#but I don’t think anyone ever claimed otherwise

[valenteal]

Fyodor was briefly in the secret founding of the detective agency which took place 12 years before the main storyline. He looked pretty much the same. He had to have been at least 18. Which means he is at least 8 years older than Dazai and at least 30 in the main story line.which would also make him older than Shibusawa by at least 1 year.

Anyway I think a lot of people grossly underestimate Fyodor’s age (I am also guilty of this) and assume he’s about as old as Dazai. He is not. He was already a prolific international criminal when Dazai was 10.

[mrprettywhenhecries]

just a ride [b.c] (1/2)

Benny Cross ✗ f!Reader

✝︎ w.c. 2.6k words ✝︎ tags/warning(s). no use of y/n, reader character uses she/her pronouns, reader leaves boyfriend for benny, minor depiction of violence, alcohol consumption & nicotine use; this part's pretty tame honestly, but there will be smut in the next part ;3 ✝︎ a/n. The Benny brain rot has had me in a vice grip and I needed to write something before I exploded. Admittedly this is somewhat similar to how he and Kathy met in the film, but with my own spin on it, and will be expanded on in the next part. Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! 💚

When your boyfriend brings you to an unfamiliar bar, the rough atmosphere and rowdy clientele are a little more than you bargained for, but when you lock eyes with the handsome biker across the room, your whole night's about to change.

“Where are we?” you asked as your boyfriend parked across the street from a seedy looking bar in a part of town you’d never been to before.  The otherwise empty street was lined with bikes and you turned to gape at your boyfriend.

“A biker bar?  Really?” you exclaimed, the idea almost comical.  “You wanna go to a biker bar?

Your boyfriend prickled at the insinuation behind your words.  “Yeah, so what if I do?  You don’t think I’m tough enough?” he questioned defensively and you just huffed a cynical laugh.

“Do you even know anyone that comes here?”

“Well, no, but–”

You crossed your arms and leaned back in your seat.  “This seems like a bad idea…”

“C’mon, if it gets too dodgy we’ll leave,” your boyfriend coaxed.  “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”

Though you had your doubts, you didn’t argue further, stepping out of the car and crossing the street to the bar.  As soon as you stepped inside, you hesitated at the threshold, fighting to catch your breath against the assault to your senses–the sour stench of sweat and stale smoke instantly hitting you, burning your nostrils as you breathed it in.

Jostled by the crowd and press of bodies, you blindly followed your boyfriend in search of a free table, barely able to hear him over the blaring music and rowdy bikers yelling to be heard over the din.  Finding a lone empty table in the center of the room, your boyfriend claimed it, pulling out a chair for you and draping his coat over the one next to it.

“I’m gunna go get us some drinks, you stay here,” he said before taking off in the direction of the bar.

From your seat further away from the jukebox, it was a little more bearable and you could actually hear yourself think.  Letting your gaze roam the packed room, you noticed you were getting some curious glances from the bikers sitting nearby, but you found you weren’t the only woman there and that eased your nerves slightly. 

The sharp clack of pool balls connecting pulled your eyes to the pool table in the corner and your breath hitched as you spotted quite possibly the most beautiful man you’d ever seen in your life leaning over the table, pool cue in hand.  As he lifted his gaze, his eyes meeting yours, you could’ve sworn time slowed, and you wet your lips, your mouth suddenly dry.

Realizing you’d been staring a little too long, you quickly tore your gaze away, glancing back a moment later to find him still watching you curiously.

Pulse pounding in your ears, you watched him set his cue down and head toward you, a swaggering grace to his movements as he approached.  Pulling out the chair on your left, he spun it around and straddled it, leaning forward to wrap his bare arms around the chair back.

“I’m Benny,” he said, introducing himself, a bright grin spreading across his tanned face as he leaned closer, dirt smudged across his cheek and a smattering of light freckles adorning his nose.

“Never seen you around here before,” he observed, tilting his head slightly, waiting for you to respond.

His low raspy voice sent a shiver through you and you watched him for a moment, wetting your lips before giving your name in return and his grin widened.

“You here alone?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow at you expectantly.

“I’m here with my boyfriend,” you explained, lifting your shoulder in a rueful shrug, a regretful tinge to your voice.

“Boyfriend, huh?” Benny echoed, wrinkling his nose at the news, though you knew he'd had to have seen you come in together.

“‘Fraid so,” you murmured, losing yourself for a moment in his pale blue eyes, a soulfulness to his unwavering stare that held your breath hostage.

“S’a real shame,” he drawled, his eyes flicking up to focus on something behind you, and before you could reply, your boyfriend claimed the chair on your other side, squaring off across the table from Benny.

“Back off, man, she’s spoken for,” he exclaimed, puffing his chest out in an attempt to look tougher, though beside Benny he just looked foolish.

Benny looked between the two of you, an amused grin playing at the corner of his lips, and he held his hands up harmlessly in surrender.

“Alright, I’ll go,” he said, a hint of laughter to his voice as he rose from the chair, giving you one last lingering look before heading back to his spot by the pool table, grabbing his abandoned beer bottle by the neck and bringing it to his lips.

“What’s his fuckin’ deal, huh?” your boyfriend huffed, setting your drink down in front of you, tearing your gaze from the roguish stranger.  “Fuckin’ vulture, thinks he can take what’s mine,” he grumbled, taking a long drink from his bottle.

At his words, your brows pinched.  

“Hey, you’re the one that wanted to come here,” you reminded him, bringing your glass to your lips and taking a slow sip as your eyes once more flitted toward Benny, studying him over the rim of your glass.  There was something about him that pulled at you, like a moth to a flame, and there was a part of you that wanted to be pulled, to let that flame engulf you whole.

It barely registered that your boyfriend had responded.

“Hey, you listening to me?” he asked, snapping you from your thoughts and you made a noncommittal sound.

“I think I could do this—“

“Do what?” you asked distractedly and he frowned.

“Ride bike.  Y’know, join a club.  Maybe this club.”

At your derisive snort his frown deepened.  “What?” he demanded and you finally looked at him full on.

“You aren’t like these guys,” you said bluntly, tired of him trying to be someone he wasn’t.  “You just wanna look cool, you don’t love it like they do—riding,” you clarified.  “To them their colours are like a second skin, not just a costume you can put on when you feel like it.”

“Oh please, I’m sure most of these guys are just weekend warriors,” he scoffed and you rolled your eyes, letting your gaze wander once more, observing the other bikers that filled the hazy room, their raucous laughter and boisterous conversations filling your ears.

The longer you sat there, the more you felt eyes on you and you began to notice several of the bikers staring at you before quickly turning to talk furtively amongst themselves.  Unsure if you wanted to know what they were saying or not, you turned away and for a moment your eyes met those of the man sitting alone at the table across from you—he was older, his weathered face lined from life and hard work, and an air of authority radiated from him.

When he noticed you looking, he nodded to you and his full lips pulled into a smile, easing the hard cast of his countenance.

“I need some air,” you murmured, standing before your boyfriend could respond.

“Want me to order you another drink?” he grunted, taking another swig of his beer as you slipped your jacket around your shoulders.

“Nah, I’m good,” you mumbled, stepping away from the table.

As you passed, the older man caught your wrist, holding you in place and he peered up at you, an almost fatherly expression on his bluff face.

“You don’t need t’worry,” he drawled knowingly, his heavy midwestern accent coating his words while his deep set eyes flicked to his fellows and back to you.  “Nothin’s gunna happen to yeh,” he assured and you nodded slowly, unsure how to respond.  Once he released you, you headed for the door, keeping your eyes straight ahead.  Despite his words, you still couldn’t quite shake the wariness that had seeped into you.

Slipping outside, you reached in your pocket for your pack of cigarettes, tamping one out and perching it between your lips.  As soon as the door shut behind you, cutting the noise from inside and the cool night air enveloped you, you felt as though you could finally breathe again.

Leaning back against the rough brick wall behind you, you searched your pockets for your lighter, swearing under your breath when it eluded you.  Pulling the cigarette from your lips, a heavy sigh followed and you let your head fall back against the bar wall, your eyes turning skyward–the inky depths above obscured by the light of the neon sign that hung overhead.

You barely noticed the door swing open again until the crunch of boots on pavement stopped next to you and you felt a presence looming at your side.  Figuring it was just your boyfriend, you let your head roll toward him, only to find Benny standing there, tilting his head as he watched you.

“Need a light?” he asked, pulling a worn Zippo from his pocket and flipping it open with a practiced flick of the wrist to thumb the wheel, holding the flickering flame out for you to light your cigarette.

Feeling Benny’s intense gaze on you, you took a deep draw through the filter, watching the cherry burn brightly before leaning back, and Benny snapped the Zippo shut, exhausting the flame in one fluid motion while you let your hand drop, lazily blowing the stream of smoke away from him.

“Thanks,” you murmured, rolling the cigarette between your fingers as you lifted your eyes to his once more.

“S’nothin’,” he drawled softly, lips twitching upward.  With the lamp overhead casting a halo over his tousled dirty blond hair, he looked like some sort of fallen angel clad in leather and denim, his rough garb so at odds with the tender cast of his face.

After several long drags, the nicotine began to soothe your nerves and you offered Benny a puff, your arm brushing against his as he leaned against the wall next to you.

“So who’s that older guy who was sitting at the table next to mine, the one who stopped me on my way out?” you asked, glancing at Benny’s profile, your gaze lingering on his distractingly long lashes that brushed his cheek each time he blinked.

“That’s Johnny,” he grunted, smoke curling from his lips as he answered, handing you the half spent cigarette back to finish off.  “He’s president of the club,” he explained and you nodded.

Silence fell over the pair of you, but all the while you could feel Benny watching you, searching your face for something even he wasn’t sure he was looking for.

“Wanna go for a ride?” he asked suddenly, nodding toward his bike parked nearby and you followed his gaze, flicking a line of ash to the pavement.

“Sounds tempting,” you mused, taking one last drag before dropping the cigarette to crush under heel and pushing off the wall, dusting your hands off.  “But I’m here with my boyfriend, remember?”

“I remember,” Benny replied, huffing a soft laugh as he shook his head, his grin widening mischievously.  “It’s just a ride.”

“Uh huh,” you countered skeptically, though you couldn't help but match his smile, the excuses running through your head seeming flimsier the longer you held his gaze.

Before you could give a proper answer, the door swung open again and your boyfriend stepped out, his expression twisting when he caught sight of you and Benny together.

“I thought I told you to step off, man!  Think you can cut in on what’s mine?” he spat and you couldn’t help but gape at him, echoing his words incredulously.

“What’s yours?” 

“Will you just shut it and let me take care of this guy?"

Prickling with anger, you crossed your arms over your chest, your brows climbing as you shot him an indignant look and Benny’s grin melted from his face.

“Hey now.  Don’t talk to her like that,” he said, stepping up to him while subtly pushing you behind him and for a moment you saw fear flicker in your boyfriend’s eyes as he looked up at Benny, standing nearly a head taller than him.  Tamping his fear down, he wet his lips and opened his mouth.

“She’s my girl, and I can talk to her however the fuck I want.  This is none of your fuckin’ business, asshole.”

Benny shook his head ruefully, sucking his teeth.

“Seems like y’need someone to teach you some manners,” he drawled and you nearly laughed out loud at the thought of this brooding baby faced biker standing up for you against your own boyfriend–though if you were being honest, soon to be ex-boyfriend.

Just then the bar door opened and several of Benny’s fellow Vandals streamed out, forming a circle around the two men when they realized a fight was brewing, like sharks drawn to the scent of blood in the water.  Despite the growing crowd, your boyfriend’s bruised ego refused to let him step down and in a foolish bid to prove himself, he rushed forward, his brazen swing catching Benny square in the jaw.

Stumbling back, Benny let out a low grunt at the blow before straightening, shaking the punch off.

“That all you got?” he taunted, his deep drawl unphased.

Desperate to keep the upper hand, your boyfriend swung again wildly, but this time Benny was ready for it.  Ducking, he countered with a left hook, sending your boyfriend sprawling.  For one brief moment, you thought Benny wasn’t going to stop, even though your boyfriend was already down for the count, but as soon as he looked at you, the wild light faded from his eyes and he merely rolled his shoulders, working the tension free.

When he stepped up to his bike and threw a leg astride it, he glanced back at you over his shoulder, his unspoken question hanging in the air.

Giving your boyfriend one last disgusted look, you turned on your heel and climbed behind Benny, wrapping your arms around his waist as he lifted up momentarily to bring down his boot on the kick lever, putting his full weight into the jump and the bike roared to life beneath you, the vibrations spreading through your body like a wildfire.

Several Vandals whooped in excitement and you heard engines firing around you, but Benny had already pulled away from the curb and out into the street.  The stretch of road to the bridge ahead was deserted and the moon slipped out from behind the clouds to illuminate the way, shining off the damp pavement.

When you first hit the bridge, it was just you and Benny, and he threw his head back, letting out a howl that seemed to encompass everything you were feeling in that moment.  With the chill night wind whipping past you, stinging your cheeks and tugging at your clothes, it felt as though you were flying, Benny’s back pressed to your chest the only solid thing left in the world as everything else fell away.

You’d never felt so alive.

So free.

In that moment, you understood why the Vandals rode.

Overcome with an emotion you could only describe as childlike wonder, you swept your arms out wide, a wild crow of laughter bubbling up from the depths of your stomach just as the other bikers crested the hill to surround you and Benny, the roar of their engines nearly drowning out your cry.

Your rush of adrenaline waned, leaving you reeling and you quickly wrapped your arms tightly around Benny, pressing your cheek to his shoulder blade as his warmth seeped into you, and you knew you’d never be the same.

Part of you wondered if that had been Benny’s plan from the moment your eyes had met across the bar, but even if it had, you knew you couldn't hold it against him.

[writeriguess]

Five Hargreeves x female reader oneshot where he's jealous of Diego, because you and Five have a secret relationship and Diego keeps flirting with you. Five is jealous and possessive over you. Thanks.

The rain pattered gently against the windows of the Umbrella Academy mansion, the stormy weather outside a stark contrast to the tension brewing within. You were seated comfortably in the library, engrossed in a book, the quiet solace of the room offering a rare moment of peace in the otherwise chaotic life you had grown accustomed to.

Unbeknownst to the rest of the Umbrella Academy, you and Five Hargreeves had been in a secret relationship for the past few months. The two of you had perfected the art of subtle glances and fleeting touches, your connection hidden under the veil of friendship. Five preferred it this way. He didn’t like the idea of anyone—especially his siblings—interfering in what the two of you had built together.

But there was one person who was making that exceedingly difficult: Diego.

Diego had been flirting with you incessantly, completely unaware of the fiery storm of jealousy he was stirring in his brother. Every time Diego flashed you that confident grin or placed his hand on your shoulder, Five had to fight the urge to teleport across the room and stake his claim on you right then and there.

Today was no different.

Diego sauntered into the library, the usual cocky swagger in his step as he spotted you curled up on the couch. He wasted no time in sliding onto the cushion next to you, far too close for Five’s liking.

“Hey, beautiful,” Diego greeted, flashing you a flirtatious smile. “What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his cheesy pick-up line, though the sound was tinged with nervousness. You were aware of Five’s jealous streak, and you knew he was lurking somewhere close by, likely watching this interaction with clenched fists.

“Just reading,” you replied, trying to keep the conversation light.

Diego leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low, playful tone. “You know, you should spend more time with me. I could show you a thing or two.”

Before you could respond, the air in the room shifted. You looked up to see Five standing in the doorway, his eyes narrowed, the familiar blue-green of his teleportation ability flickering around his hands. He didn’t say a word as he crossed the room, his gaze locked onto Diego with a cold intensity.

“Diego,” Five’s voice was calm, almost too calm. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”

Diego looked up at his brother, clearly oblivious to the undercurrent of possessiveness in Five’s tone. “Relax, Five. I’m just keeping her company.”

Five’s eyes darkened, his patience wearing thin. He moved closer, his body tensing as he loomed over Diego. “She doesn’t need your company,” he said, his voice low and threatening. “And I don’t appreciate you thinking otherwise.”

You could practically feel the tension crackling in the air, and you placed a hand on Five’s arm, trying to soothe the anger you could see brewing beneath his calm exterior. “Five, it’s fine. Diego was just—”

Five’s gaze snapped to you, softening ever so slightly as he looked into your eyes. But the possessiveness didn’t wane. He couldn’t stand the thought of anyone else getting close to you, especially not Diego.

“No,” Five cut you off, his voice firm. “It’s not fine.”

Diego raised an eyebrow, finally catching on to the fact that something was going on between the two of you. “Wait, are you two…?”

Five’s expression hardened, his jaw clenching as he met Diego’s questioning gaze. “That’s none of your business,” he snapped. “But if you ever touch her again, I’ll make sure you regret it.”

