right now.”

He mumbles “jump” into your mouth and you do so, his hands working quickly to hike you up onto his waist. He carries you to your bed, wasting no time dropping you onto your back. 

He cannot get enough of your soft, swollen lips. Every time he pulls away slightly, he dives in again even more aggressively than the last time. 

You are so hypnotized by the way he feels on top of you. In the light, he seems so much broader than he was last night. He’s still fully clothed, to your dismay. You start to tug at his shirt, motioning him to remove the articles that are in your way. 

He throws off his shirt before he stands up at the edge of the bed and pushes down his jeans. 

“Joel… I-“

He just shuts you up with another passionate kiss. It’s all tongue and teeth like he’s trying to melt into your mouth. Your hands trail up his back, gripping onto his shoulders, holding him down so he is pressing against your nude body. 

“God, I have wanted this for so long,” He sputters, trying not to sound too desperate. “Been wanting this.”

That’s when his hand reaches down between your thighs and gathers the wetness your slit has to offer. His fingers dance across it, starting from the top all the way to your spongy entrance. 

“Please, Joel.”

He loves the lust-laced tone you speak with when you say his name. It almost makes him cum there and then. 

You watch as he makes his way down your body, peppering kisses from your shoulder to your hip. When he parts your legs, you feel quite exposed. The adrenaline of being so spread for him manifests into a moan. 

“You are divine, baby.”

The use of that adjective is so-not-Joel that it makes you giggle. He notes your reaction and decides to sink down into you. When his mouth gets close to your core, it’s no longer a laughing matter. 

He uses his fingers again, using them to spread open your pussy lips. He cannot keep his eyes away from how dripping you are. “This all for me?”

“Y-yes, Joel.”

“God, I was a fuckin’ fool for so long. Could’ve had her earlier and I never fuckin’ caved. Such an idiot.”

Him giving your cunt pronouns was enough to have you throwing your head back and shuttering. His touch was magnetic like he knew exactly what buttons to push as he rubbed his fingers and palm over your core. 

“Yeah, you’ve been missin’ out. Every night…” You swallow before looking down at the man that is enamored with your pussy, “E-every night I would lay in this bed, fuckin’ myself just thinkin’ about you.”

He growls at the statement, before teasingly kissing your clit. “Every night, hm, kiddo?”

“God, yes.”

Your eyes squeeze shut as he leans forward more and dives in. His nose is pressed firmly against the top of your pussy, nudging forward every time his tongue enters your hole. When that motion became consistent, you began to note the rumblings in the pit of your stomach. A familiar build-up that you managed to get when you were playing with yourself. 

His fingers move in tandem with his lips and tongue. While his middle and pointer finger slide in and out of you, his lips wrap around your clit. It’s overwhelming and all-consuming. 

You do not know where to center yourself, so your hands grip the bed sheets you were completely soaking as Joel pulls the first orgasm out of you. 

“That’s it, baby, she’s cryin’ for me, hm?”

You hardly make a noise, the orgasm is so earth-shattering that you just writhe on the mattress. 

“Oh my god…” You groan, finally able to catch your breath. When Joel removes his fingers from you, you watch as he slowly brings them up to his lips.

When he inserts them in his mouth, you gawk at him, unsure how to react. He watches your expression and chuckles darkly.

“Mm, never seen a man enjoy the taste of ya?”

You shake your head. “Never expected to hear those words leave your mouth, either.”

“Wait ‘til you hear what else I got to say.”

He stands up beside the bed, grabs your hips, and brings them to the edge. He is tossing you around with ease, bringing your lower body flush with his. He yanks down his briefs, revealing himself to you. You instantly take notice of how well-endowed he is. You never thought you would ever be close to his cock, let alone have it lining up at your entrance. 

“Joel…“ You stop him with your small voice, but still welcoming him in with your legs opened wide, “I don’t know if it will fit.”

He grins, “It will, baby. Just relax for me, okay?”

You watch him slide his member along your center, the feeling so blissfully overstimulating. You whine a bit, raising your hips to his. 

But Joel continues his torture, enjoying the way you’re squirming under him. The way your eyebrows are knitted together, your eyes shut as you grind up into him. It’s the prettiest sight. 

“Ready?”

Your eyes fly open as you watch him ease his way into your core, the sound of squelching filling the room. You don’t think you have ever been this wet for someone. 

