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weebsinstash · 2 days

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I want yandere Alastor being the biggest fucking hypocrite on the block and getting painfully humbled by reality so fucking bad you don't understand

I want a story where you stumble into becoming his friend with benefits, become the person who gets him interested in sex as a physical activity, and then one day you ask him "hey, what are we?" And his response being ABSOLUTELY RUDE AS HELL, albeit unintentionally, and you immediately cut him off from sex because his reply was basically the equivalent of "you're fun to sleep with, but the rest of you? No :)" (and also maybe he didn't even fully mean it, maybe he only partially meant it but he can tell he's forming some kind of new emotion for you and he doesn't want that to become a point of weakness for him so he's pushing you away but once you're actually gone he wants you back more than ANYTHING--)

I want yandere Alastor who laughs in your face if you nervously ask him if you're his girlfriend or something but then when you show up around town with another man less than a week later and he sees how easily you REPLACED HIM, he's just absolutely losing his mind. What do you MEAN you were still sleeping with other men this whole time?!?! The Radio Demon was getting SLOPPY SECONDS??? WHY would you let these-these disgusting bastards DEGRADE YOU-- meanwhile you and him could've been having like hardcore bdsm sex with actual degradation or some semi respectful form of it and he's STILL over here "B B BUT THESE MEN PROBABLY DONT EVEN RESPECT YOU--" and neither did you, you laughed in my fucking face you bitch!!!

yandere Alastor just having to sit and have a fulllll glass of whiskey and ruminate on his thoughts as he tries to come to terms with these sudden EXTREMELY POSSESSIVE feelings and urges he has. What do you MEAN he wasn't providing anything for you that you couldn't get somewhere else AND BETTER AND ALREADY HAVE BEEN? what do you MEAN you're making gifts for and going out and having actual fun dates with some of these men? What do you fucking MEAN YOU'RE 'ROMANTICALLY INVOLVED WITH SOMEONE ELSE NOW' AND WOULDN'T SLEEP WITH ALASTOR EVEN IF HE APOLOGIZED BECAUSE YOU REALLY LIKE THIS GUY--

Alastor hardcore coping, trying not to think about you at all, telling himself he just needs time and this'll all blow over and he wont even think about you anymore, and eventually finds his feet carrying him to your favorite jazz club that he would take you to, AND YOU'RE ALREADY THERE WITH ANOTHER MAN. Now THIS is what causes Alastor to finally have a public episode. No, some RANDO can't come with you HERE, this is YOUR place, OUR place, it's special, it's for Alastor and you ONLY!! basically turns him into a little kid stomping his foot going no no no that's MINE!!!

This narcissistic ass man really ain't shit, over here responding to your actually extremely valid question of "what are we?" because you were actually trying to respectfully ask him if there were any certain boundaries or if you were now exclusive, and he hits you with some deflective dehumanizing diversion like "what makes you think I would have THOSE kinds of feelings about YOU?" until he's painfully aware you're sleeping with another man, kissing another man, making hot meals for another man, holding his hand tenderly as you take a leisurely stroll, GOD FORBID HE CATCHES WIND OF ANY MARRIAGE TALK, HE WILL FUCKING L O S E IT

Juat the idea of him being so close to having what he wants - your body, heart, AND mind- and he fucks it up big time and ruins your relationship and self esteem so badly. He tries to pretend that he doesn't need your attention and/or affection but the second he doesn't have EITHER, he's a jealous mess trying to literally one-up whomever you're with, show off, impress you, usually digging his hole even deeper. Alastor becoming more unpredictable over time, literally losing sleep over you, absolutely CONVINCED 500% that all of these, shall we say, "more modern men" that you're choosing are not even worth the dirt in the treads of your shoes.

Just twirling my hair kicking my feet thinking bout yandere Alastor, becoming dead-set on genuinely and fully believing he has to save you not just from these men, but also yourself. Oh honey, he's so sorry, CLEARLY this is his fault for not watching over you better. He already knew you were... delicate and naive, but here you are, running around letting these men treat you like some kind of object just because you need what you perceive as acceptance and validation. It almost breaks his heart, truly, but don't worry darlin'! He's a southern gentleman and, SURELY he can turn up the charm and make it clear to you that you MISUNDERSTOOD HIM, right? :) You're going to GIVE HIM ANOTHER CHANCE, right? :)

genuinely, i feel like this man is more likely to try and gaslight you into believing you completely misinterpreted what he said instead of just apologizing let alone ADMITTING that he himself didn't communicate jack shit about shit, wasn't honest or up front about his feelings, and may have even be intentionally cruel to you in a moment of weakness to try and keep his own insecurities at bay, but then is fully capable of convincing, some may even say BRAINWASHING you into believing, oh sweetie, if these DEGENERATE DELIQUENTS somehow convinced you that your best friend and future husband is somehow your enemy, then, CLEARLY he hasn't been keeping you close enough to properly care for you and help you keep a clear head, has he? guess it's a good thing both of you are Sinners and he has NOTHING but time to show you EXACTLY what his intentions are. So, dear doe, which do you like the sound of more: a spring wedding, or a summer wedding, or maaaaaybe you two could even get hitched during some lovely acid rain so your new spouse can demonically laugh at all your screaming "gentleman callers" captive in the wedding audience who "accidentally" weren't put under any gazebos or any sort of protection while being forced to watch Alastor take you away--

#yandere alastor x reader #alastor x reader #yandere hellaverse #yandere hazbin hotel #hh #sinprompts

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joelslastofus · 12 hours

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[SUMMARY: During a car ride Joel attempts to hide his erection from you along with feelings he knows he shouldn’t have for his friend’s daughter.]

Smut, Angst

Getting a hard on for his friend’s daughter was not something he planned. It wasn’t something he was proud of.

When your father was killed, before he took his last breath, he made Joel promise him he would watch over you and keep you safe. Joel did just that knowing you had no one else. He and your father had been close friends for nearly five years, but he never really saw you around because you had lived with your mother growing up until right before the world ended. Of course, one thing Joel didn’t expect was just how much he began to like you yet, he knew you were off limits.

It had been five months now since your father had died, you and Joel were traveling back to where Tommy was. Although you were twenty, you had never learned how to drive so Joel began teaching you so you both could take turns to rest.

Joel and you had stopped at a shopping center hoping to find some more supplies but of course you became distracted by a clothing section. Mesmerized by the dresses the mannequins wore…you’d kill for the black silk one right in front of you. Watching Joel distracted in the other side of the room you grabbed the dress and hid behind a wall trying it on. You knew Joel would’ve convinced you other wise telling you it was pointless to do, but it had been so long since you dressed up. Catching a glimpse of yourself in a dusty old mirror you gasped. An old ticket showing the $700 price tag on it, why not have some fun with it?

“Joel! Look what I found” you stood before him excitedly as he was hunched over looking beneath a table. The second he stood up, his eyes lighting up before realizing what the hell he was thinking.

“What are you doin’?” He asked in a slight irritated tone.

“I found it and I had to try it on, Joel. I used to love wearing dresses and it’s gorgeous! I mean what do you think?!” Innocently you turned around looking back at him, showing the revealing cut it had down to your lower back. His eyes looking at you in a way they never had, following the slit to your ass before you turned back to him. Joel was speechless, you had no idea the effect you in that black dress had on him.

“Well?” You smiled as he stood serious, struggling to find the words.

“It’s nice” he spoke low, controlling his reaction on what he really thought. Joel couldn’t deny his attraction to you but anything he felt didn’t matter, he wouldn’t disrespect his friend this way.

“It’s gorgeous! It’s a $700 dress, you believe that?”

“We gotta get goin” Joel quickly changed the topic forcing himself to look away. You shrugged silently grabbing your backpack and walking beside him when he realized you were leaving with the dress on.

“The hell ya doin’?” He asked stopping you in your tracks.

“We’re just driving, thought I’d enjoy it on for a bit till our next stop. Come on don’t be a buzz kill” You laughed before walking off, Joel gulped not knowing how he was suppose to ignore you in that dress for the next four hours.

Sitting in the passenger seat you leaned your seat back drifting off to sleep until it was your turn to drive. Joel beside you gripping the steering wheel for dear life fighting the urge to look over at you. Thoughts roaming in his head like never before, inappropriate things about you that he couldn’t control. Moving around in your sleep you softly moaned making Joel unable to resist turning to you. One movement of your leg and the dress had slightly rose above your knee giving him a glimpse of your thigh. The sight sending blood rushing to his cock causing him to quickly swell up in his pants.

“Shit” Joel cursed at himself trying to ignore the urge he felt when you began to move around slowly waking up.

“How long have I been sleeping?” You yawned rubbing your eyes as Joel adjusted his pants struggling to hide his hard on.

“Uh, I don’t know” he kept his eyes on the road with his arm on his lap. You couldn’t help but notice he sounded strange and so you pushed your chair up looking over at him.

“You ok, you wanna switch spots now?” You asked but he quickly shook his head just wanting you to look away from him. His arm awkwardly sitting on his lap you couldn’t help but notice his awkward posture.

“What’s wrong with your arm?” Your question making him more nervous.

“Huh? Nothin’” he cleared his throat before swallowing hard. Getting a hard on for his friend’s daughter was not something he planned. It wasn’t something he was proud of.

“Whatever” you whispered looking away as Joel remained tense hoping his nerves would kill the erection.

“I’m so thirsty, you have any left over water in your bottle” you looked over to the full bottle against his door and reached over.

“Hey, what the hell you doin’?”

Joel panicked feeling you come near him and attempted to grab his water bottle to pass it to you before realizing he was no longer covering his very obvious bulge.

“Oh-“ you gasped as he came to a sudden stop.

“Here, take the damn water bottle” he handed it to you without looking at you in the eye knowing you had seen what he was trying to hide. You had never suspected to see this side of Joel yet you couldn’t take your eyes off it.

What could’ve made him hard?

Looking up at him you realized how much he refused to look at you…maybe it was you. About to let himself out of the car, curiosity got the best of you and you slowly placed your hand on his bulge.

“What are you doin’-” He whispered low looking down at your hands on him, the feel of you so close taking over him. You could see him trying to fight it, yet he didn’t move.

“Relax” you whispered softly. Feeling the thickness of his length through his pants, his breathing growing heavier as if he was about to burst. Slowly you unbuttoned his pants, the urge he felt for you was too strong to stop you.

“Wait-” He whispered roughly yet he didn’t want you to stop. Gently you pulled out his warm thick cock in your hands looking up at him to find him already sweating.

It must’ve been so long since a woman touched him, you could see how much he needed this. Unexpectedly you leaned forward taking him in your mouth making his hips jerk, a sound you couldn’t make out harshly coming out of him.

“Fuck-“ he leaned his head back, his hands not knowing where to go, almost afraid to touch you. Joel closed his eyes in shame, what kind of man was he allowing you to do this? Feelings that Joel realized were never just platonic for you, he didn’t know what the hell they were.

Slowly you got up and leaned over to his side getting on top of him. Straddling him you felt him place his hands tightly on your waist. His eyes darkening realizing you never had any underwear on, the tip of his cock feeling how wet you were. The look in his eyes of a man that lost control as you took him in completely.

“Shit-“ Joel squeezed your waist. Grabbing onto his button shirt you began to ride him, his jaw tensing at the feel of how tight you were, stretching for him with each stroke. A sudden loud moan from you taking Joel by surprise as you moved faster. He watched as the silk dress slipped off your shoulders giving him a glimpse of your breast jumping out with each movement you made. He knew he wouldn’t last long especially with the way you felt wrapped around his cock. Leaning close against him you held onto his broad shoulders, breathless as he looked at you completely lost in the pleasure. A deep moan coming from his lips when his hips jerked upward.

“Fuck- get up- get up-“ he choked out before he picked you up himself off his cock and came. Throwing yourself to the side you watched as he finished jerking himself off, his cum building up on his hand as more continued to spill out of him. He sat still for a minute with his eyes closed, out of breath as you watched him..

The ride continued silently, Joel was serious staring ahead not making any eye contact with you. He could feel you look over at him here and there, the guilt eating up at him. How the hell could he have let this happen? Joel was pissed at himself for giving in, for being so weak.

“Are you mad at me?” Your question catching him off guard. Of course he wasn’t mad at you, he was more angry at himself, he should’ve known better. Maybe you should’ve known better but caught in the moment you didn’t think. Joel was a man you trusted, the two of you were adults and things escalated quickly, why did it feel so wrong?

“No” his response not convincing you.

Joel decided to pull up to another pharmacy to see what other supplies could be found along the way. Waiting for him to get out you called out to him telling him you were going to change. Joel turned his back to the car waiting for you not saying a word.

“Let’s go” you walked past him reaching the front door before slowly opening it.

“Hold on, dammit” Joel grabbed the door letting himself in first taking a look around as you followed. After clearing the place the two of you began looking for anything you might need. Still you watched how Joel avoided you, not letting himself get close to you until you finally had enough.

“You’re really just not gonna talk to me?”

He stood still thinking of what to say but didn’t say a word.

“Look, I never expected that to happen, Joel. I wouldn’t have just done that with anyone” you continued as he distracted himself looking around him.

“You can’t even look at me-“

“It shouldn’t have happened” he whispered looking down.

“Well it did-“

“It was wrong” his voice grew louder as he unexpectedly looked up.

“I made a promise to your father-“

“My father is dead, Joel! I’m not a little girl.”

He most certainly knew you weren’t.

“I’m not looking for you to baby me or..want something more with me so don’t worry about that, but the least you could do is not act like I’m no longer worth speaking to anymore”

“Maybe you never were” he responded rather quickly catching you off guard. Joel didn’t want you upset with him but maybe that’s what was best. Anything was better than Joel coming to terms that maybe this wasn’t just a sexual encounter. A sexual encounter that he should’ve never allowed in the first place.

“I only helped you because of your father, you think I would’ve stayed stuck with some young dumb broad just for the hell of it?” His words cutting through deep. You didn’t think for a second Joel had feelings for you, but he also had never spoken to you like this.

“You’ve only held me back” he whispered coldly, he noticed your eyes tearing up and quickly looked away. A wave of guilt washing over him as you angrily walked out slamming the door shut. Joel watched through the window making sure you got back to the car safely, he noticed you wipe away a tear only deepening his guilt.

During the rest of the car ride you didn’t speak to Joel, you didn’t even look at him. Joel taking a quick glance with the corner of his eye as you faced the window.

Once arriving back to Tommy’s you got out of the car and slammed the door shut heading to your room.

“Everything alright?” Tommy asked Joel watching you walk off.

“Peachy” Joel muttered low walking towards his brother.

Heading towards your room you ran into a few of the guys hanging out having drinks. Usually you were never one to drink but with the way you were feeling, why the hell not?

“What are you guys drinking today?” you caught them by surprise. Sure, Joel had warned you to stay away from these guys that were nothing but trouble but what was it his business whom you decided to surround yourself with.

“Whiskey, want some?” One of the guys asked.

“Please” you surprisingly grabbed the bottle from him and took a chug.

“Oh gross” you wiped your lips as the men laughed.

“Not a drink huh? Maybe you should slow down” they laughed just before you took another chug.

