#he pleads for forgiveness he doesn’t have to plead for with them! he begs for love he doesn’t have to beg for!

[fruitydiaz]

like. not to say building a family with the 118 hasn’t taken work because it has. but when it matters it’s so easy. it took 30 years for the buckleys to “make an effort” with their kids and it’s not even an honest effort. all buck had to do on day one when he met bobby was say “everyone calls me buck” and bobby just nodded and said “welcome to the 118 buck.” all he had to do was tell eddie “whatever it takes for you to forgive me” and he said “i forgive you. that’s what it means to be part of a team.” all he had to say was “it’s me” and eddie let him in when he was broken on the floor. all he had to do was say “it’s me” and bobby told him the secret to his chili recipe. he doesn’t have to fight with them he doesn’t have to plead and beg for them to love him anyways they just! love him! point blank! end of story!

[gremlingottoosilly]

Maid-up problems (Konig x maid!Reader)

Konig goes to a maid cafe. Billions must perish. Tags and CW: yandere Konig, obsessive and creepy behaviour, Konig is a bit of a perv, colonel loser Konig, maids and maid cafes, general fluff, slight age difference, slight size difference, mostly from Konig's pov. AO3

— Welcome home, master. What your maid I get for you today, hm? König just died and went to heaven. Heaven consists of pretty girls running around in fluffy skirts, little aprons and putting on adorable headbands with white ruffles. Heaven filled with the smell of reheated pastries and pre-made snacks, with neutral sweet perfume and the stench of sweat from the customers. Heaven is filled with angels who run around in maid costumes and call him master – and all of this without going through the hassle of finding a cosplay-friendly prostitute in Vienna.

He honestly rolled his eyes the first time he saw the post about a new maid cafe opening in town. Horangi was the one to show him - the bastard didn’t even live in Austria and yet had followed all the news, maybe to only make fun of his colonel. He knows that the tiger has his dirty secrets too – ido girls, idol boys, some new band every week that he’d spend his paycheck to get all possible merch. Changing his gambling addiction to a k-pop one – all while his glorious commander is going crazy from the new maid hentai he just watched. Honestly embarrassing at his age…but he doesn’t care. He has money for the exclusive translations and elite figures – and he has some time on leave to visit the damn maid cafe. Then König meets you. He died, went to heaven and was greeted with an angel…no, a goddess. In a frilly apron, short skirt and adorable, albeit a bit embarrassed smile. You had your persona on – dorky and clumsy, useless little maid that customers liked to scold when you’d almost drop their drinks and then fake cry while apologizing. Some sadistic bastards like to play pretend by calling your manager while you’d beg for them not to. Some perverts with a hero complex would play into your pleads. König stares in awe as you drop the menu accidentally, not forgetting to show off your cleavage as you pick it up. Brushing it off with your finger, looking so tiny and shy…god, he fucking adores you already. — S…so sorry, master. Please, forgive me for dropping the- — It’s okay. Don’t worry, ja? 

He reaches for your hand, but you shoo it away. No touching – the cafe policy, as dumb as it sounds. He knows it’s for your own good, to protect you from perverts and creeps – but you shouldn’t be so scared about touching him. He would have to train you to do this after. nothing that a few touches of a good military discipline wouldn’t fix though – and he is very good at breaking down dumb recruits and annoyingly stubborn people. Oh. Right. He still kinda has to order. His gaze immediately flicks to the most expensive thing on the menu – an exclusive dessert, probably too sweet for his tastes. He will have to make do though – there isn’t much on the menu, certainly is zero alcohol so drunk guests wouldn’t harass the maid girls, and a tiny portion of an omelet with some ketchup hearts squeezed all over it certainly isn’t to his tastes either. No, König had his eyes – covered by glasses, of course, he didn’t want to show off his scars and the expression of a serial killer forced to work in mercenary forces to cute girls in ruffled aprons – on a different prize. You. 

And the exclusive photos and a hug from any waitress of the fine establishment that would come with this overpriced order. 

König has never seen the manager of this cafe, but he is ready to give them all money he has – just for implementing this feature into the menu. Just for selling off their girls to any customer who is willing to pay almost 50 Euros for a piece of a pretty regular cake and some coffee. 

You stare at his order for a few seconds, your mouth going agape. He is not hurt – it was weird, after all, for a guy like him to order something as silly as this. You’re probably weirded out, thinking that he accidentally put his finger on the order – but you know better than to ask again and risk him changing his mind. Your cafe gives off bonuses if guests want to take a picture with you so, naturally, you’re all smiles and nods, tilting your head to the side as you say, ever-so-sweetly, that you’d be back with his order. Now…is König ashamed of liking the pretty little maid so much? Not really, to be completely honest, he kinda adores having you around, and he’d pay even more for the opportunity to touch you. Too bad your cafe isn’t a front for some other body business – he’d be happy to raid it on the part of special forces and then save you from such a gruesome fate by making you his wife. 

König wonders if your cafe has themed days. Maybe catgirls, cosplay, maybe housewives. 

König wonders if he can get your number. Then his gaze falters to the reflection of his face in the screen of his phone – and, no, not going to happen. Not when he is fresh out of deployment, barely showered, and thrown a clean hoodie on which does very little to cover the smell of blood clinging to his body. It’s his cross to bear – his victims scratching at his ankles as the colonel sips on complimentary water from a pink glass and looks at all the other losers who coming to this fine establishment. 

You’re lucky it’s a slow day – if König saw you being so sweet and touchy with some other lousy customer, he might have shot the whole place up. Master does not tolerate his silly servant being so nice to others, after all. 

— Your coffee, master. 

He whips out a stack of bills already, way more than what he was supposed to pay even with the exclusive offer he ordered. Your mouth opens to stop him, to remind him of the actual price of everything – then he breaks whatever good intentions you had when he starts to speak, his voice muffled a bit because of his black surgical mask. 

— Do you have a boyfriend? 

Oh. 

Now, under normal circumstances, you’d yell for the manager to come and pick you up. You’d scream bloody murder and alert other girls and clients that you’re having a bad customer who is going into harassment mode very quickly – asking such personal questions at this place is something that shouldn’t be happening, no sir. Totally not happening. 

But…the work has been a bit slow lately. You didn’t get as many bonuses as you wanted to, and the rent is coming up, and the phone bill is getting more expensive…sometimes you just got unlucky and his a streak of customers not liking your particular archetype – so if this weird dude who is totally killing people in his spare time wants a bit more than usual service and is definitely ready to pay for it. 

You might have had a thing for guys in masks. Big, muscular guys in masks who looks like they can choke you with their thighs and then fucking destroy you. With money who can get you a bit closer to your savings goal. So, you’re not calling your manager, your friends, or the police. So, you play into the fantasy for a little bit, remembering all the acts your supervisors drilled into your head. — Of course I don’t, master. I’m here for you, remember? You smile and nod, hoping it will be enough. Hoping a guy like him could be satisfied with something as silly as this, something as tiny. You touch his hand a bit later, making sure to hold him for a while longer. A simple trick to enhance the amount of tip you can get – even tho you feel like playing with fire when you touch this guy so sweetly. 

And, oh, König is…done for. Smitten. Shot right in the heart through his cock, somehow. This man survived battle after battle, destroyed more small countries than there is letters in his real name, but he was defeated by a pretty girl in a maid outfit in a cafe made for incels and otaku wannabees. If any of his lower officers saw him right now, with ears and cheeks burning angry red, with his heavy breathing and obvious, but concealed by table hard-on, he would be done for. 

But, oh god, aren’t you just beautiful? 

Obviously embarrassed and maybe a bit shy – he thinks it’s probably just your persona, a way to milk tips from the customers who like to play dominant, but König doesn’t even need to play. He knows he’d have to take you by the end of your shift, whatever this time might be. He is not the best person for the romance job, but he’ll be damned if he let a pretty thing like you just run away like a silly girl you are. 

— Can I have your phone number? You want to say no, he can’t have your phone number. The guy smells of gunpowder and blood, looks like he is going to shoot the entire venue down if you disagree with him, and you do not want to die like a hero for a job that pays barely above minimum wage for the amount of public humiliation you have to endure to ensure good tips. The guy smells like danger and a bad time and a long conversation with your manager about the types of guests that they allow into this fine establishment. 

You want to say no and yell but, then again, there are multiple factors that are screaming against such rush decisions. A huge chunk of money he still has in his valet is, embarrassingly enough, one of the biggest decision-making points. — We’re not really allowed to give our phone numbers, master… His hand goes to his pocket. 

You’re not sure if he is touching his cock, his gun, or another stack of bills right now – but all of the options are kinda making you want to die before you can check your answers. It’s going to be bad either way, so you tilt your head to the side, trying to look as innocent as possible. 

— But I can make an exception! 

He actually startles, looking at you like you just agreed to marry him. You probably would, with enough bullet threats – but you still bite your tongue, not wanting to give the crazy guy an idea. You actually don’t know if he is crazy or not – but taking your chances isn’t something you want to do on a nice Monday dead work day. 

You can see relief in his eyes. A little wrinkles of smile, too – his mouth is covered by a mask, but you’re almost sure he is grinning like an idiot under this thing. Oh no…you just insulted a customer in your mind. It’s really bad for business. 

You write your number down and pass it right to his hand without anyone noticing…you hoped so, at least – you don’t want other customers to order the same special treatment and you know that the manager would have your head for overstepping the rules so much. No one would care that you’re saving this fucked up place from a massacre – they would only care about arbitrary rule-breaking. You lick your lips and smile as his hand lingers on you a bit too long. 

His hands are big and warm, too – you’re getting lost in the touch, as he carefully caresses the back of your palm with his thumb. He is…surprisingly tender. As much as a killing machine can be tender, of course – but you do appreciate a softer, milder touch. You do appreciate his hands on your body, caressing it softly and maybe even leaning you for a kiss and a quick…

Oh god, what are you thinking. You need to stop, immediately. 

He pulls from his table suddenly and you almost feel like you fucked up, somehow. Maybe he did wanted something a big more than what you were willing to give, maybe this guy wanted you in a way that was not friendly for the cafe – but he swoops you by your waist before you could say anything before your hands could go upright and smack him – and you stop right before hearing him saying the dreadful words. The words you wished he wouldn’t have enough money to say. 

God, this is hopeless. 

— Can I get my special offer now? 

König makes it sound like the special offer would include you on your knees, choking on his cock. König makes it sound like it would include you on your back, taking pounding from him while he tugs on your dumb apron and tells you to cry for your master. König makes it sound like the short skirt of your outfit was not covering you enough, he makes it sound perverted, horrible, utterly despicable, he makes it sound like…

God, he doesn’t have enough self-control for you. 

You just…look so scared. Nervous. You play with the fabric of your costume in your hands as the other maid – some faceless pretty thing for him, with his eyes glued to your side anyway – was making pictures. Polaroid, is overpriced for a couple of photos he will get…but he doesn’t care if he has to blow off an entire contract bonus if that means getting some bonus from you. 

He gets to hold your waist and it’s so easily to imagine digging his fingers to your sides as he fucks you with as much passion as he could gather. It’s easy to imagine his cock pumping into you, your tummy bulging from the sheer size difference between you and him – poor thing, you’d probably be terrified as he would force himself onto you. Maybe you’d clutch your little apron adorably and beg for him to stop. Maybe you’d ask him to be rougher and more passionate – to make you his in all sorts of ways. He just…he can’t imagine not taking you home after this. 

He hugged you, it’s basically a marriage proposal already. 

You try your best to ignore the way his hand slips down, almost to the point of groping your ass. You ignore it, the girl who is taking the pictures ignores it too. No one wants a scandal, no one wants to point this out – everyone knows how tips are made here, and you sure as hell won’t be putting yourself in danger just because you feel his giant hand fondling you through the fabric of your silly dress. You forgot the protective shorts too - so there is only a matter of underwear and skirt between his hand and your ass. 

Somehow, the sensation isn’t as terrible as you want it to be. Somehow, you feel like tips aren’t the only thing that keeps you from screaming at him. 

König died and went to heaven – this much is obvious. He is taking a picture with a pretty girl, he touches a pretty girl in maid's suit and she doesn’t even say anything to him. He just went out from a successful contract that would keep his pockets full for a few months and went straight for his savings, and he killed more people than the last week – god, life is fucking beautiful. He fondles your ass with his hand, other is awkwardly limp to his side, and he already knows that he will be a regular here. 

He hates getting his pictures taken – it’s normal for people in his line of work, being a mercenary and a socially active person isn’t something wise if you don’t want an enemy finding out where you live, but he doesn’t really care anymore – he will keep the pictures with you, hold it in his wallet and put a spare one in his vest pocket. You can be his little guardian angel, the pretty girl who is waiting for him to return. 

And he does have your number with him. 

— Are you happy with the pictures, master? 

You tilt your head and König forces down the urge to squeeze your cheeks and kiss you. They way you say this, the way you call him master – he simply can’t resist, not when you’re too fucking adorable to miss out on. He knows it’s inappropriate, he knows you’re just working here, but it doesn’t stop him from leaving a hefty tip and making sure you know exactly what made him leave so much. 

God, he can’t wait to make you his. 

König wonders if you’d agree to wear a skimpier outfit once you’re at the safety of his house. 

[mysicklove]

𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆

DAY 24: SPREADER BAR

With: Zenitsu Agatsuma

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: Sub! Zenitsu, gn! reader, crying, reader kinda is pushy but Zenitsu is fine with it, VERY sensitive Zenistu, overstimulation,

A/N: I hope i didn't take this too far. Reader is kinda pushier than my other fics, but idk. kinda nervous about this one for some reason. tbh, I'm not really liking any of my kinktober fics </3

Zenitsu squirms. Plain and simple. Kiss his cheek and he is giggling like a school girl, touch his chest and he is shrinking away from you with a whine, stroke his cock and he is accidentally closing his thighs together. It was just instinctual, he’s sensitive, and even if he likes the touch, he seems to struggle staying still and letting it happen.