“Oh my fuckin’ god, Joel…”

He smiles as he inches in, “Squeezin’ my cock so good, darlin’.”

When he’s fully sheathed inside, he tests the waters by drawing out slowly. You roll your hips in a circle, trying to feel out every inch of him. He fits, but you know once he starts to move faster, the stretch will become overwhelming. 

He’s trying to focus and not blow his load immediately. You look so beautiful below him, your tits slowly shifting back and forth every time he draws back and forth. He reaches out, wanting to feel the flesh between his fingers. God, he craved every inch of you, he realizes. 

You open your legs as far as you can, letting him hit you at a different angle. The movement allows him to slip in a bit more seamlessly, so when he speeds up his thrusts, you don’t feel like you will completely split in half. 

He brings your leg up to hips, and feeling your soft delicate skin against him makes him lose all sense. His hips snap faster the more you moan out for him. 

“Fuckin’ Christ, girl. I can’t believe I was missin’ out on this cunt,” He babbles, “Need this cunt every day from now on. Gonna have you all to myself every night.”

You are too fucked out of your mind to read into those implications.

“‘M all yours, Joel.”

He smiles, slowing down a bit. “Keep talkin’ like that and ‘ll finish a lot sooner than you.”

You sit up a bit, your eyes flickering over his entire body. He notices you checking out his nude frame, which makes him feel a bit more bold. He leans down, capturing your lips in a hungry kiss. You love the way his tongue slips into your mouth so effortlessly. When he opens his mouth, his facial hair tickles your nose a bit which makes you smile. When his hips pick back up to a quicker pace, it sends you gasping into his mouth.

“Please, Joel,” You whine, that familiar build starts up but this time it’s like a freight train. Moving so quickly down every nerve ending in your body. “I’m gonna cum.”

“‘M with you, darlin’. Soak this dick. I’m right behind ya.”

His dirty talk causes the crash. Your body practically lifts off the mattress. You cry out so loud you are sure a neighbor could hear you. You try to gain your bearings, but you are panting like you just ran a mile. 

Joel fucks you through it, but the restriction your pussy is putting on his cock sends him over the edge. His hips stutter into yours, his seed emptying into your spent hole. He just keeps repeating your name as his thrusts slow down.

He has never had such a visceral orgasm in his life. His knees are weak and can hardly keep up his weight. He practically falls on top of you, which does not offend you at all. His warm sweaty body on top of you is almost reassuring. 

“You okay, kiddo?” He finally mutters as his hot breath fans the nape of your neck. You just nod, bringing your hand up to his salt and pepper hair. You tug lightly, smiling to yourself. 

“I’m more than okay.”

He finally sits up, his cock spilling out of you as he adjusts his position. Your hole drips a mixture of cum onto your newly clean sheets, but you could care less. It’s just another thing to hand wash tonight.

Joel stumbles to the middle of the room, picking up your bath towel. He uses it to wipe himself up before coming over to you. Your legs are still slightly apart so he decides to clean you up a bit. He’s gentle, knowing that you are probably still sensitive.

Once he finishes up, he crawls next to you as you continue to recover. Your bones felt like jello so standing up to adjust yourself was not an option.

So instead of facing him, you stare up at your ceiling fan as his eyes lock onto every detail of your profile. It brings him back to one night you two shared under the stars a couple of years ago. It was his turn to keep watch so you curled up in your sleeping bag by the fire. He admired you from across the flames, the orange hues lit up every angle of your face. It was at that moment that Joel realized that he could not picture his life without you. You had weaseled your way into every facet of his life and he used to resent the impact you had on him. You were younger, more patient but still stubborn like him. You made him laugh, like genuinely laugh, for the first time since the infection. While you may have been a bit impulsive with your emotions, he envied the way you could say exactly what you were thinking. 

Joel did not want to love you, but it was impossible not to. 

You finally look over at him, noticing the softness in his gaze.

“Are you okay?” You pose, scrunching your nose. 

He gives you a toothless smile, his eyes crinkling a bit. “I just can’t wait to sleep next to you for the rest of my life.”

tags of people I love and who may wanna read (no pressure I just love u) (some of u did ask tho) : @ashleyfilm @hockeyhughes @pedrospookie @guiltyasdave @amanitacowboy @myownwholewildworld

[vikasmama]

thinkin’ about vi riding your strap…

my god she’s sooo loud and she barely cares. you tell her how your neighbors can probably hear, even stopping her hips to get her to focus and she’s whining while she cockwarms you.