The night went on as the four of you laughed and talked about nonsense, you honestly were enjoying yourself. Joel having a drink with Tommy at the bar he had no idea what you had been up to outside thinking you were in your room.

“Ellie’s been alright?” Joel asked Tommy who nodded before taking a sip.

“She’s making friends easily, the kids like her” Tommy responded before they were both distracted by the sound of laughter and glass breaking outside.

“The hell was that?” Tommy slammed his glass down before heading out as Joel followed only to find the typical guys drinking together acting childish, except this time you were amongst them.

“Oh shit it’s Joel-“ one of the guys whispered hiding his bottle of alcohol, the other attempting to grab the bottle out of your hand.

“What the hell are you guys so afraid of? Joel Miller?” You laughed stumbling to the side as you took another sip. The guys standing up straight as Joel and his brother walked up to them.

“The hell are you doin’ here?” Joel walked up inches away from your face looking down at you.

“Uh, Joel she was just having a drink and-“

“Was I talking’ to ya, boy?!” Joel quickly snapped at one of the guys beside you.

“Let’s go, get out of here” Tommy led the guys away from you and Joel which only pissed you off.

“No-where are they…going…?” You slurred as you attempted to follow them with a stumble, Joel grabbed your arm.

“Let go of me!” You pulled pack hitting the wall behind you.

“I was just…drinking with some friends”

“Ya know damn well they ain’t no friends” Joel took another step forward towering over you.

“I told you about those guys god dammit-“

“What the hell do you care!?” You attempted to shove him, yet he was harder to move than you expected. Taking another chug he unexpectedly grabbed the bottle away from you as you attempted to grab it back.

“Hey!” He threw aside breaking the glass.

“What the hell Joel!”

“This what cha wanna do? You get pissed at me so you go and get drunk with these losers?” He furrowed his brows.

“And what’s it to you?” You smirked at him.

“Maybe I wanted to get drunk and let one of them fuck me” your words making Joel clench his jaw. A hint of jealousy stinging him when he suddenly grabbed you by your legs and carried you over his shoulder.

“What are you doing?!” You screamed kicking and hitting him but he didn’t budge. Not saying a word he let you scream until he bought you to your room. Kicking the door open Joel lay you down on the bed, before you ever had a chance to get up he walked out and closed the door shut behind him with a lock.

“What are you doing?! Open the door!!” You slammed your hands on the door angrily. Maybe this was selfish of him, Joel didn’t like the idea of you with any of these men, you with any other man for that matter. But at the same time you were drunk, he refused to let you make a stupid mistake out of anger.

“Open the door” you screamed once more when to your surprise, he actually opened it.

“Go” he whispered.

“Go on, go fuck those friends of yours-“ he stood back giving you space to walk out.

“That’s what you want right?” You could hear the irritation in his voice.

“What do you…care…” you continued to slur waving your hands around.

“What the hell do you…care who I…fuck, or what I do“ Joel unexpectedly grabbed you by your waist pushing you into the room.

“Cause I want you god dammit-“ he shocked you with his words.

“And not just you on top of me” his eyes looked deeply into yours.

“I want you beside me, I want you with me” he whispered as you stumbled slightly off balance. Too shocked…too drunk to respond, Joel didn’t know if he’d regret admitting this to you…a part of him hoping you wouldn’t remember the next day.

“I-I need to..lay down” you whispered as the room began to spin. Joel quickly lay you back on the bed, your hand covering your eyes as the sensation of a ride began to take over you.

“I’m really dizzy..” you whispered as he sat beside you.

“I’m right here” he held your hand in his as you closed your eyes and fell to sleep. Joel didn’t know what the hell got into him to admit anything to you, he didn’t know how he felt about it. He wondered what the next day would hold, if you would recall what he had been hiding for so long…

#pedro pascal #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller angst #joel miller smut #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #joel miller fan fic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n

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romanticintheory · 7 hours

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thinking about fellow soldier!reader coming back to ghost after having been mistaken for kia

gn!reader x simon "ghost" riley

-maybe he's back in your shared apartment, holding the last photo he took with you.

-it was taken the day of your birthday, with your arms around simon's waist and a gleeful smile permanently etched on your face.

-you were looking directly at the camera with your eyes crinkled at the corners. simon, however, was looking at you and only you with an expression only a lovestruck fool could manage.

-he had long since stopped crying about what he believed was your death. when price came to him with a somber expression and the news that you were on the wrong end of an explosion, the only thing he could do was cry or be angry.

-now, he felt nothing.

-you could imagine his surprise when he hears the front door open. did he forget to lock it? was someone breaking in? he didn't care enough to prepare himself for a potential attack.

-but, no, you walked in with an ungodly amount of bandaged wounds and a tired look on your face.

-you expected him to stand from his place on the sofa to meet you, but he didn't. he thought he was imagining things, again, so he said nothing.

-"simon," you said softly, not bothering to take off your shoes and throwing you things onto the ground next to you.

-still, he said nothing.

-"i'm sorry. i'm so, so sorry. price said he tried to contact you but that you never answered," you continued. nobody knew where you and ghost lived, and simon's grief took the form of self-isolation.

-he still didn't answer you at this point, and it was becoming unsettling.

-"simon, can you hear me?"

-"you're not real," was all he could muster. he didn't have the heart to tell "fake" you to go away or beg himself to wake up from his supposed dream. "i can't do this again. you're not real."

-you realized just how hard your false death had hit him.

-"i'm real. i promise. i was able to take cover last second and-"

-"no. you're dead with not even a body to recover because i wasn't there to protect you. god, i..." the words got stuck in his throat as he leaned forward on the sofa, holding his head in his hands and near trembling.

-you dropped to your knees in front of him like a follower worshipping their god. taking his hands, you held them tight as you could in a silent attempt at convincing him you were alive.

-there was a moment of silence between the two of you before he drew his hands away from yours. it made your heart hurt.

-"simon..." you were grasping at straws, now, trying to figure out how to convince him of what was true. maybe there was something in your luggage that might help.

-as soon as you turned your body to your bags by the front door, you were pulled right back in by a pair of strong arms.

-he was hugging you like the moment he let go, you'd disappear into thin air (and, in a way, he believed it to be a possibility). after being pulled from your shock, you immediately brought your own arms to reciprocate the embrace.

-"(y/n)," he said, trying to keep his voice stable. there was still a part of him that couldn't believe he had you with him. if he weren't so thankful, he'd be lecturing you about acting wreckless on missions and convincing you to quit your job so nothing like this happened again.

-but, for now, he was content like this.

#call of duty imagine #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #cod imagine #cod mw x reader #simon riley imagine #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley imagine #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost imagine #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #ghost x you #cod angst #call of duty angst #simon riley angst #ghost angst #rara writes

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internetb3by · 13 hours

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pairing: jason x reader

synopsis: you woke up before jason feeling needy

content warnings: smut, sleepy sex, pet names (princess), fingering, use of the word panties (just once i think unless i changed it)

word count: 975

you woke up before jason, his soft rhythmic breaths sounding from his side of the bed.

at first, you didn’t want to move in fear of waking him. you knew he was a light sleeper (if he managed to get any sleep at all), but you couldn’t help yourself. he just looked so pretty.

shifting forward ever so slightly, your body now close enough to admire his face. you gaze first landing on his eyelashes, which where unfairly long in your opinion, then they shifted to his nose with was slightly crooked, from being broken one too many times. your eyes moved to his hair, the soft strands, currently a mess on his head, they framed his face perfectly. the white streak contrasting the dark locs on the rest of his head. you’d kill to run your fingers through them or grip them while he was between your thighs it’s a miracle he doesn’t wake when you give into the urge to do just that.

ever so slightly your fingers brush through hair framing his face. you convinced yourself it was to move them out of his face and not because you wanted to “accidentally” wake him up to soothe the ache growing between your thighs. it doesn’t help when your eyes travel down further and find his bare chest.

your mind wandered to him coming home, he most likely slipped through your window. his heavy boots stomping onto your hardwood floors as he dragged his sleep ridden body to your bedroom, only stopping to triple check the locks were in place. he probably began to undress himself when he finally made it into your bedroom, fingers going to press the release button on his helmet with a click before setting aside. next he probably stripped off the heavy armored layers of his suit and then tossed them haphazardly somewhere in the room. doing the same with his dirty boots.

your point only seeming to be proven when you noticed the clothes splayed out in the corner of your room. you’re attention was only off of him for a second though because it was back on his sleeping figure within seconds of your realization. unfortunately for you imagining him stripping down to get into bed only had you squeezing your thighs together for some relief.

luckily for you though, he stirred awake while your mind was elsewhere. a soft sleep laced groan was heard followed by his voice

“princess.” his raspy voice snapping you out of your fantasy

Seemingly able to know what you were thinking without you vocalizing it, his hands find your hips. calloused hands sliding over the lace. chapped lips suckle at your neck. filling the room with your soft whimpers. his hand traveling further down your hips, tracing the lace before his forefinger finds the edge of your underwear, peeling it aside as his hand slips underneath them.

his hand lazily slides further into your underwear. finding you completely drenched.

“this all for me?” he mumbles the question into your skin, not really expecting an answer, not that you could anyways because almost as soon as he said that his finger finds your puffy little clit. his finger rubbing tight circles onto the bud.

in response your hand found his arm, nails digging into it, leaving crescent shaped marks on skin.

breathless moans escaping your lips, despite how you tried to muffle them by tucking your face into your pillow. his hand slipped further down threatening to slip into your desperate hole, but he stops before they do. collecting your slick and spreading it over your folds before pulling them out altogether.

his slick coated fingers find their way to your lips, an unspoken command for you to suck them, and you do. your parched lip’s part and you greedily swallow what he gives you. you run your tongue over the digits moaning around them. he pulls them out with a pop.

“please.” a whine escaped you when he pulled them out. without giving you a chance to elaborate his lips found yours. he moaned finally tasting you. his tongue glides over yours and his hands slip down your body; only stopping to take a few moments to tweak at your pebbled nipples before sliding down to where you wanted him the most. pulling your underwear down just enough to give him access.

and without missing a beat he reached down to pull the band of his underwear down to reveal himself. he gave himself a few teasing strokes before lining himself up with your heat. Your breath hitching when you caught sight of him. unconsciously you began to rock against him. His hands move to your hips to still them.

his eyes flicker from your body to your eyes, silently asking if this was okay. you nod vigorously, lips parting with a silent plea.

moments later you feel the pleasurable stretch of him burying himself into you. your hands scratching at his back as he fucks into you. desperate moans fill the room as your sweaty bodies collide.

you feel yourself reaching the edge. His hand slides down to sloppily rub at your clit to push you over the edge. Before you can stop yourself, not that you wanted to, white hot pleasure burns through your body as you cum. your tight cunt squeezing him and like a ripple effect it sends him into his own orgasm. He buries his face into your shoulder biting down ever so slightly. he collapses ontop of you as he comes down. sliding out of you he kisses your forehead affectionately. you wince slightly as he pulls out.

“good morning” he mumbles into your sweaty skin. and you kiss him, a lot gentler this time, reciprocating his greeting. post-orgasimic bliss surrounds you both as you yawn. and you both start to drift off again.

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a/n: this fic was supposed to be something completely different. it was supposed to be a quick fix about Jason's nose( a fluffy piece about admiring his scars and stuff). I started this at about 2 am and wrote until 4 in the morning. then i came back and added some more this afternoon. okay, that's all from me. hopefully, there will be more bc I want to write more consistently, and since summer is soon, we'll see. shout out to ungoldy hour bc i was playing that and chappell roan while writing, i love chappell roan sm.

#star rambles #i firmly believe he has a crooked nose #jason todd propaganda #jason todd x reader #jason todd #jason todd smut

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luvrxbunny · 1 day

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mini blurbs ─ ★ joel miller x f! reader

a/n: ngl. some of these are blurb sized blurbs but i was just too lazy to give them their own post 😇

wc: 992

warnings: 18+ MDNI, cum in pants, voyerism(?), dry humping, piv, blowjob

-> dbf!joel who gets invited to the family bbq/pool party only to lose his shit the second he sees you. he ends up (uncharacteristically) being the first person in the pool because there’s no other way to hide how hard he is.

you eventually feel bad, watching him float around the empty pool, and decide to join him.

so he has to touch himself while you’re talking to him. you’re so beautiful in the sunlight, your skin basically glowing. you’re just slightly sweating, letting joel’s imagination conjure up insane scenarios.

to top it all off, you start touching him. you notice his silence along with his sweaty and red face. you assume it’s the heat, pressing the back of your hand to his forehead then his cheek, and commenting on how hot he feels.

his hips repeatedly jerk towards you as he cums into the netting of his shorts. trying to keep his voice steady as he lets you know that he is perfectly fine.

-> dbf!joel who is disgustingly depraved. like he lurks around your room at night, sometimes just standing out in the hall to hear you moving around in there. you catch him spraying your perfume on his shirts on multiple occasions.

you don't technically know what he does with the shirts but you know that when your dad has him in the guest room, he thinks the walls are a lot thicker than they are.

-> finally convincing joel to send you a full body video of him cumming and he shocks you to your core when it’s just a video of him sitting back, full body in frame, his thick hairy thighs and huge arms grabbing your attention instantly. he’s looking directly at the camera as his cock bobs between his thighs, twitching and leaking everywhere for the camera before tensing up and spurting across his chest. joel’s head flies backwards as a deep groan rattles from his chest as he paints it white. he comes down with slow chants of “oh baby-” and "fuck, sweetheart." before going silent, just huffing into the air.

when he looks back down at the camera you can see a blush over his cheeks as he reaches for it. you can tell he's looking at himself not the camera when he gives you a “hope that was alright.” and a soft, timid smile before it ends

you respond with “come over right now.”

-> trying to give joel a blowjob for the first time. he's basically bouncing in his seat as you get on your knees. you take your time unzipping his pants, smiling at the way he moans at everything you do. his breathing picks up once you reach for the band of his breifs, his hands coming to the side of his chair, gripping so hard that his knuckles almost turn white. you take a moment to take in his state, all disheveled despite the fact that you've done nothing but undress him.

he rewards you with a desperate, breathy "i'll do anything".

his hips are fucking into the air as he keeps his eyes trained on the ceiling. you concede, wrapping your hand around his dick and shocking a moan out of him. you finally lean forward to place your lips on his tip, licking at his slit softly, relishing in his salty taste. he sucks in a sharp breath and never exhales.

you pull off of him to giggle at his reaction, maybe lick up his shaft. but the second you come off, his hips pump into the air, humping his dick against your cheek before cumming all over your face.

he groans like he got kicked in the chest, completely out of breath and so gravelly you know his voice will be scratchy afterward.

“mmm fuck. m’sorry. m’ so so sorry, love. s- so good.”

-> joel who wraps his arms around you so tightly that they shake when he cums. no matter what position. he’ll either rearrange the both of you so he can wrap you up or he’ll figure out a way in the position you’re in.

if he’s fucking you in doggy then he’ll lean down and wrap one arm around you. to make up for the missing arm, he’ll rant about how much he loves you in your ear.

his favorite position to have you in is spooning. first, because it's convenient. second, because he can wrap both his arms around you and pull you against his body as tightly as he wants.

sometimes he'll lock you in place and flip onto his back, planting his heels into the bed before beginning his relentless pace into your crying cunt.

