#but the show does play it fast and loose

[pynkhues]

can you explain the biblical allusions in succession? kendall's attempt to cleanse/baptize himself in bathtubs, him essentially being the plastic jesus to logan's god

[ickypuppi3]

i’m confused because is that not literally how she’s written in the show- her storylines do revolve her love life 99% of the time

like as shitty as that is, it is canon & surely you can’t blame fans for how crap the shows writing is and how characters are depicted?

[huicitawrites]

Patiently Craving 

Yandere! Sukuna x Reader 

warnings: major jjk spoilers (non/manga readers, or manga readers not up to date), assault, yandere behaviour

word count: 4k

It has been a long, arduous, night of study- you and Yuuji stayed up past twelve to finish a history group work. Jujutsu history homework was no easy task, for there were various curses, clans, battles, cursed techniques, and objects to recall. Still, the two of you managed to push through with the blessed help of some energy drinks and snacks. 

Yuuji sighed as he carried over a blanket to your form that was passed out on the couch. The pink-haired boy felt a little bit guilty; he should be the one sleeping on the couch. It was common courtesy that he should lend you his bed if you were staying over at his dorm. 

But you insisted, and ever so persistent, Yuuji could not get past you. So now here he was, gently placing down a blanket over your form to keep you warm. 

The blanket was slowly descending when it happened again. 

For just a second, an extremely dangerous second, Yuuji’s body shook. His face contorted uncontrollably, his eyebrows trembled, and a wicked grin plastered itself. Out of his own bodily command, Yuuji’s eyes widened and the hidden eyelids in his cheekbones popped open. 

The monster threatened to come out. 

But then, Itadori Yuuji’s contained him, again. 

Yuuji’s hand had tossed the blanket. He bent over to pick it up. His lips were tight against each other and he flared his nostrils to get a good breath of air. He opened his mouth wide and as he exhaled, he tried to let his body loose and ignore the stiffness of his muscles. He settled the blanket on you, and this time, he was hesitant to touch your body or get any closer. 

His face showed despair and signs of concern, and his heartbeat fast and climbed in his throat. 

He was afraid, but he better not show, not let the monster know. Yet Yuuji knew of such to be naive, for the curse is one with his body, a parasite- and Yuuji is his vessel. 

“Don’t be a fool.” A voice, deep, rumbly, and cunning spoke. Its words laced with the venom of mockery as a soft, condensing, chuckle vibrated after. 

A voice, a tone, Yuuji was familiar with. The one he despised the most, Sukuna Ryomen. 

He glares down with his four eyes from the comfort of his skull-throne, a tall phantom tori-gate framing his body and painting him in a royal manner- The King of Curses, of course. 

Itadori clicked his tongue and blew air against his lips his eyebrows, furrowed, and with much annoyance he faced his enemy forth. 

“What do you want, Sukuna?” 

He is not scared to say his name, if anything, he is tired of saying it. He spits it out without any hint of respect, the King's antics have grown old and bothersome on him. Sukuna’s grin twists into a cheshire smile and he scrutinizes Yuuji with his hellish crimson irises. 

“You know well what I want,” His head cocks to the side and lands on his clawed palm, the other set of fingers tapping rhythmically on the throne’s armrest. 

Usually, Yuuji tries to keep his cool. The pink-haired boy is aware of the manipulative tactics and shenanigans of the curse, so he knows better than to give in and be played by his words to physically maintain him at bay. 

Albeit, this is not the case, not when it is about the life of a friend. More so when it is about his unexpected and inexplicable obsession, he has with you. Yuuji does not know how or why, but you have caught the eye of Sukuna. 

“Fuck you,” Yuuji spat at him, and Sukuna simply laughed, “I will never let you, ever.” Yuuji looked up at him to challenge him, meeting his piercing stare with one of his own dark eyes. 

Sukuna’s cheeks puffed, only to explode into wild laughter. Yuuji simply stand still, tall, and straight- unfazed. He must not lose his cool, not let him grasp the reigns. 

He must not take over, not with you here so close and vulnerable. 

Surely, people have priorly done this- the feat of impressing the King. Gojo, who is the strongest and Sukuna's biggest threat, and Megumi for some reason Yuuji has not yet deciphered. In any case, it is their power and potential that beckons Sukuna, and which made them appear worthy, he guessed.  

With you- it is completely different. You are not a particularly strong sorcerer; you are at the same level as him and Kugisaki. You also lack any inherited technique. heavenly pact or extraordinary mumbo-jumbo from the jujutsu world. 

And yet- you caught his interest. Somehow, your presence grew on Sukuna. At first Yuuji did not notice, for it was subtle. Like a little gut-feeling whenever he was around you, like he could suddenly feel Sukuna paying attention and listening with keen ears, 

After a while, it became more obvious, but not obvious enough. If Yuuji happened to walk away from you, be it because he was heading somewhere else or something, his body protested. His legs became a bit heavier, and his torso and shoulders tried slightly to twist in your direction. Even further- Sukuna's mouth began to pop out randomly but in your presence. Sometimes, the curse would tease you or mock you, or smile wickedly at you- all which made Yuuji apologize profusely. 

The last, most prominent, bright red flag which slapped Yuuji into the implications of Sukuna's undivided attention occurred in a mission two months ago. The four of you had been sent to exterminate a couple of small grade curses, and unfortunately the lot of you miscalculated the situation. A special-grade curse, a cursed womb to be precise, rose within the shadows and overwhelmed the team. Yuuji was out of breath, Kugisaki had only a few nails left and Fushiguro had already spent more than half his arsenal, and you were far from them, snatched by the throat by the curse. You were passing out on its claws as you thrashed through your last breath. Yuuji recalls vividly how your writhing form made the curse inside of him snap.  

Itadori was surprised to find himself detached from his body as he watched from a spectator's standpoint. His body launched at top velocity and obliterated the curse with one swipe of his hand. Merciless, unbound, and wild- yet delicate when he held you. This had never happened before, Sukuna would never help someone else, Yuuji was testimony to that when Sukuna laughed cruelly alongside Mahito at Junpei's tragic predicament. 

But there you were, unharmed on his arms, passed out, and Yuuji swore he even felt Sukuna clutch you tighter. Heck, his clawed hand carefully caressed your face and nudged aside the hair strands. Oh, this was fucked up, he realized. So, he did what was entrusted to him, and regained control of his body. Kugisaki and Megumi observed with widened eyes and slacked jaws. The silence between the three of them was loud and spoke volumes. That day the three of them expressed their concerns to their teacher and decided to hide this incident from you- in their version of the tale, Yuuji saved you, which was half-the-truth in the least. 

After the incident that almost cost you your life, Sukuna got worse. He was unbearable and unashamed, the curse attempted to take over his body numerous times. Anytime, anywhere. In Jujutsu High, during missions, in the streets even. It was tiresome, but Yuuji would not budge. He even tried to distance himself from you, but your friendly self was too naive to notice.  

Each day, Yuuji fights to keep his body to himself and protect you, and Sukuna fights to break free and do whatever he wants with you, which terrified Yuuji. 

Yuuji didn't realize how close Sukuna got to him whilst he was lost in thought and memory, but realization had been too late by the time the Cursed King delivered a blow right to his gut. The two-eyed salmon haired coughed in pain and fell to the ground, and his counterpart used this opportunity window to press the sole of his foot on his face, harshly. Yuuji's skull resisted, and the palm of his hands went to both sides of his chest, but he couldn't pick himself a centimeter up. His face was flushed and rubbed onto the mysterious watery floor, and Sukuna chuckled devilishly. 

"Just what exactly do you plan to do to stop me? You cannot even pick yourself up, idiotic brat" The force pushing him into the floor got stronger, the foot twisted deeper into his cheek. Yuuji opened his mouth in any way he mustered, but before any words came out of his mouth, Sukuna fully stomped his feet and Yuuji sank into the water. 

He woke up on the tatami of his dorm in cold sweat and rushing heartbeat, a dry throat to top it all. '(Y/n)!', Yuuji snapped his head to glance at the coach. He stood up desperately, his legs stumbling, and he fell on the coach's armrest. His own eyes scanned your sleeping form; indeed, you were resting peacefully.  

Itadori Yuuji's body collapsed on itself slowly. He fell on his rear, and then tired on his back. He faced the plain ceiling. His chest rose and fell rhythmically. Once he gathered himself, Yuuji glanced out the window and distinguished the light and smooth colors of dawn.  

Fuck, it was late. 

Naturally, he sought out the clock hanging on his dorm wall and his hand came to his forehead, where it damped. He brought it up his hair before it slid down to cover his eyes, and a series of swear words and curses left his mouth in a hush manner. 

Time, he was running out of time. 

“Fushigoro?” 

Itadori Yuuji asked with a cracked voice. As an answer, he only received the distorted laughs of his friend, Megumi Fushigoro - no, of the curse possessing his friend, Ryomen Sukuna. 

‘Fuck, fuck! How could this be?!’ 

Both you and Yuuji stood frozen in place, shocked. The tables had turned drastically, never had you entertained the thought of Sukuna switching into another vessel, least of all Megumi. 

You took a quick glance at Yuuji. He looked heartbroken. Sukuna looked delighted, joyous, ecstatic. He ran his hands on his new hair, feeling the black locks of Fushigoro Megumi. 

“Stupid brat, you didn’t really think through our Binding Vow,” he blurted in between laughs, his voice alien to his body as the red eyes filled with mockery and disdain. 

“Die.” 

You saw Megumi, no, Sukuna, incoming, and you picked up your stance, you looked sideways to Yuuji, and - 

“Yuuji!!! Dodge!!!” You cried out for your friend, your arm desperately reaching for him, your body ready to sabotage its survival instincts to push him out of the way. 

But you were too slow, and he did not move a muscle. He just stood there and took the powerful blow. 

Eyes widened; you saw him spit out blood. With a single blow to the gut, Sukuna blasted Yuuji away, and his body crashed through several buildings, far from your sight.  

It is about damn, fucking time. That Itadori brat has had his use, and at this point, he was becoming more of a prison than a vessel. Although dumb, weak, and naive, that brat did only one thing right. 

He could restrain him. 

Every.single.fucking.time. 

Sukuna had tried more than a couple of times to catch you off guard. When you turned around, when you were too focused to notice your surroundings, when you stayed over to sleep at the brat's, when you were too weak and exhausted to fight, or simply anytime Ryomen Sukuna desired. 

And each single fucking time, the damn brat stopped him. 

But now, now that was a thing of the past. A nuisance he no longer had to deal with. Not as he had the body of Megumi Fushigoro under his control, and with a single punch to the gut, that weakling was done with. 

Sukuna laughed, his eyes wide and mad, his pupils dilated, and his toothy grin wicked. 

About. Damn. Fucking. Time. 

Horror painted a canvas on your face, and despair formed a pit in your chest, but despite it all, you managed to cast a spell. Even with a tight lump inside your throat, you brought your hands together in a seal - your last two fingers crossed each other and the first three touched each other. 

“Caladrius!” You conjured a white owl Shinigami big enough to carry you. You grasped its feathers to propel yourself upwards and climb it, but a tough arm grabbed you by the ankle. 

“Oh, no, you won’t.” 

He pulled you down, and you failed to resist his strength, but you were quick to command the owl to set off on its own. It was more important that it reached Yuuji, for his sake, yours, and Megumi’s - if he was still there, he had to be there, deep down. 

With the usurped body of your friend, his black hair thrown back out of his usual hairstyle and sinister signature tattoos invading his skin, the ‘borrowed’ arms went around your waist, and his sharp claws slightly tore the layers of your clothes, prodding at the skin below. 

“Do you like my new host, [Y/n]? I sure do; it feels refreshing,” The usurper said nonchalantly in your ear as you struggled against his frame. He chuckled at your struggle, finding it cutely futile if anything. 

Sukuna lowered his head into the crook of your neck and inhaled your scent. He was slow, painfully so, taking his sweet time in tormenting you. 

"So sweet," he whispered in your ear, but blood did not rush to your face nor taint the tips of your ears. No. That intimidating aura, that immeasurable amount of cursed energy so close to you. 

You froze. 

You could die here and now. 

Only when you felt a slim sensation up your neck, dangerously close to your jugular, did you wince. Snapping out of your shocked state, you began to thrash in his hold. 

Sukuna merely chuckled; you could feel his chest and abdomen rising and falling against your back. He laughed and laughed, baring his teeth and fangs, his four eyes brimming with joy. He dragged his maniacal display until it ended with a satisfactory sigh. His expression fell, his grin fell flat, and his eyes narrowed. 

“You don’t have any idea how much I wanted out from that Itadori brat." the King of Curses sighed. 

His arms began to snake around your waist, and his clawed hands grasped your skin. His sharp nails dragged tightly against your skin, leaving a thin reddish trail behind, but you were too focused on his words. “All this time I have been looking at you, woman, my woman. My future queen.” Such a passionate confession would leave anyone stuttering with a mad blush, but this was Ryomen Sukuna, the enemy of all enemies, the worst of curses, a threat to any living being - he couldn’t be serious, this just could not be real. 

This was madness. 

“You made friends with two weak and idiotic boys, did you know? But I must admit, at least that damn Itadori brat did quite the job in restraining me.” His nails began to feel tighter on your skin and were threatening to tear into you at any moment. 

“All this time, I’ve been craving you.” He parted his lips and brought out his tongue, lapping it all the way up your neck. Sukuna relished it - he could taste your fear, and he loved it. 

It was addicting. 

He continued, “Now, now [Y/N]. If I had to tell you something with all my years of experience, is that I do not like being bothered” The King of Curses could sense people coming, and while he normally enjoyed torturing and murdering his enemies, just for this time he would rather be left alone, with you. 

Utilizing the body of the Fushigoro boy, he moved his grasp from your waist and brought them together in a seal, in front of your abdomen - of course, silly, he would not let you go. 

"Nue," his deep voice vibrated against your ear, and a wave of cursed energy flooded the area. You shot up your head, and your jaw dropped. Megumi's bird Shinigami had turned into a colossal predator, at least four times its usual size, and it even developed a tail. With the flap of its wings, thunder and lightning surged, attacking the neighboring area around you and Sukuna. 