Diego’s eyes widened slightly, and he raised his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. I didn’t know, okay?” He got up from the couch, backing away slowly. “I’ll leave you two alone.”

As soon as Diego was out of earshot, Five turned to you, his expression softening as he cupped your face in his hands. “Are you alright?” he asked, his voice gentle.

You nodded, leaning into his touch. “I’m fine, Five. But you need to calm down. Diego didn’t mean any harm.”

Five sighed, his thumb brushing over your cheek as he searched your eyes. “I know,” he admitted, though his voice was still tinged with frustration. “But I can’t stand the thought of anyone else touching you, Y/N. You’re mine.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, the possessiveness in his voice igniting something deep within you. You leaned up, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “I’m yours,” you whispered against his mouth. “And no one else’s.”

Five’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss, all the tension from earlier melting away as he held you. In that moment, nothing else mattered—only the two of you, wrapped up in each other, hidden away from the rest of the world.

When you finally pulled back, Five rested his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “I hate having to keep this a secret,” he murmured. “But I can’t lose you. Not now.”

“You won’t lose me,” you assured him, running your fingers through his hair. “I’m not going anywhere, Five. And one day, we won’t have to hide anymore. But until then, you have to trust me.”

Five nodded, though the possessiveness in his eyes hadn’t completely faded. “I trust you. It’s everyone else I don’t trust.”

You smiled, kissing him again. “We’ll figure it out,” you promised. “But for now, let’s just enjoy this moment. Just the two of us.”

And as Five held you close, the storm raging outside seemed distant, irrelevant. In that moment, it was just you and him, tangled up in each other, hidden from the world—but very much in love.

As the night wore on, you both stayed there in the library, the warmth of the fire keeping the cold at bay, and Five’s protective hold on you reminding you just how much he cared. It wasn’t always easy, but you knew that, no matter what, you and Five would always find your way back to each other.

[edenmemes]

baldur's gate 3 starters (part 1)

part 1 / ? .

❝ a less trusting person might think this all sounds very suspicious. ❞ ❝ you say all the right words, but i’m not sure you mean the right things. ❞ ❝ i know somewhere quiet. somewhere intimate. somewhere we can…indulge in each other. ❞ ❝ eugh, don’t be nice to me. it makes me want to be nice back. ❞ ❝ we needn’t be enemies. there’s plenty of those to go around already. ❞ ❝ there’s a steeliness to you, an unwavering tenacity in the face of, to be frank, quite dire odds. ❞ ❝ even the waves of fate can break upon the shores of will. ❞ ❝ i appreciate anyone that opens a conversation with threats of bodily harm. ❞ ❝ oh, you know me - ever the optimist. i’m trying to focus on the positives. ❞ ❝ i’m not easily impressed by people, but you’re stronger than i gave you credit for. ❞ ❝ there’s an air about you. something alien. ❞ ❝ loosen the grip on your pride for one blasted moment, won’t you? ❞ ❝ it’s been a long time since someone stuck their neck out for me like that. ❞ ❝ there’s something odd about this village. people skulk around like they’ve something to hide. ❞ ❝ you know, if you want to spend time with me, you only have to say so. ❞ ❝ i want to know what the world sees when it looks at me. what you see. ❞ ❝ what’s better than a devil you don’t know? a devil you do. ❞ ❝ you must know that you’re…that you’re very special to me. ❞ ❝ the gods are nothing if not vindictive in their vengeance. ❞ ❝ stay with me a while, will you? day will come all too soon. ❞ ❝ here’s my little treat with their cheeks all flushed. ❞ ❝ i am terrified. i will not claim otherwise. ❞ ❝ my apologies. i’m not quite myself yet. i had the strangest dream last night. ❞ ❝ we didn’t die today. tomorrow, perhaps. but not today. ❞ ❝ leader’s need to make tough decisions. we do what we must. ❞ ❝ i think that unknowable powers come with unknowable consequences. ❞ ❝ i’ve had a lifetime’s fill of watching little men puff themselves up with grand titles. ❞ ❝ in these times, all we can trust are the blades in our hands. ❞ ❝ it’s not easy to turn away from one you once loved. ❞ ❝ much has been promised to you, hasn’t it? but what has been taken from you? ❞ ❝ damn it all. i can do nothing right - not a damn thing. ❞ ❝ every instinct i have tells me that nothing’s changed. that i’m still just a means to an end. ❞ ❝ do not speak of a story you only know the half of. ❞ ❝ i dreamt every night that you’d come back to me. that somehow it was all a nightmare dawn would undo. ❞ ❝ when the time comes to strike, you must take it. for there may be only one chance. ❞ ❝ your eyes. there is pain, endless and deep. but also devotion - blazing like the sun. ❞ ❝ you’re adorable even when you’re teasing me. ❞ ❝ i don’t need your help, and i don’t need your pity. ❞ ❝ i’m more than what i was. and i’m not afraid of anything any more. ❞ ❝ i said exactly what i meant: i love you. you should never, never doubt that. ❞ ❝ this is all like some sort of terrible dream. but it’s real, isn’t it? ❞ ❝ there is no redemption. can’t you see? it is too late. ❞ ❝ i don’t know that it was brave. i just know that it was right. ❞ ❝ you took those bastards down like it was nothing. it…was amazing. ❞ ❝ they underestimated me. so they paid the price. ❞ ❝ we fight, we die, and we just hope that when our time comes, there is someone else to take our place. ❞ ❝ unfortunately for me, you’re my friend. rescuing you from mortal peril is my right. ❞ ❝ what did you think i was going to say? 'oh, come here, i'll kiss you better'? ❞ ❝ flowers are so overrated. they're bright, gaudy, and almost never make good poisons. ❞ ❝ i’ve been lied to, my whole life. and i was gullible enough to just believe it. ❞ ❝ you know, i never pictured myself as a hero. never thought i'd be the one they toast for saving so many lives. and now that i'm here…i hate it. ❞ ❝ you know, i feel a connection between us. like we're two souls walking the same path. ❞ ❝ the forgiving sort, are you? you should be careful. plenty would take advantage of that. ❞

❝ it’s as if god made you just to ruin me. ❞ ❝ perish the thought. every word i said was nothing less than true. ❞ ❝ you have a manner of irresistible desperation about you. i like it. ❞ ❝ i got my eye on you. you got the look of a troublemaker. ❞ ❝ i’m starting to think you’re my guardian angel. ❞ ❝ it seems you know me better than i know myself. ❞ ❝ you…you have no idea what you’ve done. ❞ ❝ they say madness and genius are separated by but a hair’s breadth. perhaps the same is true of madness and stupidity. ❞ ❝ oh, it’s you. don’t you get tired of telling people how to live their lives? ❞ ❝ good morning! thank you for not killing me the other night. ❞ ❝ when the time comes to strike, you must take it. for there may be only one chance. ❞ ❝ it is good to savour the moment of victory - but pace bg3 syourself. our fight is just beginning. ❞ ❝ i was too hasty to judge you. i thought you were witless, gutless, unimpressivably bland… ❞ ❝ yours is the first happy face i’ve seen in a good while. ❞ ❝ when hope has been whittled down to the very marrow of despair – that’s when you’ll come knocking on my door. ❞ ❝ thank you, my friend. maybe we’ll meet again, in another life. ❞ ❝ you’ll regret sticking your nose in my business. ❞

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

I thought i sent it but i don't think i did though... if i did then oops sorry.

Can i request more TWIST characters who carry reader on their shoulders?

I believe you've done a fair bit of them so I'm trying to remember which ones haven't been asked about.... I think Lilia, Kalim, Jamil, Malleus, Sebek and Riddle? Those are the ones off the top of my head tbh but DON'T feel pressured to do em all. I'm fine with whatever you want to write. I'm just listing stuff for ideas. You don't have to use any of these concepts if they don't resonate.

Sitting on Their Shoulders (4) | Yandere Twisted Wonderland

Lilia Vanrouge

“Looking at it there’s no way we’re going to get that flag down without a stool or something.”

“Hey why not just get on my shoulders!

“What?”

“Yeah just hop up on my shoulders and grab it! You don’t want to lose the game do you?”

“...Are you sure this is the way we should be doing this? Maybe you should go on mine.”

“Pft are you underestimating me, my little bat? C’mon I can handle you I promise.”

Despite your concern Lilia practically forces you to sit 

Ducking under your legs and standing up

You’ll be too busy regaining your balance to heed the moan he lets out

Too focused on the flag up high to see his eyes roll to the back of his head as you release your grip on his hair

He might toss you up claiming some lie he needs readjust his grip while squeezing your thighs together 

Practically smothering him

“I got it! Okay Lilia I’m ready to come down now! Lilia. Lilia?”

“I’ve decided we should stay this way for the rest of the game!”

“What?!”

“Yup so hold on tight sweet cheeks! I need to run off all the extra energy you’ve given me!”

He really does need to run off all his excitement 

Otherwise he doesn’t know he wouldn’t revert to his more violent ways should anyone break the precious skin-to-skin contact you were having

“(Y/n), I think I just found my favorite place to be!”

Riddle Rosehearts

“How about I put you on my shoulders Riddle? That way you should be able to reach the sugar and we’ll have delicious tarts in no time!”

“...I’ll lift you up.”

“But you’re a lot short—”

“I’ll do it!”

He of course had not thought of himself in such a position lies+

But having his whole face swallowed in between your thighs as he balanced your weight awakens something in him

If there is any aching he has under your weight is dissipated by the overwhelming feeling of you

You, being all around him

Him smelling you with no end in sight

He’s used to imagining and guiltily dreaming about things such as this

It finally puts his intense dictatorship guarding of your friendships

No one should ever be given this 

No one but him

“Uh Riddle can we go to the right a little?”

“...”

“Riddle?..Am I too heavy?”

“NO! I apologize, I was distracted by the...heat….within this room. I’ll go to the left now.”

“Right. We need to go right!”

“Y-yes!”

[acaaai-t]

thinking about…

boyfriend scaramouche! who kept a cold and calm facade for years, that is, until he met you. It was only you who can take off his mask and take a glance at his true self. He had made you swear that you’ll never tell anyone about this softer side of him. If his friends were to ever find out…

boyfriend scaramouche! who accompanies you everywhere, like everywhere. Just a quick run to the nearest milk tea store? Oh he’ll just tag along— no reasons at all, really, he insists. It was like he was your personal bodyguard. He claims it’s only because he doesn’t want you to ‘get lost’.

boyfriend scaramouche! who may not seem like it, but he loves you very much. Although he doesn’t show his affection through words like most do, he showers you in love with his own personal ways. Oh your gaze lingered for a second too long on a jewelry you found pretty? Say no more, you’ll find that said piece of jewelry on the nightstand the next day. Someone hurt your feelings? Wait just a moment, he needs to have a word with them. No, ignore the bruises that appeared— he just accidentally tripped and fell.

boyfriend scaramouche! who has everything about you memorized. He could recognize you even if the two of you are spectators in a sea of people. Even if everyone dressed like how you do, he’ll still be able to pick you out just from your voice. How cute. You swear your boyfriend has a photographic memory, otherwise how is he remembering everything?

just boyfriend scaramouche! who already promised himself to you. It took a lot for him to make this decision, but he tells you that he’s devoted to you and only you. He will be your first and last lover, and likewise, you will be his first and last lover. Don’t break his heart, please.

>> a peek into life with husband! scaramouche <<

✩ ·┆masterlist

notes—

— back from my short hiatus! turns out I am exempted from re-taking the regents (yay) so I don’t have to study my ass off for it. ‘resurface, my love’ will still be placed on hold, unfortunately as I don’t have much motivation to continue it. there will be new fics posted to fill up the emptiness though !

© acaaai-t — do not plagiarize, repost, or translate

[dreamwritesimagines]

The Eye of the Hurricane [21] - Heirs

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback, you made my day! ❤️I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think! ❤️

Summary: Calmness is a facade.

Word Count: 2500

Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Violence, guns, crime, blood, explicit language, dysfunctional relationship. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.

Series Masterlist

“I can’t believe I have nothing to wear.”

“You do realize that you’re standing in a dressing room with - I don’t know, a thousand dresses surrounding you?”

You threw your head back before turning to look at Bucky who was still in bed, with his back against the fluffy pillows while he read something on his phone.

“Well fine, I have nothing to wear for tonight!” you said. “Not that I give a shit about this dinner, but a bunch of people will be there, so I can’t just show up in anything.”

“Why didn’t you buy something beforehand?”

“Becca offered to take me shopping but I said no.”

He looked up from his phone, a worried expression crossing his handsome features.

“Charm,” he said. “Come here.”

You tilted your head. “Why?”

“I’ll feel your forehead, are you sick?”

You rolled your eyes at him and turned back to shuffle through the hangers again while he chuckled.

“I just have other stuff in mind,” you muttered. “Like how my father has been involving Ian more in the business ever since I had that meeting with Steve.”

“It doesn’t matter how much he tries to involve him, no one takes Ian seriously.”

“No one takes me seriously either.”

“People take you seriously,” he told you and you bit inside your cheek, then stepped out of the dressing room to lean back on the frame.

“Did Clifford say anything?” you asked. “Was it HYDRA or just him?”

“Looks like just him,” Bucky said. “I’m glad you brought it up by the way, because I have a question.”

You hummed as he sat up straighter in bed and you tried not to gawk at his muscular chest. The prick was used to sleeping half naked, -a human furnace, as much as you could tell- so every single morning and night you had to remind yourself that it was just a business deal, and you weren’t supposed to ogle business deals and their sculpted bodies.

As hot as they were.

“Why did you let me know?”

“He would’ve shot you otherwise.”

“I thought you’d want that.”

You made a face. “Of course I would not, you idiot.”

Bucky raised his brows before lifting your pillow to show you the small knife you had under it, and before you could protest, he lifted his own pillow so that you could see his own knife under it. You shrugged your shoulders.

“That doesn’t mean anything!” you exclaimed. “Other than the fact that we’re a cautious couple. Mine is there just in case.”

“In case you want to stab me in my sleep?”

“In case anyone wants to stab us in our sleep,” you said, your face burning. “Why is yours there?”

“A habit at this point.” he admitted. “Same with the guns under the bed.”

“Ah, I almost forgot about them,” you mused and he tilted his head.

“So you don’t want me killed?”

“No, I’d have to wear black.”

He blinked a couple of times. “Sorry?”

“I can’t pull off black dresses, ask Becca.”

He heaved a sigh. “That’s very thoughtful of you, Charm.”

You let out a small laugh.

“I happen to think we make a good team,” you said, leaning on your hip and a smile curled his lips, making you narrow your eyes at him.

“If you make an innuendo Bucky, I swear—”

“I won’t,” he said, holding up his hands. “I promise. So you didn’t let them shoot me because we make a good team?”

You shrugged your shoulders. “That’s one of the contributing factors.”

“What are the other factors?” he asked, hope shining in his blue eyes and you arched a brow.

“My carnal desires for you,” you deadpanned with the most monotone voice you could muster. “Take me Bucky. Rip off my clothes and claim me right here right now like you’re a knight and I’m a princess and we've been yearning for each other despite our kingdoms being enemies.”

“Incredibly seductive,” he pointed out. “Does your dirty talk always include historical tropes?”

“Yeah, always,” you said and turned around to shuffle through the hangers again, pulling out a dress only to toss it aside. You could hear his chuckle and you bit back a smile, frowning at yourself.

“No seriously,” he said and you grinned.

“My dirty talk sometimes also includes—”

“No not that,” he cut you off. “What’s the other contributing factor?”

You clicked your tongue, making yourself busy with yet another dress. The truthful response would be that you had grown quite fond of his presence against your better judgement, but there was no way you could tell him that.

This was a business deal, nothing more.

“Why do you want to know?” you asked back before stepping out of the dressing room to hold the dress over your body. “Is this pretty?”

“Yeah.”

“You didn’t even look at it!”

“You’ll look gorgeous no matter what you wear,” he stated as if it was the absolute truth and you pulled back slightly, narrowing your eyes to see whether he was joking but he looked very genuine. “You do realize that if they killed me, you’d have the right to—”

“To take over your family business and become the boss yes,” you said. “Contrary to popular belief, I don’t want to be just another boss in this town, I want the business with my last name on it.”

“But does it matter?”

“It does,” you said. “Ian is the one who wants power and power only. I need the legacy as well, and I need—” you paused for a moment, shaking your head. “I need it to be mine.”

He offered you a soft smile.

“What’s mine is yours, Charm.”

A warmth spread through your chest, sending a pleasant tingling underneath your skin and you stared at him for a couple of seconds in complete silence before biting back a smile and turning around to walk back into the dressing room.

“Fine,” you said. “This dress it is.”

                                              *

Neither you nor Bucky were strangers to being dragged to a dinner with other families once in every three months but this was the first time you and he were attending it with the rest of the families. This was also the first time you were sitting at the Barnes table rather than your father’s, and you tried not to go over to your father’s table to hear what he and Ian were talking about.