So, you bought him a spreader bar. Zenitsu adores handjobs, but its always a pain to keep respreading his legs (You once slapped his thighs as a warning to keep them open, and he immediately sobbed and begged for forgiveness. You never slapped him again). It was good to take measures into your own hands. 

But, he happened to be a little nervous about it.

“Y/NNNNN. Is this really necessary?” Zenitsu whines, his face pink from embarrassment at being completely bare in front of you. You were clicking on the cuffs to his ankles, while he lays against the headboard. 

You kiss the inside of his knee, before moving up closer to him. “You know it is. How am I supposed to make you feel good if you keep moving away?”

He pouts and looks away. “Don’t mean to.”

“I know baby, you’re just so sensitive. I love that about you,” You coo, leaning forward to kiss his temple. You rest your hand on his abdomen, and he flinches, eyes flickering to yours out of nervousness.

He looks down at his open legs and covers his face. “So embarrassing.”

“Hmmm. It’s cute, legs spread like a little whore. Only for me, hmm?” He whines at the slight degradation, moving closer to you to seek comfort in your warmth. But of course, he agrees, slightly nodding and playing with his fingers.

Your hand moves down to his cock, and he lets out an airy breath. Immediately you hear the clanging of the cuffs as he tries to move. You grin, glad his thighs aren’t stopping your antics, and pump him once, and then twice. His hand grips onto your pants and he looks up at you with pleading eyes. 

You continue, now going faster, and he keens, back slightly arching off the bed. He tries to keep his mouth shut, but it gets harder with every second. A minute goes by, and he is already spasming.

“F-Fuck slow down–You know I can’t!” He isn’t used to this, he usually gets a small break in the moments you take to pull away his legs. A chance for him to calm down, to not let his oversensitive body overwhelm him.

His legs are trembling and flexing as they try to force themselves together, but can’t. You continue your merciless pace, and his mouth hangs open, moans and whimpers falling with every second. Tears have already begun to well up. “I can’t. Wait, please! I can’t! Too much. It’s too much!”

You slightly slow your pace at his words and watch the way the pre drips down your hands. His thighs are shaking and he is twitching. Tears begin to spill over as he finally has a chance to catch his breath. You rub his face, brushing the drops away. “’m sensitive! Can’t keep up. You are going too fast, Y/N!” He sobs, and you coddle his face in apology, glancing back at the way his whole body seems to jerk when you reach the head of every slow stroke.

You coo at him, murmuring sweet nothings into his ear, as the spreader bar clanks with his movements. “But doesn’t it feel good, Zen? Your body is so reactive. You just need to relax and let it happen.”

He looks up at you with crocodile tears in his eyes and lets out a couple of sniffles. “Well, it did feel good. Just scary. Don’t got any control over myself,” He warbles, burying his face into your clothes for comfort.

You smile at him and begin to pick up the pace of your hand again. His hand tightens into a fist on your clothing. “Let me take care of you. I won’t let anything happen to you. Just gotta relax for me, yeah?”

A second goes by, and then two. “Mhmkay. Just, try to be gentle. Please?”

“Of course. Doing so well, ya know. Being such a good boy,” You praise, and he lets out a happy hum, soaking up the words. 

You slowly make your way to your original pace, ignoring the way he jumps, or tries to hyperextend one of his legs at the feeling. He begins to pant, and he’s clutching at you desperately, trying to keep himself relaxed, but also grounded.

Eventually, you reach your original pace, and his knees are caving in. He wants to close his legs desperately, but he can’t, and his body is reacting immensely to the intense pleasure. “Fuck. Fuck. Its a lot. It’s too much!”

“How does it feel, Zenitsu?”

He thrashes around the sheets, crying again, but seeming to enjoy it more than before. He doesn’t look afraid, just simply letting it happen. “Good! Mhmmokay im okay. Just–Just hard. Cant….Think!”

The bed creaks from his sporadic movements, and you are even having trouble keeping your hands on him. His hips are turning from left to right, and his back is arching occasionally. His mouth is open again, and his eyes are hazy. “Can’t last. I can’t!”

The bar continues to rattle, and his legs continue to strain against it. You are even worried that he might break it from the force of his movements. “You can cum whenever you want, my love.”

He doesn’t respond, just nodding his head, with his eyes slightly rolled back. His hands can’t stay still, interchanging from clutching at you or the sheets, to holding onto his legs to try to help stop force against the bar.

With his upcoming orgasm, the pleasure becomes more intense, and he begins to sob. “Fuck. S-Sensitive. Oh god, feels weird! Gonna cum. Please please please! It’s too much again!”

“You already have my permission, Zen. Relax, let it out.” He nods into your clothing and clings onto you like a lifeline but listens.

He cums, and it’s much different than before. He can’t curl up into himself, as he usually does, but tries to anyways. His body goes stiffer than usual, and he lets out three high pitches, broken moans. He shuts his eyes and arches his back into you. The white liquid coats his stomach, but he can’t even feel it, instead focusing on riding out the waves. 

He looks cute like this. It seems like it was his strongest orgasm in a while, and you are intrigued by it. Your hand slows down, and forces out the last couple of drops from the tip. 

You accidentally overstimulate him, and his whole body jerks and he lets out a whimpering sound. You gulp and pull away, trying to think of other thoughts, because overstimulating Zenitsu may be adorable, but if he reacted the way he does with a handjob, you may kill the poor boy with anything more.

But he blinks at you, eyes red with tears. “Again?” He breathes, still twitching occasionally from the aftershock. 

You gulp again, not sure if going again would kill him, or you.

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[spookyxcupid]

imagine zenitsu being infuriatingly jealous whenever you’re around other guys that aren’t tanjirou and inosuke to the point where you’re done with his bullshit and try (and succeed) to get it through his head that he will always be yours by fisting his weeping cock until he has cum for the 3rd time and is a sobbing mess. he’s apologizing profusely and begging for a break, but he doesn’t use his safe word. which means that he’s relishing in the attention that you’re giving him and is enjoying his punishment.

zenitsu’s crystal looking tears stained his flushed cheeks as he tugged on the ropes around his wrists that were tied to the headboard above him. he wanted to feel your skin so badly, but he knew better than to actually attempt to break out of them. his hips make tiny thrusts up into the tight ring of your hand as he feels his next orgasm getting closer.

“pleasepleaseplease, can- can i cum again? your hand feels so good!” zenitsu pleaded, his eyes closed shut as he shudders to your experienced fingers. you tsk at the sight of your boyfriend not learning from his punishment and purposely slow the movement of your hand, zenitsu predictably whined at the action. “don’t forget why you’re here, baby. don’t you have something to say to me?” you ask pointedly, your gorgeous eyes piercing his soul that he doesn’t bother denying.

“i-i’m sorry for being jealous- ah!- and for believing you would l-leave me! please forgive me, i love you— HAH?!” zenitsu’s apology was cut off when your furious stroking continued, you brought your free hand to grab zenitsu’s cheeks and pull him into a short, but loving kiss as a reward for admitting his mistake. zenitsu pants like a dog when you pull back, his brown eyes staring into yours with so much adoration and love. “good boy. i love you more, always. cum for me.” you command, and zenitsu’s reaction is instant.

his toes curl and his eyes roll back to his head as he finally climaxes all over your fist with a blissful moan escaping his lips. you untie his bonds and straddle his waist, your ass facing his soft cock. “you got one more left for me, love?” you ask, zenitsu only has to take one look at your nude body before he’s hard again. you giggle when he nods his head furiously, you lift yourself up to line up the head of his cock along the lips of your pussy before shifting down to take his fully. you both let out enjoyable sounds of pleasure as zenitsu holds onto your hips with shaky hands.

even though you popped his cherry a long time ago, he still acts a sex deprived virgin. it was immensely adorable. “silly zenitsu, i would never leave you for anyone. not when you make me feel this good.” he didn’t last four thrusts until he spilled inside you.

[rusted-soda-can]

What broke me about episode six of good omens:

- Crowley having to look up and tilt his head so his tears didn’t roll down his cheeks

- the amount of times Crowley’s voice cracks or stutters during their conversation/confession

- the obvious affection but also annoyance in his voice when he calls Aziraphale an idiot

- The way that Crowley acknowledges the fact that if he doesn’t get everything off his chest right now he’ll probably chicken out later

- how hopeful Aziraphale seems when he gets the “good news” from the Metatron because all he’s thinking about is keeping Crowley safe

- the fact that they want to be together so badly but it’s ripping them apart

- the fact that neither of their plans is going to be very affective in the long run

- Aziraphale doesn’t fully understand the atrocities of heaven, he doesn’t know how much pain Crowley went through while falling

- when Aziraphale said, “nothing lasts forever,” what he meant was, “material objects don’t last forever, but we do, and I’ll give up as many books as I need to in order to stay by your side,” but what Crowley heard was, “We aren’t going to last forever,”

- the desperate way in which Crowley kisses Aziraphale, almost begging, asking, pleading Aziraphale to understand everything from the kiss

- Aziraphales wanting so bad to kiss Crowley back but everything is just wrong, it’s not happening the way he wanted it to, his hands struggling to decide weither or not to pull Crowley in or push him away

- the way Crowley says, “don’t bother,” when Aziraphale forgives him, he isn’t sorry for his actions, and he certainly isn’t sorry for being in love with an angel

- the soft way in which Aziraphale touches his lips with his hand, almost preserving the kiss

- and how Aziraphale hesitates after the Metatron asks if he’s ready, he really doesn’t want to go without Crowley, but he doesn’t want to stay without Crowley either, so he ends up leaving, forcing a smile on the way out

[rinslutz]

Can i order uuuhhh a dose of second chance romance with satoru? You broke up with him because his ass cheated but now that you guys are starting over, you can't help but still doubt his efforts. (having massive trust issues) but he of course promised to do whatever it takes to gain your trust again. Lots of reassurance pls. We love a devoted Satoru ☹️🤞

ᥫ᭡ “AFRAID” — GOJO SATORU

ㅤꞋꞌꞋꞌ fem!reader, hurt/comfort, exes to lovers, mentions of cheating, gojo pleads on his knees, gojo is pathetic, reassuances

a/n: anon…you awoken something in me. this is much longer than i wanted it to be and its a bit more than you asked for, sorry.

2 weeks 4 days 15 hours 56 minutes 12 seconds. that’s how long it’s been since satoru last saw you. he wishes he hasn’t been keeping track of the time but it’s the only thing keeping him from succumbing to his sadness. he hates himself for being sad. he doesn’t deserve to feel sad. all of this is his fault.

satoru has been wallowing in his self pity for the past 2 weeks. if he didn’t have a class to teach, he’s sure he would never move from his bed. school and home. those are the only two places you’ll find satoru. so when suguru notices that he hasn’t seen his loser best friend in 2 weeks he “kidnaps” him as satoru claims.

“have you even tried talking to her?” suguru asks nonchalantly. satoru’s nose crinkles in annoyance. why would he ask such a stupid question?

“she doesn’t want to speak to me.” satoru says dryly. this conversation is already starting to frustrate him. he runs his hands down his face.

“did you try though?” satoru is convinced that suguru’s only goal right now is to annoy him. if he wanted to talk about his failing relationship with him, he would’ve called him weeks ago.

satoru sighs obnoxiously, “of course i haven’t. she probably doesn’t want me within 10 feet of her. she hates me.” saying that aloud for the first time makes his eyes burn with tears. he rubs them furiously, not wanting to cry in front of suguru.

“so,” suguru pauses to chew the chips he’s been snacking on the whole time. “you mean to tell me you cheated on your girl, she kicked your ass out, and you’re not begging on your knees for forgiveness right now?” suguru’s statement and the crinkling of his bag of chips send satoru’s annoyance into overdrive. he snatches the bag from suguru’s hands, balls it up, and throws it into a nearby trash can.

“hey, don’t get pissy with me because i’m right.” suguru holds his hands up in defense.

satoru doesn’t reply. he is right though. satoru has convinced himself that he should try to speak to you because you wouldn’t want to hear it anyway. in reality, he’s afraid. afraid to face you. afraid to get confirmation that he has lost you forever. but if there’s even a slight chance that begging on his knees would work, he would do it immediately.

you hate him. you hate how even after what he did every part of him, every memory you made with him, every time he told you he loves you, still occupies your brain. the stupid smile still pops into your brain when you’re having a particularly bad day. you wish with some much in you that picturing his smile didn’t immediately make you feel better. it was that smile though. the smile that’s only reserved for you.

you wish you hated him for cheating on him. you’re just hurt. your chest hurts every day. every morning you wake up with sore red eyes from crying yourself to sleep. you hope he’s been crying himself to sleep too, though you doubt it. as desperate as satoru usually acts you expected him to try and contact you. at least once. you got nothing and somehow that hurt more than his infidelity.

the quiet night you’re having is interrupted by the loud and persistent knock at your door. you have no idea who it could be at this hour, so you don’t move immediately. maybe it’s a neighbor wanting to borrow something. if you don’t move maybe they’ll think you’re not here.

“baby?”

your head snaps to the door in surprise. almost immediately, tears spring to your eyes. it hurts hearing his voice for the first time in 2 weeks. you don’t move. you want to open the door but you know you shouldn’t.

“please…can we talk?” it's rare to hear him speak this softly. satoru’s loud knocks begin to soften. you reluctantly get up from your spot on the couch to open the door. you open the door but not all the way, only enough to see his face.

he stands there with red-rimmed eyes and tear-stained cheeks. he stands there awkwardly. not sure what to do with his arms, they lay flat at his sides.

“can i come in?”

“leave.” you choke out. you refuse to cry in front of him.

“i can’t.” he steps closer to you. “i need to talk to you. i…i need you.”

you wish you didn’t say that. you wish he didn’t sound so broken when he said it. and because you’re weak for him you let him in. even though you let him in you don’t let him more than 3 feet inside.

you two just stare at each other for moments. his eyes rake over you, taking in every part of you. it felt like an eternity since he’s seen you, he had begun to convince himself that he forgot what you looked like. a stupid thought since he often stared at the small picture of you he kept in his wallet.