The sight of the beast made you snap out of your haste. You had to do something. Although you were powerless against this demon, Megumi was still there. He was being held prisoner in his own body, but he could break free. If you could just reach out to him, "Megumi! I know you are there! You can snap out of it, just like Yuuji! C'mon Megumi!" 

Naively, your eyes sought for eye-contact. Only to see the four red irises of Sukuna, his tattoos shifting along with the grin on his face. 

"Megumi? Really? He may be able to hear you, [Y/N], but I assure you, he's not coming back," Sukuna purred, his grip on you tightening. "Don’t make me jealous now, calling out another man’s name... I’d rather you call out mine." 

Desperation and fear surged through your veins, but you refused to give in to Sukuna's taunts. Summoning every ounce of courage, you had left, you clenched your fists and glared defiantly at him. 

"You're wrong! Megumi is strong, and he won't let you control him forever. I believe in him, and we will find a way to break your hold on him!" You retorted, determination shining in your [e/c] eyes. 

Sukuna's laughter filled the air, echoing around you like sinister bells of doom. "Oh, how amusing! Your faith in him is laughable. But I'll humor you, my dear [Y/N]. Let's see how long you can hold on to that hope before I make you mine entirely." 

As Sukuna's laughter subsided, you felt a surge of raw energy emanating from him. The air crackled with malevolence as Sukuna prepared to unleash his Nue’s full power. But before he could strike, an unexpected presence intervened. 

A figure emerged from the shadows, radiating a powerful aura that seemed to challenge even Sukuna's might. Itadori Yuuji, battered, bruised and with several cuts from the earlier blow, stood tall with a determined glint in his eyes. 

"Leave [Y/N] alone, Sukuna! This is between you and me," Yuuji declared, his voice steady despite the pain. 

Sukuna's lips curled into a sinister grin. "You still think you can stand up to me, boy? I'll enjoy tearing you apart, scum." 

Yuuji's resolve only strengthened. He clenched his fists and channeled every ounce of cursed energy he possessed. "I won't let you hurt [Y/N], and I won't let you get away with what you've done." 

Using another set of Megumi’s shikigamis, Sukuna conjured the monster serpent (now, a full, intimidating horned cobra) and it curled tight around you- rendering you immobile as it drained you of your cursed energy.

The battlefield crackled with tension as Sukuna and Yuuji faced each other, locked in an inevitable clash. Meanwhile, you struggled against the shikigami’s tailed hold, trying to summon every ounce of cursed energy within you to break free. The ground trembled beneath your feet as the battle commenced. 

It soon became clear that Yuuji was no match for Sukuna's overwhelming power. Despite his valiant efforts, Sukuna's strength and cunning proved to be too much to handle. With a single devastating attack, Yuuji was defeated, lying unconscious on the ground. 

“Yuuji!!!” You screamed and tears welled up in your eyes. 

Sukuna stood triumphantly over Yuuji's fallen form, a sinister grin stretching across his face. "Pathetic brat," he sneered, "You were never worthy of her attention. But now, she's all mine." 

Your heart pounded in your chest as you faced the monstrous curse before you. Sukuna's eyes bore into yours with an unsettling mix of possessiveness and desire. He took a step closer, and you could feel his cursed energy suffocating you. 

You clenched your fists, trying to muster the courage to stand up to him. "I'll never be yours, Sukuna," you retorted, your voice wavering and cracking but determined.  

Sukuna's grin widened, reveling in your resistance. "Oh, how delightful. The more you resist, the more enticing you become," he said, circling you like a predator eyeing its prey. With a chask of his fingers, the shikigami which held you vanished, and you fell on Sukuna’s arms. One of his clawed and tattooed hands reached out to grasp you by the chin, forcing you into eye-contact and squeezing your cheeks- bringing your lips forward. 

Your heart raced with fear, and Sukuna's grin only grew wider. His face inched closer, his breath ghosting over your skin. "My love," he whispered, his voice laced with a possessive edge. “I will not let you escape me. You are mine, [Y/N], and I will gladly be yours " he murmured, pulling you closer to him. Anticipating his actions, you focused your remaining strength in struggling against him. Regardless, Sukuna leaned in and succeeded in sealing his lips against yours.  

Ryomen Sukuna kissed you with a passion you would never expect, or experience- a profound hunger and impatience that had been finally sated. A tongue, thick, slimy, and intrusive that relentlessly claimed a pair of lips it had been craving for so long, a desire long fulfilled. 

His onslaught was merciless; he wanted more, but when he looked at your flushed face and shut eyes, and attention to your weakening fists against his chest, he chuckled against your lips and broke the kiss. You gasped for air and breathed frantically, as Sukuna admired the trail of saliva that bridged his lips to yours. 

"You are mine, [Y/N], and there's no escape. I have been waiting for so long; I have been so patient. I think it’s time I deserved my reward." 

His lips peppered and trailed up your neck, climbing across your jaw, past your lips and near your ear. He whispered, hungrily and husky “I’m just so hungry for you.” 

A/n: I’ve literally been trying to write this a LONG time ago, and finally broke through! I hope you like a normal dickhead sukuna that is a hard simp for darling. One more sukuna fic that I’ve been saving to go!

[luveline]

Hi luveline! I have a request: in a busy night at the restaurant reader cuts or burns herself and gets overwhelmed and carmen patches her up and calms her down 👉🏻👈🏻 pretty please I loveee your hurt/comfort fics <3

—Carmy looks after you and your burned wrist. fem, 1.2k

Carmy thought he had bad nerves. 

You julienne onion at your station, ready to garnish their miniature French onion hot pots, your hand coming down slightly too hard. You’ve positioned the knife wrong in panic, thumb too far down the blade and claw of your other hand loosely tucked. You’re getting too stressed, and you’re going to get hurt. 

He has too much to do, but not too much to call for your attention across the cutting boards. “Hey, hey,” he insists. You look up. “Slowly and surely. Thumb against the line of the blade, like this.” 

He shows you the proper grip. 

“I know how to do it,” you say, frowning. 

“Just calm down.”

“You’re never calm.” 

Carmy can actually be extremely calm, and especially when he cooks, but nobody at The Bear has true reason to believe him. He has yet to prove himself properly after his in-fridge meltdown. Maybe he can’t. 

But tonight is busy, not make or break. 

“Seriously,” he says, smirking because he knows you hate it, “take it slow. Well, slower. Check your grip and keep going.” 

“Carmy, can you fuck off and let me cut these?” you ask. Clearly, your associates are rubbing off on you. 

Richie chimes in, his official, nothing-but-business intonation in play, “Carmy, can you fuck off, please?” 

Carmy doesn’t need to raise his voice. “Fuck you.” 

“Fuck you, Carmen. Twelve, walking in five. Hands? We’ve gotta pick up some bucatini...” 

Richie’s getting pretty confident in the back of house. Carmy’s happy for him, even if they aren’t speaking outside of the kitchen. 

He’s about to swing around Daniela to help her on the stove when you burst forward toward it and take the reins. Your prep station is cleaned and your onions set aside; he can’t believe how quickly you’re moving, and he saw that chef who was taking questionable substances fuck up a carton of carrots in a good two minutes. Dude was fast. 

He wants to say Baby, slow down, and he wants to examine how awkward ‘baby’ might be if he said it. He can’t think of another pet name that could garner success. Honey’s too old (though maybe, said with softness–), sweetheart too sweet. Doll is for uncles and bub sounds like it’s missing a syllable when he says it. Honestly, Carmy’s just desperate to call you something nice and have you listen, for once. 

You grab a pan from Daniela’s hand. “I got it,” you tell her, not without sympathy. “We can do one each.” 

“Thank you, can you–”

“Daniela, I need those lobster claws now. I’m serious,” Sydney interrupts, giving Daniela a rightfully impatient look. “I needed them five minutes ago.” 

Daniela winces. Sydney waits. You, unbeknownst to everybody except Carmy, attempt to clean a smudge from the hot stove top for no good reason —Carmy could scream at you. He nearly does.

“Can you fucking stop?” he bites. 

Sydney looks at him likes he’s grown a third head, but her reaction, while unfortunate and rather important considering their partnership, is the least of his worries. You flinch at his sudden rough tone and pull your hand back from the smudge, sleeves rolled and clean, skin of your wrist naked and waiting to be branded as you catch it on the side of your hot pan. 

Your yelp is immediate. 

“Fucking– Carmy!” Sydney says. 

He’s not sure why he’s being shouted at. Maybe because he abandons the line at a time where doing so guarantees a ripple effect. 

You’re freaking out. Carmy slides in beside you to encourage the pan off of the heat while you’re unable to tend it. “Daniela?” he says, loud and clipped. 

“It’s okay,” you say. You’re wide-eyed and lying, it isn’t okay, the burn mark is a squeamish pink stripe against your skin and you're already crying. 

Carmy takes your elbow. He wants to yank you to the cold faucet, but he’s measured enough. He has an encyclopaedia of kitchen safety. 

He’s burned himself enough times. “Come here,” he says, though you’re coming anyway, wincing as he leads you to the back of the kitchen by the sink. He stoppers it and starts the cold tap, where he pauses. “It’s gonna sting.” 

“It already stings.” 

Carmy guides your arm under the stream. 

He turns the faucet until it’s a fast running spray and encourages you to lean down to submerge the entirety of the burn in cold water. Your sleeve gets wet. He pushes it up. 

“Carm, it’s fine.” 

He shakes his head to readjust your arm. His hand is tender, but his fingers are trembling. 

“Carmen,” you say firmly, quietly, “it’s okay.” 

He realises suddenly that he’s not breathing. He lets out a breath, pulls another fast one in, and snaps the fuck out of it. “It’s okay,” he repeats, “the cold waters gonna draw out the heat. I’m gonna get the first aid kit.” 

“I have to go back–”

“No.” His and Syd’s kitchen will never prioritise the food over injury. “I’m gonna get the first aid kit, I’m gonna dress it. But you have to stay here for thirty minutes with your hand in the water.” 

“A half hour, are you kidding?” 

“Do I sound like I am?” he asks genuinely, not pissed nor bossy, fighting a tendency to be both. 

“We’re right at the crest of the rush–”

“It doesn’t matter. You can’t prioritise the restaurant over yourself. It’ll fuck you up.” He feels the cold on his hand where he holds yours in the water, watches the water rise to the overflow. “Does it hurt?” He turns your hand to see the burn in better detail. “It’ll blister for sure. You’re gonna have to look after it.” 

You wipe the drying tears from your cheek. It was a stupid question. “Yeah, it hurts. Fuck, it was so hot.” 

“That’s why I told you to calm down.” 

“I know that. Thanks.” 

He doesn’t know if you’re sarcastic or genuine, can’t tell if you’re hurting or pissed at his instruction. You shiver when he lets your wrist go, but you keep the burn submerged, the faucet squeaking as he wrestles it off again. 

“Maybe we could both try calming down,” you suggest. 

“Maybe.” He squeezes his eyes shut quickly. When he opens them, you’re still squinting in your own pain. “Yeah, maybe. I’ll be right back.” 

He pats your shoulder gently. His hand gets stuck to you, massaging tenderly at your shoulder and down your upper arm, your faces closer than they reasonably need to be. 

“You okay?” he asks. 

Your cheek tilts down toward his hand where it holds you, but you don’t let it fall. “I’ll be fine. I am fine. It’s just… busy.” 

“I know.” 

“Never burned myself like that.” 

Carmy has, but you could guess that. “It’s fine. I know how to look after it.” Look after you. 

His hand crests your shoulder. You let your cheek touch briefly to the back of it. “Okay,” you murmur. 

Yeah, he’s fucked. The first aid kit can’t fix what’s wrong with him. 

[hoshifighting]

jeonghan + military thoughts (pt.2) WARNINGS: smut, shibari, oral, sensitiviness, mentions of cumming fast, mentions of learning new things.

every time jeonghan comes home, it’s like he’s bringing a piece of the military with him, showing off everything he’s learned like a kid eager to impress. the first time he did a one-arm push-up in front of you, you almost laughed—until you realized how serious he was, and how fucking hot it was.

“check this out,” he’d say, dropping to the floor like it’s nothing, that cocky grin on his face. “learned it last week.”

you’d watch, mesmerized by the way his muscles ripple, and then he’d be right back up, wiping his brow and giving you a look that says he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

“show-off,” you tease, but your smile gives you away. he winks at you, pushing himself back up to his feet.

“or this,” he’d continue, pulling out random supplies and setting up a tent in your living room like it’s the most normal thing in the world. “could survive in the wild now.”

and you’d giggle, but there’s something undeniably attractive about it—about the way he’s so capable, so confident in everything he does. he even learned how to cook, which is a miracle considering he could barely make toast before. and when you burn yourself in the kitchen, he’s right there, grabbing a plant from the windowsill and explaining how it’ll help heal the burn.

“who knew you’d turn into such a boy scout,” you tease, but he just shrugs, a smirk playing on his lips.

“comes with the territory.”

but then there are the knots.

oh, the fucking knots.

that ones that are supposed to be for anchoring. end up making you tied on the bed.

you didn’t expect him to bring that particular skill home, but when he ties you up for the first time, you realize just how much he’s learned. he’s methodical, almost too good at it, and when you try to undo the knots while he’s fucking you, he just laughs.

“don’t bother, babe,” he says. “they’re tight as hell.”

and they are—tight enough that you couldn’t escape even if you wanted to, but there’s something exciting about knowing he has that kind of control over you. when you’re finally done, spent and shaking, he pulls all the knots loose in one slick motion, leaving you staring at him in disbelief.