You and Becca never sat at your own tables anyway, but it was still quite symbolic.

George and Winnifred seemed to have moved past the argument from earlier, and Bucky played along even if you weren’t ready to do the same yet so you, Becca and Sarah went by the bar after the food was served and you’d had your dinner.

“Y/N?”

You snapped out of your thoughts and looked at Sarah. “Hm?”

“Stop worrying about that,” she told you with a nod to your father’s table and you took a sip of your wine before looking around the room. Bucky was by the corner, talking to Sam and Steve while Natasha and Tony seemed to be in a deep discussion by Clint’s table.

“I’m not,” you lied through your teeth as you stole a look Ian who motioned at Ryan to come closer, then muttered something to him to make him nod. “I’m just…he’s still angry at me for trying to get involved.”

“Well, good thing there’s nothing he can do about it,” Becca said and you huffed out, motioning at the bartender for another cocktail.

“He barely said hi to me.”

“Well, your father is dramatic and so is mine,” Becca stated. “We’re used to that.”

“What did Bucky do with the guy who tried to shoot him?” Sarah asked and you shrugged your shoulders.

“Killed him,” you said. “After he made sure to get as much information as possible.”

“Not HYDRA?” Becca asked with her brows furrowed and you shook your head.

“No,” you said. “Doesn’t seem like it at least.”

“I don’t buy it,” Sarah said. “It has to be related.”

“Well if he was an agent of HYDRA, he took it to his grave,” you muttered when the bartender put your drink in front of you. “But I agree. Especially lately, they’re attacking everywhere and everyone.”

“Exactly.”

“Oh, desserts!” Becca said as she caught the sight of waiters walking around the tables. “Let’s have dessert! Sarah?”

“I have to talk to Sam but I’ll drop by your table,” she said and you nodded, then walked with Becca to the Barnes table, still holding your drink. Bucky turned his head when he saw you out of the corner of his eye, then made his way to your table and sat down right beside you.

“Everything alright?” George asked him and he nodded.

“Yeah.”

“What were you guys talking about?” you asked him quietly and Bucky heaved a sigh.

“Well, I need to find another person for the shipment issue after…you know?”

“Killing the guy?” Becca said helpfully and Bucky nodded.

“Sam does have a candidate in mind.”

“Who?”

“A new player,” Bucky said. “She’s supposed to be incredibly good at what she does, Sam is very impressed by her.”

“And her background?”

“Has been checked three times,” Bucky said and you all turned your heads when the chatter among the restaurant ceased and you raised your brows when you saw your father standing up.

“What’s going on?” you asked Bucky who shook his head.

“I have no idea,” he muttered and your father cleared his throat, then smiled at the completely quiet restaurant.

“Hello everyone,” he said. “I know that we’re all enjoying our desserts and drinks, but now that everyone is here, I’d like to make a short speech. Not to worry, I’m not going to take too much of your time, the dessert looks too good for that.”

Polite chuckles rose from different tables and your father heaved a sigh while Bucky reached out to squeeze your hand with his vibranium one, as if sensing your sudden discomfort.

“I find myself treasuring these quarterly dinners as I grow older,” he said. “Getting old in our line of work is a privilege, which…George agrees with me I’m sure.”

George chuckled. “Still younger than you Arthur!”

Your father waved a hand in the air while people laughed.

“I do hope that everyone in this restaurant gets to have this privilege,” he said. “And I must admit, I’m not ready to retire like George even though he is younger than me,” he said with a grin, coaxing chuckles out of people again. “There’s no harm in thinking about the future.”

You blinked a couple of times while Bucky sat up straighter, his body high on alert. Your father’s gaze fell on you and he swallowed thickly, then turned to the rest of the people in the room.

“That’s why I’m very happy to put some rumors to rest and announce that I chose Ian as my heir.”

Your heart dropped to your stomach as you let out a breath, gawking at him. Becca gasped beside you while most of the restaurant started clapping and Bucky squeezed your hand again before leaning in.

“Calm down,” he murmured to you. “It’s fine Charm, we already have a plan. This changes nothing.”

You were trying so hard to keep your expression calm that you had to bite at your tongue to focus. The rage shot through you like lightning, a hot tingling spreading from the top of your head down to your fingertips and you clenched your jaw, forcing yourself to take a breath through your nose. You could see that Steve, Sam, Natasha and Clint were among those who weren’t clapping for Ian, and Ryan shot you an apologetic smile while Ian stood up, your father patting him on the back.

Calm.

You had to stay calm.

“Thank you, uncle,” he said with a proud smile on his face before turning to the crowd. “Well I won’t keep you guys long either, don’t worry.”

You dug your fingernails into your palm, trying to swallow the lump in your throat while keeping your gaze on him.

“I just wanted to say thank you,” Ian said. “To my uncle, who has been a father to me for the majority of my life, who has guided me and taught me everything. I will not fail you.”

Breathe.

In and out.

“And of course, to Y/N,” Ian turned to you. “My dearest cousin who chose love as her path rather than business. I hope that both of us will be very happy with our choices and responsibilities.”

Motherfucker.

It was a well-crafted lie, you had to admit, so much that you couldn’t even make sure that Ian had come up with it. Not only was he taunting you, but he was also doing it in a way that every single boss, every single player in this restaurant would think you were just a love-struck girl who wasn’t interested in the business.

Just another mob wife.

“And I’d like to hear what she has to say,” Ian said, smiling at you. “Y/N?”

Bucky looked like he was two seconds away from pulling out his gun but you took a shaky breath, then stood up and forced yourself to smile at the room while Ian sat down.

“Well I guess you have no excuse left Ian, we need to teach you how to fight,” you told him, drawing out chuckles from around the room and Ian’s smile faltered for a moment before he raised his glass at you.

“Um…” you gulped down and stole a look at your father. “I think I was ten when I realized that I actually wasn’t the firstborn, the business was. Me and Becca used to joke about it.”

Bucky drummed his fingertips on the table.

“And my mom used to say that when you’re a good parent, you want your children to do better than you,” you said, making your father swallow thickly. “That’s the ultimate goal, she would say. Happier, more successful, you name it. She would say that’s the thing that would make a parent most proud.”

Ian narrowed his eyes, looking between your father and you, and you grabbed your glass to raise it.

“So, father,” you said, looking him dead in the eye. “I’m very sure that the person who takes over will be so successful that the only thing everyone will talk about is how much better it got after you.”

Sarah leaned her fist on her lips to hide her laugh while your father stared at you, then nodded slowly, gritting his teeth before smiling at you.

“Enjoy the dessert!” you told the room and people clapped as you sat down. Bucky was still glaring daggers at your father and you took a huge sip of your drink while Becca leaned in closer to you.

“Let the war begin, I guess?” she murmured and you let out a breath, then clicked your tongue.

“Yeah,” you muttered as you shot your father a calm smile. “Let the war begin.”

Chapter 22

[a-boca-do-inferno]

blueberry (caesar x human!reader)

summary: Man is insecure and, perhaps not so surprisingly, so are apes.

warnings: angst, swearing, fluff

words: 3.6k

notes: can be read as a standalone or a continuation to alone. this is set somewhere between the events of wftpota but he is alive in my heart btw. enjoy x

gif credit

“I don’t care”, you sign and huff, glaring at him. You needed to hurt him; like he had hurt you just now. You point to the cave entrance. “Leave.” 

Caesar shoots you a desolated look, standing in the middle of the rain, completely soaked. He can’t speak. Not this time. He’d done it so many times before, repeating the same thing over and over again. I will change. I will stop worrying. I love you. And now you could see the truth: no matter how much he claimed to love you, his sorrows would always be stronger than his feelings and you just had enough. You were a tired woman. And he knew that, too. 

“Okay”, he mumbles at last with a brief sign as he watches his step and backs away. 

He leaves with his head down and disappears into the dark of the night. You’re only left with the sound of heavy drops smashing onto the floor. The ground now felt like opening up under your feet, but it wasn’t always like this. 

Caesar stared at you with widened eyes, not noticing your presence until you spoke up. A smile spread on his face and he shrugged off his worries, his frown fading gradually. “You… lifesaver.” He gesticulated toward the food you carried with a grateful look. It smelled so good and he didn’t hesitate to grab the bowl of soup, sipping on it and letting out a sigh of relief. “Thank you... for everything”, he signed with his free hand after a moment.

“You’re welcome, now what do you want?” You teased and ruffled his head lightly. Caesar had become a good friend over the past few months. It felt like you’ve known each other for a long time, even before the flu. “Or were you just that hungry?”

Caesar snorted, still drinking the soup. “Both… I think.” He swallowed before adding hoarsely, “sometimes I just need… to see you.” It sounded like a lighthearted comment, but he wasn’t smiling because deep down he knew it was true. You made him feel like he never did with anyone, ape or otherwise. He recoiled in his spot, watching you with attentive eyes. 

And you, to your credit, chuckled quietly with pink cheeks, “well, here I am.” You sat in front of him and leaned forward, resting your elbows on your knees. “You know, Caesar, I’ve been thinking… Maybe you should come stay with me for a while.” 

You were well aware of his problem with loneliness ever since he lost Cornelia and couldn’t help but want to take care of him. Being a leader had its perks and many included a deep sense of isolation, especially when the very lives of a whole species depended on him to make it in this world. Humans were still a constant threat, even amidst the downfall of civilization, but you reckoned Caesar felt lonely long before the apocalypse from the few stories he’d tell you about Will. If anything, being surrounded by his own kind only alienated him more overtime due to the burden of the “crown”.

Caesar tensed up, his eyebrows raising at the unexpected offer. He stayed unmoving for a few seconds, however his demeanor eventually changed into one of contemplation. Perhaps it wasn’t such a terrible idea at all. He’d been greatly feeling the change in environment since they moved and doing things alone had always proven to be harder for him, if more familiar. Taking another sip of his soup, his thoughtful gaze traveled the ceiling. 

“Sure… you wanna live… with my drama?” He finally asked, with an almost amused expression.

“We can be dramatic together”, came the quick reply, as you carried a playful tone of your own. “But really, I think it’ll do you some good. It’s not permanent, I just wanna help you get a little more time to adjust while you sort things out with the council.” You grinned softly, “change is always overwhelming and some company might broaden your horizons, maybe even help with your decision.”

Caesar pondered your words, still with a humorous smile. “I could stay… for a while.” He added with some emphasis. 

“It’s settled then, you can move in anytime you want”, you stood up and patted his shoulder. As you noticed there was a hint of uneasiness lingering in his eyes, you hummed, “consider it my formal thanks to you for taking me in. Now we’re even.”

“Then I move in… tonight.”, he tried to play it off with humor, signing with a smirk. “Don’t like my place… anyways.”

In fact, deep down Caesar was glad to get away from there; especially because he was about to face the most challenging phase of leadership: letting go. By the end of the day, he was all settled into your home. He took your bed under your indignant protests that the floor was a “back killer”, in your own words. You had a way of making him sustain a smile for far longer than he was used to—which wasn’t often—and that was the sole reason for his compliance. 

As you were fluffing the makeshift pillows made out of animal skin, he organized his stuff in the small cabinet you made yourself. You were a handy carpenter. A quiet chuckle reached his ears and he shot you a glance. 

“I didn’t take you for the messy type, I thought all leaders were neat.”

Caesar rolled his eyes, closing the cabinet door. “I only clean… other people’s messes”, he signed with a wry smile. He turned around and leaned against the wall to face you properly, his grin fading into a sterner look. “I’m glad… you’re here.”

“And I’m glad you’re here with me, that way I don’t have to worry about your insomniac ass wandering in the cold”, you threw a stick at him, sitting on the bed with a small beam. “I really do worry and care for you, Caesar. I hope you know that.”

Caesar caught the stick with ease and met your gaze with warm eyes once again. He was clearly touched by your words and his shy grin turned into a real one, despite the tiredness on his features. He came over to sit beside you, much closer than before. 

“I know”, he replied huskily, gently caressing the nape of your neck with his thumb. “And I hope you know… I care about you.” You shivered under his touch and your lips reached for his rough palm as you kissed it. His breath hitched at the sensation of your smooth skin and he touched your foreheads, shutting his eyes.

It was now but a distant, bittersweet memory haunting you while you gathered your things and left your tent-like home with him, preparing to move in with Maurice. You had a close bond with the ginger ape due to his calmer nature; sometimes you even assisted in his classes, too, and he knew better than anyone about the shortcomings of your relationship with Caesar. This time was no different and he offered you shelter right away. He had always been supportive of you two, but never judging when you had a falling out with the boss.

Maurice knew better than anyone as Caesar got older, his stubbornness and overprotective nature only got bigger. You left out a humourless laugh, walking into your new home. Man is insecure and perhaps not so surprisingly, so are apes. And with insecurity comes obsession, along with an unhealthy need for control. Yet you always had too much understanding in your heart. Caesar just needed help, you thought, as you would peck his head whilst he slept soundly on your lap. It was so rare to see him that serene, and you cherished every second of it. 

He still had trouble sleeping; nightmares and such. Your heart ached with the ever present reminder that you just couldn’t make all his pain go away forever, no matter how hard you tried. And God, did you try. Rocking a grown chimpanzee’s body to make him go to sleep wasn’t exactly in your plans when he brought you into the colony, but you gladly took the task. You loved the guy, after all. 

And wouldn’t it be stupid to even doubt that? Still, that’s what Caesar did on occasion. He wasn’t easily upset, but when he was... It often got ugly. You were never a fearful girl, but seeing his angry fits deeply affected you. Soon talking to him became a constant walk on eggshells and if he noticed your change in behavior, he never really spoke on it, which was perhaps his biggest flaw; not communicating. But he was a leader, and a perceptive one at that. Even though he never said it out loud, it must have been clear that you couldn’t take it anymore. There was something telling about the way he simply let you go a few hours before, with no fight. 

“Comfortable?” Maurice eyes you carefully, bringing some blueberries with him to cheer you up. 

You can’t help but grin at the sight. “I am. Thank you.” You sign back and nod, taking a deep breath as you gaze around. “Caesar?” You hum, curious of where he might be. You hadn’t seen him since last night’s argument.

The orangutan shakes his head slowly, pointing at the forest, “he hunts… when angry.”

You snort. “Sounds about right.”

Maurice grunts in agreement, signing softly, “you two… end?”

You take a moment to consider his question. It looked like a break up, didn’t it? Although you weren’t sure if apes even used the concept of “breaking up” with their mates. Every couple you knew in the colony seemed happy together. No trouble in paradise. You shrug and look down. “Maybe.”

“Caesar is… difficult”, he rasps, causing you to smile despite yourself. That’s the understatement of the year. The ape adds, “you like blueberries… for a reason. They’re not… always sweet.”

You scoff at the comparison. No wonder Maurice was a great teacher. You sign with amusement, “except I can smash a blueberry if I don’t like it, but with Caesar, I can’t.”

Maurice laughs deeply. “Fair enough.”

As the night fell again, you watched the apes gather around the fire to hang out after another tranquil day from a distance. Since the war, things were slowly returning to normal and you felt a mixture of relief and anxiety every time the thought crossed your mind; growing accustomed to peace those days was dangerous. Hope could be a friend, but also a great enemy in the apocalypse. Caesar had taught you that through your many late night talks after you made love. A light blush came across your cheeks as you sighed and tried to shake off those memories. 

Dating another species was already a challenge on its own, now add being the leader of a colony on top of that, you were surprised you two had made it that far. When Caesar found you all alone hiding in a cave, struggling to survive on your own, never in a million years did you think that creature would become your closest friend and even lover. He didn’t like or didn’t see the point of those nomenclatures, sure, as he only ever referred to you as his family. If other apes outside Maurice and Blue Eyes knew about the implications of it, though, no one dared speak on it. Yet it didn’t make it any easier to digest whenever you stopped to think about it, even more so amidst his angry fits.

You finished preparing for bed and lay down in silence, staring at the stars. Another summer had begun with the difference of Caesar’s absence by your side as you tried to sleep. You took a deep breath and wiped away some stubborn tears, turning to face the wall. You closed your eyes for a brief second and when you opened them again, a large silhouette appeared on the stone surface and you slowly shifted back to find Caesar standing tall, eyeing you silently.

“Talk?” He signs hesitantly, his expression difficult to read in the dark. You only nod and he approaches you, and as he steps in an angle under the moonlight, you see he’s got a deep cut across his abdomen. You immediately sit up, looking alert. He smiles weakly and waves a dismissive hand, taking a seat beside you. “It’s… fine. Not… serious.”

You frown nevertheless, tracing his bruise and inspecting it. “What happened?”

“Bear.” He murmurs hoarsely, with an amused gleam in his green eyes. You grunt in displeasure and he asks with an almost mocking tone, “worry?”