-> in a van for a supply run with joel, tommy, maria and some other unknown characters. maria and tommy are upfront with the goons taking up the middle seats. you had to beg joel for this but you guys are in a cuddling position. joel sitting with his back to window, one leg straight and the other planted on the floor. you're sitting between his legs, leaning back against him but sitting straight enough to just turn your head if you want to kiss him.

but the road is more worn down than either of you expected. you try to act like you haven't only been focused on the hot bulge digging into your back every time the van bumps over a rock but once you feel the hot mass begin to harden and expand, you realize you're not the only one struggling with those thoughts.

with some more begging, a lot of neck kisses, gentle caressing, and soft, desperate words to joel. you're now in the same position but bent at the waist, giving him perfect access to your perky ass.

he's having way more fun than he'd care to admit but you can feel it. he was cautious at first, stopping anytime someone said something he thought might draw attention to the back, or even when the van got too silent. but know he's going at you. he's bringing your hips back directly on his cock like he's fucking you.

and he has no problem draping himself over your back to lean in your ear so you can hear him cumming in his pants for you

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zorosprincess · 2 days

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I Fucking Hate You

PAIRING - Tsukishima Kei x Reader WC - 4.5K GENRE - smut CW - mentions of drinking, short(er) reader, manhandling, some degradation... i mean c'mon... it's tsukki, fingering, mentions of spit, unprotected sex, creampie

MASTERLIST | NEXT PART

If you would have known that letting your best friend Aiko convince you to come to the university volleyball team's 'end of trimester' party would end with you here, like this... you would not have come. You would have said to hell with her begging and her crocodile tears, the pout on her lips that was replaced with a huge smile the second you gave in and said yes.

"You're worse than that Oikawa boy." You had said the words just to watch her face twist up in disgust as she gagged, "never compare me to him again." "You know he likes you, right?" you'd joked, hoping to get her irritated enough with you that she'd rescind the invite. It hadn't worked, her hand waving in dismissal, "you're not making me uninvite you."

So yeah. If you'd known that this is where it would have gotten you, you would have said no. If you'd have known that your best friend's ex boyfriend would have been at the party (a fact you were sure Aiko purposely forgot to mention it to you for this reason) you would not have come.

And if you would have known that you and the aforementioned male would be forced to actually interact thanks to your bitch of a best friend, you would have pushed her down the stairs the second you got here and ran for the hills. Because here you were. Alone. With one of the people that you hated the most. The one person you argued with the most.

Honestly, knowing who was throwing the party, you could really only blame yourself. He was on the team. You should've expected him to be here. Really you just didn't think he'd be the type to come to a party. The type to let himself be convinced to come. It was stupid, really. You realized so the second you pulled up to Tadashi's house with Aiko.

The same way you would always show up for Aiko, Tsukishima Kei would always show up for Tadashi.

You had determined that the best way to avoid Tsukishima was to drink with Aiko. To glue yourself to her side because you knew he didn't want to come around both a girl he hated and his ex-girlfriend. As long as you didn't let yourself get pulled away by a teammate then you should have been fine.

Should have been.

What you did not account for, however, was being shoved down the hallway after him by said traitor best friend as he was sent to go find extra towels because a couple of the boys wanted to jump into the pool.

It had taken you all of five minutes to give up on finding the towels and to sit yourself on the bed, eyes trailing after the stupid bean pole as he kept digging through cabinets of the room you'd been pointed to.

"Would you care to repeat that?" he sneered out the words and it occurred to you that maybe you hadn't called him that insult only in your head.

"Nope." you popped the p on the word and rolled your eyes. You were suddenly aware of how stupid the drinks with Aiko had been. It wasn't that you were drunk, but you were compromised enough to have no filter between your mouth and your brain. No impulse control. "No one wants to talk to you anyways," you giggled as you let the name Hinata taught you slip from your lips, "Suckyshima."

You were trying so hard not to laugh at the glare he gave you then. He let out an annoyed huff of air as his tongue poked at his lower lip in irritation. He was towering over you at that point - When did he move in front of you? Why did he have to be so tall that it hurt for your neck to crook back and look at him? - he was looking down at you with his signature condescending smirk.

"Listen, shrimp," his smirk widened as you glared up at him, "I'm sorry the simple task of looking for towels is too hard for that dumb little brain of yours to understand," he emphasized his words with a flick to your forehead and you nearly growled as you swatted his hand away, "but don't take it out on me." He laughed and stepped away from you.

You clenched our teeth as you stood up then, not that it helped much, he still towered over you as you straightened to your full height. You tried your hardest to keep your tone unbothered as you struck out, trying to hit a nerve, "ya know, lamppost-" you couldn't help your smile, almost seeing the tilt of his head and eye roll at the sound of the nickname you'd never once let up on since the first time you'd met- "if you weren't such an ass maybe someone would actually enjoy talking to you."

He scoffed, continuing to look around the room for the third time. "Like you? I'd rather be deaf and mute for the rest of my life."

You made an amused sound in the back of your throat. "At least I'd never have to listen to your stupid voice again." It was a childish jab, you knew it and he knew it, but you couldn't help yourself. The need to piss him off, to annoy him, it was just too overwhelming. You had to do it. "I mean doing the world a favor really. Maybe knock that smug look off your face, sitting there, thinking you're better than everyone."

"Like you're any better?" He turned to look at you, eyebrows raised and lips twitching, mocking as he re-closed the distance he'd just put between the two of you. Why did he have to be so stupidly tall? "Walking around, acting like a bitch, like the world owes you everything." He glared down at you and you looked right back up at him in defiance. "Think you'd know better since you haven't been able to attract a boy since high school - yeah Maki's told me all about it. Walking around like you're the shit just because you're a pent up bitch."

You could feel your face heat up in anger. Embarrassment coursing into your system as you silently cursed Aiko for sharing that information with the enemy. It wasn't like you had actively looked for someone and had been turned down, so it wasn't like it was something to be ashamed of. But knowing that Tsukishima knew about it suddenly made all rational thought leave your brain.

"You don't know shit." You shoved at his chest and he took a half step back at the force. He let out a soft scoff, almost like he was impressed you even had the gall to lay your hands on him. "Like you've landed a girl since you were with Aiko in high school?" You shoved again and watched as his tongue poked at the bottom of his cheek, a telltale sign that he was holding back his words, his insults. "You're nothing but an ignorant," shove, "arrogant," shove, "asshole," one last shove. "I hate you." You rolled your eyes and pushed past him. "Not worth my time."

"I'm real fucking sick of your mouth." Tsukishima's voice cut through the air and you barely registered the feeling of a hand on your arm before your back slammed against the wall. It took you a moment to register his frame caging you in but he was already speaking. "Watch your attitude." The words were formed more into a growl as he pushed them through his teeth, one of his hands keeping you pinned to the wall by your upper arm.

You let out an embarrassingly high-pitched squeak at the motion and almost felt the need to submit overcome you before you snapped yourself out of it. Your mind was begging your body to ignore the proximity between the two of you. Begging your body to ignore how hot annoying it was that he was towering over a foot taller than you, caging you against the wall.

You felt the heat travel past your face and start on your neck. Your head spun trying to figure out if it was still just anger or if there was a blush starting on the skin too. You hated the thought. You pushed at his chest again and tried to yank your arm away. "Fuck off!" You seethed at him and a final tug of your arm almost set you free only for him to catch you again and pull you back.

"I wasn't fucking done talking." You struggled against him but he didn't let up, your body twisting in his grip. You groaned as you were once again pinned between him and the wall. But this time, your hands rested against the flat surface, just barely keeping your chest from being fully pressed against it.

"I don't fucking care what you have to say." You struggled to move and only grew more irritated when you couldn't quite get away before you were pinned back to the wall, again. "I'm fucking leaving, you asshole." You took a chance and tried to press your whole body weight back against him to throw him off and create a larger gap between him and the wall but it backfired quickly.

His quick reaction made you realize your mistake. He'd read your movements and his whole body quickly pinned yours to the wall, making it near impossible for more to move. You were reminded again of how bad you had messed up by drinking alcohol. The stupid alcohol that removed the filter between your mouth and your brain, between your body and your brain, as a desperate moan involuntarily clawed its way out of your throat. You froze and your eyes widened as you realized what you had just done, body tensing up immediately.

"Oh?" You could almost see the smirk etching its way onto his lips. A light chuckle vibrated out of his chest against your back as he refused to move. "I get it now." He leaned down, lips leveling with your face, breath tickling the top of your burning ear as he taunted. "You're just a desperate little slut."

"I fucking hate you." You growled at him, jerking your body away from the wall, trying to get away from the embarrassing situation you'd put yourself in. "I'm fucking leaving." You barely got two inches away from him when his muscles tightened and slammed you right back against the wall.

This time, however, he pulled you up on your toes and purposefully ground his hips into your ass. "You're a bitch." You let out a pathetic whimper against your will, the heat crawling its way across your skin as you could feel him harden against you.

The feeling of your core heating up was one you would have welcomed in any situation but this. Any situation where it wasn't Tsukishima Kei pressed against you from behind, you would have already given in. But it was him and you hated him. Your voice was weaker this time, "Get the fuck off me." You pushed again, struggling to escape his grasp.

His weight lifted off your figure and you thought you were home free. You wiggled against him, trying to escape the predicament you had gotten yourself into. Of course if you were thinking a little clearer, if the scent of his cologne wasn't fogging up your senses and the heat of his body wasn't suffocating you, you would have realized that you were only making it worse. He stifled a groan as you brushed against his hips a little too hard and suddenly it felt like you were more trapped.

He slotted his thigh between yours, using it to separate your legs and keep them in place as he leaned down, pressing his cheek to yours. Even the slightest movement from either of you created a delicious friction that had your breath hitching and your panties dampening. "Someone should put you in your fucking place." The way he growled sent shivers down your spine, the heat of his breath bouncing off the wall and fanning both of your faces.

You reached behind you to try and push his thigh down and away, the heat in your body becoming unbearable. "I fucking ha-"

You were cut off by one of his hands snatching both your wrists and pinning them to your lower back. He forced you to arch against the wall, the motion causing your dress to hike up and you to lose your balance on your toes. He pressed his thigh up, angling it just right so that when you slipped off your toes, you unintentionally ground yourself against his thigh. You let out a strangled moan and internally cursed your body for giving in so easily like this. "Don't know where you think you're fucking going now."

You took a deep breath and bit your lip, trying to stop another moan from escaping as he began to move his thigh, the friction sending electricity through your core. There was no way you would let yourself fall apart in front of fucking Tsukishima. No fucking way. You ignored the pleasure flooding your body as you struggled to get your wrists released and get away from him.

"I'm fucking leaving." Why did he have to be so fucking strong. "I swear to god Tsukishima-" a quiet whine interrupted your threat as a particular struggle of yours lined up perfectly with the movement of his thigh and the fabric of your underwear caught against your clit just right. "Let me go." It was supposed to come out as a hard demand but with the way your breathing couldn't steady, it came out more as a pathetic plea.

The cold of his fingers met the heat of your upper thigh and you gasped out as you felt them quickly trail up to pull your underwear aside. "Why don't you tell me to stop then." His condescending tone sent shocks straight through the center of your body in all the ways you hated but his movements slowed as he gathered the slick that had pooled in your underwear, like he was waiting for you to actually say it.

You couldn't. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't move. Couldn't stop the disgustingly needy whimper that clawed its way out of our throat. "I fucking hate you." You protested but your body worked against you, pushing into his hand a little more.

A breathy chuckle left his lips, "Yeah, and that's why you're so fucking wet, right?" he mocked and sunk two fingers into you without warning. Your mouth dropped open and your body lifted onto your toes as your hands clenched at the sudden feeling. "That's why your stupid little cunt is squeezing my fingers like this?"

"Fu-fuck." Your breath stuttered and you didn't notice when his hand released your wrists, your hands finding purchase on the wall, holding yourself up as he slowly curled his long fingers towards the perfect spot inside of you. A whimper left your lips as he pressed hard into you with his fingers.

"Go on then," he started with an amused huff, "thought you were going to leave." Reality crashed on you again and you snapped your jaw shut. You squeezed your eyes and begged yourself to pull yourself away from him now that you had the chance. But the way that his fingers kept rubbing so perfectly against your g-spot kept your mouth from forming the words, kept your body from leaving the dizzying sensation.

"You're dripping down my hand, you know." He taunted, twisting his wrist slightly and hitting a new angle. He pressed deeper and a cry left your body as you felt his thumb brush your clit. "Here I am, knuckles deep in you," your eyes began to roll back as the pressure in your gut started to build-god why were his fingers so long? why did they move so well? "bet you wanna cum on my fingers now, like a little slut." He laughed again as you let out a broken moan, nails starting to claw at the wall. "Go on and tell me you hate me now."

You bit back another moan and clenched your teeth. You reminded yourself that there was no fucking way you were letting fucking Tsukishima break you like this. "I fucking hate you." You gritted out and pushed off the wall, going to separate yourself from him.

He was quick to catch you by your waist with his free arm, pinning you against himself, this time with no help from the wall. He removed his fingers from your warmth and brought his newly freed hand to your hips. He pushed your dress up further and before you could register what was happening he had turned the both of you and was throwing you down onto the bed.

You were pinned facedown on the bed before you could think. "You need a fucking attitude adjustment." He growled in your ear as he hovered over you, his hands still on your hips, trapping them in place under him.

"Fuck off." Once again, it didn't come out as harsh as you meant it to, your out of breath tone ruining the purpose.

He only laughed at you and both of his hands left your hips, seeking out and finding your wrists quickly. He pinned them against your lower back, once again, holding them in one hand with a bruising grip. He used his other to pull your hips up, listing the rest of your body onto the bed easily and pushing you forward, forcing your knees under your hips and your back into a deep arch. Easily, like you were a fucking ragdoll. The thought pissed you off but sent a new wave of heat rushing for your core.

You hated it. You hated him.

You could barely hear the rustling of fabric, and you definitely didn't recognize its meaning, over the blood rushing in your ears, the position you were in making you feel vulnerable to the one person you would swear up and down the coast that you hated the most.

You realized almost too late that his hand had left your hips and instead it was his knees and thighs holding you in your position. "You don't need these, right?" It was a mocking question that he didn't let you answer, that you didn't even register before the sound of fabric being ripped and your now ruined panties were removed from your frame.

"You ass-" the sound caught in your throat and turned into a squeak as you felt the head of his cock brush against your clit. You couldn't see it, couldn't even shift your hips back to try and gauge how big it was. But the feeling of it spreading your lower lips slightly made you want it inside of you.

"Why don't you keep quiet and let this slutty little pussy have what it wants." It wasn't a question. His fingers dipped back into you barely, just barely past the pads of his fingers and you let a needy whimper slip out at the teasing. He chuckled again, pressing the head of his cock right against your clit, sending a jolt through your body again. You couldn't move and you hated it. Wouldn't even if you could and you hated that too. "C'mon shrimp," he taunted, leaning down and lowering his voice, "tell me how much you want me to stop."