“told you,” he brags, his grin wide and proud.

but it’s not just about the knots, or the push-ups, or the cooking. it’s about the way he’s changed, the way the military has made him even more of a man than he was before. when he’s eating you out, he’ll mumble against your skin, “gonna do this every day on my break, till you can’t walk.”

and somehow, every time, there are tears in his eyes—his sensitivity almost overwhelming him after being so long without a wet pussy around his cock. when he finally slips his fat cock inside you, he’s whining, desperate to hold back, but it’s too much.

he cums in seconds, his face flushed with embarrassment, but his hips don’t stop, don’t even slow down. he keeps going, determined to make up for lost time, his body moving on autopilot, and you love every fucking second of it.

he might be embarrassed, but you know the truth—he’s been waiting for this just as much as you have, and nothing’s going to stop him from showing you just how much he missed you.

[anantaru]

Hiya! I just came across your post about what would happen if you said the ‘safe word’ in bed with Alhaitham and ayato.. I was wondering if you’d maybe be able to do it with Kazuha, Xiao and Scaramouche? I’m so curious aha

If you don’t want to I completely understand but I just really like your writing style 🥺

cw. saying the safeword, angsty, fem! reader

a/n. hello loves, quick side note: this is an exception since i had already planned to write them in this scenario as well, please don't send thirsts with more than one character in the future <3 ty and enjoy

— kazuha

kazuha blows his hips into you, hard, precise storms of his thrusts finding your dribbling cunt and in any other typical case, you would've twisted and turned to have him deeper in you, arch your back when he licks his tongue over your neck to wet the skin— specifically to have his cock crowd you this way, until you're seeing nothing but glittering, white stars.

thus far, it didn't develop into the same thing and you begin to wonder why you haven't felt your best tonight. involuntarily you start to sense how you're clenching down on him, wrapping your trembling arms around his chest and hiding your face into his sweat-troubled neck, his pulse throbbing on your cheek.

for some reason, you thought that if you were to calm yourself down, without telling kazuha how you really felt, it would simply go away but again, this time it didn't and nothing was as important as voicing your concerns and discomfort during sex.

he closes your already troubled breathing state when he moves down to sloppily make out with you, ramming the head of his cock into your deepest spots while excitedly running his hand down your core to play with your little clit and stimulate you further as you did something he never thought he'd ever have to encounter nor witness.

you voice, cry and yell out your safe word over and over, right against his cheek when his eyes shot open in disbelief, large and wide, glossed in unwavering worry. every little sound of you felt like it’s multiplying by a tenfold, and you can’t stop.

kazuha pulls out immediately, pacing his eyes over your shaking figure back and forth, watching you again, back and forth, "my love." he says quietly, loosing the beat of his heart when he witnessed your tears spinning out of control. to be sure he was doing what was necessary, he decided to pull away the blanket which was clumsily thrown over you both in order to make it easier for you to breathe, not leaving your space, but he didn't lay a finger on you, the last he would want now was to cross any more boundaries and it eats him up inside, quietly crying.

"do—" his heart sinks, and so does his voice, "do you need water? are you thirsty? please.." absentmindedly, you run your fingers over his upper arm, but the panic in you, for whatever reason it had emerged, is all-consuming and couldn't be shaken off.

your stomach was in knots and you can barely catch yourself, but you also didn't want kazuha to leave you, voicing him clearly, although with a silent tone, that he should please stay. he directly nods in agreement, placing his palm on top of your agitating hand, telling you to take your time and that it was okay, in fact, you had nothing to worry about, he won't leave.

— xiao

xiao's rough touch and mundane scent was everywhere around you, perceivable and invading your nostrils. you loved it whenever he was a little rough with you, almost feral, pleasing your body until you're shaking from aftershocks of his skilled thrusts.

that time, he twists his fingers around your nipples, just a bit but he did it repeatedly, like you would if you were turning a particularly sensitive knob— and your mounds of flesh were beginning to burn, while his groans were getting louder, showing sweet euphoric need, through with a loud, fast smack of his hips repeatedly finding your soiled cunt.

in combination with him stimulating you on many parts at once, you suddenly began to feel tense and sore, experience an abnormality like you can’t focus on anything, not on him, especially not on the pleasure that of course, was feeling amazing and well but it also didn't.

your heart was racing greatly and you started to sweat profoundly, cold, washed over sweat untangling over your spine and forehead. subtle hints, such as tapping his shoulder were getting you nowhere, and it only made your situation worse as time passed.

"xiao!" you cry out in an instant, not knowing what to do as his blows got even faster, pistoling into your tight pussy, thinking you're enjoying it as much as he did. "xiao, please stop!" and you squeal your safe word and panic one last time before he immediately stills himself, as if you turned off a switch in his brain, making him reach down to push you away.

his gaze hovers around your face, and that's when he saw it, crystal clear, your scrunched together expression that was signaling no sorts of pleasure and he couldn't settle on looking at you for too long, it was beginning to eat him from the very within and his chest was heavy, filled with stones that kept him chained to the ground, so he gets up to sit next to your quivering body.

xiao was speechless, did he really just inflict clear, hurting pain on the person he loved the utmost, more than himself for that matter.

his once, with pleasure glowing eyes, take on a haunted look, open wide in helpless circles, not knowing what to do. if he were the same person before he met you, he would've left and punished himself for what he did but he knew, he just knew that it would make this situation even worse. so he decided to stay, although he didn't say much at first, he did everything in his power to help you, when you so desired any help of him.

it's when he speaks for the first time, "i'm—" and gulps down, eyes burgeoning with tears yet they do not slip, "i am so sorry." his neck grew corded with tension, jaw evertight as he bites down on his cheeks, "so sorry, so sorry.."

"please don't leave me." he continues, xiao makes the tiniest noise in his voice, a worried hitch in his breathing, and for a moment you think he might be leaving you instead, starting to think again that he wasn't enough and that you do deserve better than him. but he settles back down, he doesn't leave and you would lie if you say it didn't surprise you.

you brush away the spilled, dried tears on your cheeks, "i could never leave you." and take his hand to kiss his knuckles, "it's okay."

— scaramouche

scaramouche had immense power, you knew of that and how strong and rough he could get. he easily hauls you off his throbbing cock to abruptly push you into the mattress, hovering on top of you now so he could look and read your sinful expressions, gather and indulge in them while you relish in him fucking you with his fully erected cock.

your bottom lip quivers, and tears had since long been rimming around the sides of your eyes and in any other cases it would be an implication that he was doing a good job, "fuck— fuck, that feels so good." he groans out, ramming his hips into your split hole and groaning out when you clench around his girth.

truth is, he was way too fast and needy with you tonight, making it not possible for you to catch a single breather as he uses your cunt as he pleases, taking you in and out and hoisting you back and forth his leaking member. by this time, you could barely look at him with a clear vision, tears parting from your lashes at last when you cry out in gulps and chokes— the stretch on your cunt aching and forming into anything else than pleasure.

while your first moans were fallen on deaf ears, those in particular that slipped past the tip of your tongue now, made his skin shiver.

"wait— no, no." he quickly pulls you off when you began to uncontrollably sob under him, really not knowing what had caused all of this. he was quick to brush away the tears on your face, "i'm— I'm sorry, please don't cry." his touch for now, had been completely different than just moments ago, now it's warm and soft again, understanding and full of sorrow.

he swallows dryly, unable to wet his parched throat, he hated himself very much right now, his muscles stiffened when you decide to look at him. "i'm sorry." you suddenly state, "this is so embarrassing." confusing him even more and archons knew why you were apologizing in the first place, because you absolutely shouldn't.

"don't." he pushes a warm blanket over your cold, shaking body, "don't apologize." he adds on, "you're not at fault, you hear me."

his eyes soften when you nod, searching for his touch, eyes blood shot but you really needed him to hug you right now as he pulled slow circles on your hips, opening his arms for you so you could easily rest your head on his chest. "i was too rough with you tonight, right?"

"i mean—" he quickly retracts his statement, panicking and smacking himself in his imagination, "that's not important, take your time, don't speak and take your time."

"wait, but you can speak.. if you want."

you answer back with a breathless laugh, placing him in an even more confused state but you would lie to yourself if you'd say he wasn't adorable in his stuttering and his desperate attempts to make you feel comforted. "can we lay like this for the night?"

"of course." he affirms you immediately, "you don't have to ask." silently grazing his hand from your hips to place it on your dampened cheek to cradle your face, sweetly kissing your forehead and smiling.

"everything you want."

©2023 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[azrielbrainrot]

Sweet Somethings

Pairing: Band Member!Azriel x College Student!Reader

Description: You help Azriel put on a necklace and almost get lost in his eyes.

Warnings: a lot of fluff and some healthy tension

Word Count: 2360

Notes: The tension between these two is so delicious, I can't help but watch them burn. I promise I'll get to writing some stories from when they are actually together though. For now, I hope you enjoy!

Band AU Masterlist

There was no doubt in your mind that Azriel's hands were more than talented, the biggest evidence being how beautifully he plays his bass, how strong yet careful they are when he holds onto you, how softly his hands run through your hair, but watching him now struggling to successfully clasp his necklace around his neck no one would have guessed.

For a moment you had wondered if the way his hands were trembling now had anything to do with the terrible wounds that were inflicted on them when he was only a child. When he told you the infuriating story, he assured you there were no lingering ailments, apart from the scars that marred his skin and a somewhat increase in sensitivity, especially when his hands got too cold. You're infinitely thankful that his hands weren't hurt even more in that fire, but you hate knowing the people responsible are still out there, free to walk the world as if they hadn't hurt Azriel so much when they should have protected him.

You shake your head softly, pushing away the invading thoughts and sour feelings that usually accompanied them, adjusting your position on Azriel's bed and focusing back on the amusing sight before you: your tall, usually more than capable friend leaning down too close to his full length mirror, a frustrated and adorable expression on his face as he tries to clasp a silver chain around his neck.

Azriel had a concert tonight and had invited you along, as he usually does if he knows you have free time. But when he told you about it on the phone, you hadn't quite realized he would not only drive you there, but also bring you home to have dinner with him and his bandmates so you could keep him company before it was time to go. It was incredibly domestic to watch them before the show, discussing technical things you didn't understand and making last minute adjustments over dinner. It felt even more intimate to accompany Azriel to his bedroom when dinner ended, sitting on his bed reapplying your lipstick while he got changed.

Most of the regular platonic boundaries have been thrown out of the window between you two - if you were being completely honest with yourself, you had barely paid attention to that ever since meeting him, - but it still made your heart beat wildly in your chest when Azriel simply grabbed your hand and led you into his room when dinner was finished and the boys all went on their separate ways to get ready as if it was the most natural thing.

He took his shirt off so fast it almost knocked the wind out of you, even though you've had the pleasure of seeing him without a shirt on a few times before, strutting to his bathroom with a change of clothes and a knowing smirk on his face. You hadn't expected him to be such a tease when you first met him either.

The outfit he was wearing was similar to what you've seen him perform in so many times, or even outside in his day-to-day life, but it still somehow took your breath away. The black boots made him a bit taller than he already was, even sitting down you could tell, and no matter how loose his t-shirts were they always seemed to catch perfectly around his chest and biceps, reminding you of his beautiful physique. It drove you a bit mad how stupidly attractive he was sometimes, even in otherwise plain clothes.

Since he always wore black, the jewelry and accessories he added always had their moment to shine, the silver rings, bracelets, chains and piercings almost shining in the midst of all the darkness. It was exactly that you were now witnessing, Azriel trying to put on his necklace as you sat on his bed and tried not to grin too widely as he struggled. The small clasp on the chain he wanted to wear seemed to be disagreeing with him though, his fingers too big to even hold the dainty metal properly let alone successfully fit it into the small hoop. After watching him fail for the nth time you decide to lend out a hand.

“Do you need some help?”

Azriel looks up at you then, eyes a bit wide as if he's forgotten you were there in the middle of his frustration. He lets out a sigh, “yes, before I throw it out.”

You can't help letting out a small laugh at the exasperation in his response, getting up and moving closer to him, his cologne assaulting your senses as you do. As soon as you reach him, the toes of your boots meeting his, strong hands fall on your hips as if it was a simple reflex by now, smoothing down the fabric of your skirt.

“You could have just asked,” the words come out far breathier than you meant for them to, the proximity making you a bit light-headed as your hands fall on his chest, picking up the discarded metal.

Azriel lets out a hum in response, one you feel vibrating through his chest, resulting in you dropping the small clasp just as he had done so many times. Noticing this, or simply wanting you closer, he leans back against his desk, sitting right at the edge, making it easier for you to reach the chain, and pulling you closer to him, fitting you between his legs, the rough fabric of his black jeans teasing your exposed legs.

Those captivating hazel eyes were burning into your face, making it harder for you to focus on the task at hand. In fact, nothing about this position, the way his hands fit perfectly over your hips, his thumbs running slow, goosebump inducing circles over the skin made visible by the crop top you wore, or the way you could feel his breath on your face, were helping you keep calm or clasp that damn necklace.

One thing you've learned ever since you've met him is that your face is an open book when it comes to your emotions, a wickedly amused smirk fighting its way onto his face the longer he watches you, as if he could hear the way your heart races inside your chest, or even feel the ruined state of your underwear. Sadly, knowing he can see right through you only makes it worse, your face burning under his scrutiny as desperate fingers fumble with the chain.

“Are you nervous, princess?”

The way his voice deepens as he whispers the words so close to your ears has you fighting your instincts so you don't press your thighs together, this man affects you too much, too easily, but the teasing litl to his voice sends your brain grabbing for any lingering sanity, not wanting to go down without a fight.

“I should be the one asking you that,” you say, your gaze escaping your command for a moment and meeting his, before returning to the task at hand. “Rita told you the bar was already full, right?”

“I don't get nervous with you next to me.”

You hum embarrassingly, not knowing what to say in response. Lucky for you, he seems content enough with your reaction, his grin growing as he looks down at you adoringly, strong hands squeezing your hips softly.

It's only after five tries that you manage to successfully clasp the necklace, a small sigh escaping you as if it had been an insurmountable task, before looking up at him, palms falling flat on his chest, finally allowing yourself the pleasure of basking under his attention. When one of his hands moves to the small of your back, bringing you in even closer, it becomes clear that he has no intention of letting you go just yet, and so you decide to indulge yourself too, looping your arms around his neck and molding your front to his, your top and his shirt not enough of a barrier to keep the feeling of his firm torso against yours away.