“Of course I do, Caesar.” You huff indignantly and it only makes him smirk, but you keep glaring at him. “You think it’s funny?”

“Yes”, he says, reaching you to take your hand over his furry stomach. He comes closer, bringing his forehead to yours, “I’m… sorry.” You take a deep breath, closing your eyes. You’re not sure what to say, but he fills in the silence with a low sound, “miss… you.”

“You’re a stubborn old man”, you pull away to look him in the eye, albeit your voice stays tender. He looks humoured by your choice of words. “But I missed you too.”

Caesar’s expression softens significatively. He produces another coo, “forgive?”

You smile and bring his hand to your lips, kissing his knuckles. “Maybe.”

“Brought… present.” He rumbles after a moment and you watch him leave in silence, coming back shortly with a bowl full of blueberries. You grin and Caesar hoots quietly, feeding one to you. You blush and accept the gesture, causing him to nuzzle your face gently, “Maurice… advice.”

You roll your eyes. “That turncoat.” 

Caesar only snickers and shrugs, making a face as he tries a blueberry. He signs and pushes the bowl towards you, shaking his head in comic disapproval, “sour.”

It’s your turn to laugh.

[heliads]

Hi! Hi! I have been reading your Eric Coulter fics and I don't know if you're still into Divergent but i can i request a eric coulter x fem!reader where they go from rivals to lovers and literally everyone in Dauntless has bets on them to be together?

'rumors of rivals' - eric coulter

masterlist

Four’s got another pet project, but for once, it isn’t you.

It’s a habit of his, one he’d do best to kick. Although Four may like to keep his indifferent silence and pretend as if he were a shallow-hearted Dauntless through and through, he’s got a soft spot for the people he likes. He’s got a knack for finding similar souls and winning them over, even as he acts as if he couldn’t care less about any of you. He did this while you were an initiate, and now he’s repeating the process with one of his new trainees, a girl named Tris.

Since you don’t work the initiates, you haven’t yet had the pleasure of meeting Tris Prior, although you’ve heard Four talk about her often enough that you have a good gauge of her likes, dislikes, and every single conversation she’s had with your friend. For someone who claims that he couldn’t care less about anyone but himself, Four’s awfully attentive to Tris.

It makes you laugh, both when he’s around and not. Despite Four’s claims otherwise, it seems that even the toughest of Dauntless fall victim to their hearts every now and then. Despite Four’s claims otherwise, that’s one test you won’t be failing. Four may have fallen in love, but not you. Not a chance. The only decent one around here is Four, and he’s clearly besotted with Tris. No other men even come to mind.

Four and Tris catch up to you, and he begins the introductions. “Y/N, this is Tris, the initiate I’ve been talking about. Tris, this is Y/N. She’s a good friend of mine.”

Tris smiles at you. “It’s nice to meet you, Y/N. Four has said a lot of good things about you.”

You laugh. “It can’t be more than what he’s said about you, trust me. I think all of our conversations are now about you.”

Tris laughs too, evidently surprised at your camaraderie. “I’m sure he’ll argue with that, but I’m glad to hear it. I have to say, I knew what to expect from a Dauntless Leader, but you’re way nicer than I expected.”

You grin. “Oh, trust Four to talk up my reputation. We’re not all totally dramatic around here.”

Four rolls his eyes. “Yeah, right. As if you’re not locked in one of the worst rivalries Dauntless has ever seen.”

Tris widens her eyes, curious. “What are you talking about?”

You fold your arms across your chest. “Four doesn’t mean anything because he doesn’t know what he’s saying. There’s nothing there.”

Four scoffs. “Of course there’s something there. Tris, Y/N’s just denying it because she’s too embarrassed to admit that she’s totally obsessed with beating Eric at everything.”

Tris claps a hand to her mouth. “Wait, I know what you’re talking about. Everyone in the faction has been gossiping about Eric and one of the other Leaders. You don’t mean that–”

“Yes,” you admit reluctantly. “The rumors are about me. They’re just jokes, though. Nothing to take seriously.”

Four arches a brow doubtfully. “Of course they’re not.”

You swat him in the shoulder. “Anything more on the subject and I’ll push you off a roof, Four. Watch your tone.”

Instead of taking your threat seriously, Four just cracks a rare grin and keeps his triumphant silence. In all honesty, he’s not wrong about the gossip, and neither is Tris. You have been rivals with a certain Eric Coulter for most of the time you’ve been at Dauntless, if not all of it, and beating Eric at anything from a fight in the ring to glowing recommendations from the other Dauntless Leaders does indeed make your day like nothing else.

At this point, there’s nothing you can do to stop it. There’s no way you could ever like Eric, he makes it impossible to so much as smile around him. He’s insufferable, that’s all, and he always has been.

You remember that from the very first day you arrived. Eric had been through initiation a year before you, so of course he swaggered about the faction like he knew everything and you knew nothing at all. It didn’t matter that you mastered every challenge that initiation set before you, it didn’t matter that, at the end of your training, you came out with the highest rank. No matter what, Eric would always boast that he’d done it better when he was an initiate. And, since the two of you weren’t in the same year, there was no way of proving him right or wrong.

Once you graduated initiation, your ill-fated relationship only took a turn for the worse. Both of you were gunning for positions as Dauntless Leaders, and did everything in your power to claw to the top. It was a common assumption that only one Leadership position would be vacated, meaning that one of you would succeed and one of you would do the worst thing possible for a Dauntless:  you would fail.

Instead, both of you were appointed as new Leaders, and now you’re forced to spend even more time with him than before. Eric is more hands on, especially with his new position as an initiation leader, whereas you’re more devoted to strategy and all the ways to keep Dauntless as a faction running as smoothly as possible. The two of you clash whenever you so much as step into a room together.

Over time, this rivalry has drawn the attention of the entire faction. There’s hardly a soul in Dauntless that hasn’t witnessed the two of you going for each other’s throats at some point. Last you heard, some faction members were even going so far as to place bets as to when the two of you would get together, but that’s absurd. You and Eric hate each other. There’s simply no way you’d actually manage to get over your mutual loathing to fall in love.

“He’s an unpredictable asshole, I don’t know what else you want me to say,” you growl to Four.

Instead of being answered by your friend, however, a new voice joins you, one that makes you want to put your fist through a wall. “Are you talking about me again, L/N? I’m touched.”

Four and Tris exchange some interesting glances, which you definitely don’t appreciate. You turn to glower at none other than Eric, who’s somehow emerged out of the throngs of Dauntless milling about to appear right by your side. It’s as if he was summoned from your mere thoughts alone.

“So you heard me talking about an unpredictable asshole and immediately assumed it was you? That’s lovely, I didn’t know you had such great self-esteem.” You hiss.

Eric just grins. “You’re always so kind to me. Truly, it makes my day.”

You glance to your opposite side, hoping to deflect onto Four, but you notice that he and Tris have somehow disappeared into the crowds again, leaving you alone with Eric. You’ll have to chide him about abandoning you later, once you manage to shake Eric again.

Eric notices the changing subject of your attention and chuckles. “They left already? Can’t say I blame them.”

“Neither can I,” you fire back. “Having to spend time with you isn’t something I’d wish on my worst enemy.”

“See, that’s the difference between the two of us,” Eric intones, holding up a finger appreciatively as he speaks, “There’s no punishment I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. It’s because I’m capable of doing anything to eliminate those who would rise against me. It’s what makes me a better Dauntless. I’m not surprised that you lack the courage.”

You groan in annoyance. “It’s a saying, Coulter. Goodness, I see why you’re not an Erudite. Critical thinking is not your strong suit.”

Unfortunately, Eric doesn’t seem particularly affected by this insult. “I’ll leave the critical thinking to you, L/N. The glory of battle is mine as always.”

You arch a brow. “Remind me who kicked your ass the last time we met in the ring? I’m sure the glory of battle was totally on your side then, too.”

Eric’s voice turns razor-sharp. “How about a rematch, then? Tonight. That is, if you can’t manage to talk yourself out of facing me again.”

You stop walking, meeting Eric’s eyes dead on. “I wouldn’t dream of it. Scared?”

“Not a chance,” he fires back. “I’ll see you then.”

With that, he stalks off, leaving you fuming yet again. You could name a hundred encounters that have taken place exactly like this one. It’s strange, you’ve always prided yourself on your control of your temper, but something about Eric Coulter just drags out every bit of irritation and passion from your heart.

Glancing around, you see that more than a few people have turned to look at you and Eric as you passed by, and are now whispering to each other. “Shut up,” you mutter at no one in particular, but it doesn’t seem to do anything to stop the flurry of gossip.

Great, now you’ll have another rumor to add to the mix. As if you needed any more. Grimacing to yourself, you set off again. You’ll be looking to tonight’s fight with Eric, if not for a release of anger than anything else. It would feel good to beat him up again, you decide, and it’s about time his ego got knocked down a peg or two.

Eric is waiting for you in the empty gym when you let yourself in later that night. The two of you arrive at the same time whenever one of you challenges the other to a fight. It’s become a sort of tradition. You know exactly when and where to find each other because you’ve done it so often. It comes to you like breathing, like living. Instinctive, intuitive. You and Eric may not see eye to eye on most subjects, but in the ring, it’s like he’s your double.

You and Eric face each other warily on the ring. There’s no one else here, not after hours, so the entire gym is empty. Even the smallest of sounds are amplified by the solitude, each shuffle of your feet from side to side sending ripples of echoes up to the high ceiling before bouncing back down again, creating ghosts of your every movement. The lights are dim. The shadows lengthen Eric’s already numerous tattoos, making him look as if the darkness could swallow him up entirely if you were to turn away for even one moment.

You lunge first, mostly as a feint to get his attention. At your level of fighting experience, both of you know better than to truly attack first. Eric aims a blow at your midsection, but you duck just in time, dropping low to kick his legs out from under him. Briefly, Eric loses his balance, but manages to regain it in time to send a returning strike your way.

On and on, the fight progresses, the tide rolling from you to him back to you again in an endless circle. Eric manages to pin you first and huffs out a triumphant breath, but you get him the next round. You’ve spent enough nights like this that every move seems familiar. Although the precise victor of the fights may switch off from night to night, the actions themselves have been done so many times that it feels like muscle memory.

You’re sure it’ll be a night just like any other, but then something strange happens when Eric wins again. Both of you have ended up on the surface of the mat, and after briefly striving for the upper hand, Eric manages to make it there first, and he swings his weight over you, pinning you to the ground. His hands lock your wrist onto the mat like cuffs. You try to throw him off again, but it doesn’t work, and the two of you rest there, panting from the exertion, but worst of all, looking at each other.

You wait for Eric to move off of you and begin the cycle again, but strangely enough, he doesn’t. Instead, Eric looks, he looks at you like he’s never seen you before in his entire life. You feel as if you couldn’t move a muscle, and lie there perfectly still. One twitch of a limb, one wrong breath, and he might react, or worst of all, leave. You don’t know why, but you know for certain that shattering this moment would destroy you both.

Slowly, carefully, Eric releases his hold on your arms, but you don’t swing at him. The erratic rise and fall of his chest has slowed as easy breath returns to him, but when he had held you down moments ago, you could still feel his pulse thundering in his veins, tumultuous and irreverent like the clash of a thunderstorm.

“Y/N,” Eric whispers, low in his throat and urgent. You don’t know what to say. You’re not sure that there is anything to say, not without giving something away, a secret so terrible and all-consuming that to utter it aloud would use up all of you, leaving nothing behind but the ghost of a person who had once been you.

He’s waiting. For what, you don’t know. Or, you don’t want to know. Both of you are on a precipice, the edge tall and mighty, but unlike the roof back at the entrance to Dauntless initiation, you do not know that the fall won’t kill you. You could survive this jump, sure. But you could also break your bones in the leaping, and come out of this a ruined version of someone who had thought they knew everything about Eric Coulter, and then learned otherwise.

The indecision is too great, and so you do something utterly befitting someone of your station, and you run. Eric doesn’t move when you suddenly slip out from under him, nor does he stop you when you leave the gym. It isn’t a Dauntless move to flee from a fight, but then again, you transferred here from your home faction in the Choosing Ceremony, so the habits of the brave haven’t been instilled in you completely. You still, it seems, have a lot to learn.

The walk back to your apartment seems treacherous. There aren’t that many people out at this time of night, but you swear that of those who remain, every eye is on you. Haven’t you heard the rumors? Isn’t it true that these people have guessed what you are when it comes to Eric Coulter? If they see you, they will know.

You crawl into your bed and hope for sleep, but nothing comes. You stare at your ceiling in the dark, wondering what you’ve done. You’ve claimed to hate Eric for a very long time, but the way you felt in that ring, with him looking down at you– None of that was hate. You haven’t felt an absence of anger like that in such a long time that you’ve almost forgotten how to name that emotion entirely.

You get up the next morning, exhausted and confused, and complete your daily duties in somewhat of a haze. Every one of your moves feels mechanical. Eric is busy with the initiates, so your paths shouldn’t cross. When he finds you later that day, then it must mean that he sought you out intentionally. You’re not sure if that’s for better or worse.

You do your best to shake him, but he tracks you down eventually, pulling you into an empty room and shutting the door behind him. “Y/N,” he says urgently. “We should talk about last night.”

You don’t want to, not when the way he says your name reminds you of the way he’d whispered it last night, soft and careful, none of the things you have ever associated with Eric. It wasn’t as torturous as you expected, being alone with him without a fight to separate you. In fact, if you weren’t on guard, you would even admit that you liked it.

When you remain silent, Eric sighs, frustration beginning to tinge back into his breath again. “I know something happened. We can’t just pretend otherwise.”

You glance back up at him. “Can’t we?” You ask. “We can go back to fighting all the time. I’m sure it would come easily to both of us.”

You’ve become an expert at provoking him over the years, but now, in the face of all your attempts, Eric’s gaze remains neutral. “Is that what you want?”

Yes, you start to say, but for some reason the words dry up in your throat and the only thing that comes out is a terrible, awful exhale, “No.”

Eric hasn’t let go of your hand since he pulled you into this room. He seems to remember it now, his thumb rubbing light circles back and forth against your wrist. “Neither do I. Turns out, the only thing I like better than fighting you is when we aren’t fighting at all.”

You’ve never understood it when people say their heart skipped a beat, but you feel it now, the stuttering of desperate hope locked between your ribs. “So– you want–”

“You, Y/N,” Eric interrupts. “I want you. I always have.”

When he kisses you, it tastes like victory. Hot, brave, triumphant. A thousand nights undefeated in the ring couldn’t light you up with a fire half this bright. Sometimes, the rumors are true, and sometimes, the very man you thought was your greatest rival was instead your best love. Eric is all of these things, but most importantly, he is yours.

requested by @simoneashwinis, i hope you enjoy!

divergent tag list: @dindjarinneedsahug, @poisonmenegan, @ozzynka, @rogueanschel, @with-inked-solace, @gods-fools-heroes, @23victoria, @manyfandomsfanvergent, @imwaysthelastchoice, @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed, @crazyhearttragedy, @alexs-1967s-blog, @aoi-targaryen

all tags list: @wordsarelife

[cerise-on-top]

oh oh oh I’ve seen this going around (didn’t know it was a thing?) but 141 + König and Nikolai when their s/o has a strength kink?

Hey there! To anyone else reading this, only the ask has some NSFW elements to it, the rest of this post is entirely SFW! Again, I don't write NSFW, but I can write something watered down and SFW if that's okay with the person having sent it in, and that's what I did this time! So, this request has instead become something along the lines of the lads with an S/O who simply likes them being muscular!

TF141, Nikolai and König with an S/O who Likes Muscular People

Price: He’s a captain, so naturally he immediately takes notice of how you’re ogling him whenever you think he won’t notice. Though, sometimes you do have the audacity to stare at his chest and, especially, his arms. While he may have a bit of chub around his body as well, he’s by no means insecure. Quite the opposite, he’s well aware that it’s healthier for him to have some body fat. It’s kind of cute to him, in all honesty, and somewhat flattering too. Price knows he’s a strong and capable man, he could easily pick you up or manhandle you however he pleases, but the fact that that sort of gets to you as well, he likes that. You won’t have to outright tell him since he’ll know anyway, but expect to be carried a lot more, to have him be more conscious about what he wears so he can show off his muscles a bit. It won’t really affect too much of his routine, but if you ever want to watch him work out a bit so he can flex his muscles for you, he definitely won’t mind that either. It’s nice to have someone to talk to after all. If you’re ever brave enough to ask him if you could maybe touch his muscles, he’ll chuckle a bit and flex for you as well. He may be closer to 40 than 30, but it’s nice to know that you still think of him as attractive. One of his favorite ways of showing off his strength to you is by giving you a nice and warm hug to make you feel safe and protected.