“fuck, ‘msorry, really i am but i- mmf!” you can feel her clench around you. you don’t have to swear on it, you do. you’re so deep inside her, your big, strong girl, reduced to such a desperate puppy. she’s so good she doesn’t even try to roll her hips, she just shivers and waits for you to give her permission. vi’s chest heaves, sweat trickling down her abs into her pink bush swallowing your cock. you can still see her clit though, pearled and at attention. just gorgeous. “please keep going…”

and you know you’ll get a noise complaint, the fourth one in probably a month? but your hand travels on its own, fingers rubbing furiously at her clit while you buck up into her and she gets right back to it. neighbors be damned, you’ve gotta make your girl happy.

(men + minors dni!)

[zephyrchama]

The moment Mammon saw you, his eyes lit up. He changed course, making a beeline in your direction. "Hey, hey, hey! Just the person I was lookin' for!"

He wasted no time in slinging an arm over your shoulders and matching your pace. A big smile was plastered on his face. He was practically humming. Mammon could be quite affectionate at times, but this was suspicious.

"Y'see, Lucifer wanted you to clean the bathroom today," he suddenly stated. "Go scrub it really well, make that baby shine. Whole nine yards."

That came out of nowhere. You gave him the side-eye. "He said that, huh?"

"Sure did! Said there ain't no one better for the job!" Mammon nodded so hard, with such exaggeration, it shook his whole upper body.

"So Lucifer said he wants me," you pointed at yourself, "and me specifically, to clean the bathroom. Which you usually do as punishment. Because there 'ain't no one better.'"

"Yep! I dunno, maybe ya did something to piss 'im off. Sucks to be you."

While the Avatar of Greed loved poker, he had a terrible poker face in front of you. Mammon refused to meet your eyes and instead stared straight ahead with that big, fake smile.

"Okay. Where is he now?" you asked.

"What, Lucifer? Ah, he's busy." Mammon pat your shoulder and began to steer you in the opposite direction of Lucifer's office. "Here, I'll walk ya to the bathroom."

"I really think I should go see Lucifer and ask what I did to upset him. Won't you come with me?"

"Nah, he's real busy. Just trust me."

You dragged your heels into the floor. "Mammon."

"What? C'mon, don't call me like that! I can't stand that disappointment in your voice." He loosened his grip. His arm slid off your shoulders, so he grabbed your hand, intertwining his fingers and squeezing your palm. "Just get this over with, I'm in a hurry. The first three spins on all slots - even the real pricey ones - are only 25 grimm today. I'll make this worth your time."

You blinked at him. Ditching his responsibilities to go gamble was probably the reason Lucifer gave him this punishment in the first place.

You said plainly, "I'm not doing your chores."

Mammon dropped his smile and exhaled slowly. His thumb rubbed the back of your hand. Clearly, no amount of puppy eyes or begging was going to work. He knew from the start this was a bad idea. He took your hand in both of his, softly massaging it, showing he was regretful for trying to trick you. "Then..." He shifted his weight back and forth, lightly swaying as he considered his next words carefully.

"You wanna help me dupe Levi into doin' it?"

[grotesquevi]

summary  # vi's certain of a few things back there in her chaotic life: she's still selling weed to collage frat kids for her economy, still hates men in general, and most definitely, she’s still going to fuck the stoner milf who she's really into lately — sounds as a killer plan in her head.

series cw  # 18+ mdni, this will contain smut at some point so please have that in mind before reading. stoner!vi will forever give me the chills since i first write about her so bare. with. me. reader is bisexual for a clear reason, mentions of an ex-husband for the sake of the plot, violence, descriptions of blood, use of marijuana. vi's on her 30's so there's not a huge age-gap, modern au, will add as they go.

CHAPTER INDEX:  ☆ between cannibals, the first buy // 05/21 #1 — slow hands, week one. #2 – surrender the night, weekend one. #3 — blocked. #4 — blocked. #5 — blocked.

ᯓ★ taglist — @mxya-dreams, @cupcakelvr, @sevikas-whore, @mikellie, @my-fabulousness-has-arrived, @big-fat-herooo, @thinkviolets, @evermorewest, @mysteriouslydarkmiracle, @priceris, @mxchi-mxxn, @ferxanda, @niyizh, @hitmehardmommy, @sash4esk0, @starrysetup22, @sevibloom

riv's note — if you want to be added to the taglist, you can comment bellow as it will be open for a while before it get too crowded </3, hope you enjoy this aaa i'm so excited?? yippe!!