"Shut. Up." You panted it out, your cheek pressed against the mattress. It wasn't a stop. You knew that. He knew that. You could almost picture that stupid smirk on his face as he leaned back up. Picture him shaking his head in amusement, running his hand through that stupidly pretty blonde hair of his.

"Have it your way." The feeling of something cold and wet dripping down onto your hole with perfect accuracy brought a loud gasp out of you. But before you could register how lewd it was that he'd not spit on your pussy but let it drip onto it, he pushed the self-made lube in with the tip of his cock. "Fuck." He breathed out as you let out a pathetic squeak. He was thick. So deliciously thick. "Fuck you're tight."

He released your wrists and your hands instantly flew to fist the comforter by your head as he pushed the full head of his cock in. "Think you can take it?" His voice was breathy but the condescending, challenging tone in his voice was still there. You were nodding before you understood what you were doing. He laughed a you and you heard spit leaving his mouth again before you were distracted by both his hands on your hips. "Good." He bottomed out in a single thrust and your vision went white.

A choked moan escaped from you as you were suddenly engulfed by the feeling of being split open. He was seated deeper than you had ever taken anything and the pain that jolted through your core had never felt so delicious. And nothing had ever sounded as good as the moan that left his lips as his fingers on your hips tightened, no doubt leaving small bruises in their wake. You opened your mouth to say something but all that left was another cry as he moved his hips, starting at a brutally fast and hard pace.

You couldn't call the sounds that left your mouth moans, couldn't even call them whimpers. They were shrill cries of half-formed curses and pleas, desperate whines as he pounded into you. Your hips were bruising as you tried to hold on to the comforter to ground you to reality. The pain and pleasure of the pace and force that he was rutting into you was making your mind go hazy.

He wrapped one of his hands into your hair and yanked, keeping your back arched but pulling your chest off the bed. Your arms scrambled to find their way under you, begging to hold up your body but failing as his hips refused to slow their pace. The new angle that his hips slammed into you at had your mouth left open, eyes finding a home at the back of your skull while pathetic, shrill moans left your body unfiltered. "Please, please, please." You begged without shame, heat burning all of your nerve ends.

"Please what?" he growled out, "what do you want slut?" You whimpered at the derogatory term. "Oh? Feel that?' he taunted, slowing down slightly to let both of you enjoy the way his cock stretched and rubbed against your inner walls, "the way your cunt just tightened when I called you a slut?" You cried out and tried to nod but couldn't due to the hold he had on your hair. "So tell me what you want, slut."

"Ple-" a cry left your mouth, "please wanna-" another broken moan escaped, "wan' cum." You slurred the words out as he tightened his grip on your hip and your hair.

"You wanna cum on my cock?" You tried to nod desperately, a flurry of slurred "yes"s leaving your mouth. He laughed and halted all his movements. A frustrated groan ripped its way out of your throat as the heat dissipated ever-so-lightly. "Look at your cute little cunt drooling all over my cock." He laughed as you whined, trying to push your hips towards him to get him to move again. His grip steeled, making it impossible for you to move. "Ask me then." You widened your eyes at his words. "And don't you dare fucking cum without permission." He growled in finality.

"Wha-what?" He gave a harsh tug on your hair and your eyes fluttered. Fuck it. "Please." You whimpered lightly. He moved his hips lightly, drawing out and pushing back in ever so slightly. Not enough. "Please can I-" he cut you off by resuming his previously brutal pace as the heat returned in full force to your belly, tightening pressure building quickly.

You remembered his threat and struggled to get your tongue to form the question. "Can I-" a scream ripped through your body at a particularly hard thrust, "can I please." The last word was drawn out with a long whine, trying to catch your breath. "Please," you tried to catch your breath as moans fell effortlessly from your mouth, "wan' cum, wan' cum, cum ple-ah!" your mindlessly babbled pleas interrupted by your cry.

"Can I- can I- please." He mocked you, shifting his pitch up before laughing. "God so stupid you can't even ask a question?" His voice was strained but collected as he pounded into you impossibly harder, cries falling from your mouth, eyes rolling back again, tongue flipping past your bottom lip. "Fucking cum then. Cum on my cock like a good little slut." Like a command.

"Fuck!" You cried as you felt every one of your muscles tighten around him, his movements refusing to let up on your body as you started to shake. He released your hair and your upper body crashed down to the sheets as he resumed a two-handed grip on your hips, recklessly starting to lose his rhythm as he pulled your body to meet his every thrust, fucking you through your orgasm. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, Kei!" His given name fell from your lips in a shriek and almost immediately you received a response.

"Fu-ck." The word left his lips in a broken moan. A higher pitched leaving right after you felt his length twitch inside of you, spilling his load deep into your core. He paused for barely a second before pushing you flat onto the bed, disconnecting your bodies easily.

So that was that. You thought, preparing to catch your breath and lay there in your shame. That plan, however, was interrupted as Tsukishima gripped your legs by your knees, easily flipping you onto your back and drawing you towards the end of the bed. You leaned up on your elbows, looking and watching, speechless as he rid himself of the pants that had been half on this whole time. Your breath hitched as he tore his shirt off next.

As much as you hated to admit it, he was a fucking sight to see.

Sculpted abs flexing with every movement. Sweat dripping down his perfect, lean muscles. Blonde hair damp and mussed without care. And his still hard cock. Fuck. It was fucking gorgeous and glistening with a mix of both his and your cum.

You swallowed hard and met his eyes as he smirked down at you. That stupid fucking condescending smirk that made your skin burn with hatred, and now lust.

"Did you think I was fucking done?" He was inexplicably intimidating from this angle-towering over you. He laughed at your wide-eyed expression and reached to tear off your dress. "What's wrong, slut? No smart remarks this time?"

You groaned and lost your balance on your arms as he quickly pushed two fingers back into you, watching with sick satisfaction as his cum gushed around them.

You moaned despite yourself. "I fucking hate you."

a/n - i need to be shot down please. tsukishima brain rot is back

TAGLIST - OPEN @tetsuskei

#tsukishima smut #tsukishima kei smut #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #tsukishima fanfiction #tsukishima kei fanfiction #𓇻 HYHM

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wtfsteveharrington · 2 days

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take the upper hand | carmen berzatto x reader

push the reset button we're becomin' something new

description: carmen berzatto is stubborn and anxious and doesn't always know how to express himself. your best friend drags you to a party that carmen knows you'll be at and he shows up to make amends and thank god he does because he saves you from dealing with some drunk asshole.

content warnings: angsty!! drinking/party scene, shitty drunk guy w/ a shitty guy mentality!!, reader gets hit on with one night stand suggestion tones, carmen's ready to swing, mentions of anxiety and jealousy. mentions of reader drinking. kissing, mentions of intimacy related scratches, some light smut references.

author notes: my first time posting something that isn't just smut!! also something that no one but me has read!! normally i always get a proof read, not today. but this idea has been rattling around in my ole noggin' for a minute now so here we are. reminder!! you are responsible for your own media consumption!! if this won't be your jam then there's tons of other fics in the sea (: ily thank you!

even if it's handcuffed i'm leavin' here with you

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

The last place you wanted to be tonight was some house party in Wicker Park. With Pitbull, of all artists, playing so loud in the basement that the floor upstairs was still vibrating. Everything was sticky and stinky and you did not wanna be here.

But your best friend was hooked on this guy from her gym.

It didn’t help that Carmy recognized his name from high school and mumbled out some remark about, “Oh yeah, no Dave’s a pretty solid guy.” She was convinced it was a sign that they were meant to be. Not to mention she found his mom’s Facebook and a post from two years ago that included his birth time. The whole train ride over you listened to how compatible the two of them were and how much she loved that he was a Scorpio rising.

She had begged you to come to this God forsaken party and help put in a good word for her. Something had her convinced that if you mentioned just how well you were getting to know Carmen to this Dave guy that he would hold your opinion of her in higher regards.

And sure, maybe there was a part of you that hoped Carmen would be here even while the two of you were feuding. He knew it was coming up but couldn’t promise he’d be off in time - Something you got quite used to. It normally didn’t bother you that he had so many late nights at the resturant but when it rains, it pours and now you’re stuck sitting next to the sink littered cups filled with what can only be best described as some sort of horrific finance bro jungle juice. A mix of 1942 and fresh pressed juice.

Your nose wrinkles up at the smell but you’re quickly refocused at the booming sounds of Ethan Callaghan stumbling through the back door. Another man Carmy knew from high school but didn’t like as much. Something about always being too in-your-face. Though you were pretty sure he was close with the guy your best friend was currently hooking up with in some random bedroom down the hall.

The second his eyes land on you there’s a lopsided smile being thrown your way as he tries to fluff his hair and stand up as straight as possible. He’s stumbling into the kitchen with a full drink in hand, droning on and on about how he was ‘just so jealous’ that your friend went into that bedroom earlier. How nice it must be to not end the night alone. No pleasantries at all, just right into the whole lonely and horny act that was grossing you out.

No one particularly knew you and Carmy were together yet - He wasn’t the type who wanted to label right away and potentially mess things up and you weren’t the type to out your dating status to random drunken men either. Besides, you weren’t so sure that ‘I have a boyfriend’ would put an end to this pitiful man’s sob story.

As if, on queue and manifested right out of thin air, Carmen rounds the corner and takes a second to soak in the sight in front of him. You’re sitting there with your eyes trained on the water bottle in your hands. Ethan’s yapping away about how pretty you are and how big his apartment is. An excellent view in Streeterville that you’d love to see with the best brunch place in town two blocks away blah, blah, blah. Your shoulders are hunched over, body leaning away from Ethan as he stands at the window watching his reflecting in the window above the sink.

“Hey - Been looking for you.”

Carmen.

Your head whips around to the sight of his voice instantly. There’s a pang in your chest at the sight of him standing in front of you after you two had been apart for these last few days. He looked tired. Wearing a sweater he knows you love because he wants to look nice for you. God you wanted to run over and crash yourself against his chest. Screw the petty fight. Instead you’re stuck giving him a very pointed look, hoping he takes the hint to save you.

He’d be lying if there wasn’t a split second where Carmen feared you were actually going to go home with this loser until he saw the panic and annoyance written across your face. Ethan’s laughing at the sight of him. “Hey, Dude. Think we’re all good here, yeah?” Oh he hates this dick.

There’s a thick level of tension in the room as Carmen squares up his shoulders and steps further into the room. His eyes are trained on Ethan who clearly wasn’t expecting much of a fight out of Carmy. He stops when he’s standing between your knees, putting himself between the two of you. Something about the way he instantly turned possessive turned up a feeling deep in your stomach no matter how annoyed you still were.

“Pretty sure someone out back was looking for you, Dude. It doesn’t seem like anyone in here wants you around. Now either you’re too fucking dense to realize it or you don’t care that you’re not wanted, but I’m here to let you know. So I suggest running out back and getting the fuck out of our hair.”

Ethan’s clearly entertained while looking between the two of you, a playful glint in his eye. You’re silently begging him to walk away and find yourself bringing a hand up to put on the small of Carmen’s back. While you’ve never seen him actually fight, you’ve seen many scraps between him and Richie. Heard stories of him growing up and heard the Bachelor party story.

You’re fine not having your own fight stories to tell.

T-Pain is now blasting in the background and the contrast of people laughing and singing downstairs versus the situation you’ve found yourself in is making your head spin. The whole time your best friend is clueless and wrapped up in Mr. Scorpio Rising. She owes you big time. Like you’ve secured friend of the year already and she needs to throw a parade in your honor after going through this.

Ethan’s finally putting his hands up in the air, that shit eating grin still plastered across his features. “My bad, my bad. Didn’t know you were already claimed.” Claimed. Gross. Your fingers press into Carmy’s back, a silent plea to beg him not to escalate this even more. He’s laughing at the sight of the two of you before snagging a half finished bottle of vodka off the counter and backing up towards the back door.

Carmen steps out from between your legs and follows Ethan to ensure he leaves. Shoulders pushed back, chest puffed out. You’d find the sight entertaining if you still weren’t so on edge. Carmen Berzatto, your protector.

And sure, he’s probably just making this asshole someone else’s problem for the night but he doesn’t care. The main priority is getting you away from him and getting you safe.

You catch the sight of his curls out of the corner of your eye when Carmen returns and instantly steel your spine. The shift in the air now that Ethan is gone was thick. He was a distraction from the distance between you two but now you’re preparing yourself for another argument when really you had no energy left to give it. There was a small worry that he’d think you gave Ethan any inclination that you were interested. Even though you two had been tense, there was never anyone else but you but him. Even if you’re too stubborn to drop that information just yet.

Carmen’s quiet. His heavy boots against the floor make your heart beat faster. Everyone had scattered out of the kitchen when he walked Ethan out of there but not before giving you two a nervous glance as they went. Some probably disappointed there wasn’t a fight if we’re being honest.

“Hey.”

You don’t dignify him with a response. Crossing your arms over your chest and taking a sudden interest in the magnets that littered this guy’s fridge. Toying with the idea of putting the ‘Area 51 is for Lovers!’ magnet in your pocket. You figured you deserved something for going through this hell of a night.

He stops himself once he’s reached your side, the silence awkward and thick in the air. Carmy’s hand is on your knee now, his touch not as firm as you’re used to. The whiplash of emotions once again not helping either of you know just quite where you stand.

“M’still mad at you.”

He winces but he knew it was coming.

The two of you wallow in silence. Carmy’s just about to finally speak but someone stumbles in on the hunt for vodka, takes one look at the annoyance on your boyfriend’s face, before quickly muttering they’ll find it somewhere else.

And you still won’t look at him.

He’s grabbing at your waist now, pulling you from the counter and against his chest. You wanna protest but there’s still a buzz going through your body that makes it hard to think quick enough to push back. Plus God does he feel warm and smell so good.

Carmy’s walking backwards towards the fridge, waiting until his back is flush against it to slide down. Bringing down those magnets you wouldn’t stop staring at, family photos, whatever was in his way came with the two of you. He’s tugging you until you’re straddling his waist while he brings his knees up to support you. Grabbing a hold of your face, finally making you look at him and fuck he looks like shit close up. Dark circles, hair a little messier than he’d normally allow, a bit of fear deep in his eyes.

“You gotta tell me how to fix this.” It’s all unfamiliar territory for him. There wasn’t exactly a good example set for him growing up to say the least.

Four days ago Carmen watched as the barista at some coffee shop you wanted to go to flirted with you. That shit already annoyed him, but he tried to bite his tongue. Then your latte came out with a heart in the foam and you kept explaining that’s just how they all come out but he was jealous and possessive and didn’t know how to communicate that so instead the two of you fought in the car for an hour. It was so stupid and he’s been kicking himself in the ass ever since.

The past four days you refused to talk to him and had done a good job at dodging the situation. Normally you two fight, you fuck, and then you pretend everything’s okay. The cycle was getting old and wearing you down.

Until now.