“I got it,” you say, as if he wasn't aware of the chain now properly hanging around his neck. If you didn't distract yourself you might end up getting lost in his eyes.

Azriel leans down closer to you, making your heart jump in your chest, his forehead meeting yours as he whispers, “We need to go then.”

“Yeah,” you breathe out, closing your eyes and leaning even closer to him as if you've been bewitched.

Nails run down the back of his neck softly, prompting a soft, defeated sigh out of him. He nuzzles your cheek, bumping your noses together, his breath falling over your skin as his lips linger right over yours. A battle seemed to be raging on between his body and his brain, and you couldn't tell which was winning as one of his hands came up to cup your cheek, almost making you want to make the decision for him and just kiss him at last.

You can't even begin to count how many times you've dreamt of being in this exact position with him, wrapped in his arms with his inviting lips barely a breath away from yours. The same exact thought is running through his mind, you know this just as well as you know the sky is blue. Azriel has never made you feel anything less than cherished, even when you were still trying to rationalize this thing between you as friendship.

But you knew he was planning something, and had been for a good while. He wanted to do things right with you, supporting you through the mess that had been the last few months, when all you needed was a good friend, waiting until you finally felt like yourself again so there was no room for error, something that made you feel inexplicably giddy, not used to being thought of with such care and adoration. You really didn't want to ruin his surprise, even though it took every bit of strength in your body to speak up and break this moment.

“We're still on for Wednesday, right?”

Azriel tenses slightly, almost imperceptibly, letting out a soft chuckle as he catches himself. “Yes,” he pulls away, only enough to look into your eyes, licking his lips before adding, “just a few more days.”

You don't know how you'll be able to even sleep until then. Ever since he asked you if you were free, you knew what his intentions were, could almost feel it in his tone, in the way he watched you.

“Are you really not going to tell me where you're taking me?”

“It's a surprise,” he smiles down at you, with so much emotion in his eyes you feel like you might burst.

You card your fingers through his soft hair, “What if I don't like it?”

“I know you will,” he assures. There's no doubt in your mind that he will make everything perfect for you, wherever it is. Azriel knows you well, has made sure of learning every little detail, no matter how insignificant it might look at first sight.

“Fine, you can keep it a secret,” your grin widens, “but next time I'm the one taking you on a date, and I won't tell you where we're going either.”

“Sounds fair,” he chuckles.

“Are you not even a little worried?” One of your hands moves to play with the necklace that put you in this situation, hooking your finger on it and using it to pull him a bit closer.

Azriel shakes his head, not resisting your grip on him even a little, “You can take me anywhere your little heart desires.”

“You might end up regretting saying that,” you warn playfully, eyes involuntarily dancing between his hazel eyes and his lips. You know it will be worth it, but part of you is furious at yourself for pushing away from him earlier.

“I don't think I'll regret anything when it comes to you.”

“Sometimes I forget you write songs in your free time,” you roll your eyes lightly, “You always know what to say.”

The smirk he gives you lets you know he's more than aware of the power he has over you, with his words and everything else. It might have made you feel intimidated if he was anyone else, or if you didn't know you hold the same power over him. You're not entirely sure if it's meant as a reminder or simple revenge for the way he so easily sends your heart racing, but you're on your tiptoes before your brain has time to convince you to stop, one of your hands falling over his cheek as you drop a quick peck to his other cheek, right on the corner of his mouth. He chases you instinctively, wide eyes staring down at you.

“For good luck,” you explain, way too proud of yourself for putting that look on his face.

Azriel lets out a groan, his grip on you tightening as a smile fights its way to his lips. “Cruel, little thing.”

You let out a laugh of pure joy, Azriel joining in right away. In moments like these, standing between his arms and laughing with him about any and every thing, no matter how silly it is, it's like all your worries evaporate.

“Come on, love birds. We have a show to play,” Cassian yells out from the hallway as he passes by Azriel's door, startling you both - you can always count on him to have the best timing.

You step away from Azriel as he glares at the door, as if Cassian could see him through the wood. Holding onto his hand, you tug on it to bring his attention back to you, his expression softening immediately when his eyes meet yours, sending your heart fluttering. You take a couple steps back and pull him onto his feet and closer to the middle of the room, his gaze never leaving yours as if he's entranced.

“He's right, rockstar,” you say, grinning at his bashful look, “You can't be late to your own show.”

[oriigami]

(spoilers for both knives out movies ahead)

i think what i really enjoy about knives out and glass onion is that they are, while not completely fair-play whodunnits, pretty close to it.

a fair-play whodunnit is a murder mystery which is entirely solvable by the viewer before the detective sums everything up at the end; the viewer is given the same information as the characters, and the same opportunity to figure everything out. this is a style some modern detective stories like to break to preserve the ability to catch the viewer off guard, as hbomberguy elaborates at some length in his sherlock is garbage and here's why video.

knives out gives you almost all the information you need. its possible to figure out on ransom's introduction that there is, at least, something missing from his story, that he returned to the house for some reason after leaving; the dogs were heard barking the night of harlan's death, and he is the only one they are seen reacting aggressively to. likewise, the audience hears nana saying 'ransom, are you back again already?' well before blanc learns about it and realizes its importance.

the only crucial piece of evidence any of the characters ever see that the audience doesn't is the toxicology report, which the audience doesn't get a chance to see before blanc's summation at the end revealing marta's innocence. but even with that omission, it's possible to guess harlan wasn't poisoned! marta lists off the symptoms of morphine poisoning at five and ten minutes on screen, and we see him exhibiting none of them, even after she's left and snuck back in, which must have been more than ten minutes after the initial injection. later we see fran suffering an overdose of the same drug, and she's far more debilitated than harlan was even in his last moments.

glass onion, of course, plays a lot more fast and loose with this concept, because it hides large swathes of the setup from the viewer until the halfway point. blanc actually has a lot more information than the viewer until we get the extended flashback in the middle of the movie.

however, after you know the circumstances of andi's death, like blanc says, you can completely guess that miles killed her! helen even suggests it during one of their first conversations, because it's obvious! of course he did! the only thing the movie does to delay this conclusion is throw out a swarm of red herrings in presenting motive and opportunity for everyone else, but the motive is obvious. the main thing both the audience and blanc need to realize is just that miles is stupid enough to do it. blanc uses his countless malapropisms as evidence when reaching this conclusion, but he doesn't even need to; it's absolutely obvious from the fact, readily available to the audience, that HE MADE HIS HOUSE INTO A BOMB.

likewise, the movie shows you that miles handed duke the drink that killed him, though this is later corrected during his self-serving flashback. you can see the outline of a phone in miles's back pocket after duke's murder even though miles doesn't own a phone, and even a brief shot of him sticking duke's gun in the ice bucket on the table.

additionally, putting a little bit of thought into miles's justification for the lights going out reveals it makes no sense. he was supposed to give a big speech as part of the murder mystery?? no he wasn't! he's dead at this point! he gets shot by the crossbow at dinner! why would he be giving a big speech at 10 pm? because he made up the lights going out on the fly based on blanc's earlier comment, and didn't think it through at all, like everything he does!

i'm not gonna pretend i figured either of these movies out ahead of time on the first viewing- i totally didn't! but i know when the next one comes out, i'm going to be watching very carefully, and probably doing a lot of rewinding.

[duskier]

If you ever wrote the 141 getting bullied by Fem!ghost, the lesbianism in me would go wild I fear (so like…you should totally do it ist saying)

(I'm unsure if this was just for fem Ghost or full fem 141 forgive me fkdjsnd if it isn't good lmk and I'll do better for u <3)

cw cucking (??) cw exhibitionism!! this is just Ghost fucking reader to show the guys how its done

I won't lie I feel like I did good here

I'm so sorry but fem Ghost in a regular 141 sounds like dyke HELL imagine all of these bumbling idiots talking about women like they can take girls home and play them like a instrument when they can't spell clit let alone find it!!

And the second they catch wind that Ghost is a lesbian? They aren't homophobic by a long shot, but suddenly Ghost gets deeper into 'the boys club'. They wanna talk women with Ghost. It's weird, crude, and Ghost can't help but pity the women they all go home to. Soap always asks really invasive questions about how lesbian sex even works, a ton of porn-centric ideas that make Ghost roll her eyes. Gaz mainly wants to guess at Ghost's type in women, keeps showing her girls in his dating apps to see which one catches her eye. Price is obviously curious himself about Ghost's love life, but keeps the most quiet about it.

...Soap gets a ton of bravado when he's drunk. He likes to let loose when they go to bars close to base, usually it isn't too intolerable. But then he brags about how he's the best lay in his town, 'just ask any girl'. Gaz makes a joke about being internationally ranked, to which Price punches his shoulder. They all look when Ghost snorts incredulously.

"Aye? Think you'd do better with that plastic, Lt?" Soap points at her using his whiskey glass, a small drop spilling onto the table with his carelessness.

Ghost narrows her eyes at him. Part of her just wants to deck him, as much of a little brother as he was to her. "I know I would, Sergeant."

...It's your lucky night. Gaz spotted you first, lips missing his straw repeatedly as his eyes fixes on you leaning over the bar. Price sees you next, jostles Soap to get his attention.

But when you look over to their booth, the only person you're looking at is the woman in the balaclava. Black compression shirt not hiding an inch of her bulk, wide shoulders and stomach hanging just over her belt line. Carabiner on a belt loop, and you know you've got to at least try. You'd misread flags before thanks to the stupid military base being so close by, but the sight of Ghost... too tempting.

You can't see Ghost’s entire face, but you see her eyes crinkle when you shyly bring her a drink. Her friends across from her in the booth offer you a seat on their side, but before you can reply, Ghost is patting her thigh. It shouldn't make you so weak in the knees, but it does, so you quickly sit yourself on her thigh.

The men's eyes are wide, fixed on Ghost- how'd she get you under her spell so fast? You don't really notice their looks, too busy drinking in the smell of her cologne, a thrill shooting up your spine at the feel of her hand on your back.

...Ghost gets the idea first. None of the team protests, if anything their eyes grow hungrier. It doesn't take much convincing for you, either. It's a strange request, sure, for three men and one woman to want to take you back to a hotel for the night. But Ghost reassured you-

"None o'em will lay a hand on you, love, you'll just be mine. They just need t'see, learn how to do things right. You mind helping me show them?"

When you nod, mind already imagining what was to come, she cups your cheek with a gloved hand, thumb stroking your soft skin. "There's a good girl. You'll be perfect."

...Within an hour, Ghost's got you naked and compliant in a hotel room down the way. You'd forgotten about the men watching you entirely within only a few minutes of Ghost's bare hands pulling you onto your lap. With one hand she's spreading your ass apart while her other hand slips a finger or two in you. You're bracing yourself with your hands on her chest, gasping with your forehead pressed to hers as she finds every which way to make you feel good in that position.

You don't even have to tell her when you're close. Stars shining behind closed eyelids you can hear her whispering just for you, "Go on, let them see you, pretty thing. You deserve it, cum for me."

After your shocks have worn off, she's kissing you through her mask as she lays you down. Hands caressing and exploring, never in a rush. The only clothes she removes are her gloves and rolling up her balaclava. You're only passingly upset Ghost won't take her actual clothes off- you're sure it had something to do with the dynamic between her and her team- she looks damn good with her strap hooked over her jeans anyway.

You're salivating when she gets her knees on each side of your head. Thumb pressing down on her silicon cock, guiding it between your pretty lips. "Just gotta get it ready f'me pet, then I'll give you what you need."

Her quiet little words of encouragement are all you need, emboldening you to suck it like you're getting paid to, thighs clenching together at the sound of her grumbling praise.

The men aren't touching themselves, despite them straining in their pants and shifting every so often. Their eyes glued to you, your own eyes glued to Ghost as she pulls back, thumb wiping your spit-slick lips clean.

When she lines herself up with you, she doesn't immediately bully herself in. She grinds herself against you, focusing her mental energy on everywhere else. Licking your neck, biting your ear, whispering praises just for you while her fingers tug at your tits.

"Look like a fuckin' dream, love. So good for me, they don't even deserve to see you like this..."

It's when your chest is heaving, your face is flushed, and your nails are clawing her back that she rears her hips back, the plastic expertly catching and slipping into your needy cunt. "Just like that pet, just fuckin'- like that-"

She was so affected, sounded so hoarse, it sent butterflies through you as she started fucking into you. Ghost was like a damned machine, fucking you through orgasm after orgasm, your mewls and desperate cries filling the room. Her arms are so strong around you, she's tearing you apart and holding you together all the same. Like nothing you'd ever had before, and she knows it.

"Think of me, next time you're in bed- with any man like them, yeah? Remember what you could be having instead, call me when he's pumped and gone. I'll take care of you pet, like no man could."

The front of her jeans are soaked from you by the time you finally tap her arm, entire form shaking from exhaustion. Ghost immediately accepts it, pulling out and unhooking her strap as you giggle light-headed at the wet spot you left on her pants. She cleans you up, wet washcloth and all. You try to tell her you don't need it, but the lukewarm cloth soothes your tender parts like she said it would. Dresses you herself because frankly, you're still boneless.

Wraps you in her big warm coat that smells like her cigarettes, tells you kindly she's gonna get you home safe. To the men behind her, the men you couldn't care less about, the men all politely sitting with their hands folded in their laps, she barks, "Do what you will here, clean up when you're done. I'll see you back on base."