[thbbie]

·˚ ༘ asking your sweet husband nanami to rough you up haruta fight style. pulling your hair and and speaking to you degradingly. his touch not soft or kind at all, his expression so mean it makes you wanna curl in on yourself, and the gruff voice makes it sound like he hates you. but before all of this, he looked at you with those gentle beautiful honey brown eyes and asked so so sweetly if you're sure that's what you want adding a sweet my love at the end. his eyes searching yours for the answer. when you nod enthusiastically and reply yes he just replies okay and kisses your temple before turning around to loosen his tie, and when he turn back around to face you .... your sweet loving husband looks like an entirely different person. you won't be hearing that sweet voice or any loving terms of endearment for the next little bit~

[luxcuriousao3]

Top or bottom, dom or sub, König fucks you like it's the last time he ever will

[kikis-writing-service]

Can't stop thinking about Katsuki having a history of failed relationships. It's never difficult for him to attract people. They fall for him easily—drawn to his looks, his unflinching honesty, his blunt approach to everything. "It's refreshing," they always say. "It's so rare to find someone who won't lie to you."

His hero ranking certainly doesn't hurt either. People are naturally attracted to power and success, and Katsuki has both in spades. They love telling their friends they're dating one of the top pro heroes, enjoying the status that comes with the association.

Initially, they appreciate his attentiveness—how he notices details about them, remembers their preferences without being told twice. They admire his passion; the way he gives everything to his hero work extends to his relationships too. Katsuki doesn't know how to be halfway committed. He puts his entire self into whatever he does.

That's always how it begins, but it never lasts.

All those traits his partners once praised become what they resent. His honesty? Now it's "too harsh," "too cutting." They ask him to tone it down, to not be so blunt all the time. "You don't have to be so honest about everything. Sometimes small lies are better."

His attention to detail becomes irritating, especially during arguments. "Why do you have to remember everything?" they complain. "You're being petty. Focusing on things that don't matter." They grow to resent how he remembers every word they've said.

His passion, once exhilarating, now "suffocates" them. "I need space," they say. "You're too intense." As if he knows how to be anything else.

"If you're not going to give it your all, what's the fucking point?" he asks. They never have a good answer for that.

The first few breakups, Katsuki fights back. He tries to compromise, catching himself before saying something particularly harsh, attempting to filter his thoughts. But it feels like a betrayal of himself, like he's putting on an act. Inevitably, in moments of stress or fatigue, the filter slips and his full personality comes roaring back. The disappointment in their eyes hurts him more than he'd ever admit.

"This is exactly who you fell for," he reminds them, voice rising with frustration. "You don't get to act surprised now."

After enough repetitions of this cycle, he stops fighting. When they break up with him, he simply nods, jaw tight. "Good riddance," he mutters, though something cracks inside him each time.

Sometimes he wonders if Deku and the others have it easier. Deku with his endless empathy, or Kirishima with his straightforward warmth. People don't seem to tire of them the way they tire of Katsuki. Maybe he's just fundamentally too difficult to love long-term. The thought pisses him off, but he can't dismiss the evidence: a string of relationships, all ending the same way.

So he gives up on relationships entirely. "They're a waste of time," he tells anyone who asks. But deep down, he longs to come home to someone.

And then he meets you.

You're different, though not in any dramatic, obvious way. You're just as straightforward as he is. You commit fully to everything that matters to you. You take his words at face value, never searching for hidden meanings that aren't there.

The first time he snaps at you in public—a sharp, caustic comment that would make others flinch—you just laugh and snap right back with equal force. No hurt feelings, no wounded looks. Just acceptance that this is part of the conversation.

He notices how you don't pull away when he gets worked up about something trivial. Instead, you match his energy. He finds himself waiting for the moment your expression changes, for the familiar look of exhaustion to creep in. But it never comes.

He’s sworn off relationships, but he feels himself falling. And it terrifies him so he fights against it.

Sometimes, when these thoughts overwhelm him, he'll pick a fight or pull away, testing the boundaries of your patience. Waiting for the inevitable moment when you realize he's too much work, too difficult, too Katsuki.