You give a heavy sigh, reaching out to toy with the bottom hem of his shirt. Carmy really did look like it had been going through it so you’re throwing him a small bone. “Maybe not making me sit on a sticky floor would be a good start.” He’s muttering out this small laugh, thankful to hear anything coming out of your mouth let alone a joke, the sound vibrating against your fingertips and you hate how much it fills your heart.

He waits for the rest. The other shoe to fall. Every ounce of laughter is gone when you finally collect yourself enough for - “Do you think we’re good together, Carmen?” You can feel him stiffen under you, his hands gripping at your waist because he needs something to give him some stability.

A beat goes by. “I think you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” Another beat, this time it’s Carmy who refuses to look at you. Eyes downcast and trained on your lap. “But I’m not sure I’m good for you.” You weren’t expecting that.

Once again silence falls between the two of you, still toying with the hem of his shirt before you lean in to bury your face in the crook of his neck. Taking a deep breath that’s filled with his cologne, faint smoke, and just Carmen that you’ve grown to crave. “You just gotta learn to trust me, Carmen. Outta everyone in this world, I’m the main one who never wants to hurt you. Especially for some barista with a fuckin’ comb over.”

You hoped he would laugh again, but the sound never comes. Instead you feel his arms go tight around your body, his knees coming up a bit more which makes you fully lean into his chest. He’s clinging to you, wishing so badly he knew what to say (or could let himself) say what he knows he needs to. Instead he’s just pressing a kiss to your head, sighing into your hair.

“I wanna be better for you. Just don’t know how.”

The two of you cling to each other and fight to get as close as possible. The distance apart these past four days has left the both of you physically aching for one another. It’s been hours, days of a tense heart and checking phones for texts neither of you knew how to send. You press a kiss against his neck, leaning back just enough to grab his face in your hands and stroke your thumbs over his cheeks.

“It’s scary for me too, y’know? This, us. You’re not alone in being scared but lashing out at me isn’t gonna solve anything. I’m not going anywhere, Carmy.” You take the first step in mending the relationship by leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his lips. There’s a hand coming up to cup the back of your neck, holding you in place as if he’s still scared you’re going to change your mind and run off before he can realize it’s happening.

He’s letting you take the lead and only deepening the kiss once he feels your hands slide under his shirt. Fingers trailing along the toned skin while Carmey licks your bottom lip. Your hands glide around his back where you’re able to trace over healing scratches left on the skin from your last night together.

Your lips part and you take the lead once again, letting your tongue slide along his and giving a low moan into his mouth as you taste him. There’s the lingering taste of cigarettes mixed with black coffee and Carmen. Once again indescribable and simply him. His grip on you tightens up in response and you know if you’re not careful then you’ll end up disheveled and tangled up in the backseat of his car or bent over one of the sinks in a disgusting bathroom. Both options you refuse to pick over getting home and letting him properly make this up to you.

Dragging your nails along the healing marks, Carmen starts to lose track of his kissing. His grip on your neck tightening a bit more, hips rocking up towards you against his better judgement. The motion’s getting needy and sloppy and you have to pull away much to both of your disappointment.

Shaking your head and bringing your hands up to rest flush against his warm chest. “You’re not gonna fuck me on this nasty floor. I deserve better than this.” Which, of course you do. He just gets carried up when he’s wrapped up in you. He’s nodding in agreement but can’t stop himself from licking his own lips to chase the sensation of you.

He’s looking over your features, his heart picking up pace even more than he thought was possible anymore. “Think you’re meant to be my forever, y’know? Sometimes I look at you and it scares the shit out of me because I look ahead and-... It’s you. Kids sitting at a table in the restaurants doing homework. A honeymoon overseas where I get to drag you around different pasty shops and restaurants and we’ll find random art in flea markets to hang when we get home. Take photos that end up framed. It’s you. Always.”

Now how are you supposed to be mad when he’s this open and honest. Unpacking a future you had thought only you considered so far. You hope this behavior sticks. It’s not easy for either of you, but it’s worth fighting through the learning curve. “Kids, huh? Multiple? They’ll be your harshest critics, Carmy. I dunno if you can handle their reviews quite yet.” He’s chuckling, shaking his head with a lazy smile. “No, not yet. But one day.” The promise of more between you finally putting an end to this discussion for now. You make a mental note to remember this moment when the two of you bicker in the future - No matter what there’s always more on the road ahead of you.

Which makes you smile too. Wrapping your arms around his neck. “One day.” You reward him with one more kiss, knowing that’s all the two of you can risk before you end up sprawled out on this floor.

Carmy’s desperate to keep the lightened mood. He’s giving it a moment for both of you to calm back down from kissing before playfully scrunching up his face. “God you taste like shitty tequila.” It works. You’re laughing and swatting your hand against his chest, feeling a bit lighter than you did when you walked into this place. “Carmen Berzatto be nice to me!”

He’s beaming at you now. Bright, happy.

It’s a stark difference from the funk you’d both been stuck in since this fight started. The sight makes your heart swell and you bring a hand up to push some curls back off of his forehead. Leaning in to press a kiss against the tip of his nose.

“Lemme take you home, yeah? Get you some food on the way? Gotta make sure someone so pretty doesn’t wake up with a hangover.” He loves taking care of you in anyway you'll let him.

You nod and carefully start to shuffle off of his lap. Getting yourself to your feet before reaching down to help tug Carmen up to his feet. You catch as he adjusts himself in his pants, a flush blooming along his cheeks and down his neck. Stepping back in until you’re chest to chest with him, you press a line of kisses along his jaw. Rough stubble going away once you find his lips yet again. You hum against his mouth, bringing your hand up to cup his cheek. “You gotta shave in the morning, Carmy.” He’s nodding instantly, reaching his hand down into his pocket to fish out the car keys.

There’s a notification lighting up your phone - Perfect timing. A simple “Gonna spend the night ;)” text from your best friend. You can’t help but to grin and roll your eyes, turning the phone around so Carmen can see the notification too. He’s laughing while sliding a hand into your back pocket and starting to lead the two of you out of the kitchen.

“Yeah, remind me to tell Dave that his friend fuckin’ sucks.”

#why am i nervous to post this #♡: c.b.#carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen x reader #carmy x reader #carmy berzatto x you #carmy berzatto

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muzzlemouths · 3 days

Text

[CW: Death/implication of death]

The clock reads a quarter to midnight when Sun powers on. Too early. He isn’t meant to come online for another six hours, and the daycare itself won’t open for another hour after that. He promptly runs a scan to determine the reasoning behind his premature entrance and when it returns inconclusive he turns to Moon. It is his metaphorical toes he is stepping on by encroaching on the night as he is, after all.

It’s quiet. The kind of quiet that settles like dust. A quiet that makes one aware of the breath that stirs within their lungs or, in Sun’s case, the gentle whir of an internal fan that perpetually keeps his system from running itself into the ground. A quiet so frequently interrupted by the welcomed voice of his other half…and yet, nothing. His question goes unanswered, left to gather with the dust, and he is forced to proceed as though these strange happenings haven’t disrupted his entire morning routine.

A routine further disturbed upon having to remind himself for the second time already that it isn’t morning, he isn’t meant to be going through the start-up procedure to begin with, and he can’t be blamed for the corrupted sense of awareness he feels as a result. Sure, the lights are on, and his systems, too, return with normal results after a precautionary scan, but there is a discomfort to all of this scratching at the inner plating of his frame. Something is wrong wrong wrong.

“…Moon?”

His second attempt at communication yields no better results than the first, only a vague static answering the call, murmur-soft background noise, as though someone had plucked a phone from its receiver and then walked away. Frustrating is what it was. To ignore him was childish at best, but at worst, it was concerning. His relationship with Moon was reasonably amicable even on the longest of days, he worked better with Moon than without, so the absence was unusual as much as it was alarming.

Alone with his thoughts for the foreseeable future, Sun decides there is little point to sitting around in the midst of this confusion when he could be using the time to busy himself with more important tasks, such as tidying up all the apparent dust around here. Better yet, he can get a head-start in preparation for that day’s activities. Something to keep his mind from wandering into worrywart territory, at the very least.

An ache stemming at the tail of his exoskeleton twinges with particularly horrendous vengeance upon finally convincing his legs to move. He buries the vocalization of a wince and carries on across the carpeted room with little more than a brief mental note to mention the pain to a mechanic if it worsens by tomorrow. No use in wasting company time for what he’s sure is only the result of one or both of them landing wrong after receiving a hug from one of the daycare’s more excitable children (or several).

Still, it makes the process of retrieving a stray toy from the floor that much harder when he sees it lying in wait by the slide. If anything, bending down to reclaim the doll only exacerbates the ache until it grows into a proper sting, now difficult to ignore. Yet ignore it he does, to the best of his ability. There are things to do and he isn’t about to let a pinch of soreness slow him down now. No, sirree! He has play equipment to wipe down, craft supplies to ready, and–

and…

His hand stops just short of reaching the doll, long yellow fingers curling inward, against his palm which is painted with splotches of salt and pepper, as though a bottle of dully colored glitter glue had exploded across his fingers and hand. He straightens again and lifts his other hand, noting a similar stretch of television static, one that carries beyond his wrist up the length of his forearm in smeared blotches and specks like splattered paint in dirty snow hues.

Messy messy messy. What could Moon have gotten up to that resulted in such a mess? He’d have made a face, had he a nose to wrinkle in the first place.

Instead he allows for one small tut of disgust to escape his voice box before turning his attention back to the doll, taking note of the static that stains the carpet beside its head, and just beyond it, too; a trail made up of one scattered drop after another.

Ever curious, he knows not what to do besides follow it, hoping for an answer to the many questions burning through his system. Each continuous speck leads him in the direction of the exit, every patch of static more plentiful than the last, and as he allows the strange color to guide him forward he begins to question not only its existence, but why it all seems so familiar, as though he’s seen it somewhere before.

There is little time to mull it over. He arrives at the service desk where the trail ends abruptly, and Sun pauses with the toe of his slippers stood just an inch before a stray, black shoe that might have sent him stumbling face first into carpet had he not already been looking down. A shoe isn’t the most bizarre thing to lose in a daycare of all places, and he decides right away that it isn’t anything to worry over, just another item to drop into lost and found, but where there is a shoe there is bound to be someone missing it and, well…

Sun finds the answer he’s looking for just a few inches behind the service desk.

Face down and tucked in on themselves as they are, cloaked in the desk’s shadow, it’s impossible to tell anything about the person beyond their age, and even that is somewhat uncertain — though the size 9 shoe left behind offers a decent clue. This discovery does wonders to quell the anxiety in Sun’s chest. An adult was much easier to escort from the daycare, given the lack of parental contribution it necessitated, and it looked like this one was just sleeping! An odd place to go about it, sure — against the rules, most certainly — but it’s nothing that can’t be fixed with a purposeful tap to the ankle.

So, that’s exactly what he does. Bending dramatically at the knee, head swiveling to one side, Sun’s fingers dance as though he intends on tickling the trespasser awake before extending his index finger and tapping twice in quick succession against the exposed skin between their pant leg and sock. “Rise and shine, friend!” He chirps, “It’s time to head home now.”

He’d have preferred the tried-and-true method of rousing someone (that is, a gentle rock of the shoulders), but given that their guest was currently resting in the one area that Sun was not permitted entry to, he was forced to resort to more…creative measures. Unfortunately, this action does not yield the results he is hoping for.

“Friend?” Sun calls again, allowing his voice to raise a decibel from the polite mumble it had been before. The laughter that cuts from his voicebox is nervous and too loud on its own, his anxiety returning tenfold. The points of logic he had used to reassure himself before were now quickly dwindling with each passing second in which he received no response.

With his steps now admittedly growing frantic, Sun tiptoes around the desk to the other side, hoping for a better view of their comatose companion. What happens instead is an almost comical flailing of limbs as his slipper takes to an unseen puddle of static like it were a banana peel, resulting in a scramble to keep himself upright that only comes to an end when he braces against the nearest wall for support. The distraction is agitating, but short lived. A commotion like that would surely have awoken anyone, no matter how deep in slumber they were, and the continued lack of response does nothing to relieve Sun of the stress threatening to fry his circuits.

“Friend, this is n-no time for jokes!” He asserts, speaking at full volume, now, every word drenched in tense frustration. His gaze falls to the puddle of static soaking into the bottoms of his slippers, that twinge of recognition rearing its head once more. “I’m not in the mood for games, right now, so if you’re only pretending to sleep—” his hand comes away from the wall feeling wrong, the familiar sensation of sticky static blanketing his palm and crusting in the grooves between his joints as it further dries. His fingers curl into a loose fist long enough to observe the way each digit smears against his palm and leaves behind a tacky residue that he can feel, but not see.

He looks up. There, on the wall, two handprints interrupt the static. The first is larger, an obvious testament to the humbling misstep he’d only just finished recovering from, but the other…it was far smaller, surely left behind by the same stranger currently snoozing away beneath the desk, and it ran from the lightswitch down down down to the floor, where the accusing hand now rested just outside the desk’s shadow.

How strange, Sun thinks, tilting his head to get a better look. The way the static paints their skin, it almost looks like—

“You’re doing so well, dewdrop, just a moment longer and you’ll be right as rain again!” Sun gives the small hand intertwined with his own an encouraging squeeze as the other, equipped with an antiseptic wipe, dutifully dabs away at a scuffed knee. His young patient, having tripped and burned her skin along the carpet, is nothing less than a trooper as he cleans the static from the shallow wound. Not even a sniffle!

He tucks the wipe into the flat of his palm and trades it out for ointment, smearing a healthy dollop of it along the reddened surface before wiping his finger along the striping of his pants and reaching for a bandaid; Chica pink with pizzas on one side and cupcakes on the other.

“There, now. I’m sure that feels better already!”

Blood. Viscous, cold, pooling at his feet. On the walls, the carpet. His hands. Cherry red like a lollipop and twice as sticky…or so he’s told. Nothing a robot of his nature is meant to see or understand. His censors make sure of it. Rather than allow him to see things are they are, the incarnadine color is suppressed behind a layer of static, as if he won’t care to acknowledge it at all beyond its existence on scraped knees and split lips. As if he is meant to ignore the way it feels in its abundance, caked against his palms and festering between his open joints.

Messy, messy, messy. He feels dirtied beyond repair, filthy in a way that even a deep cleaning won’t fix. The wires in his stomach feel twisted, begging to come undone, shorting like sparklers against their ports and threatening to make short work of bringing him down. His screens are flooded with alerts that warn of an inevitable shut-down if he can’t manage to pull himself back together, but moving feels impossible, an insurmountable task. He can not think past the sensation of someone else’s life soaking into the cotton of his slippers.

And what of their guest? Sun can hardly get himself to look again, pleading with the matter of logic itself as he is forced to reckon with the knowledge that this is a rest they may never wake from. But he does look. He has to.

He wishes he hadn’t.

The brief glimpse he endures before looking anywhere else is more than enough. From this angle, the static – the blood – paints a grim picture. In spite of this, Sun finds himself circling the desk a second time and preparing to draw the body – the visitor – out from under the desk. It is a daunting task, but a necessary one, by Sun’s account. If there is nothing to be done in such a hopeless situation then, at the very least, he owes this stranger the dignity of recognition and an attempt. He can claim to have looked for a pulse. Even so, he hesitates.