[flippinpancakes64]

Day at the pool with the Cullens

I love pools and I love swimming so here we are

All additional photos I found on Pinterest

Edward:

Volleyball expert

Loves having competitions to see who can "hold" their breath the longest

(There's never an actual winner, it's just who gets bored first)

Loves to tackle you in the water

Can and will sneak up on you to pull you under

Roughhousing x100

Will think you're boring if you just sit on the side of the pool

He wants to play, dammit

Wears a nose plug unfortunately

He doesn't like the feel of the water in his nose

Can and will stay there all day

He doesn't go out of his way to go to the pool, but when he does he never wants to leave

I imagine he'd like swim shorts with a pattern

He doesn't want to wear something boring

Alice:

Diving board queen

She could go to the Olympic level if she wanted to

Definitely an attacker

Will sneak up behind people just to scare them

Does that freaky thing where they go underwater to swim through people's legs when they don't expect it

Loves seeing how fast she can lap the pool

Loves getting on Emmett's shoulders and wrestling people

Splashes people

Not too fond of the beach balls or volleyballs but she will play

She wears something intricate and definitely uncomfortable looking

Stylish tho

Jasper:

Not really interested

He came along because everyone else went

He prefers baseball

He's in the water though

He might join in on volleyball or diving, but I think he'd prefer to just chill out on a raft or a tube

He just wants to enjoy all of the positive emotions around him

He might swim around with you though if you ask him

He's not opposed to doing anything

Would really enjoy a lazy river though

He just wants to veg out and I love that for him

Just lets Alice choose whatever she wants him to wear

Has absolutely no preference at all

Rosalie:

You're lucky if she touches the water at all

Prefers to lay by the poolside and "tan"

She really just enjoys the heat from the sun

Like a lizard under a heat lamp

Might dip her toes in

If you beg her to get in she might go to the shallow end and stand there for a little bit

If you splash her it's over for you

So best just to leave her alone :')

Will throw the diving toys though

Like those girls on tiktok who are tanning and throwing the toys for their boyfriends like they're dogs

That's her

She thinks it's funny

MIGHT get up to retrieve the ball if you guys throw it out on accident

Heavy on the might tho

She'd wear something cute with a pretty pattern

Emmett:

King of the Pool

Roughhousing final boss

Will start actually wrestling with people

He brought the water guns

Shows absolutely no mercy

His favorite game is water chicken

Always the base guy

Even though he's not supposed to be fighting, he still does

Is the one mostly diving for the toys Rosalie throws

Wears goggles just because they look funny

Has broken the bottom of the pool before

Would do it again too

Likes to pick people up and throw them as far as he can

Jumped off the diving board and did a cannonball once

That's how he broke the pool floor

Wears the most idiotic trunks he can find

Since it's only their family at the pool, Alice can't use the whole "keeping good appearances" thing as a reason why he should wear what she picks

Carlisle:

Likes to let loose a little bit

He has to act old to keep appearances, so everyone forgets he's physically only about 25

Like Alice I think he'd enjoy the diving board

Would love to unwind on an inner tube as well

He likes to swim to the bottom of the deep end and just sit there

He finds it peaceful

Won't join in with the fighting though

He's here to relax and have a good time

Keeps it simple and classy as far as suits go

For the longest time he wore a speedo though...

Alice quickly put an end to that

Esme:

A less grouchy Rosalie

She's here to enjoy the sun and the warmth

She would also enjoy sitting on a raft and floating though

Lazy. River.

She would enjoy watching more than anything

Would keep score and help be a referee

Would also throw the diving toys

I feel like she would enjoy just wading around though

Making laps or just floating slowly

This is her big relaxation day

I think she would enjoy suits with a bit more coverage

And she would love flowy skirts or shawls

It makes her feel elegant <3

Vampire! Bella:

Another roughhouser here folks

She went her whole human life being a walking accident, of course she's going to make the most of actually having reflexes

Loves to do just about anything

Volleyball, basketball, diving, chicken, wrestling, water gun fight

Literally anything

Is usually Edward's partner for chicken

Loves to do things that humans absolutely cannot do

She's still getting used to it and everything

One time she stayed underwater for a full 5 hours

Just to see if she could

Will ask you to time her laps around the pool

She goes for a more practical suit

Something similar to what she had when she was human

[brokenpieces-72]

Monster!141 x wendigo/jackalope reader

Continuation of this one

Sizes

Inspired by @bluegiragi hybrid au and @diejager Only Human Series

Over time you get to see the two newcomers at work and while everyone was busy being possessive and protective over Hunter, you were more curious. However because the team was equally protective over you -seeing you as their young when you’re human- it’s a bit like watching a kid as they play in a non child proof area.

Gaz is watching over both you and Hunter constantly, sticking close to see what you guys are up to while Horangi or König is in the room. Alejandro and Rudy feel like your uncles as they make sure to stop and ask how you are in the hallway, regardless if the KorTac members are nearby. Soap continues his older brother role and has yet to bring up his family getting legal custody over you. The time isn’t right, and he needs to talk to you about it more. His constant presence while sparring is him showing off, like, “this is my pup, proceed with caution”.

You on the other hand, from the teams perspective it’s like watching a kid play on an empty road, they keep an eye on you, but let you do your thing. And your “thing” is watching KorTac. Horangi’s haetae form is different from the two shifters you’re most familiar with, because while it’s mostly tiger there are features you don’t expect. When he finishes a round of sparring with Alejandro you ask him what exactly he is and then ask if you can spar with him next. Alejandro isn’t surprised by your request. He chuckles when Horangi gives you a look.

“You’re sure you want to do that?”

“She’s sure hombre, get back on the mat.” Alejandro says, crossing his arms. Horangi doesn’t like taking orders but gets up and indulges you. He’s actually thrown off by your agility as your strikes move pretty quickly even for him. At first all he does it guard but he soon catches your fist, spins you around and pulls you on to the mat. It knocks the wind out of you, it’s so fast. Alejandro is about to get confrontational when you start laughing.

“That was fun.” You say getting the air back in. Yes you have a tendency to giggle when you go down in training, and smile when you’re exhausted. Horangi can’t help but smile a little before helping you up.

“Can you show me how to do that?” You ask. He may not have signed up for this, but screw it teaching you some tricks couldn’t hurt.

“Colonel, you going to assist?” Horangi taunts to Alejandro.

König watches you from afar for the most part. It isn’t until a tracking session with Rudy and Gaz that he sees you’re not some innocent jackalope who could be snatched up in seconds. The terrain is one you’re used to at this point, with plenty of large trees, small cliffs, and loose ground. There were even some old ruins of previous cabins and shelters nearby which you knew would make for excellent cover.

König is nervous about shifting around you too, worried he might scare you and with two protective hybrids nearby, his mind goes to worst case scenario.

“Do you want me to shift first or do you want to find me as a human?” You ask. König’s thinking comes to a halt hearing you say that, while Gaz and Rudy both look at him waiting for an answer. He didn’t realize you were the one they were tracking. At first he thought he would be the target, larger, easier to find, less stealth. But you?Gaz or Rudy he could expect, but you? You were small sure but not that small. He scratches the back of his head.

“Sh-shifted.” He answers. At least it gives you more of a fighting chance. Then he sees you shift. As a human you’re half his size, looking like a kid next to him but shifted, you’re almost the same size as his Percht form, if only a little smaller. König looks up at you in awe and surprise. You tilt your head at him, while Gaz gets his attention with a pat on his back.

“Come on big guy. Eyes up.” Gaz says teasingly.

“Ve a esconderte, cabo.” Rudy orders and you run off. Despite your size you move quickly, climbs and jumping from tree to tree and ducking behind bushes and over growth, your form fading into the thick forestry. All while moving softly like you’re a part of breeze.

“Geist.” König said. Rudy and Gaz looked at him.

“Say again?” Gaz asked. König realized he had said it out loud.

“Ah…she makes me think of an earth geist.” König said.

The other two hybrids contemplated the idea. Not a bad call sign.

“You’ll have to tell her when you find her.” Rudolfo comments.

“If we find her.” Gaz adds.

They got to work after half an hour, with Gaz sending you a warning of your pursuers. You change the channel on your radio so they couldn’t use it to locate you not that they would. The radios work on one channel so they can find each other better and still be able to communicate over the distance. If they couldn’t find you or there was an emergency the channel would switch accordingly.

König joins alongside Rudy and the cadejos.

“Not changing? Your choice.” Rudy commented.

“I shift when I need to. And I don’t need it for training. I find it exhausting after some time.” König says.

“Gaz how copy.” Rudy radios.

“Still no visual. She’s going hard on this one.” Gaz responds.

“She’s getting better.” Rudy says.

“You usually track children?” König asks. Rudy gives him a look, and König notices how poorly he phrased his question. “Her I mean…o-or uh…apologies.”

Rudy pats him on the shoulder. “Since she became more comfortable around us, si. She became the one we tracked. A good tracker herself but we found she was better at hiding.”

“I see.” König says. There’s a slight jealousy wishing it was as easy for him to hide.

Rudy continues requesting visual updates from Gaz who has little luck.

“I don’t like it but you two may need to split up, cover more ground.” He suggests.

“Copy. The cadejos have different directions.”

“She’s getting smarter.” Gaz comments as he lands to try and look around for you. Rudolfo and König split off searching for you. König thinks for a moment after going for an hour by himself.

“Gaz, any visual?” He asks.

“Negative. At this rate we’ll have to trap her.” Gaz admitted.

“How far can she be ahead of us?” König asks.

“Say about 1 click.”

As if on cue he hears clicking, and his fight or flight reflexes kick in.

“König going dark.” Gaz hears. He can’t get König to respond to him and he starts getting nervous. Training exersices are taken seriously but this may have gone too far. Gaz flies lower to find Rudy, and thankfully he does easily enough. Before he can say anything they both hear loud screeches.

They take towards the noise with the cadejos running up ahead and find you wrestling with a Percht. You’re staying calm, but the Percht is raging at you. It’s only backing off to build up its next strike at you, scratching at your exposed muscles and gnawing at the bark of your limbs. The veil over the monsters face tells you who it is, and all you can do is hold your own. You can smell Gaz and Rudolfo close by and so can König. Your priority is to keep the other two safe. When König tries to turn around and go for them, they both move, taking cover just before König sees them. You move too, and brutally. You’re tired from the hard hits König has dealt, but Kyle and Rudolfo are your friends. Doesn’t matter who it was, you’re ready to defend and protect them the same as they’ve protected and helped you. As the Percht turns away you yank it back by the shoulder. You ram into him, getting your antlers under him and rear up, sending him tumbling behind you. You screech at it. A warning to back off and a challenge to try again. It goes for you and you lock him against you, trying to scratch at its neck, hoping it would get the hint. When König is shifted, he doesn’t have control, his only mindset is kill. As you toss him he tosses you. You claw him he claws you. But if it bites you bite back.

His attacks only continue to get violent even when you try to be defensive. The cadejos try to slow him down, acting as distractions or flanking it with their own bites but it’s proving fruitless. Rudy’s head is starting to ache from it, and Gaz takes to air throwing hardened feathers as projectiles. The thing just screams loud, making everyone’s ears hurt and ring, before you whack him hard, shutting him up. You grip him by the skull tearing off the veil and twisting his neck until the rest of his body follows, getting on top of him. You hold his jaw closed and force him to look at you before screeching yourself, trying to keep him still. If fighting wasn’t going to work, then exhausting him would have to do.

Gaz dives for Rudolfo who is holding his head behind a tree, and lifting him to higher ground. You struggle to keep the Percht still but its movements become fewer and weaker. It doesn’t matter though, you keep him still and don’t loosen until you see dark whisps coming off of him as he passes out beneath you, returning to his human form and you turn to yours. You’re still on top of him when you check his pulse, both of your clothes and gear basically shredded to shit. But you don’t care, panting on top of a passed out König. Gaz and Rudolfo come back down to help you up and help König back to base, with Gaz calling for Hunter to be prepped.

König of course is in a lot of shit because of this. Horangi is being questioned about his hybrid partner and why he would do that. You didn’t encounter König until after he had shifted and you repeated this multiple times that you don’t know what happened. Horangi could only try to side with you as he explained that König wouldn’t shift on a training run. Rudolfo being a the good man he is, mentions König had said the same while they were together.

Despite him giving you multiple injuries you’re still worried about him, and stay by him while he’s resting. Soap is worried about you and the injuries you sustained. Mending broken bones and self healing were a benefit but your healing factors were not instant. Hunter tends to him when she can and makes sure you keep eating.

When König wakes, Horangi tells you right away, and drop whatever you’re doing to go see him. When he sees you though he looks ashamed. He knows what happened and he can’t explain it. He barely remembers shifting. He does remember hurting you though. You insist you’re okay and give him a half a smile. Gaz and Rudolfo aren’t far behind, wanting to check in on König as well. The guy had proven to be a strong asset and your insistence on his character made it hard to argue.

He rests for a couple more days with you checking in on him and seeing how he’s doing. At one point you come over and sit with him and ask why he doesn’t shift. When he mentions losing control and becoming a mindless rampager you think about the night you lost control.

“I become nothing but a monster.” He says, starting to put a new veil on.

“I do too.” He stops and looks at you.

“But you did not.”

“But I have. I’ve lost control and gone on violent binges. I’ve been uncontrolled before…it’s normal.”

There is silence between you two, and he wonders.

“May I see the wendigo? P-please?” He asks. You smile. You enjoy showing people, and shift carefully in the room, not wanting to break something. You lower yourself to all fours, and look at him curiously. König is nervous but hesitantly reaches out to touch your head, with you meeting it halfway. You look back at him while he examines you with his eyes. You make soft clicking noises.

“You really are an earth spirit.” He comments and you make an odd sort of cooing sound mixed with happy clicks. For the first time you see König give a small smile. It’s one you don’t see often, friendly and soft.

König gives his own report saying something had attacked him during their training session, but he was unfortunate enough to not see who or what. Price gives him a warning to be more careful, but you offer to help König train and get more used to the Percht.

Let me know if you want to be tagged in future posts.

@0alk0msan

[charnelhouse]

darlin'

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader Wordcount: 4k Warnings: rough smut. violence. almost sexual assault (but nothing in detail). me probably knowing nothing about this. Srs hurt/comfort. references to suicide. Summary: You are another means to an end. He needs a second pair of hands and you have the face to distract scavengers and the guts to kill people who need to be put down. A/N: not sure about the timeline between joel and tommy splitting post-outbreak. I’m really playing fast and loose with canon here since joel is on the move with the reader and not stuck in one place. Hopefully his characterization is somewhat on point.