But you handle it without flinching. You don't try to change him or tell him he's too much. You accept that this is just how Katsuki is. Your acceptance only deepens his fear.

And it's because you're different that he can't bring himself to hope for a future with you.

He's dealt with losing people before. He's recovered from those breakups and moved on. But losing you? He's not sure he could survive that.

But so far, you're still here. And each day you stay makes the prospect of you leaving all the more unbearable.

[b1mbodoll]

jake groan jake groan jake groan jake groan jake groan jake groan jake groan jake groan jake groan jake groan jake groan jake groan

[rememberwren]

Thinking about Ghost who hasn’t had a woman in…a while. (Longer than he’d like to admit)

He doesn’t fuck when he’s on duty, and he’s on duty more than he’s off, these days.

When he finally slips between your thighs, he’s forgotten how soft another person can be, forgotten how wet a pussy can get, tight enough to nearly snap his cock off. And then it’s him vs his own body as he fights not to cum straight away and embarrass himself.

I want him fists clenched, head ducked and eyes squeezed shut (because if he sees that look in your eyes—that almost-afraid, mostly-awed look as your body manages to swallow his monster cock whole with nothing more than a burning stretch—he knows he’ll spill inside you before he’s even managed a single thrust). I want his teeth gritted, mind on anything except the wet heat that surrounds him, muscles tensed as he fights tooth and nail for his control.

And I want to see him lose it straight away when you whisper in his ear that it’s okay, you can let go

[niccolites]

is possessed by an evil spirit for a moment and i can only think abt brother's best friend soap (heavily inspired by @ceilidho's ask here)

Idk man something about soap having always been a little bit weird with u. he's been friends with ur brother for years, back to when you were teenagers. He's only a year older but you felt the gulf of that gap, exaggerated when he shot up, puberty like a tool he used just to tower over u and make u uncomfortable

Growing up with him as a perpetual shadow, always a little bit too close, always a little bit too intense. Your parents shrug it off when u complain about it, telling u that he just likes u and u could be nicer to him about it, poor guy. Ur brother calls u stuck up when u snub soap, hissing at u to stop embarrassing him when ur rude when johnny tries to give u his seat on the couch where they're playing on their console

only you know that he's only offering u a seat so that he can press in close, a hulking mass in the corner of your eye as hot breath hits the side of ur face while he tries to look down ur shirt. constantly trying to dodge his grabby hands that grip ur exposed thighs or smooth over ur hips - pupils blown out when his hands swallow up the expanse of your skin

u snap at one point and tell him that he disgusts u, that ur not into him at all. he goes red in the face, growling that you've been leading him on, that ur playing games with his head (he is assuming u wearing a blue bra after he yanked ur turtleneck up was to match his eyes, even tho he shouldn't have seen it in the first place)

u end up with ur panties around ur knees as he forces u to stroke his cock, panting into ur throat as u 'make apologies' to him. he forgives u btw, he knows that u have to act this way, that ur brother would kill him if he knew. makes it seem like ur partners in crime, in this together even with his hand manacled around ur wrist to stroke him off

it gets worse after he enlists, and u don't see him for weeks or months. he gets pent up, barely putting a show on for everyone before he's dragging u off slick mouth on urs until there's spittle dribbling down ur chin, whining for u to please let him see his pretty girl (he's talking abt ur pussy), already 2 knuckles deep so ur wondering why he's even asking in the first place

and now he's a hero to everyone else. stuck in the bind of him being the in-love teenager to the kind-hearted man that is risking his life for everyone, do you have to be so cruel to him?

u wonder why, face pressed into the pillows of ur childhood bedroom as he hikes ur ass into the air to rut into u hard and fast

u do what u always do, hissing and spitting at him until he finally gets his way and ur back bows as he barely pauses through ur orgasm as he chases his own. he knows that u have to put the show on, lovey, but he's waiting in the backwing for u. partners in crime right?

[kxsagi]

Hii!! Im here to request something if that’s alright! First of all, I need to say I love your work, it genuinely has me kicking my feet in bed till midnight sometimes!!

If it’s okay, I’d like to request something with the BLLK character (Shidou, Ness, Kaiser and anyone else you think) with a super feminine, girly and pink girlfriend, who just snores loudly when she sleeps?