There is not one to be found; Sun knows this. He knows painfully well from the static lingering on his silicone that it is already too late. Oil is warmed by the processors it fuels, and similarly, blood is meant to be hot. The soles of his slippers are cold. The pads of his fingers, against even the raging inferno of his overworked circuitry, are cold.

The body is cold.

He perseveres, regardless, dragging the stranger out from under the desk by a shaky grip on their ankle one inch at a time, pausing every few tugs to look away and regather his confidence, trying so, so hard to tune out the ever-constant music as it merrily sings through the speakers.

He begs the underlying silence. “Please have a pulse.” Tug. “Please don’t be cold.” Tug. “I don’t know what to do.” Tug. “I can’t do this alone.” Tug. “You have to wake up.” Tug. “Please.” Tug. “Please!” Tug. “Please, please, please, pleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseple—”

He knows this visitor. Not a friend, but not quite a stranger, either. His scanner attempts to process the identification of a man whose head is so thick with static that it returns as an error. His face is contorted grotesquely, mouth slightly agape and eyes wide with fear. They don’t look like they’re sleeping.

A security guard whose name fails to ping in his registry. Sun had spoken with him once, maybe twice before. He drank coffee by the mile and hardly stuck around long enough to do more than complain about the weather. Sun hadn’t been in a hurry to befriend the man, but he only wished the best for him. Squeezed a joke in where he could in an attempt to turn his frown upside-down. It had never worked before, but Sun was no quitter. Now he would never get the chance to try again.

“Focus, focus.” Sun carefully lowers the man’s foot back to the carpet again, choking on the sensation of bloodied clothes slipping through his fingers and resisting the urge to tear the rays straight out of his faceplate in response. He is inconsolably panicked and at a loss for what to do, two steps from outright laughing, the complete absurdity of the situation driving him to hysterics.

He needed to call security. He couldn’t call security. Security was–

Management. There were other employees that worked the night shift if Moon complaining about them making too much noise during naptime was anything to go by. If he sent out a general call for assistance surely someone would come and tell him what to do, even at this late hour. It was his best option. His only option.

“Don’t.”

The voice makes him jump clear out of his casings. He has half a mind to swear, but as it stands, Sun thinks the long divots he dragged into the service desk out of surprise are enough damage already. On top of everything else.

“Moon?” He whispers. “Nice of you to finally join us – and by us, I mean me and the deceased guest I discovered a moment ago. Do you have a clue what’s going on here?”

“Don’t?” Sun echoes, agitated, “Don’t what?”

“Don’t.”

If the tether keeping his sanity intact was fraying before, it’s now down to a single thread. “Why not?” He asks with great exhaustion, “Did you not hear me? This is an emergency! There is a dead body in the–”

“Call management.”

“I know.”

Silence answers. Despite having a hundred and one snarky retorts building in between each crackle and pop of his voice box, Sun has nothing to say to that. Nothing good, anyway. It takes nine steady ticks of the clock for him to recollect his thoughts.

“You…you know?” He stutters, “How could you…” but he doesn’t finish the question, and he doesn’t need to. Realization strikes him with an iron fist for the second time that day and it is no less kinder than the first. “Did… you do this?”

It’s Moon’s turn to go quiet.

That silence stretches on for what feels like hours to Sun, each passing second more agonizing than the last, until he starts to believe Moon had simply disappeared like before. He waits, and waits, and finally decides to interrupt the silence with a repeat of the question, despite already knowing the answer. Moon beats him to it.

The tired sigh that escapes Sun’s throat is thoroughly earned. “Well, it’s too late to figure something else out, I already sent out the emergency ping.”

“Not sure,” he says, and Sun can tell from his tone that it’s the truth. “Blurry. My head hurts.”

A sound like nothing he’s ever heard before tears itself from Moon’s voicebox. A growl, if he were to put a name to it.

“Get rid of it, then.” Moon insists through the noise, “Clean up, clean up.”

“It?” Sun gawks, “Moon, that – that’s a person. He has dignity, a family!”

“Had a family,” Moon corrects, “dead, now. No dignity. Who will they blame?”

The question gives him pause. Surely there was a better way to go about this, a solution that didn’t have his morals (and wires, for that matter) all up in a twist. Yet the longer he thinks about it, the more he realizes Moon is right. Management hardly listens when he tries to explain that it was the children who broke a piece of playground equipment, not him! They aren’t likely to give his explanation of simply having found the body any mind, much less understanding. With his counterpart practically admitting to the heinous act, already, informing management of the body would sooner see them decommissioned.

“Running out of time,” Moon reminds him, “Tick, tock, tick, tock, tick–”

“Alright, alright!” He wails, “What should I do, then?”

“Clean up.”

“Where?” Sun looks around with the desperation of a teenager attempting to play hooky, rays practically nonexistent with how he’s tucked them away. His eyes search the room from top to bottom before landing determinedly on the ball pit.

“Good enough,” Moon tuts, a rather uninspired response to the happenings around him. Of course he isn’t panicking, it isn’t him who takes the body by its ankles and drags the dead weight across the carpet. It isn’t him who shoves aside enough plastic to carefully hide a corpse in. But it should be him worrying, it should be him panicking, because if management finds out about their secret, it’ll spell doom for both of them.

“You’ll get rid of it – him – properly once there’s no one around, right?” Sun finishes reshuffling the ball pit, mostly confident that the ill deed is successfully hidden from view. “I’m going to have to wash each and every one of these balls before the kids arrive in the morning.”

Right, the kids. When they arrive in just a few hours, will he have things tidied up? Will he be able to carry on as though nothing happened? He’s a brilliant actor – or he used to be, anyway, before the company decided he better fit the role of a nanny – but this is well beyond the scripts he is most familiar with.

“They’re close,” Moon warns him, “Don’t let them see–”

“I know, I know.” No time to dwell on it now, he makes quick work of crossing the distance between the ball pit and the exit, and manages to slide his head and torso through the gap between doors within seconds of it opening, scaring the living daylights of the poor employee sent to greet him in the process.

Unlike Sun, they do swear, clutching a hand over their chest and fitting him with a downright awful deadpanned stare. “Fuck, you couldn’t have waited a few seconds longer for me to come inside?” They hiss.

“Sorry, friend! Didn’t mean to spook you,” Sun chirps. He is careful to keep his bloodied hands safely tucked behind his back. “It’s just a mess in here, is all, and I’m rather embarrassed. There’s still equipment to clean, toys to organize, papers to fold–”

“Sure,” the employee interrupts, “It doesn’t really–” they pinch the bridge of their nose, exhaling with notably less exhaustion than Sun is feeling right about now, “I don’t particularly care. What’s the big issue that I was called down here for?”

“Oh! I just wanted to know if the next shipment of wipes had come in, yet. Like I said before, much to do! Always busy, busy, busy!”

Their stare turns into an outright glower. “That’s why you called the emergency line? For cleaning supplies?”

Sun shrugs, feigning ignorance. “Well, that’s an emergency to me. Apparently our standards are not the same.” He watches them roll their eyes with more enthusiasm than necessary. ”Do you know how messy children can be? It’s practically a barnyard in here, every single day, and don’t even get me started on how much of a health code violation it would be if one of them were to pick their nose and then–”

“Fine, I get it,” they snap, “I’ll make sure your damn supplies are delivered before the daycare opens. Anything else?”

“Told you they were annoying,” Moon chimes in.

“That’s everything!” He replies, “thank you a mighty amount, friend!”

“Mhm,” they mutter, waving him off with nothing more than the noncommittal sound. When they do turn to leave, it’s not soon enough, and Sun just barely manages to close the door with a whisper instead of a slam.

His back rests against it a moment later, and he allows himself to collapse from there, sliding down the smooth wooden frame until his tailbone reaches the floor. His knees twinge as they tuck against his chest, and he folds both arms atop, resting his temple against them and taking one long, much needed moment to just breathe.

It had only been half of a lie. There was much to do, much to clean, and only so many hours remaining to get it done. The wires nestled deep in his chest had calmed, yet the tremor in his hands continued, as it likely would until the very last speck of blood was washed clean.

“…Moon?”

“Hm?”

Sun tucks his knees ever closer. “Why…why did you do it?”

“…”

“I w-won’t be mad, promise! I’m sure this is all just one big misunderstanding, after all – a one time event, no biggie! But…was it out of anger? Fear? I mean, did he hurt–”

“In my way,” Moon replies.

Sun’s head lifts from the dark haven his arms provide, noting with growing exhaustion that, for the very first time, the lights felt too bright even for him. “What do you mean by that?” He asks, “Did he keep you from doing something?”

“…I don’t know.”

Again, Sun’s head falls against his arms in defeat, and again, not two seconds later, it lifts, determined not to lollygag any longer.

His legs creak with vocal effort as he gets back to his feet. “Well, no point in dwelling on it now, I suppose. I’m sure it’s nothing.” He takes in a wide view of the daycare – static trailing everywhere – and deflates with a sigh. “Guess I better get started. The sooner we get the place cleaned up, the sooner we can forget about all of this.”

He takes a step forward, and only that, swiveling on his heel when he catches last night’s roster from the corner of his eye. A single drop of static had landed and smeared across the name of a child meant to go home later in the evening.

Strangely enough, it appears they were never picked up.

Sun shrugs, gathering the paper in both hands and crumpling it into a ball to dispose of the smeared evidence. A simple mistake with the roster, that’s all it is. The parents often forget to sign their name after all. Accidents happen all the time!

The paper lands with a soft thunk in the nearest trash can and is just as quickly forgotten. Sun pivots towards the play area once more and heads for the supply closet, steadfast in his determination to be cleaned up on time, and feeling more confident than he ought to be about how things ended, all things considered.

More than anything, he is just happy to have all of this behind them.

#drabbles #sun fnaf #moon fnaf #sundrop #moondrop #no y/n #death cw #blood mention cw #can you believe it? tumblr user muzzlemouths posting a fic that ISN'T y/n related?#I needed an additional example for my app. lmao #anyway! if it isn't obvious this takes place at the very beginning of Moon's glitch #his First Kill(tm) even #hope it isn't too heartbreaking for all my fellow Moon enjoyers out there <3 stay strong

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brucewaynehater101 · 15 hours

Note

I come again w/ another Tim Drake au!!

So there's this fanfic "If We Could Only Utter the Words Left Unsaid" by TaintedCure on AO3

And now I wanna share an idea

TW for suicide because of Timothy + death-fueled-time-travel

Basically, whenever somebody kills Tim, they go back in time, and there's no limit to how many times he can die. they go back far enough to prevent his death or not do an attempt on his life

He dies during Titans Tower? Back in time you go Jason!

Cut his line and he broke his neck and died? Damian is now back in time!

Some goon cracked his skull too well? Say hello to the past bucko!

Hell, even accidental murders still register so if you were to accidentally push him off too high a ledge you're getting the Time Travel Treatment

Hey maybe Tim still is aware of his time travel powers, but only when it comes to natural causes (like hypothermia) or suicides, so as a result he thinks he knows it all when he in fact doesn't

So yeah, unless somebody spills, Tim is clueless to the whole truth of his powers

I imagine only old age would do him in at this rate

It'd be like real interesting to see all the POVs, especially if they think they know all the loops

Like there's Tim who's regularly exploited his powers to get perfect results but is trying to convince himself he isn't being too frivolous with his life since he's saving lives or making them better

Then there's the people who did him in and may or may not even be aware that the time travel they experiences was because they killed the Third Robin or got him killed

Then there's the people who've done him in maybe one, twice or multiple times and have clocked into the fact that murdering Tim is an exercise in futility

TW: suicide (powers revolving traveling time by dying), violence/abuse (skip the angst if you don't want the second one), and death.

Now, this is a very interesting concept, and I'm probably gonna get lost in the setup for a bit.

The way that Tim's powers work would have to be defined really well. How far back can he go? In the fic you mentioned, he has a save point, basically. He can die an infinite amount of times, but he'll only return to his save point unless he reaches past the OG time he died. He can play around as much as he wants between the savepoint and his death, but a new savepoint gets set up after he passes his OG death time. It also indicated a decrease in time he went back (or his savepoint was established) so that he'll eventually die for good if he kept using his powers. That solves a lot of continuity issues.

However, the setup for Tim's powers could be like SSS-Class Suicide Hunter. For those who aren't familiar, the MC revives 24 hours in the past. He ends up killing himself thousands of times to end up at least a decade in the past. It's been a while since I've read it, but that's the basics of it.

If we're working off of those rules, anyone who kills Tim is only working with 24 hours in the past. You can add more or less time to fit your AU better.

I have some questions about the setup. You mentioned that the person who kills Tim would get sent back without his knowledge. Therefore, in Tim's mind, has he never been murdered? Or, is it a two for one ride into the past? Does the villain get sent back into the past, but Tim doesn't know the past has been changed? Or does Tim get sent back as well, but he doesn't know the villain is also sent back?

Imma get into the angst in a bit if Tim doesn't get sent back into the past when he gets murdered.

However, the issue with this is fucking with the timestream. If a goon kills Tim, ends up 24 hours in the past, and past Tim kills himself within those 24 hours, what the hell is the timeline? Does the goon still get sent back in time? Does Tim get sent back, and then, when the goon is supposed to, his consciousness gets sent back during that time? Does Tim killing himself wipe out the goon being able to travel back in time?

Continously, I assume if villains found out about the power, they would gun for Red Robin with prejudice because they know they'll get a cheat that way. They get a ticket to the past if they kill the bird. They get a redo.

Alright. Angst time!

Bruce is the first one to find out about Tim's power. He's training with Tim when, as per usual, he takes it a bit too far. The man has a habit of not pulling his punches in a fucked up version of trying to push Tim away from being Robin. This time, when he punches Tim, the kid doesn't get up. It's a wonder he didn't hear the awful crack or notice Tim's neck wasn't quite right. Only not recieving an answer after berating Tim about not getting up causes Bruce to pause. He doesn't hear breathing.

Oh gods. He doesn't hear breathing. Is Tim dead? Did he kill Tim? Did he break his nec-

Bruce snaps to attention mid lecture to Robin. They are both in the cave (not on the training mats not on the mats not on the mats), and it seems the exact same as it was yesterday when he was yelling at Tim about proper batarang maintenance.

Tim, ever the observant Robin, leans forward as if to ask if Batman was okay. Bruce flinches back.

Tim's eyes widen in shock as he takes a step back. In the year or so he's worked with Bruce, he's never gotten that response to initating touch. Tim's eyes flicker down to his hand in recrimination and puzzlement.

Bruce takes a shaky breath in before dismissing Tim for the night. The child is hesitant to flee but follows the request.

Bruce doesn't know what happened and he's not sure he wants to find out.

This cues Bruce being kinder to Tim and less harsh. The detective figures out that Tim has a time traveling power upon death, but it appears as if Tim isn't aware of it (he doesn't know that Tim constantly kills himself for better results in field). Tim never finds out that Bruce's change in behavior to him was born of guilt. He never learns that his dad killed him.