“i’m sorry.”

you laugh at that and satoru feels like everything is already falling apart. he’s already messed up. your bitter laugh makes the tip of his ears redden and burn in embarrassment.

“you’re sorry? that’s what you came here to say?”

he wants to tell you that it’s not true, but he didn’t come here to say sorry. he is sorry whether you believe him or not.

“you fucked someone else but you’re sorry so it’s okay right?” your voice is harsh and bitter. and if it weren’t for the tears streaming down your face he would assume you’re just angry. you’re hurt instead and he’s the reason why.

“no that’s not what i’m trying to say.” he shakes his head softly, “it’s not okay. i did the one thing you told me you could never forgive me for.”

if you didn’t love him you would laugh again. if you didn’t love him you would kick him out right now. but if you didn’t love him you would feel empty right and somehow that’s much worse.

“i am sorry. i wish i could explain why i did it-”

“cheated. you cheated. instead of saying “it” say the word gojo.”

he swallows that lump forming in his throat. the way you said his name burned his ears. the bitter tone and the fact that it was his last name.

“i cheated and i regret it so fucking much.”

unconsciously he reaches to grab your hand. when you don’t pull away, he grips your hand tighter. if this is the last time he ever gets to touch you, any part of you, he wants to remember the way your soft skin feels against his. he wants to memorize the way your hand fits perfectly in his and the way your hand warms his cold fingertips.

“i love you so much and i need you. i know you don’t need me but i don’t know what i’m doing. i-i can’t think straight, i can barely breathe when i’m not near you.” he has to swallow again to keep from crying.

“i hate you.”

“i know. i hate me too.”

when you don’t say anything satoru thinks he’s making progress. your eyes don’t hold the anger that they once did. then you pull your hand from his and satoru swears the earth shakes. he pulls his hand back to his side. he clenches his fists, his fingernails pierce his skin. he hopes the pain will distract him from the pain of his heart being ripped out of his chest.

“please,” he says weakly.

you don’t want to give in. he’s done nothing to deserve your forgiveness. you hate yourself for wanting to pull him against you to wipe away his tears. you hate yourself for wanting to forgive. you hate him for sounding so sincere.

“how can i ever trust you again?” satoru doesn’t know how to answer that. you shouldn’t trust him again. satoru is confident that he’d never betray your trust again because the pain of being apart from you like this again very well might kill him. and he’d rather died than hurt you again.

he knows that there’s so way for you to be certain that he won’t hurt you again. you can’t see into his brain or his heart. you can’t see the way his soul yearns to intertwine with yours again, forever.

before he can answer suguru’s stupid voice fills his head. “you mean to tell me. you cheated on your girl, she kicked your ass out, and you’re not begging on your knees for forgiveness right now?” he knows he deserves to beg on his knees. you deserve to have him pathetically beg for your forgiveness.

so, without another word, he bends down on his knees. he grabs both of your hands in his and looks up at you. his heart beats heavily in his chest.

“i will never hurt you again. i promise. i will do anything you want me to in order to prove it to you.” his knees were already beginning to hurt. this pain is nothing compared to the pain he’ll feel if you never forgive him.

“you don’t have to forgive me. you shouldn’t. i’m just asking for a chance to prove myself to you.” he grips your hands tighter, afraid you’ll pull away again.

you’re sure you're making the dumbest decision of your life. you’re weak for him and you may always be. when you left him the night you found out he cheated, you left with your heart still in his hands. tonight, you’ll let him keep it for a little while longer.

“one chance. you fuck up even a little-” before you’re able to finish your sentence, your lips are pressed against him. one of his presses against the back of your head, keeping you pressed against him. the familiar warmth of his lips against yours makes you melt against him. you slowly and reluctantly wrap your arms around his waist.

a small sob slips from his lips, making you jump slightly. tears fall from his eyes again, wetting both of your cheeks. his arms grip you tighter, almost as if he’s afraid you’ll slip away.

“thank you,” he whispers against your lips

he’s late. for anyone in a normal relationship, this wouldn’t be that bothersome. unfortunately for you, you don’t completely trust your boyfriend. not a hundred percent.

it’s eleven pm and he was meant to be home an hour ago. you tried reasoning with yourself. maybe he is stuck fighting a curse? maybe the higher-ups forced him into doing something? you tried thinking of anything besides the one thing that’s nagging at your brain.

he promised and you believed him. you’re starting to think you’re an idiot for trusting him, trusting that he’d stay loyal. how could you have been so dumb?

you’re staying at his apartment tonight, per his request. he promised that he’d be home in time to catch the new episode of your shared favorite show. he broke that promise so what other promises will he break tonight?

you hear the sound of a key entering the door and seconds later it opens. satoru walks in quietly. there’s a certain look on his face that you cant read. you assume the worst. before you can think critically you shoot up from your spot on the couch and storm over to him.

“how was it?” your voice is bitter and you hate the way it cracks at the end. you hate the way your eyes are already beginning to burn.

satoru look at you, confused. he’s not sure what you mean or why you’re angry. he’s tired and he’s not sure he can deal with this right now. the events of today and the fact that he needed to stay at work later than usual is taking a toll on his body.

“baby, what are you talking about?” he reaches for you and you back away from him. for a second he feels the memories of that day flood his mind. the familiar way you back away from him, the familiar look in your eyes. you can’t possibly think that right now.

“no. hey, don’t let your mind go to that.” he successfully grabs your hand in his and pulls it to his lips. immediately you feel the harsh beating in your chest slow down.

“did you cheat on me?” you ask. you just want an answer now. you need to know if you’ll be leaving tonight or falling asleep in his arms as usual.

“no. i promised you. do you want me to get on my knees for you again?” the look in his eyes is unwavering. when you don’t answer he falls to his knees in front of you.

“a curse attacked a town and killed hundreds of people. it was pretty powerful and it took me longer than usual. that’s where i was. i promise.” he stares into your eyes. there is no hint of a lie to be found.

“i know it’s going to take you a while to trust me again. i will get on my knees every day and promise not to hurt if that’s what it will take.”

you feel like a fool even though you shouldn’t. he understands that you don’t trust him completely and he’s working toward that. you’re embarrassed even though he’s the one on his knees right now. you nudge his hand and motion for him to get up.

“i’m sorry-”

“no. you have nothing to be sorry for.” once he stands he grabs your face in both of his hands. one of his thumbs brushes against you bottom lip. his eyes are soft as he looks at you.

“i promise.” he doesn’t need to say what he promises. you know what he means. he pulls your face towards his and places a sloppy kiss against your lips.

“i love you.” you don’t reply but he knows you love him too.

©rinslutz

[kisses4kaia]

on my knees, foaming at the mouth, begging for more sub coryo

u guys are so funny oh my goodness😭 (slight au where sejanus did not die because we love him🥰) i got a bit carried away as you can see!! but that’s ok !!!! also, university!corio .. okok go read now plz enjoy and reblog :)

being the girlfriend of the winner to the plinth prize whilst simultaneously biting your tongue constantly was no easy feat.

every thoughtless, careless, borderline sexist, comment corio received from older men—and even some of your male peers—along the lines of, “oh, she’s a pretty little thing, isn’t she? bet you keep her on her knees, huh?” (whilst you were right there, mind you!), infuriated you beyond belief and typically made corio tense up and awkwardly brush them off.

because no, corio did not always keep you on your knees. as a matter of fact, it was quite the opposite. you had him on his knees, every night, begging and pleading for a taste of you. and if he was a good boy, he would get one. you were assertive, not cruel.

you so badly wished you could shut them down, tell them exactly how it is, but you still loved and respected corio, and you knew what might happen to his reputation if that kind of secret got out.

so you kept on biting your tongue.

and tonight, corio’s arm is snaked around your torso and his large palm rests on the small of your back.

you’re at a elite party he was invited to, making friendly conversation with clemensia and sejanus while throwing witty comments back and forth with your boyfriend, when all of a sudden, one of crassus snow’s old friends come up to the both of you and it goes how you would expect; however, this time, something’s different.

this time, he laughs boisterously and nods, agreeing with the crude comment the man made. coriolanus shakes his hand and says “oh, absolutely. would you expect any less from my father’s son?”

you are fucking appalled, and the astounded expression on your face doesn’t do much to hide it.

when the old man whose name you didn’t bother to remember finally leaves, corio finally looks down at you to see your narrow eyes shooting daggers into his.

you say no words and storm off, and he’s hot on your trail. “baby? baby, hold up, slow down!”

you heed no mind to his words, and only stop your stampede when you find an unoccupied bedroom and drag him inside.

it was glamorous, which was to be expected, considering the host of the party was volumnia gaul; she always was one for dramatic flare. the ceiling was high and the walls were crowned in gold paint. the layout was simple, there was nothing but a queen-sized bed, an empty dresser, and bare vanity gracing its presence, all but proving that it was not it use, and perfectly fine for you to punish coriolanus in.

“what the fuck was that?” your voice is scornful and with the way your face twists up and contorts into a look of contempt, he knows he’s in for it.

he stumbles over his words, trying to think of a way he can phrase his words to deescalate the situation, lessen the blow for himself. “i-i’m sorry. i don’t know what i was thinking. please, honey. please forgive me. i’m begging you,”

the last phrase causes you to look up at him before smirking wickedly, “are you?”

you can see it dawn on him, the realization that you really are going to make him beg—the proper way, down on his knees.

he sighs ashamedly before letting his knees buckle, right one hitting the ground, the left following suit.

the slicked back hair on his scalp gleams perfectly underneath the warm overhead lighting the small chandelier provides, and his glossy, devastatingly blue, eyes are boring into yours as his bottom lip begins to quiver ever so slightly.

“i’m so, so, so, fucking, sorry. i’m so stupid, i just didn’t want him to think lowly of my fathers kin. i fucked up, i know, just, please, please, forgive me,”

he sounds like he’s on the verge of tears when he speaks and you can’t help but revel in how hot this all is. having one of the most powerful men in the capitol at your feet, pleading for you, you have to work hard in order to conceal the ache between your legs.

“show me, then.” you turn around on him and walk to the bed, sitting, before crossing your legs and leaning back, dangerous, siren eyes inviting corio to crawl to you.

he doesn’t even hesitate before getting on his hands and knees and desperately pawing at the ground, trying to get close to you again. and when he reaches your sat figure, he grabs your ankles, uncrossing them and pulling your high heels off slowly, all before kissing his way up your calf, and up to your mid-thigh, where the slit in your dress begins. he looks up at you pleadingly, expression reading ‘may i?’ and you could praise him for being so polite if he wasn’t enduring punishment.

you nod slightly, raising your hips just enough so corio could hike your dress up, bunching up at your waist.

his eyes stay on yours, watching you intently as he pulls your delicate, lacy, black and pink, panties down your smooth legs, before gently placing them on the floor next to him.

when you part your legs ever so slightly, the eyes boring into yours spark up with excitement and hope. he finally breaks eye contact when he shuts his eyes and lays his tongue flat against your cunt, lapping up the ego-boosting amount of arousal that’s drooling from your achy hole.

he’s so perfect for you, timing his transitions between fucking into you with his tongue and sucking on your clit just the way he’s learned you like just right, never lingering too long on one part of you.

at this point, you have your legs wrapped around his head tight, nearly restricting his facility to breathe, shamelessly moaning and praising his ministrations. “fuck, yes corio! oh fuck, you’re gonna make me cum? yeah? so fucking pathetic,” you spit at him in between borderline moans so pornographic that you’re apprehensive that somebody outside of the four walls you’re in may hear you, but it doesn’t seem to bother you that much, considering the lack of you lowering your own volume.

and the sounds, the sounds are vile, fucking disgusting. his salivated muscle messily dragging all over your labia, his perfectly pouted lips making out with your pussy like he’s in love with it (he is). all of the insanely erotic factors of this moment don’t do anything to hold off your impending release, and with a weak cry of the boy beneath you’s name, sweet syrup leaks out from your tight hole lands onto corio’s anticipating tongue, and you can feel him smile against you at the taste of it.

he drinks it all down in no time and when he continues to lather his tongue all over your clit, not seeming to want to be done, you have to physically pull his head away from you as a result of overstimulation.

he frowns but when he sees the look on your face, your exhausted, satisfied, fucked-out, face, he has to bite his lip to contain his smile.

“i did good?” there’s a special twinkle to his eye, and you find it all-enamoring.

“so good,”

“you forgive me?”

“yes, but next time you pull some shit like that, i’ll jerk you off under the dinner table, you hear me?”

[lazywrites]

Heyaaa i have a request of a Kurt x reader about a reader who's kind of a punk but has a soft spot for him

You are one lucky anon, i had something like that in the drafts already, she's not a punk, she's a total villain but still.

Nemesis

Kurt wagner x fem!reader (3.5k) Meet cute, reader is a villain

You were not looking for any forgiveness or any friends, your only purpose in Genosha was rebuilding and serving your fellow mutants, few are brave enough to look you in the eye, until one man takes the day to challenge you.

The budding region of genosha was still a work in progress, after the X-men and their lot left the island it was up to all the mutants on the region to simply find their own way to rebuild and organize as always, you came to the island only after you were sure they had left, no need to be getting caught up on their affairs, they would not be pleased with your presence around them either.

You relationship with the X-men and humans in general was shaky to say the least, it was very clear to you that after the last battle you had fought alongside Magneto, and against them no less, you would not be welcomed with open arms.

You had been severely disappointed in both Magnus and Xavier after the whole fiasco involving asteroid M, it was utterly ridiculous letting Magneto simply rope you into helping raise the asteroid only for him to drop it back into the sea anyways, it seemed like there was no safe place for mutants after that, not that you would have been welcomed by anyone, you were not even welcome in Genosha for a while until you proved that your gift would be suitable for rebuilding and moving the structures as the appointed leaders desired.

More than a normal outcast, you were labeled a terrorist and feared even by other mutants for simply refusing to beg and plead for humanity’s sympathy, if fighting for the liberation of your people was terrorism the sure, terrorist, villain, it doesn’t matter.