Hope your well!! XOXO❤️

“𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐤, 𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩”

a/n: thank you so much lovey!! i'm well and hope you are too! ❤️

duality is the hottest personality trait imo so this request idea is gold

(don't know art credits so sorry)

ft. shidou ryusei, ness alexis, kaiser michael, nagi seishiro, itoshi rin, isagi yoichi, itoshi sae

shidou ryusei

thinks it’s hot. like genuinely. the snoring? music to his ears. 

when he first hears it, he starts laughing so hard he wakes you up. 

“no, no, don’t stop, babe, go back to sleep. i was vibing.” 

totally makes a stupid beat out of your snores and plays it for the team. it actually slaps. 

calls you “princess piggy” affectionately. 

buys you pink satin sleep masks and pink skull-print blankets. the duality. 

ness alexis

nearly cried the first night. 

he genuinely thought you were choking? he was so worried omg. 

now he brings earplugs and still cuddles you like a human teddy bear. 

if anyone says anything about your snoring he’s like “it’s not that loud 🙄” (it is, it’s seismic). 

calls you “sleeping beauty” and tucks your hair behind your ear like he’s in a kdrama. 

insists on pink everything in your shared space. pink slippers? matching. pink toothbrush? bought two. 

kaiser michael

smirks when he first hears it. 

“so that’s the sound of true love, huh?” 

secretly records it once to tease you but ends up setting it as his alarm because “it’s motivating.” 

loves that you’re all dolled up in pink during the day and a little goblin at night. if that isn’t balance, what is? 

he calls you “snuggle siren” like it’s a title of honor. 

custom-orders pink silk pajamas with his number on them for you. “gotta rep your man in your sleep.” 

nagi seishiro

doesn’t even notice. 

he sleeps through it. 

when someone brings it up he’s just like, “eh? she snores? that’s kinda cute.” 

if anything, your snoring helps him fall asleep faster. “white noise, but better.” 

likes napping on your lap while you play games with your pink claw clips in his hair. 

sometimes snores back in harmony. it’s a duet. 

itoshi rin

immediately shot up in bed the first time like what the hell was that. 

“is there a demon in this room? oh. it’s just you.” 

took a while to get used to it but now he just shoves a pillow over his head and accepts fate. 

buys noise-canceling headphones but still insists on cuddling. 

if anyone talks bad about your snoring, he’ll glare and say “she’s perfect.” 

lets you paint his nails pink once. regrets it instantly but lowkey loves the way your eyes sparkle. 

isagi yoichi

was so startled he thought it was an earthquake. 

but he gets used to it fast and actually finds it endearing. 

“you’re the cutest girl in the world, even if you sound like a truck.” 

he tucks you in so gently every night like he’s prepping you for battle. 

brags about how pink and adorable you are but would throw hands if someone mocked your snoring. 

insists on couple items: pink jerseys, pink keychains, and matching pink water bottles (preferably stanleys). 

itoshi sae

lifts his head the first night like are you serious right now. 

side-eyes your sleeping form for a full minute. 

next day: “you snore.” no further comments. 

but he lets you sleep on his chest anyway and eventually finds the noise weirdly comforting. 

buys you expensive pink loungewear like it’s nothing. “you like this color, right?” 

kisses your forehead before bed and says “don’t shake the walls tonight.” you never listen. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[emmcfrxst]

jason todd swears like a sailor whenever you ride him. the visual of your body on top of his, the feeling of your hands on his chest and your cunt fluttering around him, the sweet sounds of your moans and mewls— everything about getting ridden makes jason’s dick hard and turns his brain to mush

[acid-ixx]

i’m kinda curious on whether or not the reader would continue going to college after they go back to the wayne manor. furthermore, i also remember the resder mentioning a small group of friend they had, will they stay in contact with them? how do the family react to them being so close with others? dudhjew i love this series you write so well.

— masterlist !

a/n: phew i finally get to answer asks !! yesterday was insane, me and my family swam on around 5 different beaches so i was outside for more than 12 hours with no wifi and the power keeps turning off in the house due to the weather so that's that. i love writing so this is a bit longer than i expected hehe. oh yeah i forgot to tell yall that in the timeline, the mc may be bruce's third child but they're actually younger than tim as he was adopted later on.

now, to answer. i don't think bruce, as your ever-so loving father, would agree to get you back to college once you're back (kidnapped) in the manor. he wouldn't directly say it, but with your current state of relationship towards your family, with just how much time they have lost not spending it with you, it's a given that bruce, your dad, and your siblings who are feral for any ounce of attention from you, would insist that you take... a very long vacation with just them.