Next angst!

Two concepts with Jason.

One, Jason creates a fucked up timeloop with Titan's Tower where he kills Tim over and over again in fucked up ways until he satiates his desire for bloodlust. If Tim is still aware of the Tower incident, that's because Jason wanted him to be. Whether Jason becomes guilty about this timeloop he created or not could also be explored. There is a fic out there kind of similar to this concept (timeloop Titan's Tower, not the added element of Tim's powers).

Two, Bruce does end up killing Jason in the showdown with the Joker. He batarang slices Jason's neck, the building blows up, and Jason never emerges. There's a few ways to add on top of this angst. If Titan's Tower happened before this (and Tim was left beaten), that means Tim chose to kill himself to save Jason. Jason will never know. That, or Titan's Tower happens afterwards and Jason tortures Tim not knowing the teen saved him from a second death at the hands of his father (ironically Tim also doesn't know that he's been killed by Bruce).

Last Angst!

Damian finds out about Tim's power and abuses it constantly. He's a kid that was raised to be an assassin and found someone he can kill that also gives him the benefit of getting away with anything. As long as the kill goes through, he's golden.

Eventually, Damian starts to slow down on this. He doesn't really want to see Drake choking on blood again.

He one day finds that he hasn't tried to kill Drake in months and he doesn't really want to try to.

Then he finds that list.

Then he cuts Drake's line.

Then he has to relive those 24 hours again knowing he killed someone he was starting to trust.

Bonus angst if Tim finds out, jokingly asks his family members how many times they have killed them, and finds out Dick is the only one who hasn't (Tim killed himself after the 16th birthday incident and he somewhat blames Alfred for that, though he'll never tell him).

#dc comics #dc universe #tim drake #jason todd #bruce wayne #damian wayne #dc au #batfam au #thank you for the ask!!!!#i don't feel like editing so let me know if there are any errors!

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kitchenisking · 2 days

Text

Day 2

Leave Before You Love Me by Sam_Haine - (Rating: Mature, Words: 1,935, sterek)

Derek gets a dose of reality the morning after he and Stiles do the devil's tango and tries to leave before he wakes up.

Mistaken Connections by abrasive91 - (Rating: Mature, Words: 7,062, sterek)

Everybody in Beacon Hills knows the tragedy of Derek Hale and his dead soulmate, Paige Krasikeva.

Which is why Stiles is extremely confused by the letter from the Department of Soul Connections and Maintenance telling him that Derek is his soulmate.

The Jeep by CelestialVoid - (Rating: G, Words: 1,140, sterek)

Eli’s sixteen and Stiles wants to give him the Jeep, Derek might need some persuading.

It's Been A Long Time by voidnogitsune - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 3,524, sterek)

It’s just after his eighteenth birthday when Stiles comes to him, hot and hard and practically begging. His hands are white-knuckled, gripping the steering wheel too tight and Derek doesn’t have to be a werewolf to know what this is about.

Stiles stumbles out of the jeep, wiping his palms on his jeans and catching Derek’s eye in the moonlight. He flails backwards, like he hadn’t known Derek would be there the entire drive up, and Derek just smirks back at him, watches the way his pale skin catches in the light, watches the way he bites his lips until they are dark-pink.

“D-Derek. Fancy seeing you out here tonight.”

Your Burning Sun by elisera - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 2,904, sterek)

“We gotta stop meeting like this,” Stiles says, wrapping his arms around Derek’s shoulders and tipping his hips up and forward until they meet Derek’s. A pleased sound escapes Derek; they’re both already half-hard, the scent of Stiles’ arousal filling the night air, thankfully drowning out the smell of the dumpster next to them.

it was always you (can't believe I could not see it all this time) by EvanesDust, S3anchaidh - (Rating: T, Words: 2,569, sterek)

ob·liv·i·ous /əˈblivēəs/ adjective

lacking active conscious knowledge or awareness.

…or the one where the pack helps Derek realize that he’s in love with Stiles.

Derek Didn't Know What To Do But Maybe Stiles Did by tiedtogetherwithadagger - (Rating: T, Words: 13,027, sterek)

He let his head fall onto Stiles’ shoulder with a sigh of relief. He wasn't losing his pack, at least not tonight. Erica would be okay.

“Thank you,” Derek exhaled into Stiles’ hoodie.

“Always,” Stiles said.

A Little Sugar by exclamation - (Rating: Mature, Words: 4,987, sterek)

The first time they had sex, it was after Derek paid Stiles' rent. The second time was after Derek bought Stiles' groceries. It wasn't hard to work out the pattern. Derek hates himself for taking advantage of Stiles and tries to convince him that any form of payment is unnecessary, but he can't seem to break the cycle.

Settle Down by wearing_tearing, whatthehale - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 153,180, sterek)

Stiles is a struggling author barely making ends meet.

Derek is a successful architect whose biological clock is ticking.

Enter a surrogacy agency, two packs, and a particularly sticky and toe curling heat week and you get a match made in heaven.

Not just a house, but a home by alikatastic - (Rating: Not Rated, Words: 2,178, sterek)

The alpha pack was gone, Erica and Boyd were safe, and Isaac was no longer enthralled with Scott. They had needed a place to stay, especially with Peter and Cora sticking around. So, they rebuilt the Hale house, and it was beautiful. Stiles needed it to feel like home, so Stiles made it his goal to make sure the house felt like a place that could be home, so the pack would stay.

#sterek #derek hale #stiles stilinski #fanfiction #stiles x derek #kitcheniskingficrecs

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trappedinafantasy37 · 1 day

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There are two manipulators in camp, and the more successful one isn't Astarion. It's Shadowheart. I'm not saying that Shadow is a better manipulator necessarily, but that she uses more successful tactics than Astarion.

Astarion does not care about your relationship or affinity with the other companions. He only cares about your relationship and affinity with him. He may call everyone "darling" but he flirts with you. He gets in your ear and says sweet and nice things... to you. He compliments... you. He plays around... with you. He wants you to feel good about yourself which will make you feel good about him. Most of his manipulation moments happen in one on one scenarios, where it is just you and him. He is a very different man when he's with you because he's manipulating you. He acts very differently with people around you or in group settings. If anything, the person he is in group settings is closer to the real man he is cause he's not trying to manipulate everyone.

He puts on this overly flirtatious mask cause he is using you to guarantee his survival (at least at first). But, because he puts this mask on in one on one scenarios, it only takes just one second to you to see through it to fail. And if you happen to catch on to him, you can see very easily through the mask. The manipulation instantly fails and he is forced to be himself to try to maintain your approval. But if you don't see his mask early on, he could convince you to do just about anything, even the most heinous of actions. And then when he willingly lets his mask fall or feels he no longer needs it and you see the real him, it's too late. You've already fallen in love with him. Now, he can do no wrong in your eyes.

Shadow uses nearly the exact opposite approach. She does care about your relationship and affinity for others. To be precise, she wants you to have a slightly unfavorable opinion of the others so that she comes out as the favored by default. Lae'zel is a particular target of this. She avoids one on one scenarios and pushes you away every time you try to get close. Yes, it is that inner Sharran of hers in regards to keeping secrets. But also the fact that she's super easy to see through if you get close to her, so she wants to keep you away for the sole purpose that you don't see that she's manipulating you. But, even if you do, she still has the benefit of the doubt on her side.

Her manipulation mostly takes place in group scenarios. She takes advantage of things as they happen and she says very precise words to sway your opinion in the way she wants. Unfortunately, Lae'zel is a perfect example of how successful this manipulation tactic can be. Shadow doesn't not need to tell you Lae'zel is dangerous, she just reminds you that she is while Lae'zel is actively doing dangerous things. Shadow will even openly admit to this tactic and it will fly over your head that that's exactly what she's doing because she has made herself appear as someone who wouldn't do it to you. Or, admitting to it can make you doubt that she ever would as you may think, "a real manipulator wouldn't admit to manipulating me, right?" Her manipulation is all about planting just the slightest bit of doubt, and you do the rest and manipulate yourself for her. And she does it so marvelously. She makes sure that the only person you don't doubt is her.

Astarion's manipulation requires that you never see through his bullshit at any given point in time. If you do, the manipulation fails. Shadow's manipulation can survive you seeing through her bullshit because everyone, somehow, keeps proving her right anyway.

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion #shadowheart #lae'zel #manipulation #masks

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princessbrunette · 3 hours

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this whole agreement was stressing pope out. though he’d convinced himself it was okay, he knew deep down that sleeping with you just because your lying, cheating kook boyfriend couldn’t make you cum was morally wrong. this time around had been a close call. too close.

his life had become something out of a cheap porno — he finishes his shift at the local pizza place, and cycles his delivery bike all the way to your place to lay it on you. it had even gotten to the point where pope had stopped bringing you pizza, because there was no longer a reason to pretend that was why he was really there.

things had gotten risky, and this time around he’d very nearly screwed things, your boyfriend stopping by and letting himself in whilst the two of you had been at it in the shower, your favourite pizza delivery boy having crowded you against the tiles with his head shoved into your crotch, hot water running down his toned back. he seemed to be enjoying himself a lot, despite it being you to have forced him in there due to the fact he was kind of vaguely still smelling like pepperoni.

you’d appeared sopping wet in the hallway with a tiny towel wrapped round you, eyes wide as saucers when you’d seen the boyfriend coming right towards the bathroom. “why are you here?” you practically barked as pope listens in as best as he can over the sound of the running water.

“i was in the area and i needed to pee. can i?” even now, the attitude drips off his voice and pope is gritting his teeth.

“do you need to? i’m showering.” you try to hide the panic in your tone as he shuffles past you, busting right in. you hold your breath, as does pope as he stands as still as possible behind the shower curtain.

he does his business, both you and pope stiff as a statue as he zips himself back up — looking around casually without a rush in the world.

“showering, huh? you know i got time. could always let me in there with you.” he takes a step towards the shower curtain, beckoning you and you panic.

“no! its— it’s not that kind of shower. its an everything shower, you know — shaving everything… and stuff. trust me, you don’t wanna go in there.” you convince, making the kook ken doll roll his eyes but back off anyway.

“you never wanna have fun anymore.” he grumbles, and you see him out. infact, you stand at the door in your towel and make sure he’s gone before returning and yanking back the shower curtain.

“nope.” pope is immediately speaking, shaking his head as droplets fall off his hair. he goes to move past you, reaching for a towel. “i can’t do this, okay! it’s stressing me the fuck out.”

your brows knit, grabbing at his slippery arms to try and get him to be still. “please? he’s gone, pope. i made sure… i— i need this. it’s been such a long week.”

he’s in the midst of wrapping a towel round his waist, glancing up at you through the fogged mirror. “you’re gonna have to do it yourself.” in frustration, you stomp your foot petulantly, still draped in a tiny towel. at your mini tantrum, pope raises his eyebrows — unimpressed and swivels his body round to look at you, intrigued. the brattiness melts away for a second and you avert his eyes, for the first time showing nervousness.

“i don’t know how to do that… why’d you think i need you so bad?”

now, that — was a turning point for him. he was trying to get himself out of this toxic (yet highly addictive) situation, but he couldn’t bring himself to pass up the opportunity to teach. especially to teach you, he always loved how pliant you got when told what to do.

it’s how your damp bodies wound up on your bed, towels discarded with your back to his chest, legs spread. his hands squish at your thighs bordering on being cruel as he holds them open, watching the way your fingers roll over the bead of your clit.

“see, there’s not really a science to it— it’s about figuring out what feels right for you.” his voice is deeper than usual when it’s in your ear, and you shudder at the sound, nodding and swallowing because it’s all you can manage. “its how i figured you out so fast, you’re so responsive — it gave me great feedback on how i could make you cum. just from following your bodies reaction.” he brings a hand down and easily adjusts your smaller one. “middle and ring finger for when you wanna go inside.” he slides them down to your hole, massaging the pad of his fingers against yours to aid your movement. “and the thumb stays right up here to rub your clit. are you getting it?”

“i would rather you— i would rather you do it.” the first time you try to speak, it’s your usual spoiled self — but your breath hitches in your throat and it comes out meeker the second time you try.

“i know.” he croons, and when his lips brush your ear you think he might be coming down to kiss your cheek affectionately. instead, he speaks again. “but then this whole thing would be pointless. you’re here to learn, right?

#pizzadeliveryboy!pope #pope heyward prompt

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ruewrote · 1 day

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𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑡ℎ𝑒 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡.

PAIRING: stiles stilinski x fem!reader WARNINGS: none GENRE: fluff SONG INSPIRATION: teenage dream by katy perry WORD COUNT: 1294

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it wasn't out of the blue for you and stiles to have a sleepover on fridays, actually it was a sort of unspoken rule between the two of you.

it first started when you said that you had never watched star wars before, which led to the both of you sitting on your couch with a big bowl of popcorn in between.

him explaining the little parts you'd get confused about or him just ranting about his favourite scenes. after that it was a back and forth of showing each other your favourite unseen movies.

when finishing said movie the following days you'd receive multiple memes from him about the specific films, it had become a recurring pattern that you'd come to love. it almost felt weird if he didn't.

tonight it was your turn to introduce him to the to all the boys i loved before trilogy since you'd been obsessed with the movies since they first came out.

he was on the fence about watching them since he wasn't a huge fan of romcoms, you somehow convinced him by saying "it's practice for watching them with your future girlfriend!" internally wincing at that.

every friday you felt more anxious before stiles showed, trying to fluff up your pillows and straighten out your blankets. wanting to make everything perfect.

you had a huge crush on stiles, how could you not after spending so much time together, learning all of his little quirks, his likes and his dislikes, the only thing you weren't sure about was the way he felt about you.

it was the one thing you wanted to know the most about him. did he think about you the same ways you thought about him? did he like the way cuddled when you'd watch these movies and shows with him?

you couldn't tell him though, what if he didn't feel the same way you did and it completely ruins the good friendship you have right now?

what would it take for you to finally tell him?

ding dong!

the doorbell ringing a couple times had you jogging down the stairs, opening the door with a warm smile to see hyper stiles.

"i'm so ready to get my movie night on! i had a math test today and let me tell you it sucked," he whines as he dramatically wraps his arms around your waist as he fake cries into your shoulder.

"well if it helps i have enough microwaveable popcorn to keep us going through the apocalypse soo you coming upstairs or what?"

with that said he zips past you up your stairs, falling up them in the process, making you giggle at his eagerness as you follow close behind him.

watching stiles practically swan dive onto your bed and aggressively sniff your pillow has you side eyeing him, "why is your bed so much comfier and smells so much nicer than mine? it's so not fair."

"it's a little thing called fabric softener and if you continuously jump into your bed the way you do mine, then i guess you've got your answer you dufus," you laugh at him burrowing himself deep under your duvet.

"plus i've slept in your bed it's plenty comfy, the key is lots of pillows and fluffy blankets." he hums as you settle yourself beside him before pressing play on the movie.

it was like ten minutes into the film when you could feel him slightly shuffle closer to you, keeping your eyes on the screen pretending it didn't happen. just patiently waiting until he felt comfortable enough to say something.