There was no denying your reputation was intimidading, but your control over gravity was the building crew’s best asset if they wished to finish this rail link system by the end of the week, you stood above the tunnel you were helping the workers to dig, right at the Apex of a crane and far away from the reach of anyone else, you looked down at the work site and tried to visualize what it would look like in a few hours, perhaps you could find a way to speed up the process even more. But then, you’d have to go down and speak to those pesky engineers, no matter, best to just stick to the outline they gave you, that’s what you were thinking until a peculiar noise sounded behind you.

You turn back only to see some kind of dark cloud, slowly dissipating, and there stood a stranger grasping onto the metal bars to keep steady, perhaps he hadn’t considered the height before impulsively coming up to talk to you, he steadies himself with both hands and feet and lifts his head to stare up at you with intense yellow eyes.

“Oh my, oh, this is high, Mein Gott, i did not consider the Wind either” Its not that you were startled by him in any way, but the way he came up so high only to speak to you was slightly intimidating if you had to admit, and you were not exactly in the mood to talk, so taking a step back was only natural.

It would have been a bad move if it were anyone else, but still you let yourself fall back a little, if only to teach this nosy stranger a little lesson.

He lunges foward while still trying to keep himself steady in the bars “No, no no, hold on, be careful my friend” He stops reaching and waving at you once he realizes you feet are not touching the bars at all, you had been floating all along “Oh, that’s good, umm...” He bends over again to get a grip on the bars.

“And you are?” You arch your eyebrow and speak in a rushed tone, wanting to shoo him away as fast as possible so you can go back to contemplating the massive tunnels you had yet to help dig on the ground.

He steadies himself once more, the Wind is blowing particularly Strong today “Kurt Wagner, at your service, you are very famous around here” that sure surprises you, you’ll admit.

 “Oh, am i now?”

After many years playing the villain you could confidently say you were never nervous around anyone, but his intense and bright eyes felt like they were studying your every expression, practically glued to your face since the first moment you locked eyes with this man, this time it takes a conscious effort not to shy away.

“Yes, i’ve heard all sorts of things, that you were involved in most of the construction around here, truly impressive” it’s getting harder and harder not to break away from his stare, you try to match it’s intensity, even if his eyes hold no malice there is no way for you to know about his intentions, he continues.

“I’ve just joined the council” he finally breaks the eye contact and you hold back a sigh of relief “Was surprised then, when they spoke of you, how you helped build the very room they were standing on”

“so?”

He smiles up at you, you have to admit he has an endearing smile, a wholesome sort for sure, definely not Hellfire club, you could tell they wouldn’t hire someone like him to try and recruit you.

“Haha” His laugh is not humorous, its more awkward than anything, now it seems that your stare is burning a whole through him “I simply wanted to see if for myself, from what i had known of you before this is unexpected, miss Nemesis.” So he even knows your alias, that earns him a smirk from you.

“Let me guess, you’re with the X-men?” his eyes widen just a fraction “Here to arrest me, hero?” You can see him trying to keep up the smile but now it’s more awkward than anything, you enjoy seeing him squirm.

His tail, which was mostly curved down behind his back to aid with balance swishes back and fourth in a gesture you can only assume is slightly nervous and he nods his head enough for you to understand. But you don’t exactly feel like fighting anyone especially at this time of the day “Don’t worry, i am here simply to contribute.”

He shakes off the awkward air pretty well, but the tail still betrays that he is nervous around you “Well, i simply wanted to see for myself, don’t worry, i am not so judgmental.” He tilts his head to think for a moment “Still i must say my friend, this is a very unsafe place to work, perhaps we can chat somewhere else?”

For the first time in this day, perhaps in the whole month, you try to be nice to someone you’re talking to, making an effort to smile down at Kurt, and he smiles back “Fine, i’ll get you down”

You know that the man has at the very least some very good mobility and could get himself down even if it took some time, but he’s one of the X-men it seems, and if you’re not going to fight him you will at least mess with him a little, before he can properly answer you fly towards him and wrap both of your arms around his torso “Ready?” you say it right next to his pointy ear and feel his body shudder, it seems cruel but making people squirm is your favorite pastime.

“Ah, Miss Nemesis i could get us down as well, you-“ you cut him off before he can suggest anything “Nonsense, i won’t let you fall, hero.” He squirms again in your embrace “and a member of the council deserves preferential treatment, yes?”

And then you fall, you both fall.

But of course you can fly, no sane person would climb up 95 meters without being able to fly, hopefully Kurt also had that notion in his head.

You expected him to be screaming and clinging onto you terrified like the other poor souls you have subjected to this before, but he seems to be enjoying himself, much to your surprise he even lets go of your back to feel the Wind in his hand and smiles wide at you, you can’t help but smile with him, but only for a moment, you have an image to mantain.

Before you can both reach the floor by a few meters or so you gently float down and nudge him towards the ground so he can step down first, he’s still chuckling softly under his breath when he looks up at you “While i disagree that council members should receive better treatment, i can’t truly say that it isn’t fun.” And that earns him another smirk from you.

“So, now that things are as you desired, will you tell me what you really want, Mr.Wagner?”

He’s awkward again, seems not even a moment of levity is enough to loosen his tongue, he clears his throat and runs a hand through his now disheveled hair, which seems to be perpetually in shadow.

“Ah, yes, i am here for the communities of Faith and thought to invite you, you know...” You don’t know, while you had a few encounters with religion, Human religion, you were never faithful or pious and in the times you’ve tried to be, it never ended well for you. That piques your curiosity more than anything he’s said or done so far, you and Faith in the same phrase.

“Invite me where?” You sharply question, to you it seems like he’s going to turn around and mock you at any moment, and you ready yourself for it.

“To our first gathering i hope, it might seem strange to you my friend but your work is greatly appreciated by, well, by most of us here.” and as angry as you’d like to be, as much as you thought you would have to threaten to crush his head you can’t bring himself to, that endearing fanged smile is back on his face and his eyes are once again burning a whole through you.

“And you want me join your sermon or something?” you scoff at him

“Precisely!”

“wait, are you the actual priest?” You arch your eyebrow, the sermon comment was more ironic than anything.

“Well, in certain ways, its more complicated than Worth explaining my friend.” You can tell that your curiosity is contributing to his expectation, he really seems to want you to go for some reason, you try to think of a way to shut him down without being so rough.

“Well that won’t work, joining in with a crowd of pious fools won’t be enough to get me into heaven, hero.”

He raises his head even more and looks you right in the eye, his smile is now tight lipped as if in defiance of you. “The only fools are the ones unwilling to listen miss Nemesis, anyone can be redeemed, they only have to work for it.” And you know he is talking about you.

“Now i know what you will try to say, but you have always cared for your people haven’t you?”

That softens you somewhat, few truly acknowledge all you’ve done for mutantkind, save for perhaps Magneto, and that is why you were willing to aid him in his schemes, even if they rarely pay off.

“I have? I-“He interrupts you once more.

“So you will see, that all the hard work you’ve put in this city is paying off, we’ll meet on that empty building right beside the fountain, it would be great if you... you know” And you sincerely consider it, perhaps it would not be so bad, if only to see this strange man again.

“At 8PM, you’ll know it when you see it.”

“A little late isn’t it?” You question, only to divert his attention from the fact you don’t have anything clever to say.

“It’s the villain special” he narrows his eyes and his smile turns smug after saying that, and then he’s gone in a purple cloud that looks surprisingly beautiful, but with a somewhat unpleasant smell, leaving you stunned.

What a little shit.

You do end up going, and not going at the same time. The rail link takes so much work that when you reach the fountain his ‘sermon’ is almost over.

From what you’ve deduced it was mostly an introduction from him as the new neighbourhood friend or something, you recognize one of the buildings you’ve helped lay the foundation to, well lit with candles and full of pious fools just like you had imagined. You wouldn’t dare going in, with your current uniform that made you look intimidating and powerful now dirty and opaque from all the soot you had to raise up, this was a hard day of work, a few others passing by the fountain stop to look at you as you float down and approach one of the building’s windows.

You press your hands against the glass and peer inside, there are so many different mutants in there, all seem to be engaging in friendly conversations with one another, they seem at Peace, it’s... curious.

Kurt is there too, surrounded by people, they seem to be paying attention to what he’s saying, every word, just like you did earlier today when he called you a fool, he seems to truly have a way with words. The weight of the day’s work seems to finally catch up to you and you decide to give in and finally sit, leaning your back against the window until you are under it sitting against the wall, and for that moment you understand the fools inside, the athmosphere is peaceful and it makes you almost drowsy.

You close your eyes and listen to the gentle murmurs inside until you lose track of time. When you finally come to they are all walking out, or were, the first few that have walked out stop dead in their tracks to point at you and whisper among themselves “Is that Nemesis?” ,”i had no idea people like her even believe in God.”, “Don’t say it like that, she’s done a lot of good.” “Done a lot of bad too”.

Even under their scrutiny you don’t bend, better to just lift your head and look them in the eyes fearless as always. You built the sidewalk and you’ll sleep on it if you want Dammit, that is until Kurt comes out.

“And Meine Freunde you all can come talk to me any time and-“ he cuts himself off when realizing no one is paying attention to him “Oh” he looks at you with wide eyes, as if he had forgotten he asked you to come, or was surprised you did.

Perhaps its all the work but you find that at that moment his stare is almost unbearable, the longer he stands and looks at you with all the others the worse you feel, this was definely a mistake, should you have simply strolled in as you would any other place? Or maybe you shouldn’t have come at all.

This kind of place, these kind of people, they’re not for you. So you take off and fly away

And away, until you can no longer see the glow of the candles, you land at a random rooftop next to a clearing and face the city, the city you helped build, the same city that wouldn’t really accept you, maybe if you had been more outspoken they’d understand where you’re coming from, but there are some things you will always be unable to change, you sit at the edge and stare for a few minutes.

That same pesky noise and smell from earlier today flood your senses, and you simply sigh.

“Come to get me down like i’m a cat in a tree?”

“If anything, you were the one getting me down from high places, Meine Liebe.” And you know exactly what he just called you, when you risk a glance at him he almost blends in with the night sky except for the eyes, and he sits down at the edge with you.

“I must admit, you are pretty good at your job, they seemed happy.” You don’t look at him anymore, you just say it and look down at your muddy boots.

“My-Uh, Thank you, i thought you weren’t there, thought that perhaps my finishing line wasn’t very enticing to you.”

You almost laugh at that.

“No, it was exactly when i was sold, maybe start with that next time” You can tell that he’s turned to look at you by the faint yellow glow his eyes emit, he’s staring again, what’s with him and your face?

“So...”

“So?”

“Why didn’t you come in?” He asks like it would have been the easiest thing in the world and you just have to scoff at that again.

“That would have been something, should i have let you baptize me as well?” as much as you would hate to admit it out loud, you do enjoy the back and fourth with him, even if its not the most interesting conversation you two could be having.

He’s still just staring at you, waiting for the confession as if you presence at his little event had been a promise, you are not a pious woman and have never been, you don’t need forgiveness.

Never asked for it.

“You heard them, that sort of thing is not for me, this is the path i’ve taken in my life, i will not lament now.” You open your eyes after just realizing you had closed them “it was nice, seeing them all together, back in my brotherhood times i heard so many complaints, about how they didn’t fit in, how the humans would just-“acknowledging this leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, and it’s not your place to complain anymore, that was a long time ago “I don’t know, treat us like we’re the demons.”

You can feel the faint glow of his eyes pointed somewhere else, so now it’s your turn to look at him, and his turn to face his feet “They’d stare at me too” and you can imagine that, in your eyes he’s incredibly handsome but to a human? They have no taste anyway.

“And you managed to forgive them?” He looks up again, now you’re both face to face.

“Who?”

“Humans, you’re one of the ‘good’ guys after all” and he smiles at you once again, when you look for long enough you find that his smile is almost catlike in a way you cannot yet define. “They must have been hard on you”

“Ah, that they were” he pauses for a moment “Judge not, and you will not be judged, condemn not, and you will not be condemned, forgive, and you will be forgiven.”

He’s managed to soften your heart for the second time this day.

“So, it’s their loss i guess” you sigh and continue “I can’t say i have much forgiveness in my heart for them”

“Are you open to it?” And you sigh again, not knowing if it’s because of him or not.

“Someday i might be, i have a reputation to keep up with you know” And he’s still smiling at you even now, his face is so endearing it makes your lips quirk up as well.

“I’m getting the impression your reputation is changing, at least around this city, miss Nemesis.”

“It sure will change if i keep sleeping on sidewalks and attending sermons” Now you start feeling playful, swinging your legs back and fourth in the air “How did you find me anyway?”

He leans back and reaches for something behind him, smiling at you with his fangs in full display, almost childlike and shows you a pair of binoculars, You simply scoff and turn away from him “unbelievable.” and again for good measure "ridiculous."

“It was quite difficult to keep up with you as well, Nemesis.”

“Y/N.” your turn to him once again

“Huh, y-yes, miss Y/N.” His eyes have widened again making the light even more intense right on you, they seem like two lanterns in the night.

“Can’t have you just calling me that all the time, it’s losing the edge, you know.”

You try and look up at the stars but his eyes are still on you, distracting you, making you nervous.

“And i quite prefer your real name, it suits you much better if you ask me” He seems to be very pleased just from learning something that simple, maybe he thinks he’s fixing you, you’ll let him dream for now.

“Will you be there next time?” he questions

“Nemesis won’t, but maybe Y/N will.” He laughs at that, more from contentment than amusement.

“I’ll be waiting at the door, we should definely get down, i think someone lives up here, meine liebe.” You shouldn’t let him get away with it, usually you’d threaten any random man who tried to refer to you like that, but he is far from ordinary or random.

“What? You want me to fly you down again?” You ask, not really expecting him to agree.

“Yes!”

You turn towards him and let your face betray that you are somewhat bewildered, he’s looking at you like your childhood puppy when you offered it a walk. Logically he only came up there to 'comfort you' at least in his mind, you knew it wasn't like that, but it would be of no use ruining the moment for him.

“I-You-Ugh, fine, I guess you are up here for me after all” and you stand up, waiting for him to follow you, you float upwards and lower your hand for him.