Gaz: Gaz isn’t as muscular as the other members of the Task Force, but that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t have quite some muscle to him as well. Like Price, he’ll notice when you stare at him a little too much, but unlike Price, chances are he’ll tease you about it. With his shirt lying on the arm of the couch, he’ll sit down next to you on a moderately warm day, claiming that it’s “too hot outside”. This is a blatant lie, he wants to watch you try your darndest to not stare at his abs too much. While it’s not particularly a concern of his that his teammates are more muscular than he is, it does sort of feed his ego to see you be this flustered about it. Is also capable of carrying you around just about anywhere, and don’t you ever dare to claim otherwise. He will do whatever he can to prove you wrong because, as your partner, he is always right about these sorts of things. And if he can’t carry you just yet he’ll call Soap and the two of them will train together. Gaz is still pretty young, so the way he looks to you does still matter to him more than it should, but if you’re a heated mess around him whenever he’s flexing a bit too hard, he knows he did something right after all. Biggest honor to him would be you asking if you could touch his arms. As mentioned before, he’ll pick you up, but will also spin you in circles until you’re dizzy before giving you a kiss.

Ghost: Ghost is tall and built like a brick house, you have an absolute field day with him because of it. Like Price, he has some chub to him. Again, it’s healthier that way, and he also doesn’t want to go to the gym every day, sometimes it’s just nice to sin and sleep in when you can. On a physical level, he’s the strongest out of his teammates, he has an easy time carrying just about anything. Even you weigh about as much as a bunch of grapes to him. While you liking him being muscular doesn’t particularly feed his ego, he’s too mature for that, he doesn’t resent that fact either. He had to become strong at many points in his life, physically and mentally, so he can protect the people he loves and himself. If that’s just something you can love him for, then he won’t say no to that. While he may not flex too much for you, he will occasionally when he remembers how much you love his muscles. Won’t be as cheeky about it as Gaz, but he’ll mention it every once in a while. Besides, if you’re a big fan of muscles and tattoos, then you’ve literally hit the jackpot with him. Tell him that to his face and he might blush a bit and start smiling. Not afraid to pick you up in private or squeeze you just the tiniest bit harder either while hugging you. It’s not very hard to feel small around someone like him, regardless of whether you’re 1,50m or 2m, he’s just a very big guy and has the dignity of one as well. If you’ve been together for long enough, he might show off a bit, but not too often.

Soap: Another guy who will actively seek you out just to show you how strong he is. He thrives on that sort of validation, especially from you, so please do stare at him just a bit longer whenever you want to. Not afraid of giving you a small show either where he simply picks up the heaviest things in the room just to show you how capable he is and how great of a partner he is as well. He tries to not have too much body fat and does his best to stay fit. No, he’s not really overdoing it either, he just has some good genes that allow him to eat literal trash and not put on too much weight. The more he can get you to stare and touch him, the better. Give him the positive attention, he’ll return it to you eventually as well. Will prompt you to touch his biceps just so you have your hands on him. He loves having you around while he works out because not only do you get to have a good show and see just how hot he is, he gets to just have you around. If you let him, he’ll do push-ups while you’re lying on his back. He knows he’s hot shit, having you reassure him is just another reason for him to keep going. Like Gaz, he’ll also be more prone to run around shirtless as soon as he figures it out, but he’ll also do so in the middle of winter. You dote on him, so even you telling him to put on a sweater is good attention to him.

Nikolai: Nikolai isn’t the youngest anymore either, but that doesn’t mean his body is deteriorating. Also has a bit of chub, but he thinks it looks better on him than having no body fat whatsoever. When it comes to strength, he’s a bit stronger than Price still, meaning he has few more muscles than he does as well, so it’s not like he’s weak either. If you come up to him and ask him to flex for you, he will like it’s nothing. He has had people fawning over him when he was younger, so you’re likely not the first. If you’re just sitting next to him, all flustered, then he’ll teasingly ask you if you want to touch them. Afterwards he goes back to whatever it was he was doing. He’s well aware you have a thing for muscular people, but won’t make a big deal out of it. He will wear shorter shirts if you explicitly ask him to, but whenever he can, he will wear one of his bomber jackets. You get a better view of him when he’s somewhere hot, with him slicking back his hair and you giving him all sorts of stares. Something along the lines of that will be the start of him starting to tease you more often. Need a hand opening the pickle jar? Need a strong guy to lift something? Want someone to carry you to bed? Look no further than him. As soon as he sees the chance to make you go quiet, he’ll take it. He might actually just pick you up when you aren’t expecting it either, just to show off in that way, and hold you up in the air. And if you’re taller than him, he’ll still pick you up, this is about his pride, after all.

König: He wasn’t always as muscular as he is right now, he used to be quite a bit softer when he was younger. While he, also has a layer of fat, he has plenty of muscles to spare as well. It’s sort of unlikely you’re taller than him, but on the off chance you do see eye to eye with him, he’ll still pick you up. This is about being the dominant person in the relationship, he needs to be the bigger person or else he won’t know what to do. It’s flattering to him, to know that you like him not only for his personality, but also his body, not everyone always has. He won’t particularly comply with you in public when you ask him to show off, he draws enough attention to himself as it is, but in private he’ll do just about anything you ask of him. He’ll flex for you, he’ll perform several exercises for you, just name it and he’ll do it. While he may not be an overly physically affectionate person, you can ask him to make you feel safer by having him wrap his arms around you. That’s another reason why he likes you: You’re independent enough, but you still allow yourself to be vulnerable around someone like him. Laughs a bit when you tell him you just wanted to feel his strong arms around you. However, in order for him to be able to be such eye candy and protect you, he’ll need lots of good meals too. Your agreement is thus that he’ll do just about anything you ask of him, even something stupid such as flexing for you, and in return you’ll make him a nice meal every once in a while, even if you just order takeout. Love goes through the stomach.

[awesumsaus]

cave

wc: 6.5k

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

part two of pretty when I cry

summary: Ever the man of his word, your boyfriend Joel finally fulfills your need to have him claim that secret little part of you.

a/n: welcome back besties. thank you so much to everyone that checked out part one, I seriously can’t believe the response it’s gotten. again please heed the warnings and skip of you don’t think this is for you. otherwise hope y’all enjoy my absolutely depraved writing 

warnings/tags: explicit 18+ (minors dni), no outbreak au, softdom!joel, very needy/emotional reader, joel can pick reader up (I’m convinced this man could lift anyone), smut smut smut literal porn (ok a TINY bit of plot), established relationship, age gap (not really mentioned in this one), so much daddy kink, dd/lg dynamics, tiny bit of degradation kink, whole lot of praise kink, joel tummy™️, spanking, unprotected pinv, oral (m receiving), plug use, ass eating (brief), anal sex, subspace, joel is still a consent king, fluffy aftercare (these bitches are in love)

It wasn’t until two weeks later that either of you brought it up. You’d been thinking about it, that morning, admittedly far too often. The way his fingers and tongue explored the very hidden spots of your body, pushed the limit of what you can and can’t handle. But you couldn’t ask him, couldn’t be the first one to bring it up. It was the game the two of you played, you being far too shy to voice this filthy little need, and Joel far too teasing to give it up without you asking.

But it was becoming unbearable, thoughts of him arising at the most inopportune times, whether that be when you were laying in bed at home, alone while Joel was working a double shift, or at work when there were millions of other tasks you should be focusing on, but all you could think about was your boyfriend finally claiming that secret little part of you. 

And so tonight you’d decided to put an end to your suffering, devising your own little plan to set things in motion, one that you were comfortable with, and that you knew Joel wouldn’t object to. 

The two of you were getting ready, having made plans to meet Joel’s brother for dinner at 7. It was already 6:30 by the time you finished your hair, still dressed in nothing but one of Joel’s t-shirts and a lacy thong. Usually, your lateness was just a result of you losing track of time, trying to tame flyaways, or pausing to belt out one of the songs that came up on your playlist. Little did Joel know that this time around you were stalling, working up the courage to present him with your latest purchase. 

You glance over to the open vanity drawer, and a tinge of excitement spreads up your spine when you see it. A small thing, silver all except for the red heart-shaped jewel at the end of it. You reach for it, the metal cold against your fingertips, a contrast to the heat that spreads up your neck at the thought of what comes next. 

Running your hands through your hair one last time, you exit the bathroom to see Joel, fully dressed and rummaging through one of his dresser drawers. The way the fabric of his dark green sweater stretches around his broad shoulders makes your stomach flip. 

You pad over to him, hands held behind your back, clearing your throat and he turns. He immediately registers the hesitance in your movements. “I um- I got you something.” You look up at him through your lashes, putting on your most innocent guise. 

“S’ that right?” He quirks an eyebrow, already holding back a smirk. His focus turns to his wrist, snapping in place the silver band of the watch you’d gifted him this past Christmas. It was a simple thing, nothing too fancy. You would’ve gotten him something nicer, something more high-end, but the year-end bonus you’d been hoping for never came. Still, Joel insisted that it was the greatest gift he’d ever been given, bullshit, but it still put a smile on your face whenever he wore it. 

“You promise you won’t laugh?” His smirk widens. 

“Why would I laugh?”

“Just promise!” You frown at him before giving his chest a little shove, but he’s quick to respond, grabbing your wrist and pulling, closing the space between you.

“Promise.” You say it softer this time, looking up at him, ignoring the way your thighs instinctively clench from how far you have to bend your neck just to meet his gaze. 

“I promise.” He plants a kiss on your forehead, his expression softening. “I won’t laugh.”

And he doesn’t. In fact, his smirk falls completely when you reveal what’s in your free hand, extending your palm to him. He takes it from you, turning it over in his fingers, something darkens in his eyes. 

“Dirty little girl,” he says under his breath, his attention still focused on the small metal plug in his hand. He turns away from you for only a moment to grab his phone from the dresser. 

“What are you doing?”

“Textin’ Tommy that we’re gonna be late,” he says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

“No wait, I’ll be quick. I’m almost ready-“

“Uh-uh, baby.” He takes exacting steps towards you, forcing you to retreat backward, nearly falling over when your calves meet the edge of his bed. “Not goin’ anywhere yet.” He swiftly turns you, manhandling you against his chest, and dips his mouth to your ear. “Bend over.”

A shiver runs down your spine, yet you can’t ignore the heat continuing to spread across your face. “R-right now? Joel, are you serious?”

“You bet I am.” His hand comes down with a firm slap to your ass and you gasp, the arm he’s looped around your midsection keeping you from falling forward onto the bed. Wet drips from your core when he does the same to the other side. “Thought you were gonna get away with this, baby? F’ you’re gonna act like a fucking whore, I’m gonna treat you like one. Bend over.”

You shudder slightly at his words, but do as he says, slowly lowering your upper half, whining when he pushes you the last few inches, your brain already gone fuzzy from the roughness of his movements. A part of you expected this, knew that Joel wouldn’t accept your gift and just move on with the rest of the night. So it’s no surprise that when he pulls your thong to the side, your pussy is already glistening with slick. 

“Jesus, baby,” he lets out a breath behind you, running his knuckles along your seam making you shiver. “Always so fucking wet, so ready f’ me.”

“Just for you, Daddy,” you sigh against the mattress, rocking your lower half back, seeking friction. 

Joel lets out a strangled grunt from behind you, one hand squeezing your ass cheek. It’s taking everything in him not to ruin you right then and there, but he restrains himself, knowing that the two of you wouldn’t make it out the front door if he gave in. 

You suck in a breath when the cold metal presses against your cunt, slipping through your folds with ease, gathering slick. “Gonna be able to behave yourself at dinner, baby? Don’t want Tommy gettin’ suspicious.”

You whimper slightly as the tip presses into the cleft of your ass, squirming at the action and the almost belittling tone of his voice. “Don’t want him to know how much of a goddamn slut you are for me, huh?” He delivers another stinging slap just as the plug breaches your tight hole. “Answer me.”

“I-I’ll behave!” The words tumble from your mouth. “I’ll be good, daddy- p-promise.”

“I know, baby. Always such a good girl f’ me.” His words are so dizzying you don’t even realize that he’s fitted the plug completely inside of you until his knuckles graze your ass. It’s not what you had expected, not painful or uncomfortable in any way. It feels good, being this full, the slight stretch making your lower half shake with anticipation. 

“That feel okay, pretty girl?” His voice softens the same way it always does when he’s checking in with you. 

“Mhm,” you nod against the mattress, a content smile spread across your face. 

“Good. Now go get dressed ‘fore Tommy starts askin’ questions.”

He plants one last slap on your bottom, softer than the others, but the way it reverberates across your skin and through the toy now deep inside you makes you gasp, your senses now on high alert. Maybe this wasn’t going to be as easy as you thought.

You make it through the better part of dinner without any slip-ups, just a regular evening with your boyfriend and his brother who you’ve come to befriend over your time knowing him.

You’re barely paying attention, focused on the story Tommy is telling when Joel curves a finger through the back loop of your jeans and pulls. You choke on your water at the sudden feeling, the seam of your jeans digging into you, pressing tightly against the toy you’d nearly forgotten about at this point. Something white-hot shoots up your spine and settles in your lower belly. Tommy pauses and shoots you a worried look as you cough unexpectedly, obviously unaware of Joel’s actions. You notice Joel holding back a smirk from the corner of your eye. 

“Woah- hey, ya alright darlin’?” Tommy asks, looking to Joel who’s started patting your back softly, a forced expression of concern written across his features. It takes everything in you not to slap the look right off his face then and there. 

“I’m fine, yeah- sorry.” You try to ignore the obvious blush spreading across your cheeks, still attempting to catch your breath while also fighting against the growing heat pulsing through your core. 

“You sure, honey? You’re all flushed,” Joel says. 

“Said I’m fine,” you almost snap at Joel, immediately regretting your tone when he shoots you a warning look, a brow raised as if daring you to continue.

“Sorry, Tommy.” You turn to the younger Miller, disregarding the way Joel’s palm has started kneading the flesh of your lower back, only making your head spin more. “Please go on. I’m alright.” He looks between the two of you a bit hesitantly for only a moment before continuing his story. 

And suddenly it’s all you can think about, the feeling of the plug pressing into your most sensitive spots, the fullness of it all, only made worse by Joel’s continuous teasing, his seemingly harmless touching. 

When you finally make it to Joel’s truck after bidding Tommy goodnight, you’re an absolute mess. Practically soaked through your panties, squirming against the leather of your seat. And Joel knows, revels in it, confirmed by the shit-eating grin he exhibits the entire ride home, while his hand softly grips the plushness of your thigh, only deepening your need. 

You’re on him as soon as you pass the threshold of his front door, clawing at his chest, a rabid little thing. He appeases you almost instinctively, pushing you against the opposite wall and pinning your wrists by your head as he roughly presses his mouth to yours. You writhe against his grip, whimpering when he takes his free hand to angle your jaw upward, giving his tongue access to plunge deep into your mouth. You hook a leg around his waist, grinding against his thigh, and finally, a tiny ounce of your ache dissipates. 

But just as quickly as it started, Joel removes himself from you, turning away and walking into the living room. He plops down on the couch, kicking his shoes off and leaning back against the cushions. The look on his face is maddening, cocky son of a bitch.

“C’mere,” he says from his seat on the couch, his legs spread wide. If you weren’t so painfully desperate you’d refuse him for being so smug, but luckily for Joel, you need him about as much as you need air to breathe in this moment. 

You can’t help but eye the growing tightness in his jeans as you approach him, the sight making you a little dizzy in your movements. He stops you when you attempt to straddle him, placing a hand firmly on your lower belly, and looking up at you with a devilish smile. He toys with the hem of your shirt between his fingers. Off. It’s all the command you need before crossing your arms over your body and lifting the fabric from your torso. 

Your shirt’s not even pulled over your head before his deft fingers are unbuttoning your pants and tugging them along with your panties down to your ankles. He leans forward, gripping your calf, and helps you step out of them, popping your shoes off in the process, and quickly tosses your clothes aside. His hand travels up your leg, sending goosebumps across your bare skin. A small yelp escapes your lips when he pulls you onto his lap by the back of your thigh, but you quickly melt into him as your knees sink into the couch on either side of him. 

He runs his hands up and down your sides and you shiver. “So sensitive, baby,” he tsks. You can’t help the blush that spreads across your cheeks from your desperation. It was pathetic really, how much you need him in this moment, how much your body craved even his lightest touch. It was pathetic really, how much of your need now dripped onto his still-clothed crotch, soaking through the material. 

His hands move to cup your tits, thumbing your already peaked nipples through the thin fabric before expertly unclasping your bra, letting it fall to the floor with the rest of your clothing. You’re suddenly all too aware of how clothed Joel is, a stark contrast to your naked form, yet the image sends another wave of slick weeping from your core. You allow your head to fall forward onto his shoulder, mouthing at his sweater to muffle your cries, when he tweaks one of your nipples between his fingers. 