after all, desire is one of the stronger emotions they feel towards you, and they grapple at anything you offer towards them. but they still want you to be happy, no?

so at first, they'll let you go to your classes (though you'd be heavily monitored everywhere. who knows what bad influences scurry the area, right? barbara and tim take turns watching through the live feed of your college) but that's only if, and only if the uni's timetable allows for a flexible schedule with your family after. that means, if you're stubborn enough (which bruce understands, because "bruce! you allow damian to go to school so why can't i?!" and he's willing to give his baby the world after he finally hears them say his name) and still wish to continue the course you're working so hard for, one you had attained a full scholarship for, then go ahead!

though they can't help it when the hours they're supposed to get to know you better are taken away from them. for now, you'll have a taste of freedom before it's ultimately taken away from you.

but until then, you'll have to learn how to balance school life with family life. because even if there would be no more crappy apartment to go home to, even if you actually get a full meal instead of cheap, microwavable oven meals and dollar priced ramen, even if you still get to pursue your dream course— it's undeniable that the moment you leave your uni's doors, you'd be picked up by dick, tim, and even your youngest brother damian fucking wayne driving the car, to be escorted back to the manor strictly after classes. during the night, should you ever overstay for projects, it would be jason who'll greet you and allow you to ride his motorcycle; though that's only permissible if you have updated them a day before that you wouldn't be home before the curfew bruce has set up for you.

sometimes, it's your father who makes an untimely appearance with his well-known persona, brucie wayne. he'll greet all the people who pass by with a teethy smile, his big hand holding your stiff shoulders after he kisses your cheeks as a greeting. if you're out the door with your friends - friends who knew of your history of neglect, who told you they would always take your side - then he'll shake their hand, introduce himself with a charm that makes them question if what you've told them is true.

he presents himself with such an aura that's harmless, as if him and your other siblings who are spying by a bush aren't incapable of taking all friends down with just a punch to their face shall one of them speak up or dare tease you in front of them.

unfortunately for you, even some of your friends would be truly convinced that your father wasn't the same man you've told your lifelong stories about neglect. not when he makes a show of running his hand through his baby's head to comfort them whilst he talks to them, not when he cloaks your shoulders in his own work suit to make sure his child wouldn't feel the chilly weather, not when he takes all the time in his busy day to pick you up from school as he should've done all those years ago.

but who would believe you when it's obviously known by the public eye that bruce loves his child, (name) wayne?

you know it's all fake, and it's scary for you, that he simply was able to make a cover up story to the journalists that his child's lack of presence to the public is him merely wishing to shield them from the disgusting media, no?

now that you're older, he says, he would want to make a show of his undying grip over you, that his gleeming eyes that hold multiple threats towards the people in your campus is simply his overprotectiveness as your father, that if they ever harm you or dare question your family's overprotective nature towards you; they'd be gone by the very hands that sworn to protect gotham.

it's all fake, you tell yourself.

but what isn't false are his intentions to make you feel like you're part of the family now, no matter how much you kick, or fight, or scream; they'll always remind you that you're loved and always will be. it's both an apology and display of affection towards you.

it doesn't matter if your uni is on the other side of gotham, you're always coming home to them and that's final. at least you know they still have an ounce of empathy for you to continue having friends (and a boyfriend that they've no knowledge of, yet), as long as they heavily monitor you...

... what you don't know, though, is that the moment you've fallen into the hands of danger— your father wouldn't hesitate pulling you out of college and instead settling for homeschooling. you have brilliant siblings, after all, and a father who had trained all over the world.

that's why hangouts with friends are unpermitted, you soon discover that only trying to beg bruce to at least be more flexible with your friends would only lead to even lesser chance of trying to find escape in your already stuffy life.

and don't even dare throw a tantrum about preferring your friends over them. if you even go as far as calling one of your friend's parents as an even better parent than bruce could be, that your friends are people you consider actual siblings, then you've guaranteed yourself a one way ticket to being locked up in the manor, permanently; with your father and your siblings, especially damian, trying to prove themselves that, no, you didn't just fucking say that, take it back.

you're going to witness a personal breakdown from damian. because no way do you prefer those scum over him! he's supposed to be your favorite, who are they to take his place?! you love him, you love them, you wanted attention from the family, didn't you?! you wouldn't be able to comfort him because he'd already wear his robin suit, ready to eliminate any of your friends who are younger than you because they don't deserve to be seen as your younger sibling, no matter if you had just blurted that out as retaliation for an argument.