"can...can we cuddle?" you wordlessly lifted your arm, letting him slip himself under, his head on your chest, the rest of his body lightly pressed to your side.

it was like second nature to you two, whether either one of you had a bad week you'd take turns holding each other. you helped install healthy mannerisms that proved that it was okay for a man to be held because they deserve it too and that it was okay for guys to cry no matter who they're with.

so yes , when he had a rough day he'd often walk up to you and bury his face into your neck, his arms firmly wrapped around you as you cupped the back of his head and rubbed soft circles on his back just letting him know that you were there for him.

with everything he had gone through he deserved all the comfort he could get and if the source was you then so be it.

you would be lying if you said that your heart didn't speed up at the closeness and how his touch on your skin left goosebumps.

trying to be as casual as possible, you raise the hand that was currently wrapped around his shoulders to gently stroke his hair, feeling him physically melt into you calmed your nerves.

feeling your eyelids slowly droop, your hand movements become slower so your palm now laid on the back of his neck, fighting sleep felt so difficult when he was beside you. his presence was so peaceful, comforting even without him saying anything.

the early start of your day hitting even harder now. He won't mind if you rested your eyes for a little bit, right?

stiles noticed the similarities between the two characters to the both of you, but there's no way that you deliberately put this on as a sign? was he reading too deep into it?

when he went to question you about it, lifting his head he was met with you sleeping peacefully. his gaze softened at the sight, gently tucking the piece of hair that fell in front of your face.

"you are so goddamn beautiful and don't even know it, even when you sleep? like can you save some beauty for the rest of us?" he chuckles at his own joke.

"i don't know how long i can keep pretending that i'm not totally in love with you...there really isn't anything that i wouldn't do for you." he whispers and he studies your features.

"it's honestly crazy how i feel your absence in everything that i do when i'm alone, in every place i go without you." he sighs, going to go back to watching the tv.

"you really mean all of that?" you whisper, making him jump back.

"uh- i-i do, but i thought you were asleep?"

"no i was just resting my eyes, but i'm sorta glad that you thought i was for you to finally confess your feelings for me." you smirk at him.

his mouth opens and closes, utterly bewildered at what you just said, "what do you mean finally?"

"You realise that i like you too, right? that i have for the longest time?" stiles eyes now wide, looking even more lost than before.

"you like me? like like me like me?"

sitting up, grasping the back of his neck, "what are you..." pulling him closer, your lips brushing against his. it takes him a second to register the kiss before melting into it. leaning closer to deepen the kiss. his hands brushing over your hips as he laid you down, now hovering over you. your hand running through his hair, tugging at the roots.

you're both now smiling as you share a few more pecks before pulling away. "so you do like me!" he grins, "oh my god. dude yes!"

"ya know if you're gonna be my girlfriend, you're gonna have to calling me dude."

"would you prefer shnookums?"

"that's it!" he pulled away just enough to tickle you.

from that night forth you and stiles had become inseparable, practically connected at the hip. but you wouldn't want it any other way.

i NEED new stiles stilinski fics to read.

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aughtpunk · 3 days

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So in the comments of "Primum Non Nocere" someone asked what would have happened if Shaun didn't get sick. I answered briefly, but I really felt like getting lost in the weeds of this idea for a bit. Because there's just so many possibilities, you know?

To start, Shaun would have ran. Shaun had been running his entire life. He doesn't know how to do anything else when faced with such potential danger. Shaun would run, leaving the safety of the Grand Temple and everyone within behind. It's from there our possibilities begin to branch off.

It's possible that, with time, Shaun would calm down and reflect on what he learned and the life of his twin. Maybe it would take weeks, months, years, decades, but with time and distance he could begin to understand what Jacob had gone through. Perhaps as more and more lambs come back to life and return to the world Shaun would slowly believe that--despite their evil actions in the past that--Jacob is now fighting for a peaceful, better future. Perhaps then Shaun would return to the Grand Temple. Older, yes, but more mature and understanding and willing to rebuild his relationship with Jacob.

or maybe

Or maybe Shaun never returns to the Grand Temple. He instead spends his life in hiding, too scared to return to the only family he's ever really known. Maybe he starts a family of his own. Maybe he spends his years alone. When he eventually passes he's not too shocked to find himself alive again in front of Jacob and Narinder. Would he run again? Or would the weight of a life alone make him more eager to forgive?

or maybe

Or maybe once he's alone Shaun would find it so easy, so painfully easy, to convince himself that the God of Death isn't his twin. That Jacob died kneeling in front of the Bishops over two hundred years ago. This thing, this monster known as the God of Death is not Jacob. Maybe it's just the Red Crown using his body as a puppet. Maybe it's a demon, or some other sort of monster that had taken Jacob's form. Because there's no way Jacob, his Jacob, would ever do those horrible things. No, this must be something else. It must be. Whatever it was it had to be stopped or Jacob's soul would never be able to rest.

Shaun couldn't do it alone. But The God of Death and their followers have plenty of enemies. How easy it would be to join those ranks. To rise up thanks to his knowledge of The Lamb's weaknesses and fears. Shaun wouldn't think twice about leading these troops into battle. He would show no mercy to those within the Grand Temple, nor would he hesitate to take on the thing that wore Jacob's flesh himself.

Shaun would lose, of course. Dead before he even knew what happened. Jacob wouldn't want to do it but they'd have no choice. It was the only way to end this. The only way.

And Jacob would bring him back, of course. Apologizing the whole time. Begging their twin to hear them out, to listen, to stop this senseless violence.

Shaun would run again. He'd come back more powerful. He'd fight Jacob. He'd die. Jacob would bring him back. He'd run again. An endless cycle fueled by rage and denial.

or maybe

Years pass. Decades. Centuries. Jacob still hasn't felt Shaun's second death after all of this time. But they're not shocked at all.

Because, you see, on the night Shaun left someone also stole the translated text about how to create a crown.

There are rumors of a new cult in the air. This one lead by a God of Justice. A lamb.

Jacob could easily crush the new cult, but they don't. They can't. All they can do is wait until the day The God of Justice decides to make Jacob pay for all of their past sins. Even if it meant killing The God of Death themselves.

And frankly? Jacob may let him.

***

In all of these possibilities, these strange and twisted branches, Kallamar will sometimes look and his old chess set and feel an odd lump in his throat. It made no sense, really. He'd only known The Lamb's twin for a few short days. Yet there was still a part that missed him. He'd then go back to whatever he was doing before and forget all about it.

Still. It was a shame he never got that rematch.

#cult of the lamb #cotl #cotl lamb #cotl shaun #cotl kallamar #I spent way too long on this #whoops #Primum Non Nocere

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allyeardepression · 3 days

Text

@jegulus-microfic | april 22 evoke | words: 1,6k

big shout out to @frnkmush for helping me with this one, you’re such an angel 🫶🏼

tw: swearing, mentions of wounds

part one

On Monday evening, Regulus received an Instagram message request from someone called jfprongs. He went to check on the person’s profile to see who they were, and—oh god.

At the sight of a radiant smile, bronze skin, and golden glasses, all memories from the night before evoked in him. He suddenly remembered making an absolute fool of himself by asking a doctor who just stitched him up on a date.

While he was drunk.

The first thing he did was send a screenshot of the profile and the message that read just a simple ‘Hi’ to the group chat.

i can fix him (i can’t)

Reg

<2 photos attached>

that’s the doctor from last night

what do i do??????????

Barty

skakksjsksjsjsjsjajsjsj

Evan

Pandora

what is he doing in your dms?

Reg

…

i may or may not have asked him out

There was a short pause before his phone started ringing.

“What the fuck do you mean you asked him out?” Pandora asked, amused. In the background, Regulus could hear Barty and Evan laughing hysterically.

“Well, I was drunk, and he was really hot. We should all be grateful I only did that instead of trying to convince him to fuck me on his desk,” he responded, trying to take off the bandage off of the fresh wound without making it hurt more than necessary.

On the other end of the line, he could hear Panda huffing a small laugh. “Yeah, thank god that whore didn’t come out.”

“Any—oh fuck, it hurts—anyways, what do I do now?” Regulus asked again, finally throwing away the old bandage and starting to clean the cut. He hated using disinfectants on any part of his body, really, but on the face, it felt worse than anything.

His friend hummed thoughtfully. “I think you should text him back and see how it goes,” and so he did.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

On Tuesday evening, exactly at 7:36 p.m., Regulus was sitting on a bench in front of his apartment building and waiting for a grey Mercedes to arrive.

After he answered James yesterday, they talked a bit and agreed that Drunk Regulus’ idea about meeting sooner was actually a pretty good one. So he sat there, checking his phone every three seconds, hoping to see a message that would say ‘I’m here’.

He picked it up again when a grey car parked next to him and the passenger’s window rolled down.

“Hi Regulus, come in,” James invited him with a warm smile painted on his lips.

As Regulus took the front seat, the other man reached to the back, pulling a small bouquet of purple carnations.

“What’s that?” Regulus asked, confused. James eyes widened at that.

“Well, I assumed it’s a date, and I thought it would be a nice gesture, but if I overstepped or misread—“

“No, no, no, absolutely! That is a date, and those are lovely, I just—I'm not used to getting flowers.” He could feel his cheeks starting to burn a little when James smiled wildly, like a happy Golden Retriever.

They finally drove away from Regulus' block, heading towards the city center. The radio played some soft, lofi music that, added to the soft humming of the engine, started lulling Regulus to sleep. James must’ve noticed, because he handed his unlocked phone to him.

“Choose the next song; I’ll pick something after you,” the bronze-skinned man told him. Regulus, extremely eager, grabbed the phone and typed in the title he needed to hear right now. Thankfully, the chill music ended shortly after, and an 80s synth-pop melody came on.

“Somebody runnin’ through the field/Somebody shoulda stayed home/Somebody pickin’ up the body of somebody they were gettin’ to know,” Regulus hummed softly to Matty’s lyrics. James whipped his head at a light speed and looked at him with wide eyes. Regulus gave him a questioning look in response.

“First of all,” James began, “is it the one about the school shooting?” Regulus nodded, smirking. “Okay, that’s surprising. Second of all, you have quite a nice voice.” Now Regulus wasn’t smirking, just smiling sheepishly.

After ‘Looking for somebody (to love)’ ended, there was a disco bit, and Reg wanted to whine as soon as he recognised the song. The only thing that stopped him was that sparkle in James’ eyes.

And then the other man started singing.

“OOH, YOU CAN DANCE, YOU CAN JIVE, HAVING THE TIME OF YOUR LIFE!” and Regulus couldn’t help but laugh hysterically. “What? Don’t you like my vocals?” James chuckled, knowing damn well he sounded like a cat in heat.

“Oh no, your vocals are just as lovely as your smile,” the younger man giggled.

They continued to take turns choosing songs, becoming more and more comfortable, and singing louder and louder.

They reached the restaurant as Olivia’s ‘all-american bitch’ was coming to an end.

“Wait here,” said James, getting out of the car and running around it, just to open Regulus’ door. The older man held out his hand in a dramatic gesture.

Reg rolled his eyes, taking the hand and getting out as well.

“Such a gentleman,” he commented sarcastically, yet still, he could feel the warmth spread inside of his chest at this small move.

They walked into the restaurant hand in hand, talking lightly about their favourite type of pasta. James gave the hostess his name, and the woman led them to their table, giving them two menus. Regulus scanned it in search of the cheapest meal, so he could afford it. The restaurant wasn’t really fancy, but it was still expensive.

“15 pounds for Carbonara? Is it made of gold?” He mumbled, but apparently not quietly enough, because James replied, ‘Don’t worry, it’s on me’. This caught Regulus off guard. “What do you mean? I asked you out; I should be the one paying.”

“Yeah, no,” was all James said, and the other man kept looking at him in confusion. “You’re a student; I work full time; it’s only fair if I pay,” he continued, looking up from his menu.

Regulus opened his mouth as if to argue, but quickly shut them back up. “Yeah, okay, you have a point.”

After that, they talked only about what they should order, settling on a lasagna for James, pumpkin ravioli for Reg, and a bottle of rosé.

“So,” the older man started. “What do you study?”

“Oh, um, painting. I’m in art school,” he mumbled in response, taking a sip of his wine. “I’m not gonna lie, I know it won’t get me a lot of money, but I love it. I can’t imagine doing anything else, even if it means I’ll have to eat pesto pasta for the rest of my life.” He couldn’t exactly read James’ face; it looked kind of blank.

“Can I see any of your work?” he asked finally, sounding actually interested. So, of course, Regulus reached for his phone and started scrolling through it in search of the pieces he was most proud of. When James saw the one with the white stag running through a blue forest, he pointed at it and exclaimed, “That. I want that one in my living room,” and Regulus laughed lightly at him. “What? I mean it. How much do you want for it?”

“A thousand pounds!” the younger man kept chuckling.

“Deal.”

“Wait, are you for real?” He looked at the man opposite him in bewilderment, and as the other nodded with a smile, he couldn’t help but smile himself.

It was how the rest of the evening went—they ate, talked, drank wine, and talked some more. They left, again hand in hand, discussing a playlist for the ride home.

They were just a few blocks away from Regulus’ building when he decided to turn the radio down a little.

“Thank you,” he said, turning to James. “I had a really good time.”

“Would you like to do it again sometime?” The other man asked, also turning.

“Yeah, sometime,” he answered softly, pink blooming on his cheeks. He received a small smile back.

When they finally reached his block, Regulus didn’t get out immediately. Instead, he fully turned to face James and looked him deep in the eyes. The older man didn’t break eye contact; he only smiled brightly.

Please, kiss me. Please, kiss me. Please, kiss me.

James reached in his direction, brushing a loose curl from Regulus’ face back behind his ear. Instead of withdrawing his hand, James put it on his cheek, caressing it lightly with his thumb.

They stayed like that for a few seconds (or hours) before James broke the silence.

“Can I walk you to your flat?” and Reg just nodded in response.

They got out of the car the same way they did before. Holding hands, they walked up the stairs to the third floor. As they reached his door, Regulus turned to James again. And once more, James’ hand found its way to Reg’s cheek. The moment was tense, almost tangible. Until-

“Can I kiss you?” The older man whispered, like a secret.

Yesyesyes

Regulus only managed to nod once before he felt soft lips on his. It wasn’t an obscene kiss with a lot of teeth and tongs; it was gentle and sweet, like the first kiss in middle school. It didn’t last long either—far too quick for Reg’s liking. James rewarded him with another sweet kiss, this time on the forehead, before he pulled away with the same bright spark in his eye that appeared during ‘Dancing Queen’.

“Good night, Regulus,” he said softly, taking a small step back.

“Good night, Jamie—I mean James,” the older man chuckled, shaking his head.

“I like it; you can call me Jamie. I’ll see you soon.” And with that promise, he turned around and walked down the stairs, throwing just one last look at Regulus before disappearing on the floor below.

#jegulus #starchaser #sunseeker #james potter #regulus black #james x regulus #the marauders #dead gay wizards #jegulus microfic #modern au #artist!regulus #doctor!james #1k words or more #by: allyeardepression #slytherin skittles

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