“Sh, I know. I’ve got you, little one.” He continues his slow torment, smoothing his hands along your bare skin, his smirk growing with each of your whines and whimpers. You’re like putty in his hands, completely at his mercy, a plaything for him to do with what he pleases. Your breath hitches when his hands travel to your ass, two of his fingers pressing lightly against the now exposed plug, sending a jolt through your whole body. 

He brings his mouth to your ear, nips at it, before whispering “You want me to fuck you here, baby?“ He says it like a secret, only for the two of you to ever hear. That’s when everything starts to ache, the feeling in your lower belly so warm and unfurling, that you fear you may start sobbing if he doesn’t end his teasing soon. 

“Please, daddy.” You sniffle into the spot connecting his neck and shoulder. “Want it so bad, please.”

“Such good manners, baby.” One of his hands slides up your back to the nape of your neck where he grips you, pulling you back to meet his gaze. “M’ gonna give you what you want, sweet girl.” Your heart rate quickens, excitement bubbling in your chest.

“But not tonight.”

And just like that your heart sinks, tears pooling in the corner of your eyes at his sudden declination. You’d feel foolish for it, overly emotional if it wasn’t Joel’s lap you were sitting on. He knows how you get, how reactive you can be, especially when you have your heart set on something. You shake your head and lean away from him, your eyes casting down to your lap, shame beginning to bubble in your chest. You have the sudden urge to cover yourself, wrapping your arms around your chest, a little voice in the back of your head telling you that it’s your fault, that you’d done something wrong to make him deny you, deny himself, of this. 

“Hey,” he says it so so softly. His hands run up and down your biceps, as if he’s attempting to pull your focus from the insecurities he knows are settling in your brain “I’m not doing this to punish you, understand?” You sniffle again, a tear threatens to fall from your lower lashes. 

“Look at me,” he says sternly. You reluctantly meet his gaze. “Tell me you understand.”

You want to shake your head no, want to beg him to change his mind, whine and pout until he gives you what you want, but as much as you know Joel’s a man of his word, you also know he’s nearly impossible to sway once his mind is made up. 

“I understand.”

“Good.” 

He gives you a moment to collect yourself, thumbing your tears away and pulling you back against his chest. You unwrap your arms from yourself, instead latching them around Joel’s neck. “I’m gonna give you what you want, baby. Just gotta have some patience. Want this to be good for you.” He rubs your back soothingly, kissing your temple. “Don’t wanna hurt you.”

You can’t help the huff that escapes your lips at his words, because you like the hurt. Like being subject to his each and every desire, surrendered entirely to his control. Joel knows this, knew this from the first time you’d slipped and called him daddy while he fucked you into his kitchen counter, knew this when the next morning he caught you in his bathroom mirror, smiling at the finger-shaped bruises burgeoning across the flesh of your hips. 

Joel knows you like the hurt, and part of him can’t deny how utterly irresistible he finds you when you beg him to push just a little further, to be a little rougher. But he also knows where to draw the line, never inflicting enough pain to outweigh the pleasure he brings you. He’s had experience with establishing this limit, but never in past relationships had he found anyone to be as persistent as you, as stubborn, as needy. And though it isn’t always obvious, he needs you just the same. It’s what frustrates him the most, not your neediness, but the way in which it clouds his judgement, makes him forget how fragile you can be. So he wouldn’t, not tonight, not until he’s certain you won’t break. 

“Poor baby,” he coos when you grind down on his bulge, the rough fabric against your soft folds making you gasp. “I know you’re not used to being told no, huh?”

You let out a squeaking whine when you feel the rough skin of his hand cup the entirety of your sex. You instinctively buck into his touch. 

“You want daddy to take care ‘a this for you?”

“Mhm, please,” nodding your head against his chest. You almost cry when the pad of his finger finds your clit, swiping two delicate circles before pulling away. 

“Sh sh, I’ve got you, honey.” He lifts you slightly off his lap, a strangled sound erupting from your throat at the loss of contact, but he makes quick work with his zipper, pulling his pants and boxers down just enough to free his fully hardened cock, red and pulsing in his grip. 

“Come sit on daddy’s cock, baby.” His eyes glass over as he pumps his length once, twice before urging you forward. He taps the wide tip against your clit a few times and you swear you could come just from that before he’s lining up with your entrance, coating himself with your slick. 

He lets you go at your own pace, loosening his grip on your waist as you begin to sink down on him, inch by inch. He’d usually stretch you first, make you come around his fingers once or twice before letting you take him in his entirety. But not tonight, not with the steady flow of slick that’s been gushing from your heat all night. 

You shudder once he’s fully sheathed inside you, your clit twitching against his pelvis. He lets you adjust, squirm a bit in his lap, before he’s bucking up into you, a bit of his own impatience beginning to show. 

As much as you’ve needed Joel all night, you know his teasing has had its own effect on him. He’s been itching to be inside you since the moment you presented him with your little gift, it was all he could think about the entire evening, so it comes as no surprise that his movements quickly grow hurried. He fucks up into you at a frantic pace, meeting your little bounces with increasing force.

It’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before. The combination of his cock pumping deep inside you and the toy sitting snug inside your asshole. It’s overwhelming, nerve endings you didn’t even know existed now buzzing within you. It’s only mere minutes before you’re clenching around him, right on the edge of release.

“Little cunt’s huggin’ me so tight, baby,” Joel pants, his movements stuttering. 

“Daddy-“ you gasp, “m’ ngh m’ gonna cum.”

“Fuck- that’s it baby,” he babbles, his fingers move to messily rub your clit. “That’s it pretty girl. Want you to cum on my cock then I’ll fill you up, yeah? So fucking full, baby. C’mon, cum for daddy.”

Your entire body convulses against him as you reach your peak, strings of curses and incoherent sounds slipping between your lips. Everything turns white behind your eyes, every inch of your skin on fire. He only fucks you harder, rubs his fingers against your clit faster. You don’t even realize you’re on the cusp of a second orgasm until he’s pressing his free hand against the heart-shaped jewel still sticking out of your ass, hitting something deep inside of you. Then you’re crashing down once more, sobbing as your grip tightens around his neck, completely enraptured in the feeling as he fucks up into you. 

“Good fuckin’ girl-“ a groan sounds from deep within his chest, a few more bucks of his hips before he cums, spilling into you with a slew of grunts and unintelligible praises. He only lets up once you’ve milked him dry, a combination of both your releases coating his length and further soaking his jeans. 

Joel comes back to earth first after he’s caught his breath and carefully pulled out of you. He stands and rids himself of his damp clothes, now just as bare you are, before wrapping his thick arms around you and pulling you from the couch. 

Later, after you’re both showered and Joel makes you a cup of your favorite tea, the two of you lay in bed, your head resting against his chest, tracing a finger along the broad expanse of him. You’ve committed just about every mark and freckle to memory by now from this exact spot. His hand lazily runs up and down your spine, as you mull over where things will go from here. 

A week. You talked him into a week. A week of doing exactly as he says, with no attempting to convince him otherwise. You’ll wear the plug when he tells you to, for as long as he tells you to. A week and then he’ll divulge that secret little part of you that he’s yet to claim. 

Joel lasts till Thursday. 

He’s done for the moment he arrives home from work to you sprawled across his bed, book in hand, with nothing on but a tight-fitting t-shirt and a barely-there thong. You knew what you were doing, knew it was exactly what Joel told you not to do, tempting him to go back on his word and cave. You notice his eyes darken the moment he enters the bedroom, his gaze falling to the red heart poking through the fabric of your panties. The same one he stuffed inside you before sending you off to work this morning, the one you were sorely reminded of every time you shifted too quickly in your desk chair. 

“Hey baby,” you smile sweetly at him. You swear you hear him grumble as he makes his way to the closet, pulling his sweaty work shirt off and tossing it into the hamper. You mark your page and set your book aside before stretching out across the comforter like a cat in the sun. The muscles in Joel’s shoulders tense when a soft sigh slips from your lips. 

You nearly skip over to him, wrapping your arms around his midsection before he has the chance to pull on a clean shirt. He lets out a heavy breath at the feeling of your small fingers splaying across his bare stomach. 

“How was your day?” you ask, pressing against him more firmly, your head resting below his shoulder blades. 

“Fine,” he responds, his tone suspecting. You feel his breath catch as you press small kisses to his spine. 

“Couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you today,” your voice goes softer, a hidden plea behind your words. 

“S’ that right?” His severity wanes, an opening.

“Mhm,” you hum against him, dragging your blunt nails across his skin. “Need you so bad, Daddy.”

“‘M right here, baby.” He pretends to not know what you’re talking about, unbuckling his belt and pulling it through the loops, acting like your fingers aren’t dangerously close to the waistband of his jeans. You know he can see right through you, has always seen right through you, his refusal to admit it in this moment only makes your need deepen. 

“Please, Joel,” you whine softly, errant fingertips dipping just below the waistband of his boxers. “I almost started touching myself in the bathroom today.” Your cheeks flush red at the confession, a low groan escapes Joel’s throat. “Every time I felt it, I couldn't stop thinking about how much I wish it was your co-“

You let out a small gasp when he snatches your wrist. He pauses, so still you begin to worry you’ve upset him, that you’ve pushed him too far. But then something shifts. 

Fuck it. His mouth is on you in seconds, his tongue immediately gaining access as you melt into him. It’s dizzying, one of his hands grabbing you just below your jaw, the other squeezing your ass cheek roughly. Your knees buckle just as he’s turning you around and practically throwing you onto the bed. You don’t even have time to lift your head off the mattress before he’s yanking your panties over your ass and easing the plug out of your hole. He’s quick with it, your body shivering as the cool metal slides through you, leaving an empty feeling in its wake, but it doesn’t last for long as Joel licks a broad strip through your seam to your asshole. He presses his tongue there, gauging your reaction before he’s licking into you, spreading you with his hands. At first, you squirm away, the feeling of him eating at you like this entirely foreign. But then you're rocking back into him, completely lost in the rush of his mouth against your asshole. Sounds you never knew yourself capable of filling the room as his tongue repeatedly dives into the ring of muscle.

A strangled moan leaves your lips when he pauses, you crane your neck just in time to see a string of saliva drip from his mouth directly between your ass cheeks. He rubs it into you, pushing his thumb through the ring of muscle making you whimper. 

“What d’you want?” His voice is low. His thumb starts pumping in and out of you, fast and unrelenting. 

“Daddy,” you whine, burying your burning-hot cheeks into his pillow. 

“Gonna need better than that,” he tsks, rutting his bulge into your heat. “Or else I’ll have t’ take care a’ this myself. Tie you up and make you watch.”

“Ngh, Daddy,” you moan, face burning impossibly warmer. His thumb slows, giving you a moment of reprieve to gather your thoughts. 

“Want you t’ fuck my ass- wanna feel you.”

“Jesus-“ With his hand coming down to grip your neck, he suddenly pins you to the mattress, muttering a short stay before you feel his weight lift from the bed. You hear the sound of his zipper undoing and catch him fisting himself in the corner of your eye. Your thighs tremble with anticipation as he moves to the side of the bed, planting a knee by your shoulder. Then he’s towering over you, his weeping cock right at your eye line, your cheek still pushed against the mattress, ass in the air. He looks so powerful like this, so broad and so commanding, so when he tells you to open your mouth, you don’t even have to think twice. 

“Gonna get daddy’s dick nice n’ wet, baby.” Saliva pools in your mouth, threatening to drip onto the bed when you stick your tongue out. “Then ‘m gonna wedge my cock in this tight little hole. How’s that sound?” You jolt forward when the pad of his index finger pushes into you.

“Please Daddy,” you whine. He removes his hand, immediately wrapping it around the back of your skull, his fingers tangled in your hair. His other hand grips the base of his length, tapping the red-flushed tip on your tongue a few times before pushing all the way into your mouth in one swift motion, your nose scratching against the coarse hairs at his pelvis. It had taken you months to work up to it, taking him in his entirety. The first time you blew him you’d barely been able to make it halfway down his cock before you were gagging, but not now. Now you take everything he gives you, like he’s molded your throat to the shape of him. 

“This mouth-“ he’s cut off by his own moans, erupting from deep within his chest. “Fuckin’ heaven, baby.”

Tears quickly prick in the corners of your eyes as he continues his assault on your throat. A breathy moan slips from his mouth when you gag around his length after an especially forceful thrust of his hips.

His pace slows as he thumbs away your tears. “Daddy’s been so mean, huh little one? Makin’ you wait all this time.”

You whine around his dick, the vibrations making Joel’s breath catch in the back of his throat. 

“You like when I’m mean though, don’t you? Like when daddy treats you like the little slut you are?” He delivers a harsh smack to your ass just as he pulls away from your mouth, leaving you sputtering and gasping for air. He moves to open the nightstand drawer, quickly retrieving a bottle of lube before rounding the corner of the bed, towering over you from behind. 

“Don’t need it,” you whine, head still foggy from the lack of oxygen.

“Quiet little girl.” He softly swats your ass before you hear the disappointing sound of the bottle opening, followed by the cool sensation of the liquid hitting your exposed hole. He rubs it into you, letting out a satisfied hum when he presses his thumb into your asshole with ease. And then his cock is lining up with you, it’s so fucking big, so much bigger than the plug, a small part of you starts to worry it may not fit, may be too painful. 

Like always, Joel senses your apprehension, running his large palm soothingly down your spine as he leans over you. You feel his warm breath hit your ear. 

“You tell me if it’s too much, yeah baby?” He says it only slightly above a whisper. “M’ only gonna enjoy this if you do too.”

You nod against the sheets, immediately recognizing that the action won’t be enough for Joel. “Yes, Daddy.” You crane your neck to look at him, eyes hooded and dazed. Something flashes in his expression, beyond simple desire, a need suddenly so evident in his eyes that you’d sit up and kiss him until your lips were raw if he wasn’t pushing the tip of his thick cock inside you. 

It’s so much. Even just the first inch is blinding, your vision going blurred and your senses entirely rapt with the feeling. The hurt is overwhelming, the stretch all-consuming, but it’s so good, unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. 

He pushes in another inch and the pain dissipates, in its place a euphoric haze, where all you can feel is him, his weight driving you into the mattress, his hips rocking against your ass. You see stars once he’s fitted inside you, never having felt this full. 

The noises Joel is making are almost pained, his cock throbbing from the tightness of your hole, all the restraint left in him keeping him from setting a brutal pace. No, instead he moves slow, focused intently on not blowing his load every time you squeeze around him, listening to your little moans and whimpers for any signs of unease. 

“It’s a lot baby, I know,” he pants. “But you’re doin’ so good.” His praises have you reeling, furthering your dazed state. “Look so goddamn perfect takin’ all a’ me like this.”

You don’t even know what to say, all you know is that you need more, entirely lost in the feeling. You’re always insatiable, greedy, whenever it comes to Joel, and he knows, revels in the fact that he’s the one that gets to have you like this, makes you feel like this. 

You’re not even sure what you’re saying at this point, what sounds are falling from your mouth, just that Joel takes it as a sign to pick up his pace. It brings you back to earth a bit, your lower belly going taught at the force of his body against your own. 

You’re crying out against the mattress, small fingers twisting in the sheets, tears forming a wet spot beneath your chin. 

“Fuck, baby c’mere.” He suddenly pulls out of you with a heady groan and wastes no time flipping you over. He’s pushing back inside you in seconds, resuming his vigorous pace. 

“Wanna see you when I come in this perfect fuckin’ ass.” Your eyes roll to the back of your head at his words, your entire body going limp against the mattress as he uses you. When his thumb finds your clit you’re done for. The messy circles he makes send you hurtling right to the edge. With a near-scream, every part of your body goes taut for a moment before your release is shattering through every inch of your body, bursting from your core like shock waves. 

“Fuck, fuck-“ he’s repeating over and over as his own climax hits him, but you can’t even hear him, can only feel him, his body thrusting into you, pushing you impossibly further into the mattress, his hands gripping the hinge of your hips, his warm release shooting deep inside you. It’s the only thing keeping you here, prevailing against the potent haze. 

With one final grunt, he stills, his breathing ragged and sweat dripping from his forehead. You can barely move, still dazed as he pulls out of you slowly, the emptiness in its wake further graying your awareness of reality. 

You lift a shaking hand, attempting to grab at whatever part of him you can reach. “Daddy-“

He leans forward, carefully caging you in his arms. “I’m here baby, you’re okay.”

“‘M okay,” you mumble sweetly. He brings one of his hands to your hair, gently running his fingers along your scalp in a way that makes your thoughts even more fuzzy. But the heaviness of his chest against your own keeps you there, keeps you present. 

“You did so good f’ me, I’m so proud a’ you.” A tired smile spreads across your face at his words. He knows the effect they have on you, which is probably why he says it. But the sincerity in his voice makes your heart swell. 