It’s not like you fall into Joel’s lap. It’s a gradual process where you’re in separate packs of hunters that inevitably dwindle to a few lonely pairs. You’re maneuvering around each other in the same snuffed-out city. The only source of lights is in sewer tunnels. There are familiar faces in the dark. 

One night, both of your groups are cornered in an empty factory by a crowd of infected. It’s silly. A foolish way to lose, but you do. Everyone but you and Joel get bitten, and you feed your friends a bullet. Joel does the same.

Then it’s an awkward stare-off. You think of killing the silence with a dry remark, but nothing about the beefy, stern-looking man in front of you seems dry. 

You recognize him just as he recognizes you. You’ve seen each other during a few trade-offs. Now - you really fucking wish you’d said hi. 

"You need a partner,” you tell him bluntly. Your voice only wavers a little, but as soon as the words leave your mouth, his brows raise in what you think is incredulity. You change course. 

“I need a partner,” you clarify. “I need someone to watch my back. You can’t survive out here in a party of one.”

He frowns, scraping a calloused hand over his beard. You think he’s ready to say no, so you reach back into your coffers to grasp something else to offer him. We have guns.

Bingo.

He finally straightens. His eyes are clear and brown as espresso grounds. Long, girlish lashes. “Show me.”

It’s been five years since the outbreak. 

***

Joel has these dreams where all of his hair falls out. Sometimes it’s his teeth.

In the very corner of his brain, he recalls that there’s symbolism there.

You’ve forgotten something. You’re forgetting. 

He goes and goes and never stops. He does not stop because if he does, all he will have is quiet air and memories. Sarah. The greasy splatter of blood on his chin and beard and how he didn’t notice until days later. He scrubbed his skin until it hurt and turned pink as raw chicken.

What did you do? What did it cost?

Joel cannot find it in him to regret the things he’s done. He lives somewhere in his chest. Not his head - never his head. He doesn’t know what to do with all that emptiness. He wants to fill his nights with something other than the stars or a campfire or a popcorn ceiling in an abandoned house. 

I survived. I did what I had to do in a dead, dead world. 

You were right. He couldn’t do it on his own.

You are another means to an end. He needs a second pair of hands and you have the face to distract scavengers and the guts to kill people who need to be put down. 

He was gonna say yes even before you brought up the guns. 

***

You’ve become incredibly intimate with his back. He always walks ahead of you, so you trace the broad line of his shoulders and the molasses-dark curls that cover his scalp. You long to draw patterns in the suede of his sand-colored jacket. 

You familiarize yourself with his tells and what it means when he stiffens, hunches or relaxes. His knuckles turn white with how hard they wrap around his gun when he’s somewhere he can’t see all four corners.

He barely speaks. It’s like trying to squeeze water from a stone. Joel is a fucking boulder or maybe a bullet.

A month on the road, you spot a family wailing for help. They’re dragging something that looks suspiciously like a body, and Joel curses. “They’ll have a whole fuckin’ pack on our ass.” He checks his guns, and you think he’s going to shoot them because now their problem is his. 

“They have children,” you whisper.

“They’ll kill us,” he replies matter-of-factly. “Kill us or try and take what’s ours. It’s how it goes.”

“That’s it then?”

He remains silent, dragging his thumb along his chin before readjusting his pack. “You’re free to go play Mother Teresa, but I ain’t helping you. I’m headed North, and that’s the end of it.”

He does leave. He storms off, slipping between the trees that line the charred highway. You wait for a second out of spite before chasing after him. He hasn’t gone far. In fact, you think he deliberately slowed his steps so that you could catch up.

***

Joel asks you to play damsel. Supplies are running low. There aren’t many towns nearby, so when a small group of scavengers draws near, you go. 

You were never a good actress, but your grief is real. You’ve honed and carved it until it became a weapon. You run toward them with your eyes wide and wet with fear. You choke down sobs that churn from some lost place inside you. Your dead family. Your dead friends. Your dead future. RIP to all that. 

Of course, the hunters accept you, their beady little stares cataloging your body under layers of cotton and denim. They lead you into their temporary camp and start a fire. They wrap a blanket around your shoulders that smells like mildew and loam. Just as you suspected, their comforting words begin to have double meanings. 

We can’t just give you these things—shelter costs somethin’. 

Don’t worry, your pretty head, we’ll keep you safe. 

C’mere. 

Your palms are damp with sweat. You nod, swallowing a weight. You’ve done this before, but Joel usually turns up before they start getting familiar. Maybe he's unsure. Maybe, there are too many. 

Where’s Joel? 

It rings through your head. Your ears buzz. 

He’s there. You know it. He’s watching and waiting and - 

One of the men grips your knee before sliding it up further. He chuckles softly, and you dig your nails into your palm and chew the inside of your mouth. 

You remind yourself that this is all part of the plan. You have it down. Act helpless. Get them in a vulnerable spot. Joel enters stage left and makes quick work of them. He’s probably biding his time.

“Now - maybe we can come to -”

Where’s Joel?

Your heart is thudding in the cage of your ribs. It’s in your throat. 

“Did you hear what I said, girl? How about -”

The man grunts. There’s a handle sticking out of the top of his skull. He sputters before his eyes roll back and then Joel is there, ripping that blade free and giving you a quick jerk of his chin.

“Stay behind the trees,” he orders before descending on the rest of them. 

“Where the fuck is my gun?” the bald one roars as he digs through his pack. 

“Mine’s fuckin’ gone, too,” a lanky blonde yells. 

Smart Joel. He must have snatched what he could while they were distracted. 

As you slip behind a tree, you turn to watch the rest of the carnage. You think it’s in the bag up until the big bald fuck manages to knock Joel to the side so that his shot misses. 

Joel up again, which is something he had constantly branded into your head. Never stay down. You’re right fucked if you stay down. 

Joel keeps fighting. He’s broad and full of a rage that ripples out of him and shakes the air. The punches he deliver are devastating. The skill he has at killing is a privilege to watch. He is an exploding star hurtling to the earth. A bull barreling through concrete. He’s older than you, but it doesn’t slow him down. Not at all. 

You remain low in the trees just as he instructed. Your chest tightens when the lanky blonde socks Joel’s face so hard that his jaw audibly clicks. It doesn’t seem to break his stride because he disposes of him quickly, whipping out a switchblade that he plunges between the blonde’s ribs. Then he’s onto the next one. He’s barely using his guns.

Bullets attract infected. 

They’re also precious. Finite supplies.

Right. Good thinkin’, girl. 

The sounds coming from the fight are a sharp blend of sawed-off grunts and insults. Joel is the only silent one as he cleaves his way through the chaos. It’s intimidating. It’s unreal.

Something moves on the ground. 

The blonde he’d stabbed is still alive, wiggling like a snake. He’s crawling onto his knees, red-soaked fingers shakily grasping his discarded shiv from the dirt.

“Joel,” you yell, but not loud enough. He’s too busy with the bald shithead whose red face is straining as he tries to sloppily defend himself against your partner. The man on the floor rises, arm cocked to deliver a stab to Joel’s lower back and you move without thinking. You sprint forward and tackle him to the floor, arms snagging firmly around his throat. There’s a startling pain in your side before it dissipates. You rely on adrenaline to drive you to the second act.

Quickly, you yank your pocket knife from your jeans and pierce the man’s throat. He squeals before it turns wet. You draw the blade out and bring it down again. It’s not easy and requires all of your strength to break flesh.

It’s unnerving. You’ve killed before, but this disturbs you. He squeals again, but it’s muffled. He choked and snorts.

This little piggy…

Somewhere Joel’s voice sings in your head:

Don’t think. Just kill. 

The blonde shivers under your weight, palms slapping out at mud before he curls his fingers into trampled weeds. He takes one final rattling breath and goes still. 

You scramble back on your ass, heels kicking up dirt as Joel whirls around to stare at you. His expression is incredulous and it doesn’t fit his face. It’s alien and wrong. He’s usually far too confident and cautious. He knows all outcomes, but this? You saving him? No - he did not expect that. 

Joel blinks before carefully stepping over the dead man. He moves toward you, lowering himself so he can meet your eyes. He touches your cheek. “You ok?”

“Fine,” you mumble. “Fine - he-he was gonna -”

“I know,” he finishes and it almost sounds like a thank you. 

He grabs your wrist forcing you up. “Let’s do this quickly,” he instructs, gesturing to the backpack, tents, and assorted supplies. It’ll be a good haul. 

You nod, already forgetting about the pulsing cut beneath your ribs.

***

You must be getting sick. Your palms feel like weighted lead. Your steps are slow and clumsy. Your skin is screaming hot, and it takes Joel two full days to notice. You’ve stopped in a deserted garage on a lone suburban street. A stale, sweet smell comes from the door that leads into the house, and you don’t want to open it. 

Joel searches through boxes and plastic cases while you lean heavily against the cool garage door. He glances at you before doing a double-take. Perhaps, it’s obvious - even in the dark. Perhaps - this is the first time he has truly looked at you since they’ve stopped walking. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’,” you mutter even though your head may topple off your neck. Fuck. 

Abruptly, he straightens and strides toward you. You catch him rolling his eyes before he stops short. He grasps your face with surprisingly gentle hands. He inhales sharply. “Jesus,” he hisses. “Goddamnit, girl, you're burning up.”

You blink at him, and even that is a chore. Your lids are so heavy, each individual lash stings. You lick your lips. “Mm’ok.”

Without another word, he wraps his arms under your thighs and picks you up bridal-style. “Joel,” you wheeze, your arm flying around his thick neck. The short hairs at the nape tickle your skin. “It’s fine.”

“Quiet.” He grunts before kicking the door open and hauling you into the raw darkness of this deserted house. 

“Fuck,” he mutters and places you on the counter. “I’m gonna secure the perimeter…should have done it before hauling ass in here.”

He seems on edge.  He doesn’t usually forget shit like that because that shit will get you killed.

You nod before leaning back into the wall. Your head bumps against a cabinet and Joel has the nerve to tell you to be careful. 

After a few minutes, he returns. 

The kitchen is surprisingly clean. His gaze darts around the space before he picks you up and takes you to the second level. You can hear his boots making soft thumps in carpet. You can see framed photos on the walls. Finally, he settles you on a dusty queen-sized bed. 

“Think it’s a cold? The flu?”

In the current world, it could be any number of things. Regardless, you’re beginning to realize what this is. You’d avoided checking it out. You’d buried its burning ache. The knife - the metal. It had to have been dirty. 

Had you cleaned it? Were you too busy wanting to help Joel sift through everything that you’d ignored it? How fucking stupid could you have been?

You shake your head. 

“You gotta work with me here,” he urges, a brush softer. “What hurts?”

Sighing, you roll onto your side and pull up your shirt. Joel sucks in a breath. Even now it’s throbbing insistently. Feels hot. It had been so small. 

You’d forgotten that small, open wounds can lead to fatal infections. 

Joel’s hand rests on your hip, a fingertip drags lightly under the puffy flesh and you flinch. It smells like something sick. 

“Guessing by your silence, it’s bad.” You try to laugh and it cracks like peanut shells. 

“It’s not good,” he replies carefully. “You need antibiotics.” 

You’re too scared to inspect the wound. You can imagine it: oozing pus, streaking, swelling, beating like it has its own heart.

“Did you get this during the fight?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, pressing your cheek into the cold blankets. 

“And you didn’t clean it?” Joel’s tone rises. You guess that he’s keeping a tight lid on his anger. 

“Forgot.”

When he says nothing, you glance at him over your shoulder. His nostrils flare. He’s flexing his jaw. His hands are fists at his sides, but his dark eyes remain on you. He’s thinking, perhaps trying to decide if it’s worth scolding you or ripping you a new one.

What would it matter if you’re already dying?

He takes a deep breath, shakes his head, and abruptly swings his backpack off his shoulder before crouching to the floor. He unzips it and rummages. “Alright, I can clean and bandage it, but you’ll need antibiotics - somethin’ like doxycycline or amoxicillin. May be able to barter with a few people up near Asheville, but that means I’ve gotta leave you for a day, possibly two.”

You freeze.

What?!

Frantically, you twist around to face him. “I’ll-I’ll be alone?”

He sits down on the bed, touches the back of his hand to your forehead. His mouth tenses at the level of heat, but he keeps it there. It’s the most intimate thing he’s ever done.

“This is your life on the line, darlin’.” He runs his other hand through his unruly hair. He keeps his eyes on the floor. “I’ll lock the house down.”

You snort. There is no such thing as locks anymore. Zero law. Break a window. It’s enough. 

“There’s no one around here,” he adds pointedly as if reading your mind. “Everything’s been picked clean. I’m sure you’re safe.”

He doesn’t promise it. You’re not sure he’s good at promises.   

Everything smells weird. Like old fruit. 

“Bye,” you mumble as he reaches for his gauze and tends to the cut.

“Haven’t left yet, hon.”

“But you will.”

He clears his throat.

***

Joel moves fast. He doesn’t stop. 

That wound had been festering for days. How did you even fucking walk that far with it? How could you not treat it or ask him to?

He wants to shake you for being so stupid. He wants to watch you wither and die from the injury so that you learn your lesson.

But I’d bring you back. I’d pull you out. 

Joel feels something hard lodge in his throat. The trees are green and full of shadows. The highway is marked by broken cars and a few scattered bones. 

You’d saved him. You’d gotten hurt saving him.

He really doesn’t enjoy the fact that you’ve slipped your way inside him. You’ve wrapped those nimble little fingers around his ribs and ripped them an inch. He’s creaking. He’s old and getting older and the world is fucking dead. It’s just a rotting corpse and Joel really likes when you sing. Sometimes, they’re just on the road and you’ll start murmuring a tune from the forties or the seventies. You have this soft, breathy tongue for old love songs. Ella Fitzgerald. Billie Holiday. Judy Garland. Dolly Parton. 

He can’t stop thinking about your expression when he left. Your eyes were wide with fear, your lower lip trembled as you called after him. You were too weak to sit up. You reached a hand out before dropping it as if it was too heavy. Inexplicably, he rushed back to your side. “I will come back,” he declared.