He grasps your hand firmly, his hand almost fully encompassing yours, and it is also surprisingly warm, must be the chill of the night air.

You think.

I'll definely write more villain reader, if anyone has any headcanon requests for a villain with Kurt i'm all ears.

[heavencanbeaprisontoo]

The Other Shelby Girl

Platonic!Shelby Siblings x reader

Headcanon/Imagine for a second Shelby Sister. Explores dynamics with each sibling based on of the reader were their older or younger sibling.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, mentions of war, violence, period-typical sexism, over-protective sibling drama.

Arthur

Older Sister:

You are the third most respected woman in Arthur’s life, which is greater than it sounds. First was Mum, then Polly. To be succeeded only by Polly in Arthur Shelby’s eyes is precious. He’s always looked up to you, but didn’t always show it. After the war, Arthur would come to rely on you heavily for emotional support. There were nights he would come to your home and no be able to speak. Where he would seem to turn back into a little boy, crying into your shoulder as he begs you not to speak of this to the others. When Arthur met Linda, you were one of the few to be supportive. You are Arthur’s greatest advocate, but his pride and Tommy’s influence make it hard to help him. When you have a family of your own, it’ll only make things harder. You often feel like you have to take sides. Still, you do what you think is best.

Younger Sister:

Depending on just how young you are, Arthur might try to put on like he’s your Dad. Arthur doesn’t always know how to talk to you. You’re just a young woman, he doesn’t feel like he can talk to you the way he does with John or Tommy. He wants to tease you and pick on you as he would with Finn, but he can’t. The moment you hit out your bottom lip and look like your feelings got hurt, Arthur is a flustered mess of a guilty brother. You might resist his attempts at being fatherly, or welcome them. Regardless, you can see that Arthur just wants you to know he’s a safe space for you. Maybe if you ask him nice enough, he’ll teach you how to draw horses like he used to. No matter how old you get, Arthur is the brother that still sees you as a little girl.

Thomas

Older Sister:

Before the war, Tommy only saw you as someone who nagged at him. The meddling older sister warning him away from throwing curses at people and fighting with the cops. After the war, you became something far more delicate than that. You became something like his conscience. That pleading voice that begged for peace and forgiveness that grows fainter every year. As adults, you swear sometimes he hates you. The way he disregards you and keeps you at arm’s length. In actuality, he’s only trying to avoid the shame your hopeful gaze gives him. It was you who tried to get the brothers to hide from the draft. It was you who told him getting involved in London affairs would be dangerous. You who told him not to accept anything from the Russians. You were always right. Always good. He also feels he must protect you because you know him when he was soft and weak. Aside from Polly, you’re the last person who ever heard him laugh.

Younger Sister:

He lumps you in with Ada without really meaning to. You and Ada are both younger, and are both girls. As such, you both have similar problems that have his head aching and his trigger finger itching. Two pretty girls tend to attract a lot of scummy men. You’re both so stubborn about not needing anything from him, which is bloody absurd. Of course you need his help. Whatever money you’re making doing legitimate work isn’t going to be enough to keep you safe. You have never gone on a single date without someone Peaky Blinder watching you. Arthur tries to give advice like he’s your dad, and Tommy drops rules on you like he’s your dad. He has absolutely said the phrase, “And where are you going dressed like that?” Tommy will kill your ex-boyfriends if asked, he already knows why you want them dead and he agrees. The only thing he likes more than you accepting his help is hearing you admit he was right.

John

Older Sister:

He is the little brother who reads your diary and eats your food after being told not to. As a kid, John was Hell on legs. As an adult, John is still Hell on legs but with children. Growing up, you spent a lot of time picking John up from police stations and headmaster offices. John stresses you out like he’s being bloody paid for it. But, he loves you dearly and you forgive him more often than you should. John has called you “Mum,” as a joke many times but it’s not quite a lie. As an adult, he is far more respectful towards you. He is one to bow his head when you lecture him about fatherhood and how his drinking is going to harm his children. John respects you enough to take his cap off when he enters your home. However, he’ll still gobble down any treats you’ve left out in the kitchen and have the audacity to say, “What?!” When you shout at him for it.

Younger Sister:

John will not only read your diary and eat your snacks, but he will loudly announce your crush the moment he finds out. Any reluctance Arthur has about picking on you is nonexistent in John. He is a fully grown man who is unafraid to tease you with schoolyard chants in public spaces. Has walked into your room while you were reading just to slap something off of your desk and run. John has spent so long as the younger brother, he has to get his kicks where he can. That said, nobody better say anything rude to you. Ever. One time, a mate of his simply repeated a mean name he had called you and John slugged him for it. Nobody is allowed to annoy you but him. John is obnoxious in an almost biblical sense, but he is the one to see you cry and ask: “Who did that to you.”

Ada

Older Sister:

Yet another sibling to boss her around. Excellent! Ada is one who would resist you trying to take care of her. She doesn’t want to hear your advice! She doesn’t need it! Until her first heartbreak and then she’s sobbing on your bed waiting for you to come home. Ada hates to feel dependent on others, but she does trust you. There’s something special about having a sister. You understand each other in a way your brothers never will. The fear that builds as a man walks a few yards behind you out in the streets at night. How every romance has that bitter taste as you think about all that you’ll lose if you were to get married. Ada gets her best advice from you, but you’re also her security. You were probably the one to start taking her to the movie theater. It’s likely that Ada imitates you subconsciously. When you got your hair bobbed, so did Ada. When you started wearing heels, so did Ada. She denies it, but it’s obvious that she follows your lead.

Younger Sister:

Might be a sad thing to say, but Ada didn’t think much of you until she had Karl. You were just this clinging little sister that everyone thought she was supposed to take care of. All you did was follow her about town and put your nose where it didn’t belong. Tommy probably found out about her and Freddie through you. You don’t mean to be annoying, you’re just lonely. Ada couldn’t see that until she had a child and a home away from Small Heath. The dynamic flips hard when Ada comes back to Small Heath. Ada is all about leading you in “the right direction,” and is very serious about your education. She essentially begs Tommy to set aside money for you to go to university when you express interest. You want to be in with the Peaky Blinders, though. Oh, God. You’re in your rebellious phase and Ada wants to shake you till you forget all about jazz and pretty boys with guns. You both adore each other, but you butt heads over where your life is going and who should have a say in what direction it goes.

Finn

Older Sister:

Between you, Polly and Ada, he’s almost got a mother. As a young boy, Finn has actually called for you as his mother by accident. It makes sense. You were often left in charge of him. To Finn, you are all that he knows. It’s often left to you to make sure he goes to school and stays out of trouble. You’ve spent many afternoons arguing with his teachers to give him a second chance. Finn needs that, someone to stick up for him. That doesn’t mean he always likes it though. Finn wants to be a gangster, like his older brothers. You want him to do literally anything but that. When Tommy, Arthur, and John, pick on him too much you are the one to back Finn up. He used to like it… until he was roughly twelve. What used to be you coming to his rescue has become you inadvertently humiliating him. You try to back off, but Finn makes poor choices for himself which require you to come save him. Therefore, the cycle continues.

Younger Sister:

You are the only one beneath him in the Shelby Family Pecking Order, and he lives for it. When Finn has a bad day, he takes it out on you. Why not? It isn’t like he had anyone else he can push around and be the boss of. So, he’ll cut your dolls’ hair, call you names, and make fun of the things you like. But only if there’s other boys who can see him do it. When he goes too far and you cry, he has to answer to all of your siblings and Polly. Finn picks on you to soothe his own ego. When it’s just you and Finn, he’s very quiet. You two can spend hours not talking but be perfectly happy. Finn likes to turn on the radio and just sit, listening to music or the results of a boxing match. Sometimes, he vents to you about how Tommy wouldn’t let him do this or do that. You always listen to him. Finn usually takes these quiet times to apologize for past pranks or insults. You always forgive him. It’s odd to you how your accepting of his apology seldom puts him in a better mood. Truth is, he’s very jealous of you.

[a-dumb-sarcastic-bisexual]

More Nimona headcanons because these dorks have taken over my brain

I feel like Nimona tried really hard to hate Ambrosius

The first month they knew each other Nimona tried so hard to antagonize him and poke fun at him and remind him of the shit he’s done wrong 

But it’s kind of hard to hate someone who’s slow to anger and quick to forgive 

Reminding someone of their past mistakes with the intent to hurt them kind of stops being fun when the person is constantly aware of their mistakes 

And owns up to them without making excuses and is constantly trying to undo the damage their mistakes caused  

After a while, he grows on her and she starts to trust him and in return he trusts her

This one is based heavily on me and my best friends 

Nimona and Ambrosius will talk shit loudly in public 

They won’t use code names and if they don’t know the person they’ll start describing them like “Did you see that dude in the yellow shirt? He just pushed that kid out of line what a dick!”

They won't check to see if the person is out of earshot either they simply don't give a fuck

And this gives Bal so much fucking anxiety enough that he starts pleading with them to stop

You hear them going off about something and Bal saying “Ambrosius love hun sunshine I’m begging you to keep your voice down” 

“Nim Nimona starlight hi I would like to remind you that they’re still behind us and I don’t want to explain to Ambrosius why you’ve gotten into another fight this week so please stop” 

To which Nimona responds with “Tell him he’ll probably laugh”

Whenever Nimona and Ambrosius want to rant they rant to each other 

Because Bal is the type of person to give advice in the middle of a rant 

Talking some “If you explain this to them in a calm and compassionate manner I’m sure they’ll stop”

And while that's excellent advice sometimes you just want to scream your most unhinged thoughts at someone 

And they never judge each other either 

Nimona can look Ambrosius dead in the eyes and go “Have you ever gotten so angry during an argument that you’ve considered lighting their car on fire?” 

And Ambrosius won't even think about it he’ll respond immediately with a “Who hasn't?” while Bal slowly backs out of the room and silently vows to hide his car the next time they fight 

Whenever Ambrosius comes home from a stressful day at work he just walks into the house and lets out the most dramatic drawn out sigh 

And whenever Nimona hears that noise they’ll run to the living room and sit on the couch patiently waiting for their daily rant session 

Whenever Nimona gets home and wants to rant he’ll walk around until he finds Ambrosius

And if he can't find him he’ll sit by Bal and stew in his anger while he waits for him to come home 

He can't even take one step through the door without Nimona saying something like “How dare you make me wait” 

And Ambrosius will always respond with something like “Oh I’m so sorry firecracker it’ll never happen again”

And encourage them to tell him the information they’ve been patiently waiting to spill

Bal doesn’t rant unless he’s literally at the end of his rope

Like you have to royally screw him over for him to go home and rant to his family 

When he finally rants to them they don’t make a big deal out of it 

But they do however try their best to take care of him without raising his suspicions 

Nimona will conveniently make Bal’s favorite dinner 

Ambrosius will just so happen to pick up his favorite dessert on his way home (cause they both know the signs of a Bal rant and they plan accordingly) 

They listen to his rant and let him eat his favorite food in peace while they play his favorite movies 

You know real wholesome shit 

All the while they’re coming up with plans in their head to destroy this person's life

[strawberri-blonde]

He’s Mine - Neteyam

Photo credit to the beautiful , the amazing @cinetrix

Summary: Some people think you don’t deserve Neteyam and you have them begging for forgiveness

Warning: Graphic content. Blood. Fighting. Rough language. Dirty Talk. Illusions to smut. Breeding kink? Lmk if you see anything else.

Masterlist

Everyone knew that you and Neteyam were tied together. Every since the first hunt the two of you went on with other Na’vi your age, who was trying to prove their self worth to the clan. You and Neteyam were paired together and you two managed to hunt down a hammerhead titanothere also known as an ‘angtsìk. For two young adult Na’vi, to hunt these massive creatures at such an age, the clan knew you’d be a perfect fit. Even Eywa showed her blessing from her seedlings. Whenever you and Neteyam would take a midnight stroll in the beautiful forest the essence seeds danced from the both of you like they were celebrating your Union. However, the both of you weren’t mated yet. Neteyam was a traditional man and that made you love him even more. “Just a few more days, yawne.” He whispered in your ear before pressing a kiss to your forehead in front of anyone to see.

At first, it was weird to see the two of you together because of your hard exterior. Your father Tsu’tey had raised you to be a strong warrior who’d let no one see your emotions and you did just that. But Neteyam was the exception to this rule. When y’all were alone you’d always shower him with kisses, you even prepared all the meals, making him lunch then wrapping them in razor palm leaves to insure the freshness and the thick leaves should keep the food safe for your mate to eat whenever he pleases. You even loved helping him braid and wash his hair. You couldn’t help wash his body despite you begging some nights, because like I mentioned earlier Neteyam is a traditional man. He wanted to wait until the next eclipse and you were more than happy to wait for him. Your only goal in life was to make your future mate happy, that’s why it had your blood fuming in rage as you listened to the group of Na’vi who attended your age group in the training sessions to speak down about your feelings for the future Omaticaya Olo’eyktan.

Your lips curled downward, and your upper lip lifted, exposing your sharp fangs. A soft growl pushed its way from your throat as the group of three, a man and two women, spoke harsh words.

“She doesn’t even knowledge him in public.” Seeing the shorter stature and the slicked-back braids you immediately knew it was Katara, she was a beautiful Omaticaya woman with a strong forehead, and even stronger jawline. She always had her lustful eyes on your mate.

“Yeah it’s like she has this cold shoulder to everyone.”Azusa was Katara's friend, and the two girls were like sisters. Although she had softer features, and soft curls to match, you couldn't deny that she was a smart warrior. Her mind made up for her lack of physical strength, sometimes.

“She just thinks she’s better than everyone just because she’s a good warrior.” Bolin. The name left a bad taste in your mouth. He was always jealous that you were smarter and stronger than him. He especially hated that you denied him courtship. How could you, as a strong Omaticaya woman, ever mate with someone who was less than you?

“I bet Neteyam is scared of her. That’s why they’re not mated yet.”