“My pretty baby,” he kisses you softly, and you further melt into his embrace, inhaling his familiar scent, musky and woody with something distinctly Joel. The two of you stay like this for a moment, your arms and legs wrapped around his large form, what little remains of your strength focused on keeping him in place, chest to chest, a comforting pressure. 

“How do you feel, baby? You hurtin’ anywhere?” He says it against your neck, placing soft kisses to the skin there. 

“Mm”, you hum, denying, still detached from your own body, not fully registering the slight tinges of hurt spreading throughout your lower half, completely consumed with the man in front of you, the smell of his sweat still glistening across his chest, the weight of his softened cock still pulsing and twitching against your thigh. He’s everywhere, everything in this moment. 

He pulls away just enough to kiss the tip of your nose. “How ‘bout a bath yeah?” You hum in agreement, let him unwrap himself from your hold, and stand at the edge of the bed before he’s snaking an arm under your knees and back and lifting you. You instinctively curl your face into his neck, still wet with sweat but you don’t mind, nearly your whole body already covered in him. 

He sets you down on the toilet seat before moving to turn the water on, making sure it’s warm enough before plugging the drain. You sway a bit in place, thankful when Joel wraps an arm around your back to steady you. Usually by now the haze will have lifted a bit, no longer in this headspace, yet still your brain is a bit fuzzy, your thoughts and senses dulled. 

You look up at Joel when you feel his thick fingers card through your hair, unsure of when he’d gone to grab one of your hair elastics. As he gathers the strands together, you lean into him, your head resting just below his belly button, on the plush flesh of his tummy, smattered with course hairs trailing down to the base of his cock. You nuzzle into the spot, breathing him in, fully content in this moment. You feel the muscle tighten when you start to press small kisses to it. He firmly grips your now fully formed ponytail when your mouth wanders south, interrupting your descent, and you whine. 

“Settle.” You let out a short huff of breath and bring your gaze to his, resting your chin on his stomach as he loosens his grip on your hair. He shakes his head at you, holding back a smile as he finishes tying your hair back. 

He helps you step into the tub first, guiding you to sit, before he slots himself behind you with a grunt. He pulls you against him, arms wrapped around your tummy and chin resting on your shoulder. You giggle softly when the hairs of his mustache tickle behind your ear. 

He lets you sit against him for a moment before he insists on cleaning you up, lathering his soap between his hands and smoothing it along your soft skin. You start to doze off from the feeling, Joel keeping you upright against his chest. Only after the water begins to cool and your fingertips have turned pruney, Joel helps you step out of the tub, wrapping you in a towel before you start to shiver. He kisses you then, soft and slow like he could stay like this with you forever. And you would, if he wasn’t ushering you back into the bedroom, telling you to get in bed and that he’d be right back. 

He makes you drink a glass of water before taking his place behind you on the bed, his back to the headboard and the small bowl of your skull cradled against his chest. You slowly drift off to the steady beat of his heart. 

I have so many ideas for these two so lmk if we want to see more ;]

[yuri-is-online]

Azul totally has an octopus and shrimp plush that he makes kiss.

Who? How? Usually when I get an ask I know where it comes from (or why anyway) but this time I just looked at my phone and got hit by a bus. But you know what annon? You are so right, he totally does.

notes: they/them used for Yuu, Azul engages in some SSS tier simping (shrimping?), once again this is a joke but I am not taking cold meds this time! Please look at my masterlist for more serious works.

Plush toys do not exist in the ocean, the concept of them was something Azul had been made aware of in his research and made note of in land training camp. But of course, as was the case with more things than he would ever admit to outside of a court order, Azul failed to grasp just how ubiquitous and popular plushies were. He had even been gifted an octopus plush as a prize during one of the first Board Game Club events he attended, something he had intended to brush off as childish until he saw the way his club mates reacted, even if he didn't understand why himself the little guy was clearly an enviable prize. A claim made less believable with how he hadn't let Floyd squeeze it, or Jade poke at it, and he certainly had not agreed to give it to Idia no matter how much he had begged.

The shrimp plush had been a... strategic purchase. No really, if anyone asked he had a perfectly reasonable explanation for why he had bought this specific plush that he had to go out of his way to find, order, and watch out for to make sure that Jade didn't bring it to him with the rest of his mail. The Mostro Lounge was always going to expand to have a merch store, and since plush toys were so popular with humans it made sense to have some! He just needed to ensure this particular brand was of a high enough quality to commission-

No one was going to buy that excuse. All the more reason to keep this little indulgence a secret, even if the seller had been confused by his request for discreet packaging.

"It's just a plush sir?" To them maybe, to him this is a painful sign that he should just say something already but he needs to plan for that and this should help. The two plushes certainly look natural enough together, Azul has seen pictures of some beds that have a bunch of little guys set up on them and he's beginning to see the appeal. Maybe he should get two eels? Smaller than the shrimp, obviously, it's the only way the real ones will ever let him live it down. But by thinking that he is sort of acknowledging who the little shrimp is supposed to represent. And they're sitting next to him in his bed.

He takes back his previous thought, Azul has no idea how humans sleep with things that remind them of the objects of their affections, it's filling his mind with situations.  He props himself up against the headboard, holding both plushies close to his face so he can see them without his glasses.

“I was so lonely.” Azul is incapable of picturing him otherwise.  “I really missed you.”  He sniffles, and the little shrimp jumps to comfort him.

“I missed you too!”  The little shrimp is friends with the octopus?  Azul has no idea when that happened he just got them today-  “Let’s never be apart again ok?”

“Do you really mean that?”  The little octopus tentatively reaches out one of his stubby tentacles towards the shrimp, who takes it happily.  “I don’t want to let you go…”

“You don’t have to.” comforts the little shrimp. “We can get married and do our laundry and taxes together forever and you won’t ever have to be lonely ever again.” 

And that is apparently when Azul decides to come back to his senses, just as he is halfway through humming a wedding march and making the plushies kiss.  He remembers himself enough to keep them from dropping to the floor, but they still fall to his side as he collapses back onto his pillows redder than a boiled lobster.

Maybe he should just… give the little shrimp over to Yuu.  And make some actual progress on that laundry and taxes bit.

[tales-from-elysivm]

Jinx x f!reader and their first kiss, date, time, fight, all that couple stuff short little pieces of girlies being cute

★。／ get jinxed ＼。★

pairing: jinx x f!reader

fandom: arcane

word count: 1,612

tw: canon typical swearing/slang, some light spoiler warnings, and some suggestive/NSFW content! MDNI!

notes: this is a fic i am really excited for! Thank you again for the request anon! It was really fun to write, and i got through it pretty quickly to be perfectly honest because of that haha. Not proofread because im tired, and i have no shame :D enjoy!

! be sure to like and reblog if you enjoyed !

➼ first date with jinx 

You worked under Silco delivering shimmer across Zaun. Of course, you knew you shouldn’t have been doing this, it could get you arrested without question and you’d find yourself in Stillwater. But it paid well, and working so closely with the Eye of Zaun meant you didn’t have to worry as much about danger in Zaun. People saw you as a god-send, you gave them their weekly hit, if anything, the danger made them respect you. 

It was during this time that you met Jinx, while picking up your next delivery of shimmer from Silco’s warehouse. She had been there to speak with him privately about some arson issue that happened in Piltover. You had heard briefly about a lanky, blue-haired girl that would build bombs in the open space beneath the warehouse, but it was rare that anyone had ever seen her. But you managed. Somehow.

She intercepts you on your trade route, setting bombs off in the street just across from one of your clients. Jinx claims to recognise you from skulking around the warehouse. And at some point her chaotic energy and her strange inability to sit still seems to lull you into some sense of security. She’s just the perfect idea of unpredictability that you needed in your otherwise boring Zaunite lifestyle. (Though you were very lucky, all things considered.)

Your first date is a simple diner one. At first, you didn’t even know it was a date, just that she wanted to do something fun with you. She takes you in to meet her favourite bartender Chuck, who seems to almost slink beneath the counter when she drags you in. I feel like Jinx would give you a little monkey bomb as a gift for your first date - though it isn’t set, it’s pretty harmless. Other than that she bombards you with strange bursts of Jinx-aligned humour, and rambles at length about her various inventions, promising to take you down to her workshop to show you everything, while tightly gripping your fingers with chipped blue nails. 

And something in those bright, blue eyes makes you think that maybe this unpredictability could be quite fun. 

‘Don’t ya get bored frownin’ like that?’ jinx drums her nails on her glass, the clinking echoing throughout the empty bar. It was quite odd, you reckon, for it to be this quiet, but maybe its just jinx. 

In her own way of trying to get a smile out of you she starts spouting some random jokes. Tries telling her own funny stories. They all mostly revolve around bombs or explosive presentations she’s organised at piltover events. Mainly the absurdity of it all gets a laugh out of you, or you just smile at the giddy, child-like happiness you see in her eyes. Something that seems so pure (ignoring the fact that she’s probably an arsonist and on several watchlists)

‘There ya go!’ she cheers, grabbing onto your hands and interlacing your fingers. You think maybe you should paint your nails too to match her, see if it makes her happy. ‘You look so much prettier with a smile, trinket’

➼ first kiss with jinx 

It was after your third or fourth date that you ended up spending your free time in the warehouse. Jinx begins showing you all the new inventions she’s making, and all her designs for cartoony monkey bombs, you even help her draw out a few, including a cutesy little cat one that she isn’t as fond of, but she still makes one for you. 

Most of your relationship consists of Jinx making you little trinkets, like keychains, safe bombs, little bracelets and rings, and strange, misshapen sculptures made of leftover metal pieces. 

She loves you, in a very Jinx-way. She’s touchy but never very pushy. Long hugs, cuddles on a couch that she has balancing on a metal propellor in her warehouse, letting you braid her hair when she’s tired (please brush her hair, she will melt, and she needs some softness), holding hands in Zaun or dragging you to her private meetings with Silco. Whether you like it or not, you have the Eye of Zaun as an adopted father figure now. He isn’t quite sure what to think about it either. 

It is one of those cuddle sessions, after she is plagued by the voices that taunt her, that you end up just holding her face into your neck and sitting with her. These are the most important to her, like she can feel safe for once. 

‘Thank ya toots,’ she curls around you, straddling your lap and looking down on you with an innocent pout on her face. You don’t have to ask what she’s thanking you for, this has become a pretty regular occurrence. 

In her moment of calmed silence, you untie one of her braids and begin to brush through her long, blue locks with your fingers. She immediately melts into your hands, leaning forward to lean into your chest, gazing up at you. 

‘I feel like ya deserve somethin,’ she says absently, tapping her chin with one nail. Then a mischievous smile crosses her lips. ‘C’mere!’

She eagerly grabs your cheeks, barely giving you a second to register what’s happening before she smushes your faces together. Her lips are chapped, but her kiss is so enthusiastic that you have to take a moment before returning it. Your hand grips her hair in between tight fingers. 

The rest of your cuddle sesh is spent with soft, hurried kisses.

➼ first fight with jinx 

You don’t often fight with Jinx, you don’t like to yell at her or be upset, and watch her usually gleeful expression drop into that of a kicked puppy. But you were worried about her this time. 

She had gone up to piltover against Silco’s wishes again, most likely to stir up trouble, so he decided to send you after her to drag her back to Zaun. When you had gotten there however, you found only the debris of her explosions, the spraypaint she loved, clouds of coloured smoke, and guards everywhere. 

And no Jinx.

No sign of her or where she could be, you had no choice but to return to Zaun before you got dragged into the oncoming investigation, empty-handed. You spend the rest of the day worrying over where she might be in her workshop, sitting with your head in your hands on the couch. Is she hurt? Captured? She could be dead for all you know.

So when she shows up again, seemingly ignorant to how long she has been gone or the stress she has caused, you can’t help but raise your voice, crying about how you had expected the worst. You scream back and forth for a bit before she leaves you to burn off her energy.

‘Hey trinket,’ the door to her warehouse screeches open, and she stands in the entrance, looking at you as you sit on the couch, barely even looking at her. ‘Ya still mad at me?’

She sighs when she doesn’t get a response, coming close to wipe at the dried tear-stains on your cheeks, setting down her tools and her guns to favour your face between her hands. Jinx makes sure you can see only her.

‘I’m sorry i vanished, i didnt mean to scare ya, honest.’ she pulls you down to lean into her shoulder, still stroking your cheeks with her fingers. ‘Can ya forgive me, trinket? I’ll make it up to ya, i promise.’

Jinx cuddles with you on the couch for the rest of the day, showering you in kisses at your request. Safe to say, you can’t stay mad at her for very long at all.

|| ! mdni content below ! ||

➼ first time with jinx 

Jinx has always loved touching you, whether it’s a hand on your knee, an arm around your shoulder, or a hug from behind. She just loves to be close to you. But when you begin talking about the idea of sex with her she immediately jumps on the idea (and probably jumps on you as soon as you bring it up, you only barely manage to drag her somewhere private)

She’s an enthusiastic lover in all things, of course. Fucking you isn’t going to be any different. But she’s gentle the first time, despite it all, she doesn’t really know what she’s doing, i don’t think Silco really prepared her for intimate relationships. 

But still, having sex with Jinx is amusing, its not serious, always cracking little jokes or tickling each other and finding little ways to be comfortable with the process. You can’t really find it in you to be nervous. 

She’d start slowly with you though, if you wanted, just to make you comfortable <3 

‘God trinket, ya look s’ pretty like this for me,’ she’s already slightly breathless, skirting her hands and dragging her chipped nails over your ribs. She lays you down on the couch in her warehouse, sitting between your thighs, looking up at you with half-lidded eyes.

‘Ya feel alright?’ she checks in occasionally, just to be sure. 

But she lets her hands wander at the same time, she can tell you aren’t going to say no just by the look in your eyes, urging her to continue. She lets her hands travel over your stomach and down in between your thighs, but she doesn’t hurry where you need her. No, she prefers to tease you. Just a little bit to get you squirming. 

When she does finally reach your core, dipping her fingers in between your folds, does she finally let up and give you what you want.

[freelancearsonist]

oblivion

➔ Dave York x gn!Reader - 2.2k

➔ Dave left years ago to keep you safe from him. Now, he comes back to finally claim what’s his.

➔ Rated MA for kinda dark fic?????, gn!reader (no pronouns or anatomy described), reader is able-bodied but otherwise is physically a blank slate, infidelity (Dave cheats on his wife w/ reader), smut, choking, biting, blood, this is the midnight mass au that no one asked for [pls let me know if i missed any warnings you think should be included :)]

➔ Thank you to my love @ozarkthedog for this prompt, if you're reading this ily <3

Everyone is leaving this island–your home–in droves. The seas are drenched in oil, and there’s nothing left to fish or net. People are moving on to bigger, better things. But not you; you’ve never enjoyed the mainland, never craved the just-another-face-in-the-crowd feeling of those big cities. You love your little small town, even if most of it is gone now.

You go for your nightly walk, and the loneliness gets to you for the first time since the spill. There’s no lights on in house windows, no kids playing out in front yards. It’s just you as the sun goes down, casting everything in fiery red and orange brilliance.

Some nights seem darker than others, regardless of the star visibility or the moon’s phase. It’s almost like the air swells and surrounds you until it feels like a thick, dark blanket. It can be almost stifling; and those nights never quite leave your mind.

That’s what it feels like tonight, and for no discernable reason. There’s a wicked sense of foreboding–even more so than you’ve come to be accustomed to. It ramps up even more so when you see the only other house in the neighborhood with lights on: Dave’s house.

Dave left with his wife and daughters two years ago, long before the spill destroyed the island’s economy. No one’s stepped foot in it since–you figured it just never sold. But certainly it hasn’t sold now; who would want to move to the island at a time like this?

Curiosity gets the better of you, maybe because a traitorous little part of your brain wonders if it’s Dave. If he’s finally come back for some reason, if he’s here to fix things. That nagging little hope keeps you up at night more often than you care to admit; that he might return and you’d get a second chance. Either way, you don’t think twice about walking up the short driveway to knock on his door.

It’s completely silent for a long few minutes; long enough that you almost knock again. But maybe this is just some fluke thing, an electrical malfunction or something that turned his lights on. He swore he’d never be back, after all. It’s just wishful thinking.

It started on your night walks. He jogged the same route every single night after the girls went to bed, and eventually his jog slowed to a walk when he would come alongside you. You’d walk side by side and talk about anything and everything, vent about work or life and tell each other little stories. Before too long, you knew him better than anyone, and it was all completely by accident. Just the neighborly kindness of him slowing his pace to chit chat with you.

And then this man who you shared nothing with besides a nightly exercise route, after weeks of small talk every single evening, kissed you. In the middle of a street, in the middle of a very small island community where every single person knew every single thing about every other person; a community where every single person knew that Dave was married, and that he wasn’t married to you.

You dragged him home to scold him somewhere that no prying ears would catch it, and somehow you ended up in bed underneath him. All desperately breathless kisses and deeply earth-shattering thrusts and muffled moans of pleasure.