“Are you sure?” 

He stroked your hair just once. He lowered his face to yours. “I will.”

***

Joel kills for the antibiotics. He won’t tell you that even though he’s sure you already know his game. He’s ruthless. He has to be. He didn’t have time to barter. 

He returns to you as quickly as he can. He’s shocked at his timing. It’s only been twenty-five hours when he bursts back into the house and runs up the stairs. In the daylight, he realizes that there are bodies in the living room. Pill bottles on the antique coffee table. Stained carpet. The corpses are mummified. He’d left you in a tomb and that makes his stomach turn over. 

He’ll clean them up before you come downstairs. You will. You’ll be fine.

He’s almost relieved when he finds you still in bed, but when he gets closer, he blanches. You’re seemingly worse, drenched in sweat and shivering. He folds himself over you, hands on your face as he tilts it up. Your eyes can’t focus on him. 

“Hey,” he says, slapping you gently. “Sweetheart - I’m back. I’ve got the medicine.” He reaches around and presses his hand to the wound. It’s hot as an oven, sticky as a melted sweet on pavement. He can smell the infection and he grimaces. “Let’s turn you around.”

He manages to cradle you against his chest before dripping water into your mouth drop by drop. You lick at it, whimpering as the dry skin of your lips cracks. He wets an old towel and lays it on your forehead. He feeds you tylenol and antibiotics. He cleans the wound and worries when you don’t wrench yourself away from his touch. It should sting fiercely, but the pain is diluted beneath the fog of fever.   

He cares for you and then waits. It’s a little too similar to when he’d stay up with Sarah when she couldn’t breathe right due to bronchitis or unable to keep medicine down because of a stomach bug.

Let me save you. He thinks. Let me save you this once. He has to seal the memory of Sarah away because it’s too much. It’s agony. He shudders as if he’s placed his fingers on a screaming tea kettle. It wrecks him. He can’t fall apart when you’re already half-gone.

***

In the middle of the night, you touch his jaw, scrape your nails across his beard. “You called me darlin’,”  you slur. “Sweetheart.” 

“I did,” he confirms as he circles your wrist with his hand. He could squeeze it and it’d break. “Now - sleep.” 

You pull his arm down to your face, nuzzle your cheek against the cool metal of his watch. It startles him, but he doesn’t pull away. 

“Joel,” you repeat. 

“G’night, honey.”

He doesn’t know why he called you that the last few days. Darlin’. Honey. Sweetheart. He’s never done it before. 

***

That event changed things. It shifted the air between you. You’d saved Joel’s life and he’d saved yours in return. In all respects, it should have kept their relationship on equal ground. One action had canceled out the other. A debt repaid. 

But, it’s different. He is different. He’s always watching you. A bit more protective. A bit more anxious. Sure - he trusts you to handle yourself, but he wants you not to need to handle yourself. 

They’re on the road and it’s getting colder. He has people they could rely on for a few weeks of shelter, but it’s a trek. 

“I say we make it to California,” you grumble as your boots catch on half-melting frost. “Hawaii.”

“Let me build a boat real fast, then.”

It’s all so much of the same. Walking. Supplies. Ammo. Food. Laundy. River baths. Medicine. Holing up in deserted, dusty homes that still reek of family ghosts. 

Then there’s the tension between you. The knot of things unsaid tugging you closer. 

You think about him all the time. The shape of his face and the hook of his nose. The jawline. The big brown eyes and thick, umber hair. He’s so big and bulky and protective and, if you could, you’d huddle inside him. 

Let me bury myself there all winter. Let me seek your heat. 

It comes to a head because it’s inevitable. In a strange house on a strange street near North Carolina, Joel shares a bed with you. Nothing is different. Nothing at all. You roll toward him and place your hand on his chest. He jerks, but doesn’t remove it. His heart is pounding furiously beneath the cotton.

He utters your name gently. You watch his lips fold around the letters. 

“You almost died today.”

He snorts. “No - I didn’t.”

Alright - he didn’t. It was only a small scuffle. One gunshot for a backseat of supplies.

But you wanted a reason. Needed a reason to touch him like he had touched you when you nearly died. 

“You could’ve,” you reply stubbornly.

He huffs a laugh. “I ain’t dyin on you anytime soon.”

“I know.”

You dig your fingers into his chest, rub them deep until you feel his hand slide over your thigh. He squeezes the meat of it and you wriggle under the covers.

“You sure?” he asks, voice hoarse. He sounds nervous. Good.

Lazily, he turns on his side, his hand wanders up your leg. He hauls you closer so that you’re intertwined, tangled up in limbs. He presses his cheek to yours and curls his fingers behind the crotch of your panties before sinking two of them inside your cunt. 

“Oh,” you gasp, clawing at his hair. “Fuck.”

He moves deliberately, stroking your walls until it begins to smart like a bruise. His thumb finds your clit and he teases it, circles with a calloused trigger-happy fingertip.

“Is this what you want?” he murmurs despite it just being the two of you and there’s not a soul for miles except maybe the dead spirits in this house. A happy family. A dog. Gone. 

You grip some of his t-shirt and tug it, thighs opening around his hand. You rock down on him as he plays you like his six-string.

You push at his boxers, reach for his cock. It’s hot in your palm. Full and throbbing just like that wound on your side that sewed you both together. He grabs your chin and holds it still. “Tell me,” he demands. “Is this what you want?”

Do you want me?

You nod, chewing your lip as he adds a third finger. He stretches you open. He readies your sex. 

“You, Joel,” you reply to seal the truth of it. “You.”

He lowers his head and captures your mouth. Joel kisses you senseless, his tongue sweeping behind your teeth and making itself at home. He drinks, his beard scraping your chin raw. He tastes like leather and ammunition. Sweat. Wood. Generic shampoo. He lifts his head to catch his breath.

“Alright, darlin’.”

***

It is a smoother coupling than you expected. You didn’t think he’d kiss you. Before, you assumed that if this would happen, it would be a cold fuck in the form of stress relief. Not this. 

He groans against your teeth. You clasp the back of his head and his soft curls. His rests his forearm beside your face as he bears his weight above you. You watch the muscles in his jaw work with every thrust. The vein in his throat tenses. His chest hitches and you can’t help but lick a clean line up his sternum.

He likes it. His lungs rumble.

His hand slides between them, parting the lips of your cunt to press and tease your clit. Your pussy is wrapped around his length. He drives to the end of you before easing back until only the tip remains. He pushes in again so that you feel every ridge of him. Again. Again. You can hear your body take him. It echoes in the room.

You’re tearing me apart. You’re splitting me. You’re branding me. I can’t breathe. 

Do it again. 

“Wider,” he urges as his whole body trembles. “Lift your ass for me.”

You do and the angle allows him to plunge deeper.

You know he’s trying hard to fuck you like it doesn’t mean something. He’s rolling his hips and pinning your wrist to the mattress and it feels like the fat head of his cock is punching the bottom of your lungs. It hurts a little and meaningful sex shouldn’t hurt like this. Or maybe it should. Maybe, that's the damn point. You're close to tears because it feels so good and so much at the same time. You can’t help clenching around him, coming like a fountain as he punishes you with another harsh stroke. 

“Darlin,” he says in a voice that stings like gravel. It’s one sweet thing given between grunts and groans and the wet slap of skin. It’s all he can offer. He traces the cut along your ribs that hasn’t yet scarred over. He pets it with his thumb as he stares at you intently.

“Say it again,” You bring your knees to his waist, skate your nails down the muscles of his back. 

The corner of his lips twitch. “Darlin,” he offers before lowering his mouth a breath from your own. “Darlin.”

[skiiyoomin]

ღHe turned into a chick!

ʚContent: SMUT CONTENT, fem! gojo x gn! reader, established relationship, swearing, use of he/him, foreplay, oral sex

⤑Back to navigation

a/n thinking about fem!gojo on loop 😵‍💫.

Working as a sorcerer came with many surprises. At one point you learn to expect anything. But never in your life did you expect what you saw.

You were laying on the couch, your eyes boring mindlessly at the show that was playing on the TV. The sound of keys jiggling and the opening of the front door diverted your attention to the familiar figure that was stepping inside.

"You're home early"

You point out as you step into the hallway to greet your boyfriend Satoru with a kiss. He replies with a deep chuckle, leaning in once more and murmuring against your lips.

"What can I say. Can´t help it if I miss my partner"

The rest of the afternoon went by as per usual and night quickly fell over the sky. Drowsiness eventually made the bed seem far more tempting, so with that said, your head rested on his toned chest while his buff arms circled around your waist, pulling you as close as possible. It didn´t take long for your breathing to even out until you were fast asleep in his arms.

Sunlight peeked from the blinds the next morning, illuminating the cozy room and your bodies curled together. As you drifted back to conciousness, you took note of something strange. The body that was laying beside you, supposedly Satorus body, felt different. It was smaller, softer, curvier. Your head instantly shot up, the haziness from having just woken up suddenly disappearing as you look down at your boyfriend turned female.

The loose t-shirt and sweatpants he had fallen asleep in were now much larger in his smaller frame and his sharper features smoothened out into more feminine traits. You reached out and shook his shoulder gently.

"Satoru? Satoru. Wake up."

His groans, usually low and gruff sounded more high pitched, further solidifying the fact that your boyfriend, was now a woman. You shook him again until he slowly sat up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

"Why´re you looking at me like I grew two heads?"

He asks between a yawn. It cuts short when he too, processes the fact that his voice sounded different, or the way his clothes sat in his new body.

"You should take a look in the mirror"

You suggest. When he does, his eyes widen in shock. It was strange seeing himself like this.

"Damn I´m sexy as fuck as a woman"

Of course, a situation can never remain serious when Satoru was involved in it. Nevertheless, you had to agree with him. If he was already beautiful as a man, it was no wonder that he was just as gorgeous as a woman, now you understand why God never made him one in the first place, he´d be a real menace.

"You are"

Your arms wrap around his small waist from behind, making eye contact with him from the mirror while your chin props itself on his shoulder. You took the chance to fully look at him in his new form. Despite the oversized clothing, your eyes took in his curves before settling on the pair of cherry tits poking out beneath the t-shirt and forming two tents underneath.

Really, you couldn´t help it at all when your hands slid up to cup his small tits, giving them a squeeze. Your mind wandered to the gutter as you imagined how much more sensitive Satoru must be as a woman if he was already sensitive as a man.

A small whimper escaped his lips, confirming your thoughts.

"Can I make you feel good? I want you to know what it feels like when you make me feel good"

The murmurs from your lips against his sensitive neck caused shivers down his spine and a strange heat to start forming in his stomach. He could only nod and whine in response, already feeling hazy just from the feeling of your hands playing with his hardening nipples.

With that, you took him back to bed, hovering above him. Continuing your assault to his neck, your warm tongue grazed the skin before suckling on it until it created blossoms of purple and red. You busied your hands by sliding them under his shirt, revealing more and more skin the further you slid them upwards. The clothing became too disruptive in your ministrations, so with one quick movement, you pulled it over his head and threw it blindly across the room.

The way your mouth salivated when your eyes landed on his perky tits should have you questioning your sexuality, but in that moment you were too distracted by the desire to litter the pure white skin with marks. Your mouth latched onto one nipple, your tongue swirling around it while your free hand rolls the other nipple between your fingers. His high pitched whines and moans sounded like absolute heaven and it took everything in you not to go down on him right then and there.

After his neck and chest were covered in enough hickeys to leave you satisfied, you moved your lips lower, reaching the waistband of his sweats. His hips buckled with impatience when your fingers curled around the fabric way too slowly for his liking, so with that, you pulled them off.

Eagerly, he spread his legs, revealing his pretty soaking cunt aching to be touched. However, you took your time, focusing on kissing up his inner thighs instead.

"Please"

He whined needily. Of course he had no shame.

"Mmm, please what? Use your words for me"

He groans "God please fuck me, eat me out, anything! Just please I need to feel you"

There was nothing more enticing than to have the strongest begging for you. And who were you to deny his desires when he was looking at you with those pretty doe cerulean eyes and pouty pink lips?

Satoru was not prepared for the tingling feeling of your tongue pressing flat against his slit, sliding up until it caught against his hardened nub. The pleasure was unlike anything he felt before and there was nothing he wanted more than to keep feeling it. You groaned at the sweet taste of his slick, the vibrations further stimulating his sensitive sex.

Your hands perched on his hips while your mouth got to work. The relentlessness of your tongue in his aching hole and clit shot him straight to cloud 9. Shivers ran down his spine and his body trembled as the knot building in his womb got tighter and tighter until it snapped.

"Mmgh- m' gonna- oooh fuuck fuck fuck"

Drawing his eyes shut, he screamed out in pleasure, arching his back and throwing his head back against the pillows from the intensity of the orgasm. The haziness cleared away for a moment to fully take in the moment. His heavy breaths filled the room, though they were cut short when you moved up to slide your tongue inside his mouth, giving him a taste of himself.

Your hand squeezed his breasts teasingly before curling around his throat softly.

"Did that feel good?"

You ask, though you knew the answer to your question.

"Mmhm"

He replies with a fucked out smile. The menacing grin that curled on your lips shot straight down to his overstimulated cunt.

"Can I fuck you then? Promise it'll feel good"

He groans, picturing being spread open by your dildo.

"Fuck please"

He moans out. You smirk in return, you were definitely going to have fun with this.

[wandagcre]

it would be so hot giving sam a handjob 😩

beggin | sam carpenter 🔞

(Sam Carpenter x Fem!Reader)

You're a big fan of your girlfriend falling apart as you touched and stroked her in all the right ways.

WARNING: sam has a penis, handjob +18 / men & minors dni. Words: 880 Note: gif credits to scream-source

Sam is shy at first, she didn't know how to ask you about her needs. She's afraid of coming off too aggressive and selfish, gratefully only took what you wanted to offer to her. But thankfully, you always took it in your own hands (quite literally). Your attention dwindled with the show you were watching with your girlfriend and instead refocused on how your hands splayed, pads of your fingertips tracing patterns on Sam's stomach.