“He wouldn’t be scared of me. Um, the things I’d do-“

“Katara.” You listened to Azusa’s playful scream as you crouched low, stalking your prey, making no noise to be heard.

“What who wouldn’t want the Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk’itan to keep them nice and plump full of his babies. I’d proudly walk around with his seed running down my legs. ”

That was the final straw, and it only got better that you were in the forest, away from the village, where even if someone were to scream and plead for their life, no one would hear them. It was as if Eywa had intended it to be that way.

As rage filled your entire soul, your heart started to beat like a war drum. Your blood pulsed, feeling it in your veins. They were full and ready, as the adrenaline hit you like a stampede of hammerheads pushing through narrow paths in the Pandora forest.

You were smart with your attack. Bolin was your first prey, because you knew to always take out the bigger “threat” first. Hiding in the leaves until the last second, you grabbed your knife and slashed the backs of his legs right in the creases of his knees, sending him onto his kneecaps with his screams echoing in the air. But not for too long, as you grabbed the back of his head to slam his nose right into your knee. Not only did you do it once, but you did it again and again, until you knew he was unconscious. You couldn’t feel pain, only the most intense anger.

“Bolin.” Azusa screamed in terror while Katara grabbed her knife ready to defend herself. Both of the girls eyes widen. When you're scared, your eyes might widen and your pupils will dilate. This is because your body is preparing for a potential threat and needs to take in as much information as possible. Seeing the animalistic act that you just did to their friend, it had the Na’vi women beyond terrified.

Despite originally planning to save Katara for last, you acted quickly and went for her since she had the knife. Perhaps you still had a chance to achieve your goal because fortunately, you had trained with her, so you knew her moves and her faults. Katara tends to step with her swing, which makes her stances unbalanced and easy to overcome. When the shorter woman lunged forward, you blocked her hit by swinging your arm clockwise while holding a tight fist. Azusa tried to tackle you meanwhile you quickly stomped down on Katara's shin with your heel, distracting her, and spun around to grab Azusa's swinging arms, manipulating them behind her back. “Drop the knife or I broke her neck.”

With your left hand, you held onto her wrists and used the other hand to grab Azusa’s knife that she always kept by her thigh. You pressed the blade against her throat, causing the woman to sob in fear. A sinister grin appeared on your heart-shaped lips, which Neteyam loved so much. “No, no, no, please,” she pleaded.

“She’s my sister.” You pressed the knife rather allowing blood to drip between her small nonexisting breasts. No good for mothering babies, you thought then Katara words from early flashed in your brain.

“-who wouldn’t want Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk’itan keep them nice and plump full of his babies-“ “the things I’d do-“

As you let out a loud hiss that sounded more like a roar, mimicking that of a Palulukan, which means 'dry mouth bringer of fear,' Katara's throat tightened up to the point where she was gasping for air. She begged you, “Y/n, please.” You cut Azusa higher on her neck, causing both girls to cry out in fear and pain.

“Drop.” You spat out. “The fucking knife.” The English word felt like Azusa’s knife had pierced both of their ears as well.

“Okay.” Katara cried out throwing the knife where Bolin laid face down still unconscious. “Okay, Y/N. I-I,” the Nav’i raised her hands in a surrender as she strubbled into the base of a huge tree. “Why are you doing this?” Seeing her finally find some composure to form her words you hissed another time at her stupidity. Slashing down, you cut Azusa’s blue skin for the third time accidentally making it look like claw-work from a predator.

“Neteyam is mine.” Your voice was carried strong but in a low-pitched, guttural sound; almost in an ominous tone. Your voice sounded like it came from the depths of the demon plant called earth, with a slow and deliberate pace that sends shivers down Azusa and Katara spines. “And when I’m done with you,” you could feel Azusa shaking terribly as you spoke. “You’ll never be able to look at him again.” The menacing tone in your voice was powerful. Then suddenly as Azusa started to shake she went limp in your arms.

“Azusa.” Katara pleaded as the girl’s turquoise eyes rolled in the back of her head.

You pulled on her loose curls to tilt her head back to see in fact that she’d passed out. “Pathetic.” You spit in the girl’s face then pushed her to the ground next to Bolin. “You girls.” You tainted aiming the weapon at the scared written expression. “You whores think you are privileged enough for Neteyam’s semen?” You slashed at Katara’s face, making the girl cry harder, causing her tears to mix with her blood stained cheek. You grabbed her throat in your hands enjoying the way it felt to have her life in her hands. “Eywa blessed us.” You cut her again this time on her jaw line damaging her one good feature. “I’m his capable mate-”

“Y/n.” Hearing that heavenly voice, you turned in the direction while maintaining your grip on Katara’s neck.

“Teyam?” Seeing the worry on his face caused you to halt your movements but your grip didn’t waiver. You needed her to know that, that godly man was yours.

He held his bow tightly and stood in a stiff posture, clearly in protective mode. “Ma’Y/n, when I didn't see you at our spot, I went tracking,' he said. He then caressed your cheek with his free hand, not paying attention to Katara. Hearing that he tracked you down and was waiting for you made your stomach feel warm. “And seeing this,” his amber eyes fired with rage as he looked at the bodies on the floor. He then turned to Katara, who was still pinned to the tree, and asked, “Yawne, did they hurt you?”

Of course, your sweet Neteyam knew that something had to have happened for you to lose your composure like this. It wasn't like you to act out; you kept to yourself and didn't allow anyone to read you. That's why so many people thought that you were cold, and to be honest, you didn't care. You only cared about what Neteyam thought of you. “Neteyam-“ you changed your venomous tone to a sweet one, but it was cut off by Katara sobbing.

“Are you kidding me? She’s an animal.” This cause you both to let out a hiss, Neteyam’s from defending you while yours was from anger. You stabbed her through the hand, sinking the knife that was made from an ikrans sharpened claw into the wood of the tree, despite her struggles and screams.

“Neteyam.” You snarled looking at your prey with harden eyes. “Tell her.” The Omaticaya Prince lovingly gripped the side of your head letting his thumb stroke your temple. And before he could ask you to explain you continued, “tell her what you’re going to do to me in 13 days on the night of the eclipse. Tell her.”

As the realization hit him, heat flushed his face, and he understood why you were acting like this and why this whole situation came to be. You were staking your claim on him. Neteyam wasn't dumb; he knew Katara had 'feelings' for him, but they never mattered to him. His amber eyes had always been on you ever since you won against him in a fight when you were both 12. Since then, he trained to be your worthy mate, someone you would trust to grow with and be a strong father for your future kids. He remembers praying to Eywa every night for her, to see that you would be the perfect match for him. You were a leader in his eyes, a strong one.

So it's fair to say Neteyam has always loved you, but it was the way you were claiming him, defending him from other possible threats. In a strange way, he felt so loved, so seen that not even his family or friends could make him feel that way. You loved him so much that you were willing to hurt for him. You were willing to kill for him. A feeling washed over him like none other, that could only be described as one thing: lust. It was a primal feeling. He let out a low growl that was like music to your ears. “Y/n, you know that if I wasn't a traditional man, I'd take you right here.” You couldn't help but moan as his words drowned out Katara's cries. Neteyam never looked at the pathetic woman once; all he could see was you. “I'd bend you over, using that pathetic excuse as an Omaticaya clan member as a step stool. I'd keep you stuffed to the brim,' his lips were barely touching yours now. 'Letting anyone see, so they know who you belong to.' Your lips parted as you began to grow absolutely drenched in your loincloth, making the material stick to you.

“But," you let out a whimper as he pulled you away from the girl, causing your hands to rest on his chest. "My respect and love for you outgrows my deepest desires, Ma'Y/n." Neteyam traced the necklace you wore, the first thing he gave you as a courting gift, and even though he's given you many wonderful treasures, this one is your favorite. To you, it signifies your love for each other. "So, in 13 days, we're going to celebrate our love in front of the clan by eating all sorts of amazing foods, and as tradition, I'm going to kill you the most wonderful beast and serve it to you along with the most delicious fruit that I'll gather. And maybe we'll dance," Neteyam said with his infamous toothy smile. You kissed his hands that cupped your face. "Then I'll take you to our spot," a waterhole that overlooked the Tree of Souls. "We will make Tsaheylu then I'll ravish you, darling." You groaned out loud, going to kiss him, but he pulled away, still keeping you in his arms as he pushed Katara back against the tree, noticing that she was trying to free her hand from the tree. "What?" Neteyam hissed out in annoyance. "You think you're getting out of this?"

“Neteyam, please.” Katara cried out but he wasn’t going to listen. She disrespected you. “I understand now.” His primal instinct grew as the need to protect you washed over the man.

He growled as he wrapped his large hand around the girl’s throat squeezing until her blue face turned purple. “No, I don’t think you do.” You nuzzled against his chest seeing him stand up for you. “I’m going to split her open with my cock and spill my cum in her over and over again, until my scent is engraved in her skin.” You slipped a hand on his waist scared that you actually might touch yourself if not careful. “And she’ll carry all of my heir until I say we have enough. And if you think you could come between us then I guess I’ll have to kill you.” As his grip tightened Katara started to beg for her life.

“No, no, Neteyam, I understand. I understand!” She wailed making you smirk at her demise. “You’re together and I actually thank that your perfect for one another. I promise.” Neteyam liked her words.

“Keep begging.”

“I’m not even half the woman Y/n is. I swear I’m not. I’m pathetic.” The girl sobbed making her tears wash away most of the blood that the cuts caused. “Ple-please mighty warrior. I’ll be the first one to cheer as you both enter a room. I promise. Promise so, so, so good.” The way that she was chocking on her tears satisfied your rage so much. Neteyam nodded his head pointing at her chest.

“I won’t kill you.” This had Katara sob from happiness until the man spoke again. “Unless you tell anyone what happened here today. Or if me, or my mate, hear one disrespectful thing coming from your thin lips. Got that. Yeah, actually don’t even look at her wrong, or I’ll kill you and dump your body from the shy, so there’s nothing left of you when you hit the unforgiving rocks from the Hallelujah Mountains. Do I make myself clear?” The woman nodded but it wasn’t good enough. “Do I make myself clear?” This time Neteyam’s voice rang through the forest causing birds to fly away from how threatening it sounded.

“Yes sir. I’m forever sorry for my behavior Neteyam. A-and Y/n pl-please accept my deepest apologies.” You untangled yourself away from Neteyam tapping his lower back signaling him to back up. Katara sighed from relief thinking she was free, but you then trapped her end with your palms resting on the bark on the either side of her head.

“One move Katara, the slightest look or even a giggle and Neteyam’s not the one to worry about.” Again, that same fear entered her eye from earlier. It satisfied you enough where you pushed back into Neteyam’s arms. As he circled his forearms around you, you turned to face your handsome warrior. You stood on your tippy-toes and gripped his hair underneath it all from the back of his head right on the nape of his neck, Neteyam knew this move, so he could only do one thing; meet you halfway. As your lips met in an intense, coveted way, you felt this electric surge through your body. You were addicted to his soft lips and the way your tongues always fought for battle. It had the both of your insides burn hot. The desire was almost too much to handle. It hurt with the burning sensation of need. Need for him to be inside you, and the need of your wet walls to be painted of nothing but him.

Neteyam was the first to pull away almost laughing which instantly had you feeling giddy. Not sparring the girl another look, Neteyam pulled you into his arms and began to walk the both of you in the direction of your waterhole. “Not now, my beautiful flower.” He kissed your head after you stepped over Azusa’s body. “Not yet.” Giggling to yourself you grabbed Neteyam’s hand and let the strong warrior pull you away from your troubles. As your eyes connected to the ground, you couldn’t help but look back at the three Na’vi for one last time to bask in your pride. Katara didn’t dare move and you knew she wouldn’t until you both were out of sight. Good. Bolin was still unconscious which wasn’t a surprise. You did kinda smash his head in quite a few times. Then as you looked at Azusa, you saw an eye immediately shut, when they noticed you staring. The girl faked passing out. Huh, maybe she was a smart girl after all.

Hey guys my first neteyam post and it wouldn’t be with @cinetrix this person truly inspires me to write. Also if there’s a speeding error or anything that looks wrong just lmk politely and I’ll change it!

~ Caroline

[hyperfixatedfandomer]

People say Jack Walten’s death in the Walten files is a mystery, but in my opinion it’s very clear that he dies as result of a confrontation between him and Felix, when he eventually caught him, because just imagine what it all felt like. (TW: children being not alive, but you know that)

.

You’re at your best friend’s doorstep, shaking and sweating, you know that he’s home and you’re banging on the door. He does not open so you find the spare key under a houseplant and break in, holding on by a thread. Your kids are missing. Your kids are missing and your friend that has an alcohol addiction hadn’t brought them back from their school party.

Your babies have been missing for hours. Days.

Your friend looks at you in absolute terror and your blood boils. You can see it in his eyes that he knows exactly what happened, and he’s hiding it. Likely because it’s his fault.

He blabbers, tries to explain what happened but takes too fucking long to get to the damn point. You scream at him to spit it out and he says it. The treacherous sentence that brings your entire world to ruin in seconds.

He had alcohol. Drove the car piss drunk. Got into a crash.

Your babies are gone.

The worm keeps sobbing, confession after confession spilling out of his mouth. He says he buried them in the forest, says he did so for your and your wife’s sake, so you wouldn’t have to see it.

You interrupt him, your voice dreadfully calm and even. You ask where exactly the bodies are. He says he doesn’t remember.

He weeps and coughs and there is snot and dried blood all over his face (how did you not noticed it before?) and he begs you for forgiveness.

How dare he.

How fucking dare he.

He killed your children, he killed them and has the gall to plead for your mercy?

You won’t give it to him. You will never give it to him. You eye the empty whisky bottle on the kitchen counter.

But you have plenty of rage to share.

[zialltops]

honeysuckle’s & huckleberry’s

Cowboy!Joel (41) X F!Reader (25) | 32.6k | wip | explicit | 18+ minors dni | enemies to lovers | slow burn | au: no cordyceps outbreak

masterlist | ao3 | spotify playlist

There's no way he knew Joel was just ogling his daughter’s pussy in the glow of the fridge light not five minutes ago, right? Right?