what you had just said is serious, and bruce and dick wouldn't even try to stop that kid from slashing someone in broad daylight; dick choosing to cry and refusing to let you go from his arms as he babbles on about his delusional baby bird, trying his damn best to not let his temper get to him, trying so hard to not choke the ever living shit out of any of your older friends once you confess calling anyone of them your older brother— because him, jason, and tim are supposed to be the only ones you consider your older brothers, babybird!

hell, even tim and babs are already on the monitors ready to give damian each and every one of your friend's individual locations.

bruce especially, would be heartbroken that his child called someone else their father. that's his title. you calling him father, or dad, or papa, or any language that describes him to be your parental figure is the only thing keeping him sane. he hates it when his child only calls him bruce as if to describe a mere stranger, to which he knows he is to you— but it sounds wrong and it furthers the ache in his heart— and it's even worse if you chose to call someone else a father, chose anyone else than him as your dad.

batman is even more cruel in his patrol after your argument, punching the living hell out of any male criminals, picturing your voice playing over and over again calling them your father instead of him— it only makes him perceptive of jason's moral code. because what if you have fallen into the hands of anyone but him before he had come to take you back? he knows he isn't the best, was never there for you until now, but fuck, he needs to make it up to his child, and getting angry at you only worsens your already severed bond with him.

so you may expect a punishment, but it's already punishment towards you when you're now isolated inside the manor with only the presence of your siblings to comfort you throughout the nights where it gets too lonely during patrol time. bruce would have more than an hour long talk with you in his study, forcing you to confess every single thought you have about him and your siblings. he tells you it's all unrecorded, that there's no cameras to watch over your one-on-one confrontation— he just wants his baby's opinion on everything so they could adjust to your every whim, but really, it's all just a matter of them wanting to dive deep into your very thoughts like the invasive creatures they are.

the worst part of it all, is that nobody even dare mentions the names of your friends and their respective family. they listen to anything you say, because you already barely talk, but the moment you mutter about missing them, the topic would be shunned down by something, anything else. whether that'd be damian deciding that his older sibling should paint with him, or dick inviting you to watch him perform his acrobatic stunts.

it's a distraction you know you're susceptible to, because they all wish to take your thoughts away from those scum, as damian calls them, and instead have you focus on them, your actual family. those people are nothing to you, now that they're out of the picture.

... you should've chosen to be homeschooled instead of unintentionally getting your friends killed.

[machveil]

Johnny loves showing off around you. absolutely adores when your eyes are on him - he’s subtly flexing his arms, kneeling down to tie his shoe, hoping you’re looking at his thigh. he loves making comments when he does catch you looking at him

Johnny keeps you glued to him, or rather— Johnny keeps himself glued to you. it doesn’t matter if it’s just the two of you or you’re with others, Johnny has an arm around your shoulders as he grins at you. maybe he’s a little possessive, sure, but you look so cute tucked against his side

Johnny always finds a reason to take a photo with you. he likes what you’re wearing? he’s pulling you in for a selfie. your hair looks nice today? well, you have to have a photo - it’s a good hair day after all. he’s a fan of mirror selfies because he can fit both of you into frame, it doesn’t matter if you’re shorter or taller than him, he likes looking at the height difference

CW: mirror sex, photos/recording, smug bastard Johnny

Johnny has your face pressed against his pillow, hand on the back of your head as he ruts his hips against your ass. you look so good like this for him, back arched and spit pooling on his pillow cover - but he’s not looking down at you

Johnny’s gaze is glued to the mirror in his room, his free hand holding his phone. when he asked if he could get a video of you he was absolutely delighted when you agreed - already hard even before he got you into bed. he’s got his phone angled at the mirror, a lopsided smile on his lips as you press back against him

Johnny groans when you clamp down hard around him, your orgasm caught on camera for him - a little something to look at when he’s deployed. he ends the recording, but he simply swipes right, his camera pointing down at you now. his pace only picks up when you fist his bedsheets, dumbly slurring his name

Johnny can’t help himself, a couple photos of where you’re connected snapped before he tosses his phone away. both hands gripping your hips, he leans down over you, mouthing at you neck as he pounds away - maybe he’ll brag about the photos to the 141, not that they’ll ever see them