You move them underneath the material of Sam's shirt, enjoying how your touch was starting to make her spread goosebumps, trailing down to her hip bone that was now twitching and even lower - a mischievous smile spread on your lips.

"Mi amor..." a gasp escaped out of Sam, her tone quivering and she arched back a little as she felt your hands cupping her shaft through her boxers. "Are you sure?" she always double checks - it's adorable even though Sam was rock hard enough to feel the pain, your girlfriend makes sure that you were doing it within your comfort.

It made her even more desirable. Made you even wetter and dripping on your panties. You start debating where you wanted to feel Sam on you.

You lean closer, peppering her face with kisses. "Don't be silly. I want this," you assure Sam who nodded, her doe eyes beaming at you and begging - as you tugged down her boxers and freed her cock from its confinement. "So big and ready for me, aren't you?"

Sam nodded frantically, her cock already sprung at your touch and painfully slow strokes. The warm skin from her neck to her face had turned crimson. You hush her by lowering yourself to press a kiss on the angry red tip of her cock and Sam's whimper bounced within the room's four walls.

You see your girlfriend clutching on your wrist and the other on top of the couch, desperately trying to ground herself.

"I need you," Sam moves her loose hair out of her face, slicking them back. Her breathing was becoming erratic even more when you sat on her lap, released her cock from your hold and took off your shirt right in front of her. Sam's cock stood proudly and its length laid comfortably on your bare stomach. "Oh fuck, baby... Please, please! do anything, I'm begging you..."

You bite your lower lip, enjoying the sight of your now needy girlfriend. "Since you asked nicely, how do you want me?" but it wasn't a question, as you already planned what you wanted to do. Your hold on Sam's shaft tightened, giving it a hard stroke until you felt the prominent veins as you touched her. "Did you want me like this?" and you stroked her faster each time, you were rewarded with her uncontrollable moans.

"Yes, yes... just like that, fuck - mi amor!" Sam wailed as you kept your fast pace and her tip was now oozing with her pre-cum. It glistened beautifully on her skin and you were tempted to clean it up with your tongue. "T-thumb on the tip too, please."

How can you say no when your girlfriend is being polite? You did as Sam instructed, after stroking her shaft hard and all of its length, each time you moved up - your thumb extended to brush on the sensitive skin of her cock's tip. You looked amused with Sam's cum, viscous and stringing on your thumb and how it slowly got messy as you gave her a handjob. Every graze of your touch and stroke made Sam's cock twitch wildly at each time.

Sam helplessly convulsed at your gestures as you were so determined to pull out the best reactions out of her, hand wriggling hard on her most sensitive area, pulling, twisting at the base and almost squeezing. Better yet, it drove her insane as you also played with her balls.

"I'm gonna... gonna cum!"

Sam scratched deliciously on your thighs that was within her grasp and she trembled at the crook of your neck, you loved how Sam's voice was gruff and a slew of curses in her mother tongue escaped her mouth as she came hard - feeling as though she was fucking boneless and floating.

Her cum covered your dominant hand - one you used to get her off - and Sam's cock was a bit limp, somewhat still hard and twitching. You slowly stroked her more as she pulsated and as you pumped, strings of her hot cum followed; your mouth was agape as it squirted out on your still-covered breasts and the expanse of your tummy.

It felt so dirty yet so good, being covered in Sam's cum as her doe eyes remained to look at you hungrily and dilated.

"That was a waste," you quip at your girlfriend who was still breathing hard. "I should take you to my throat instead."

Sam groaned and the desire brewed once again on her lower stomach, as she was seeing your slender fingers scoop up the remains of her cum on your body and eagerly sucking them off to get a taste. Not to mention you were humming in delight like a pretty whore for her.

"Mierda..." Sam grabbed you by the thighs and kissed you all over your neck. "I'm afraid we're not stopping."

do not repost/translate on other sites. © wandagcre

[medusavsviperz]

Hi!!! I love your content so far, it's amazing ♥. If requests are still open could I ask for In heat/Mating season Dogday or Catnap x Fem!Reader?

Mating Season

warnings:smut,cussing

relationships: in heat!dogday x fem!reader

writing type: second person

genre: smut

it was spring in the playcare. all the children were running around, laughing, playing, really anything they could do. it was also the first spring since youve been dating dogday. wait- speaking of which, where is he?

you wandered around the center plaza of the playcare, asking around to see if anyone has seen dogday. you begin walking up to hoppy, who was playing soccer. "hey hoppy, have you seen dogday?" you ask, seemingly worried. "nah, usually he's with the other kids." hoppy seemed to he focused on her sport, so you decided to leave her alone. you turn around and faceplant right into bobbys chest. "shit.... sorry. what about you? have you seen him?" you were quick to question, obviously embarrassed. "sorry toots! haven't seen him either, have you checked his house?" bobby would respond, after you bumped into her. "oh, no actually, thanks! ill go check that now." you mutter, running off in the direction of dogdays house. as you walked on the street where all the critters lived, you couldnt help but notice how eerily quiet it was. usually kids would be hustling through there, but not today.

as you walk up to dogdays house, who was on the very end, you cant help but notice how all of his windows were blocked out. usually he would have them open, obviously for sunlight. you decide to ignore it, softly knocking on the door. a bunch of rustling can be heard, along with a few whimpers every now and then. suddenly, the door is opened, revealing a slightly different looking dogday than normal. his face was flushed, he looked like he was sweating, he was shirtless, and god... his sweatpants were loosely hanging off his waist, showing his hip dips. your eyes wander for a second, before returning to dogdays half lidded gaze. "puppy? are you alright?" he doesn't respond, instead he grabs you by the arm and pulls you into his house. he makes sure to close and lock the door, before staring you deeply in the eyes. "if i tell you something, do you promise to keep it a secret?" you nod, your seemingly confused gaze still wandering. "you know what spring is for animals right..?" he asks, looking off to the side. "dogday where are you going with this..?" you ask suddenly. he sighs, closing his eyes for a second. "its mating season angel." his eyes dart back and fourth between yours, looking for even a hint of discomfort.

"oh.."

"thats why ive been so distant recently. i didn't want to make you uncomfortable." he mutters, resting his large hands on your shoulders. it was your turn to be silent. instead, you kiss him softly, before pulling away. "it doesn't make me uncomfortable. and I'm willing to help you if you need me to.." his body goes tense, and his eyes widen. he can feel his arousal growing. it was already high to begin with, but seeing you, and all your glory, made him all the more needy. "angel... are you sure..? we haven't taken this step in the relationship yet." he was right, y'all haven't had sex yet. but it couldn't be that bad, whether you were a virgin or not, you doubt he would hurt you. "i'm sure dogday. im ready to take things a step further." neither of you had seen each other naked, but there was a first for everything yes?

he slowly but desperately nods, leaning down to kiss you passionately. his tall frame looming over yours as he does so. his hands slide down your waist, grabbing and groping every curve he can. his tail was slicing through the air so fast, that you could literally hear it. he gently lifts you up, and parts the kiss so he could see where he was walking. his vanilla scent wafts in the air, taking up every space it could. he finally makes it to his bedroom, softly setting you down on the bed. he looks at you with loving eyes, kissing you softly, and pulling away. he lets out a shaky sigh and reaches for the waist line of his sweatpants, staring you in the eyes as he does so. you look down in anticipation, in all honesty, you would think about how he would look naked quite often. embarrassingly often at that. he slowly pulls down his sweatpants, revealing his all too hard erection. you stare in awe at his massive size, reaching out to touch the tip with one of your fingers. "ohh...my god.." he whispers, more to himself than anything. he gently pushes you onto the mattress, and pulls your shirt over your head. he practically starts drooling at the sight of your perky breasts staring at him. his hand grabs a hold on one, gently massaging it. his other hand, reaches for your bottoms and tugs it off, leaving you in only panties. "you're perfect." he lets out a soft whimper and starts pulling off your panties with both hands, gasping at the sight of your glistening pussy.

he inches down onto his knees, using his large hands to push apart your thighs, holding the back of your knees in the air. you can feel his hot breath on it as he looks up at you for permission. with a slow nod, he licks a long stripe from your hole to your clit, sucking gently, and whimpering as he hears your gentle moan. his hands move from gripping the back of your knees, to gripping your inner thighs and pushing them apart for better access. at this point, his muzzle is soaked, and he's desperately eating you out like a starved man. you were approaching your first orgasm of the night, and he was needy for it. honestly, he was making more noises than you were. finally, the knot snaps, and you cum. he pulls away for a second to watch it ooze out of you, before diving back in and suck you clean. once he's finished he stands back up, leaning over you and crawling on top of you. he leaves pepper kisses all over your breasts and neck, and lands a kiss to your pretty lips. you can taste yourself on his mouth and tongue. "d-do you think it will hurt?" you ask wearily. he nods slowly, wincing a bit. "a little. but ill try to make it easier." he says, rubbing smooth circles on your lower stomach. you slowly turn on your stomach under him, so he crawls off to let you get into position. he watches in awe as you get on all fours, breasts pressing against the bed and ass in the air, showing everything you've got to him. "you're such a pretty girl..." he mutters, sliding a hand to gently massage your ass cheek. he moves into position behind you, gently leaning down so that his chest is pressed against your back. you can feel the lengthly tip caressing your entrance. you squeeze your eyes shut, scared for the pain. he pushes in at an agonizingly slow pace, reaching his hand around to rub your clit with soft motions. he gives it a few minutes before he starts thrusting. his pace was still slow; but god did it feel good. you moan loudly into the pillow, his length filling you entirely. you almost let out a giggle, because you can practically hear his tail wagging and slicing through the air.

he begins kissing you on the back, trailing it up and to the back of your neck. he pushes your hair to the side, and bites down gently on the skin. you let out a slutty moan, urging him to keep going. he bites slightly harder, your moans egging him on, as his pace quickens. his balls started smacking your clit just right, and his dick was hitting your g-spot with ease. it wasn't long before you were cumming again, clenching and unclenching around his cock. you notice how his thrusts get more sloppy, signaling he was close. he was letting out slutty whimpers constantly, his heat only making him all the more aroused.

"where do you want it angel...?" .... "inside." his hips still, and he seems confused. "uh? are you sure..?" he asks wearily. "fuck... please dogday." you whimper. his pace starts going faster than ever, skin on skin slapping filling the room. soon, he was a whimpering mess, his load shooting deep inside of you. he still managed to rub your clit, though his hands were shaky, it made it all the more better. one you were both finished, he gets up, not before watching the cum ooze out of you, then he walks to the bathroom to grab a rag. one he returns, he starts wiping you and himself down, cleaning up the remaining mess. "we can get a shower in the morning." he says while flopping down next to you. "definitely." you sigh, snuggling closer to him, and drifting to sleep.

mating season, wasn't over.

made by medusavsviperz

[milqueandsugar]

sneaks into asks again >:3c

any general nsfw headcanons for Adam, Lucifer and Vox maybe? since I saw you were trying out writing nsfw again!

🌼☕` Your Tea Is Ready `☕🌼

MINORS DNI

Includes / Adam , Lucifer , Vox

A/N - Voxs part was fighting me today, I'll post them later when I can get a more coherent thought out!

| ADAM |

Bratty bottom > Mean Dom

Someone had to say it and it clearly wasn't going to be him

He's inherently selfish, but he's also inherently prideful, it's this pride that keeps him from opening up about his interest in subbing

This pride however is also how you can get him into it

" Oh subbing is so hard, there's no way you could last without tapping out, being the top is the easy part of sex "

He folds instantly, just to prove you wrong and it has nothing to do with the fact he wants you to peg/rail him so so bad totally unrelated why would you even bring that up

Loud during sex, sub or dom this bitch shuts up for NOTHING he has no shame if someone hears

Likes when your loud too, he knows he's the shit but it's affirming to have you a moaning, screaming mess on his dick

Doesn't care much for actually talking during sex, he is NOT paying attention, no thoughts head empty yknow?

Does like when you pull or play with his hair though!

Also likes fucking you in somewhat public places, getting fucked though? In his house, in his room, doors locked, curtains pulled that side of him is for you ONLY

Hard no to pictures, he doesn't want others seeing you like that and he definitely doesn't want anyone seeing him like that

Doesn't mind a cheeky nude though !

Sends them before his shows, just to mess with you cause you know he won't be able to get back to you until hours later

Looooves when you show up for his signings afterwards and drag him back stage <33

May be while he still does it but that's between him and God

It definitely takes some time for him to come forward with his own kinks but he's absolutely willing to try yours no judgment, he'll try anything at least once

| LUCIFER |

Service top, it's not that he doesn't mind giving up control or letting you do as you please but he has such a drive to pleasure that he usually ends up taking control at some point during sex

Getting you off gets him off basically

Oral? Loves it! Loves giving head its his favourite hobby <3

Please tell him how good he is for you or how good he makes you feel, makes his head all thick with pride

Will fuck anywhere anytime

He doesn't have a particularly high libido but being an angel he's got mad stamina

Sex ends when something comes up or you tap out, he will keep you there for days if he could (and he's tried)

Hard no to any kinks that could do serious damage to you, he's an angel he can heal so so fast, you can't do that! He has this nagging fear that he'll hurt you, that he doesn't know his own strength

Doesn't mind getting hurt, as said he can heal whenever he wants to, just keep it away from his back

Wings are sensitive, it's a dirty dirty secret of his you only find out on accident and you've been abusing that knowledge ever since

Kissing down his spine? Hard. Grazing his wings? Drooling. Preening a loose Feather? Bent over the desk for you

Has so many sex toys he's willing to try, Ozzie's been giving him toys for holidays since the beginning of time

He has the first dildo ever made, it's displayed in his office somewhere

Loves cuddly morning sex, it's his favorite, kinky rough sex is awesome too, but he likes holding you and taking his time

Has all of you memorized and he treasures it, thinking fondly of your figure often

He's got three thoughts at any given time, ducks, Charlie, bending you over his desk after your third date when you licked the scotch from his bottom lip-

In his defense, you've got no right being that sexy, it's absolutely sinful