“Uh, I just thought I’d give it a try.” Joel mumbles, fiddling with the lid on his cup that opens and closes the mouth piece. “You sure you’re alright, son? French vanilla is a little out of character for you.” It’s such a lighthearted comment but it makes Joel's heartbeat ring in his ears. “Fine—I’m fine, just wanted to try somethin—new. I should get to work, ya’ll have a nice morning.”

a/n: that center pic of joel is him in the glow of a fridge light.

vi: If She Wants A Cowboy

He’s going absolutely crazy. Out of his mind bat shit—nuts. Last night felt like a fever dream—maybe it was all along and he drempt it all up. Maybe he passed out in the snow and you dragged him in. But his mind cant make up the way you smiled at him, the look in your eyes when you peered up at him and said it—those three words that led joel straight to his eleventh hour. This is it, almost too late to catch with the cold tips of his calloused fingers. He reached and reached until his grasp finally brushed along the edges of your relics, along soft skin and forgiveness, scraps of understanding in the bitter, oppressive cold. God, the way you looked up at him like you might not stop him if he kissed you right there, the way your eyes searched his when you said—

You know why

But he doesn’t know in the early morning hours when he jolts awake to the ceiling fan against the popcorn texture and the quiet creak of the old house. He’s a little disoriented from his spot on his back at first, wondering if last night had happened or if he’d dreamt the whole thing up. Had he? Because he can’t wrap his mind around the sudden shift in every aspect of his relationship with you.

Why had you looked at him like that, touched his hand so softly he almost crumbled at your feet? He was ready to beg and plead for your hands on him forever. Why did you lay a blanket over him with that same soft look he’d only seen a few times before? Why did you lean down and press your soft, delicate lips to his wind bitten cheek, let them linger and warm him all over, thawing him out from the inside after years in this frigid body? Why did you climb the stairs slowly and glance over your shoulder to make sure he was still there on the couch?

His socked feet sticking out of the too small blanket with his weary eyes and pounding heart.

It’s been at least a half hour since he opened his eyes on this couch, but he can’t bring himself to get up yet. This is his last link to where you’d left him and he wishes you’d come down those stairs and tell him—why, and why should he know when he thought you hated his guts for so long.

You know why

Why you didn’t have sex with his brother. Or why you spent the day beside him in a saddle and got to know him instead of analyzing every little move he makes. Why you looked at him with hope in your eyes, or why you laid in Tommy’s bed and couldn’t bring yourself to do it. The more he thinks about the occasion, the more he realizes the answer is the same either way. No matter the instance, why will always have the same answer.

Because you want him, the way he wants you. Maybe not as desperately as him, but it’s in there, it must be. Or maybe thats just his muddled brain making up thing that aren’t there, seeing things that didn’t happen, making something out of nothing. Theres a layer of his desire blanketing every interaction he has with you. He sees vibrant, beautiful colors where it used to be dull and gray, his mind recognizes your kindness before your actual presence, sees the sparkle in your eyes and your depths of color before he reads what they are trying to tell him. All of that combined, maybe you didn’t mean to draw him in, maybe you were just nice to him and he took that as interest.

“Morning,” soft words pull Joel from his thoughts and his mindless tracking over the textured paint above him. He picks his head up from the pillow with a low groan, something about his neck tells him he’s going to pay for sleeping here. He’d do it all over again a million times to see you at the bottom of the stairs, dressed in a big tee-shirt and nothing else, a sleepy little smile with your hair a mess around your head like a halo. He’s so gone on you, so blatantly smitten that the whole world can probably see it. He’ll never recover from the way he wants you, it will live with him everywhere he goes, like a open wound that will never close. He can’t even remember who he was before he laid eyes on you.

“Mornin’, darlin’.” Your face cracks in a smile you can’t hide, cheeks redden in the dark hallway. Joel wishes you’d climb onto the couch with him, curl up along his side so he could plant a soft kiss atop your head and drink you in. “I was just getting some water, I thought you’d already be up.” He sits himself up slowly, until his feet hang over the edge of the couch and his back gets a much needed stretch.

“Gettin’ a late start today. That alright with you, boss?” A statement that would usually hold so much more distaste, suddenly takes on a new tone—teasing with a dash of heat on Joels part, his eyes chasing after your bare thighs as you walk into the kitchen. If his eyes were a little better, he’d probably be able to see the soft curve of your ass just under the hem of the shirt, so dangerously close to exposing you.

Are you wearing panties this time, too? Or, are you naked? You stop and look at him over your shoulder with a sleepy smirk. “I’ll let it slide this time, but don’t make it a habit.” He catches your eyes and they singe together from across the dark house, like two fireflies dancing across the somber shadows, readying themselves to outrun a brewing storm. “Yes ma’am,” his lips quirk up into a smirk.

“Coffee?” You offer in a different tone than you’d been maintaining, this one is quiet and soft, genuine to the point that Joel cant imagine turning you down. “Absolutely,” he gets up and doesn’t slip into his boots when he follows after you to the kitchen. Barefooted beside you, he gets the full wrath of your height difference, so much smaller than him, captivating in the softest possible ways, with your hair a mess and yours eyes glossy from the hood over the stove. He finds a spot leant against the door frame while you move around the kitchen quietly, filling the water reservoir, then the filter and ground coffee from a can. You set the old pot to brew and open the fridge, light scatting across the old hard wood floors in-front of Joel, encircling yours frame like a halo to his unadjusted eyes.

“Cream?” You ask without looking back, leaning down every so slightly to reach for the half and half on the top shelf, hand hovering on the carton while you take stalk of what else there is. The only thing Joel can pay attention to his his view, your shirt riding up to the middle of your ass, exposing soft creases where your cheeks meet your thighs. You look so damn smooth, softer than any fabric his calloused hands have laid upon. His eyes tick to the fridge and he spots a bottle of french vanilla stuffed into the back of the fridge on the bottom shelf—he’d never dare ruin his coffee like that, but to watch you bend a little further, he’ll risk his taste buds.

“French vanilla, please.”

His heart is absolutely pounding at the thought of you turning your head around catching him openly ogling, but the opportunity is too good to pass up. You lean lower and the shirt drags the rest of the way up, Joel leans back a little to adjust his view and—christ…

You aren’t wearing any panties.

You aren’t wearing any panties and Joel can see just the faintest vision of your lips, peeking out between yours thighs, your cheeks spread as you lean towards the back of the fridge—you have to know what he’s seeing right now, how easily he could step forward, place one hand on your back to keep in you in place while he pressed two fingers knuckles deep just to listen to the way you’d gasp his name. He’s not going to last long in this house, knowing what’s under that night shirt.

“This one?” You ask when your hand finds the lid and he hums without taking his eyes away from your bare ass. “Yeah, s’perfect.” He murmurs, adjusting himself in his slept in jeans so he can somewhat hide the way his blood rushes south and away from his brain.

Fucking hell, he can nearly see it all—a little further and he’ll get a glimpse of that tight little hole—wishes he could take a mental screenshot for when he inevitably wraps his hand around himself to the thought of you, bent over in front of him in nothing but a tee-shirt.

His day dream is interrupted when you straighten up and walk back to the counter. He doesn’t move from his spot on the doorframe, trying to keep his pounding heart and ragged breaths to a minimum. You make his coffee in a thermos with a lid, filled all the way to the top with dark liquid and sweet smelling creamer, even if he hates the idea of ruining his joe.

“Better get out there soon, Cowboy…I think the suns coming up.” You offer the mug to him and he steps away from the door to take it gingerly, his fingertips brushing along the backs of your knuckles when your relent to release your grip. “Your hands are freezing.” You reach up with the other and place it over the top of his hand. They looks so damn small wrapped around the cup with his like this. “Keep yourself warm out there, will you?”

Your hands drop away and he wants desperately to beg you to put them back, to touch him with such concern every day, or he’s afraid he might turn to dust. “It’s damn cold out there, how do you suggest I do that, little lady?” He moves forward a step without realizing it, closing in on you until your head tilts back to look up at him. “Well…in that case, think of something that warms you up.” His right arm takes on a weight when your delicate fingers incircle his forearm, smoothing out the hard muscles there. In your eyes, Joel finds something he’s never seen before—hope. It propels him into honest bravery, the burning heat of your hand on him driving him forward. “Only thing that keeps me warm is standin’ in front of me, darlin’.”

His eyes tick down to your mouth, pretty pink lips just begging to be kissed, to be bit and sucked and nipped. He could, he could right now and you’d probably let him, he’s pretty damn sure and he’s not certain of a lot when it comes to you. His sight flicks up to your eyes again and they are gleaming at him in the low yellow light. Your other hand finds the left side of his chest, sprawling your fingers out across his peck.

“In that case, make sure you wear your gloves so you can keep these hands soft,” you lean up on your tip toes, tilting your head to the side of his until you nearly tuck your face into his neck, warm breath drenching his collar bone. He can feel a ghost of your mouth against his ear, your bottom lip dragging across the shell and covering him in goosebumps. “And think of me, cowboy.” Your words are like hot, sticky syrup, catching every inch of his skin and coating him in sweet warmth. His eyes close and he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding onto when your lips connect with the corner of his jaw briefly, before pulling away just far enough to plant a second just bellow his ear.

When you pull back from him, he has half a mind to press you against the counter top and finally know what you’d feel like on his lips. He has half a mind, but the other half registers a creaking coming across the floor boards. He has just enough time to step away from you quickly before the kitchen light comes on.

He should probably work on being more subtle, because he reels around like he’s been caught when he spots Hank in the doorway with tired eyes. “M-Mornin, Hank.” Joel gets out quickly, his ears barley picking up the stifled giggle you’re hiding under your hand. “Mornin’, what’s going on in here? Why’s it so dark, you two ever heard of a light?” He doesn’t sound accusing, but thats not what Joels ears tell his brain as he tries to make his way out of the kitchen. “N-Nothin, s’just gettin’ coffee, late start is all—“ he starts in but Hank puts a hand up to stop him. “Calm down son, just meant you should turn a light on. Can’t see a thing in here.” He chuckles, walking over to the pot to pour himself a cup. “Christ, who’s drinking this shit?” He picks up the bottle of french vanilla creamer and Joel’s cheeks go ghost white, trying his best not to wear it all on his face despite the utter fear in his wide eyes.

Theres no way he knew Joel was just ogling his daughter’s pussy in the glow of the fridge light not five minutes ago, right? Right?

“Uh, I just thought I’d give it a try.” Joel mumbles, fiddling with the lid on his cup that opens and closes the mouth piece. “You sure you’re alright, son? French vanilla is a little out of character for you.” It’s such a lighthearted comment but it makes Joels heart beat ring in his ears. “Fine—I’m fine, just wanted to try somethin—new. I should get to work, ya’ll have a nice morning.”

Hank gives him a absent wave and he makes it a point to not look at you because he knows what you’ll see written all over his face. He hightails it to the living-room and slips into his boots and jacket, slipping his hat onto his head once he’s fully dressed.

When he gets the front door open, thermos in hand, he hears his name from somewhere behind him. You’re standing at the bottom of the stairs, headed back up to your bedroom. “Yeah?” His voice cracks and he winces a little at his failed attempts at subtleties again. “I’ll see you at breakfast?”

Joel swallows and swears he was born to be tortured by you, angry or not, distant or stranding right in front of him, you put him through agony every day from the way he wants you.

“I’ll see you at breakfast, Honey.”

You grin and start up the stairs with one final glance over your shoulder. “Don’t forget to think of me, Cowboy,”

With a sultry wink, you’re gone and Joel is left panting, straining and confused.

How could he forget?

Joel definitely thinks of you when he runs to the cabin to change, only getting his jeans down his thighs before he’s working his hand over himself in a frenzy, plagued by the sight of you naked and soft, willing and encouraging. And when his gut tightens and his back arches off his creaky mattress—

He thinks of you.

After that, all hope of keeping him at a distance is out the window. The teasing had started out as just that—seeing how far you could push him before he told you to stop, to know the kinds of reactions you can cause him against his will. It becomes like a game, your outfit choices get a little tighter and you spend more time out on the ranch, in the stables when he’s working the horses, perched on the porch swing with a book when he’s got grease up to his elbows working on the old tractor.

You find that it’s hard to reach that point of pushing him too far and when you do, he gets this far away look in his eyes and stammers about something that requires his attention elsewhere. You play coy, even when you spot the thick outline of him through his blue jeans when scurries off to the nearest bathroom.

But you don’t make a move on him. Despite the shift in your relationship with him, he’s still so damn distant and vague, never letting you in on anything too personal that would lead you to believe he’d risk everything to be with you. What if it didn’t work? What if it fell through, would he still be able to walk around here with that kind of ache? You promised yourself that it would be his choice, he had to be the one to break that thinning ice. If he was willing to face the consequences, he would have to be the one to initiate the action.

Until then, you have other things to keep you busy—like the discrete package dropped off in the mailbox with your name on it. You track the package until the very day it arrives and your skin is nearly boiling off as the hours tick down until it’s in your hands.

You get the mail directly from the postal worker before it even hits the mailbox. With a quick thanks, you hurry back to the house and drop off your parents mail on the dining room table. Your mother was in town grocery shopping and Joel had dragged your dad out to the north pasture to look over a few young calfs who were suffering from some kind of upper respiratory illness.

The house was empty, aside from you and your heavy box and the slick slide of your thighs as you take the stairs two at a time to your bedroom. The second the door slams behind you, your already ripping open the box and pulling the toy from its discrete packaging.

Holy shit.

You sink onto the edge of your bed as you gaze at it in your small hands. You hadn’t given the color much thought when you’d purchased it, just clicked the right buttons that would get it to you as soon as possible. Sitting here in your quiet bedroom, the soft blue hues shine back at you like oceans of possibilities at your fingertips. You can’t imagine something of this size attached to a body, let alone Joel—it feels almost comical how large it looks.