He whispered that no one had ever made him feel so alive before, that he’d never wanted someone more. And you wanted to believe him, so you did.

Miraculously, no one ever found out; not about that first time, and not about the million times after. No one ever found out about all the times that you swore up and down it could never happen again, only to fall right back onto your knees for him. No one ever found out about the time that he finally agreed with you, and the way you cried yourself to sleep when he stuck to it and didn’t catch up to you on your walk the next night. No one ever found out about how the next night after that, he caught up to you and begged for you–for your forgiveness, for the feelings that only you had ever been able to make him feel.

And for a while, it was enough. Being his at night under secrecy of darkness was plenty; until all of a sudden it wasn’t. Until you would bump into his wife at the market and nearly have a panicked breakdown by the time you got home, wondering just how much she knew. Until he would say things that were heavier and heavier–things that translated to something akin to ‘I love you’ without actually being the words. Until he had to leave for a work assignment.

He’d be gone for a week. That was all. A simple job, he’d explained. Somewhere overseas, but that was really all he said. He never liked to talk to you about his work much. He said he’d be back before you could even miss him.

But it was a month before he returned, and he came back different.

Withdrawn, dark eyes darker than usual, sunkissed golden skin looking a little insipid. You tried to convince yourself that he was just coming down with a cold, that the way he’d put his hand around your neck just to feel your pulse thrum under his fingertips and squeeze a little tighter than comfortable wasn’t related; that the way he nearly broke skin from biting into your shoulder so hard wasn’t anything to be concerned about; that the way he seemed to have doubled strength while he was away wasn’t cause for alarm.

You lied to yourself because it was easier than the truth; whatever had happened on his assignment, he wasn’t the same man anymore. The man you had started to fall in love with, circumstances be damned, was long gone.

But it came to a point where the truth couldn’t be avoided any longer, because the inevitable can’t be postponed indefinitely. Ignorance is only bliss until the truth comes unapologetically crashing in.

He fucked you so relentlessly it scared you. The hands that had once held you so gently were pushing you into positions far past your comfortable range, his hips were thrusting hard and deep enough to bruise. He saw the tears that leaked from the corners of your eyes and called you pathetic; and just like that, you knew your Dave York was gone. Where to, you weren’t sure. But something in his roughness, in the way he wanted to hurt you, made you sure he was never coming back.

You pushed him off of you and told him to get the fuck out. For a moment–one flickering, horribly tension-fraught moment–you didn’t think he would. The most terrified you’d ever been in your life was when you looked into his dark eyes and saw nothing but violence.

For a moment, you didn’t know what he was going to do. And then he hastily pulled on his clothes and slammed the door shut behind him without a word.

You didn’t see him on your walk the next night, and the following night after that there was a U-Haul parked in front of his house. Part of you was relieved at the sight of boxes and furniture being lugged out of the front door into the box truck; another, more complicated part of you wanted to fall to your knees right there in the street and start screaming.

You felt his presence before you saw him–just behind you to the left, out of your field of view. You didn’t turn to look at him; you couldn’t stand to see his face when you asked, “Why?”

“There are worse ways to hurt you than leaving,” he murmured, low and deep. “If leaving is what I have to do to keep you safe, then I’m never fucking coming back.”

You turned at that, because what the fuck was that supposed to mean? What would he have to keep you safe from?

You saw so much sadness in his brown eyes that you nearly broke down sobbing. You knew right then that it was over. There was no begging him to stay, no changing his mind. You didn’t even really know if you actually wanted him to stay, at that point.

He walked away to help the movers lug a couch before you got a chance to say anything; no ‘I love you’, no ‘I’ll miss you’, not even a simple ‘goodbye’.

By morning his family was gone, him included. His house stood empty for two years with not a sign from him. Until tonight.

The living room lights cast a warm yellow glow over the front yard in the dark even through the obscurity of dusty window blinds. You’re tempted to peek through and see if you can tell what’s going on inside after standing on the stoop unacknowledged for a few minutes; just as you make the decision to snoop, the front door opens.

It’s him. It’s really fucking him. He hasn’t changed even the slightest bit. His brown hair is still cut short and neatly styled, his handsome face is impeccably shaved. His dark brown eyes are just like you remember them, from before; the hatred and violence they held those last few days isn’t there anymore.

He whispers your name, and then his eyes flash. “You’re still here.”

“Of course I am,” you reply, on guard. “This is my home.”

His fingers twitch on the doorknob, like he’s contemplating shutting you out. “I didn’t know anyone was still here. I wouldn’t have come back.”

“Why did you come back?” You ask, curiosity getting the better of you.

His eyes shift for a moment, jaw set firmly. “It’s the only place I have left.”

He doesn’t have to put it any clearer than that for you to know that his wife isn’t in the picture anymore. You wonder what happened between them, but a selfish little part of you is triumphant at the fact that he came to you.

Except he didn’t, not really. He said himself that he didn’t think anyone was left. That he wouldn’t have come otherwise. Why wouldn’t he have come?

“You need to go,” he says firmly, moving to shut the door in your face. But your hand shoots out before you can really even contemplate it.

Now, you say what you wish you would’ve had the courage to say all those years ago. “I missed you, Dave.”

You can see his patience is waning–his hand flexes anxiously against the door but he doesn’t say anything quite yet, and you know his is your only chance for closure.

“You said, before you left, that you were protecting me by leaving. What do you have to protect me from?”

“Myself,” he growls. His eyes flash dangerously, the same way they did two years ago.

“What…”

“Each man kills the thing he loves, honey,” he murmurs, stepping closer. It feels like he’s towering over you now, looming ominously. You don’t remember him being this imposing before he left. “And I… I loved you.”

“I loved you, too,” you whisper. Hindsight is funny like that–your brain reveals in hindsight what your heart can’t reveal in the moment. “We can… we can make this work, Dave.”

You should be more hesitant. You should remember how scared of him you were at the end, how strange it is for him to show up here in the middle of the night all alone. You should wonder why he’s back here now, when everyone else is gone.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he growls, all the while moving closer to you as if you have a magnetism he can’t avoid. “I’ve changed.”

“I’m asking for a second chance,” you plead as you set your hands on his strong, solid chest. He’s so achingly close now, and yet he still won’t touch you. “I’ve changed too, I’m… I’m willing to make this work if you are.”

He licks his lips, dark eyes focused… on your neck? Why is he looking there of all places? 

He notices that he’s been caught when his eyes flicker up to meet your gaze. He just stares at you for a moment, then two, so close that each breath you exhale mingles with his.

And then suddenly he’s leaning in. You let your eyes flutter shut, awaiting the sweet sensation of his lips on yours after so long; but it never comes. You wait, and you wait, and then you feel something puncture the side of your neck.

It’s sharp, and it hurts. Your eyes snap open and all you can see is Dave; his body curls around yours as he gulps eagerly from your punctured artery. A weak hand comes up to nudge his head halfheartedly–somewhere in the back of your mind, you delight in the softness of his hair between your fingers again after so long–but his arms wrap tightly around your waist to keep you in place and your weak resistance is futile.

He was right, you think as your vision blurs around the edges. You really didn’t have a clue what you were asking for.

➔ moodboard by @ozarkthedog

➔ beta: @futuraa-free and @mothandpidgeon (thank u so much my loves <3)

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[vrisrezis]

OMG I REALLY LIKE UR YAN GETO HC!! It's quite rare seeing sub yan fic these days... And if u don't mind, may I rq yan Gojo hc? (No pressure tho)

Have a nice day/night!

Thank u! And yes ! I’m such a fan of subby yanderes . Makes me sad there aren’t more :((

Here’s some Yan gojo for the soul

College au? Normal Yandere stuff, gojo is possessive and very bratty and subby! umm lotsa nsfw in this one, mentions of choking, gojo is very masochistic but still very loving, kind mentions of gojo getting beaten up but … yea

Yan! Gojo who notices you the moment you step into those door of the classroom, and he makes himself your never ending curse ever since

Yan! Gojo who is convinced you must love him, since he’s irresistible. Why wouldn’t you love him? The object of his affections has taste, after all.

Yan! Gojo who thinks you’re playing hard to get when you say you aren’t interested. There’s no need to be shy! He’s not going anywhere.

Yan! Gojo who’s delusional enough to think you’re dating simply because you looked at him a second too long.

Yan! Gojo who sees himself as the only one worthy to be in your presence. Everyone else doesn’t matter.

Yan! Gojo who loves to compliment you, but expects the same back. Otherwise he gets mad at you. However, if you ask why he’s mad he claims he’s fine ! There’s nothing wrong! But he’s silently brooding at the fact you didn’t compliment him back.

In the same breath Yan! Gojo who gets mad when you don’t notice slight changes in his appearance such as a different shampoo he’s using. He did it just for you! How could you not notice?

Yan! Gojo who insists you kiss him whenever you talk to that stupid bitch that keeps grabbing your hand.

Yan! Gojo who’s completely unashamed in how badly he wants you, and tells you as such.

Yan! Gojo who can’t get off unless you’re inside of him (whether that be your dick in him or his dick in u lol)

Yan! Gojo who wants you to pull his hair and completely wreck him. He knows he can be a overconfident brat, please put him in his place!

Because for as much as he’s the only right one for you, you’re the only right one for him. The only one that can put him in his place.

Yan! Gojo who ends up threatening your friends to leave you alone, you’re his.

Yan! Gojo who acts over confident as per usual, he’s confident in your relationship but he still gets really jealous of everyone around him.

Yan! Gojo who’s really possessive and protective of you, truly acts like your classic crazy girlfriend.

Yan! Gojo who screams at you when you talk to other people and make him jealous “on purpose”

But even after those fights, he comes back to you as if nothing ever happened an hour later, giving you the softest look and the sweetest kisses.

Yan! Gojo who gets mad at you a lot but also forgets the things that you do that make him mad… a lot.

Yan! Gojo who gets very jealous easily. Insists you fuck him to make him forget about it.

Yan! Gojo who gets clingy when he’s jealous, and starts being openly perverted and sexual as a result of his jealousness.

Yan! Gojo who likes when you choke him when you’re fucking

Yan! Gojo who looks at you with such adoration in his eyes, to him you are perfection. He loves every single part of you, because that’s what it means to love someone. Even when you piss him off, he loves every inch of you.

Yan! Gojo who insists you put him in his place constantly, please beat him up. You’re the only one that is capable of beating him up. The only one capable of touching him, he wants to constantly be reminded of how you own him.

Yan! Gojo who just wants you to use and abuse him.

Yan! Gojo who wants you to make him cry and embarrass him, he does not care about anyone else. He doesn’t care about his reputation or the people that worry about him, he wants you to wreck him beyond repair.

Yan! Gojo who just wants to be your toy, and never feels insecure about it cause he’s so convinced he’s your world, just like you’re his.

Yan! Gojo who likes taking you out on dates, he’s surprisingly romantic for being such a menace to society

Yan! Gojo who is actually very sappy despite how crazy he can be

Yan! Gojo who doesn’t try to resort to killing people but absolutely will and will feel nothing upon doing it, they have to be really persistent on talking to you.

Yan! Gojo who tricks you into thinking your friends and family dont love you and even if they did, who cares about them?

Yan! Gojo who wants to be the only one in your life, won’t understand why you don’t just ditch everyone else already.

Yan! Gojo who loves being your toy, but he also loves being your good little pretty boy.

Yan! Gojo who wants you to slap and step on his dick

Yan! Gojo who tells you how much he loves and adores you everyday

Yan! Gojo who’s so clingy it’s overwhelming

Yan! Gojo who loves you so intensely it becomes completely overbearing

Yan! Gojo who likes giving you little kisses on your neck

Yan! Gojo who lets out the cutest giggles when you do something he thinks is cute.

Yan! Gojo who laughs like a highschool girl when you make a joke

Yan! Gojo who constantly gives you literal heart eyes

Yan! Gojo who blushes when you call him pretty

Yan! Gojo who’s into you feminizing him. Call him your pretty girl.

Yan! Gojo who likes being carried by you even if he’s a lot bigger than you

Yan! Gojo who loves being kissed on the neck, he blushes like crazy

Yan! Gojo who likes being called princess

Yan! Gojo who loves you so much and tells you constantly

Yan! Gojo who’s very demanding in your relationship and isn’t exactly aware of the fact, but he loves you and would protect you. He’s the only one that deserves you. Please don’t throw him away!

[thrashkink-coven]

Special reminder to all the new Luciferians that forgot that he is the adversary, yeah, he’s gonna fuck with you FOR FUN.

If you’ve been working with Lucifer for a week or so and have started getting “conflicting” messages, you are not alone 😩. Lucifer loves to test us, he loves to see how deep our values go. He will purposely say things you disagree with or it would seem like he would disagree with just to fuck with you. This dude LOVES to debate.

For example, a large part of my relationship with Lucifer involved coming to terms with my neurodivergency. For weeks we were working on accepting my limits, being aware of my disorders and having patience for myself. But during a meditation I got the very strong message from him “People with mental illnesses are just looking for an excuse to be lazy”

and I was like ????? what the fuck???? No they’re not??? You fucking idiot???? Who am I talking to right now???? And he was like “yes and anyone who claims to have a disorder without a diagnosis are just looking for attention. Prove me wrong if you think differently”

and I blew up, providing so many arguments for why he’s wrong and why that stance is so stupid, and eventually after a while he was like “Hm… that’s interesting. I guess you’re right. Now that we’ve established this I guess we won’t need entertain the idea anymore”

and any time after that, when I was having self doubts, maybe I’m just faking it for attention, maybe I’m just lazy, Lucifer has been like “OH! So I guess I WAS right!” and I’ve been like NOOO!!!!!! YOURE WRONG!!! THE ENTIRE IDEA IS STUPID AND I WONT LET YOU TELL ME OTHERWISE!!!

and Lucifer will then be like “Oh, good then. Don’t let you tell you otherwise either”.

He will press your boundaries, even if only to make sure YOU know where your boundaries are. When writing a spell together Lucifer has been like “yes, we will also need to sacrifice a cat”

and I’ve been like “wtf no we’re not sacrificing a cat why the hell would I do that”

and he’s responded “Because I said so. You will obey my order without question.” (again, extremely out of character, this is a test’!)

until I finally put my foot down and say “I don’t care who or what you are, doing this goes against my core values and I will not abandon those for you or anyone. With all due respect I refuse to do this task”

and Lucifer will be like “I’m just fucking with you, I really liked the way you stood your ground against me though, that was very hot”

and for even less obvious things, Lucifer will test you. He wants to know why you think the things you think. We recently had a very long conversation about the concept of Pedophilia. Super uncomfortable, a conversation I didn’t know we’d ever have, but it was important. He starts by asking me if pedophilia is wrong. Um what??? Obviously???

“Why is it wrong? Explain your reasoning.”

Well because it hurts kids.

“What about non offending pedophiles? What about pre offending reformed pedophiles?”

You don’t have to have the answer to those questions, but you must understand that the answers to those questions matter, even though they are incredibly uncomfortable. Are there evil people? Do evil people deserve empathy? What is an evil person? I don’t like thinking about that, that’s the reason why I don’t have an answer. Lucifer will force you to come to that answer.

“How do we conduct a society where we prevent pedophiles from hurting children without creating another form of discrimination? Do you believe pedophiles deserve empathy? Do they deserve to die? How do we deal with murderers and rapists without becoming murderers and rapists ourselves? How do you console yourself with the reality that some people genuinely enjoy evil things? If you were the Emperor of Hell, how would you manage all the most wicked people who have ever lived? Why is incest bad? Why is murder bad? Do racists deserve to die? Do war criminals deserve to die? Who should be allowed to determine who deserves to die? How far does your empathy extend to people who have done horrible things? How does your moral compass navigate these complex scenarios? What is right and what is wrong? Why do you believe the things you believe?”

There will be times when it seems like he’s trying to do everything in his power to just disagree with you. It’ll seem like he’s leading you to argue with him, and that’s exactly what he’s doing. He’ll ask you questions that should seem like common sense. He’s establishing that not only is it okay to disagree with him, but that at times, he will force you to, to ensure that you are not deriving your own personal values from “whatever God tells you”. He will lie to you, just to see if you’re able to identity a lie. He will say things that he obviously doesn’t believe, only to hear why YOU don’t believe it. It’s important to be firm on your boundaries even if your God is pushing them. You should not be afraid to disagree. You should not be afraid to disobey if it is important to you. Lucifer is not a Shepard and you are not a sheep. You need to understand your own morality alone, without God, without a cheat sheet telling you the answers. and you need to be firm on those. To the point that if God Himself told you differently, you wouldn’t budge.

So if you’ve started working with him recently and are confused as to why he suddenly started saying things you disagree with, investigate what he may be trying to get across. You’ll learn a lot more about yourself.