When you’d caught a glimpse of Joel in the bathroom that day, it had been quick, momentarily providing a rough image of the sheer size, but sitting here in your palms it feels so much bigger. You turn it over a few times, fingers dragging along the false veins of the shaft, the thick, round head and the balls at the base, providing a sturdy bottom to rest on a flat surface if need be.

You’ve never owned anything quite like this, not even close. You’ve had a few vibrators, a few (much smaller) molds like this one, but never had you ventured out like this before. Setting it down on your lap, you realize just how unrealistic and fictional it looks, nearly taking up the entire length of your thighs. How will this ever fit inside of you?

How will Joel ever fit inside of you?

With your resolve diminishing, you dig through your bedside table for your toy cleaner and a bottle of lube you’d kept just incase. The whole process makes your thighs shake in anticipation, anxiously jittering through cleaning it and clearing off your bed, bringing up a music app on your TV to drown out any impending sounds you won’t be able to contain. Your heart starts to race when you get undressed, stripping yourself all the way down to nothing before securing the lock on your bedroom door.

Soft afternoon light coming through grey clouds makes the thick toy look cold and shadowy, looming against your stark white duvet.

It’s been nearly a year since you’ve had sex, so it’s tireless work even stretching yourself enough on your fingers to try just the tip. It feels like work, your shaking hands and disappointment in yourself, leading you into a string of bitter curses and irritation. It hurts and your thighs strain from holding yourself up and trying to lower yourself on it—no fucking way.

You flop back on your pillows with a loud, shameful groan. Why can’t you just—do this? Why can’t you just relax, let yourself enjoy this? It’s not supposed to be work, it’s supposed to make you feel good.

Realization hits you while staring up at the ceiling fan casting shadows on your walls. “Fuck,” you curse at yourself, draping an arm over your eyes while you try to catch up with your racing mind.

This is what Joel goes through every time he tries to have sex—fighting to make it fit, the frustration that must come with feeling like a novelty, fun but useless. He must feel every bit of humiliation you feel in this moment and then some, faced with women too scared to try, too impatient to work up to it, to cruel to give the same kind of effort Joel must have to give them just to get lucky a few times in his life.

So fucking cruel because you know—know Joel has to be a gracious lover. You see it in every thoughtful thing he does, the effort he puts into small things that equate to the effort he would put into you, worshiping your body with his reverent, greedy grasp. The same hands you’ve seen rope steer, tie up calves for branding. Hands you’ve seen holding reigns and synching saddles, the hands you’ve seen bring life into the world. The same hands you’ve seen wrapped around his cock in a dimly lit bathroom with mindless gasps, flexing biceps and a furrowed brow.

Oh—yeah, theres that hot rush across your skin, that tingle that starts in your thighs and travels up slowly, tickling your starved body. The things Joel would do to you, suddenly filling in the blank spaces behind your eyelids. It’s easy to slip into the fantasy of his big hands, ghosting ever so lightly along your bare thigh, a touch but not quite—like he’s there but he’s so far away, tickling the inside of your right thigh until chills work down your spine, flourishing into faint goosebumps down your legs.

The way he would talk to you, fuck, that would turn you into a murmuring mess for him, that deep rumbly accent of his. You could listen to him talk all damn day long, simple words suddenly transformed into the most eloquent, intoxicating sound that has ever graced your ears. He could probably talk you through an orgasm, blindfolded with minimal effort.

What would he say if he saw you right now?

Look at ya

If he saw you right now, laid out on your bed with a monumental task set before you.

So fuckin’ proud of you, sweet girl.

You feel brave with the phantom whispers of his praise in your ears, so you try a new angle, reminding yourself to breath slowly, relax and let yourself think of Joel.

Joel, who’s obviously ashamed of himself, who probably hasn’t been truly appreciated in years, if ever. Joel—you get past the wide head of the toy and it punches out a soft gasp that catches in your throat—sweet fucking Joel with his thoughtful eyes and graying curls. He’d probably want it like this too, you on your back with him above you, your legs spread wide to accommodate those solid hips instead of your own exploring hands.

I know, I know—you’re doin’ so good, darlin’, just a little bit more for me—thats it

It’s a little less intimidating when you don’t look at the toy in your hands, imagining flesh and pulsing want instead of cold blue silicone. It takes a lot of breaks, a lot of stilling and breathing deep while you force yourself to relax despite the absolutely agonizing stretch. When you get about half way, it hits you that this—this is what it’s going to feel like when he presses into you, the way he’ll burn when he splits you open.

Joel isn’t a boaster on any given day, but witnessing you arched off the mattress with a slacked jaw and quivering muscles, he might let that facade slip.

Shh, baby, I know. S’big, ain’t it? You gonna take it? You gonna be good for me, honey? You can do it, girl—let me ruin you for anyone else.

“Oh, god…” your chest heaves this time, the toy brushing against a spot inside of you no one has ever reached. Your stubbornness bleeds into your desire, determined to get your new favorite toy as deep as you can, your secret, concealable, personal Joel. You’re so damn close now, just a few more inches to go and you’re in the home stretch.

Shit, you’re so tight, think all of me s’gonna fit, baby?

Another inch down and your starting to work up a sweat, one hand holding the blue silicone by the base while the other hand works slow, steady circles through your folds. It helps you take the edge off, doing your best to forget about the way the toy inside of you burns you up, stretches you past what you thought your body was possible of.

Almost there baby, that’s it—thats my girl.

Feel ya squeezin’ me, darlin. You gonna cum? Just from this?

Come on, beautiful—cum for me.

It’s abruptly apparent just how obsessed you are with the eldest Miller when you can nearly picture him crystal clear above you, holding your thighs around his hips while he sinks in deeper, the determined set of his jaw and his wild eyes, consumed entirely by dark pupils that drink you in. He would be breathless right now, probably making soft sounds to the way your body tightens up completely when that final thread finally snaps.

He would be the soul witness to the way your body arches and shakes, the way it pulses around him, recoils then springs to life with a heavy gasp of his name on your parted lips.

That’s my girl, absolutely shakin’ for me, ain’t even fucked you yet.

The adrenaline high takes you soaring across your room, spinning out of control with light dancing behind your closed eyelids. When you come to, the vision slips and it’s no longer Joel you see above you, but your spinning ceiling fan and white popcorn texture.

Your toy is pressed in to the base, finally all of it, every inch of it’s cool blue silicone is wrapped in searing heat.

You’re one step closer to everything you’ve wanted for the last two years—Joel Miller.

The following morning, the breakfast table sits obliviously to the day before, the night before and the early hours of this morning—the ones where you laid out panting his name silently, shaking fingers grasping the blue silicone base.

Now, those same hands grasp a empty fork as you push food around absently. Your eyes are on the plate across from you, Joels big hands on his coffee mug when his sight catches yours. His eyes flick to your parents, then back to you with a knowing glint.

“S’that right, Honey?” You snap out of your daze and glance up at your mother. “Huh?” She offers a oblivious smile. “I was saying how many boys ‘round here are beggin’ at your feet to be their dates for the spring formal.” She smiles over at Joel. “You haven’t been the last two years, but the town puts on this big dance at town hall. Everyone comes dressed to the nines.” Joel tries to imagine you, dressed in a elegant gown, brainless fools groveling at your feet for a chance with a girl like you—he imagines himself, one of those worthless fools right beside them.

“Think it’s comin’ up soon, ain’t it?” Hank asks over a bite of pancake and you look over at your father. “Next week, it falls on my birthday this year. You guys are still okay with Mel coming down for a few days, right?”

Your parents agree easily and the conversation shifts to a new topic, but Joel’s eyes pierce into you through the entire meal.

Plotting, planning and imagination the same things that are running through your equally muddled mind.

Both oblivious to how absolutely fucked you’ll both be come next week.

[sctumsempra]

going insane and i need to infodump about severus snape’s patronus being a doe for a second. i personally don’t think it changed, or lily necessarily influenced it- i think it’s always been a doe, casting the charm in dumbledore’s office was meant to show that he and lily were supposed to be viscerally aligned with each other and he knows he fucked it up and that’s why he’s spent almost two decades trying to atone for what he did. on a representative level, the doe symbolizes peace, protection, and innocence, and no three words could possibly represent severus snape more.

all he wants is peace: a peaceful life for himself, a peaceful world, a peaceful school. everything he’s ever done has been to create as much peace as possible. some of it can be considered misguided from a black and white moral standpoint, but it’s what created peace for himself. for example, aligning himself with the purist views of his housemates made him less of a target for bullying- he’s not a pure blood, and they’d know, and having powerful ambitious students on your side instead of alienating yourself from everyone means you have at least a semblance of protection from harm some of the time. he becomes a double agent for dumbledore to help bring about peace from voldemort’s reign. it might not have been peaceful for him per se, but it was still with the intention of peace in some form. he tries to give other people peace- he takes a vow with narcissa to protect her son because she’s crying and scared for him, and it gives her peace. he doesn’t throw draco under the bus to save his skin when voldemort accuses him of being the elder wands owner, giving draco and narcissa peace even if they weren’t aware. it’s either for himself, or for others.

he’s the most protective teacher at the school- would mcgonagall have thrown herself in front of three kids facing a wolfsbane-less werewolf? would flitwick take the burden of an unbreakable vow to protect draco malfoy from voldemort? would any of the DADA teachers have run towards the sound of a screaming woman? he consistently vows to protect everyone and everything he can. and, leading into his innocence, when he realizes he’s only been protecting harry for him to die, it breaks him.

he’s not necessarily innocent in that his hands are clean and he’s never done anything wrong in his life, but he’s innocent in that he’s naive. he trusted voldemort enough to be drawn into the death eaters, he trusted dumbledore enough to be manipulated into his bidding. it feels like he forgets that dumbledore screws him over constantly, dangles things in front of him and takes them away, makes crude assumptions, and has left him to fend for himself essentially their entire relationship. the times that dumbledore abandons him- physically, mentally, metaphorically- he gets very upset. like it’s new information to him that dumbledore treats him like shit. from an abuse perspective, he probably had to spend his childhood mentally erasing what his parents and home were like so he could feel safe and normal, so the constant ebb and flow/back and forth of his and dumbledore’s relationship is familiar to him. when dumbledore draws him back in with whatever method, he’s right back to behaving as dumbledore wants, doing what dumbledore wants, and believing what dumbledore believes. the times that he remembers that dumbledore doesn’t care that he let the guy who’s tried to kill him or assault go, or that dumbledore thinks he wants only lily saved because he desires her romantically or sexually, or that dumbledore has only been using harry and, by extension, him (as he’s been the one protecting harry) to play the long game of destroying voldemort are the times that he’s emotional in the books. he cries, he’s vulnerable, he raises his voice, he begs and he pleads and he defers. he doesn’t do that any other time, other than when he found harry watching his memories. he trusts and he forgives (or he forgets, or he feels safer pretending he doesn’t care what’s been done to him/how he’s been treated.) a doe is perfect for him. reducing it to something like tonk’s patronus being changed as soon as she’s in a relationship with lupin or that it’s only a doe because of lily evans completely erases his entire way of thinking and behaving and being.

also, in a self indulgent addendum, it’s a very feminine animal, and severus is consistently aligned with femininity. hermione calls the half-blood prince’s writing feminine. he wears his mother’s clothes as a child, and lupin encourages neville to dress his boggart as his grandmother. he’s quiet and docile and tries to be non-violent unless he’s pushed to his breaking point, and even then it’s screaming or crying or getting animated. he’s emotional and frequently painted as hysterical. he gets the “woman character treatment”: to the average viewer who doesn’t think about him long enough to understand otherwise, he only desires lily. the consensus is that he chases her, he only thinks about her in the context of attraction. the line about looking at her greedily is constantly understood to be lust, and not a desire for love or a desire for a peaceful relationship for once in his life (and a relationship that only ever seems to be platonic at that). he even backs off and all but disappears from her life when he’s asked to, while james (the one with the stag patronus, the classic triumphant male character) harasses her and pursues her and behaves in a way that makes his son decades later wonder if he forced lily into a relationship. he’s behaviorally aligned with what femininity in the eyes of misogyny is supposed to be. he keeps to himself, he’s quiet, he sacrifices every bit of himself for students and coworkers and superiors and expects nothing in return, he pushes his students to be the best they can. (i’d say nurtures with my whole chest, but as the narrative comes from harry, we can’t really be sure. in my view, his house won the house cup for several years in a row which was only interrupted by dumbledore awarding a fuck ton of points to his gryffindor prize pony, his classes are seen as high performing and advanced by even dolores umbridge of all people, he only tries to punish students albeit a bit violently after several attempts of getting them to understand why what they did was wrong, which seems to be pretty nurturing in comparison to what other teachers allow and do). whether he’s trans, or had been influenced more by eileen, or he was intended to be deeply complex and contradictory and that meant that he had to have these traits, or any other of the multitude of reasons for snape being an inherently feminine character, it’s there. his patronus wouldn’t be a stag, he wouldn’t be anything overbearing and he wouldn’t be anything aggressive. it doesn’t make sense with his soul and his personality and his life. the peaceful protective innocent/naive doe, however, does.

[dev-mars]

Garroth’s Betrayal

Garroth was in a depressive episode but even then I can’t see him betraying Aphmau and Laurance (the two people he trusts most in this world.) Like clearly Garroth can be a jealous person but he also bottles his emotions till he absolutely can’t anymore (usually till outside forces make him tell the truth.) I feel like his jealousy would have more likely led him to close himself off again and his extreme self hatred would grow rather than him just deciding to betray them. Especially because Phoenix Drop itself is one of the most important things to Garroth. But, if Zane or Lillian did something to cause Garroth to spiral and back him in corner it would make way more sense for him to rely on the only person that can understand everything he’s facing, his little brother.

Lillian says she’s a herb specialist it would have been interesting if she had given Garroth a potion or item that worsened his mental state. Something that made him more paranoid and anxious. Like Garroth has an overwhelming feeling of doom. Zane’s plan could’ve had begun as soon as they got back from the Malachi arc. Possibly, Zane found in an item that causes Garroth intense nightmares or Lillian is able to control dreams sort of similar to Malachi’s magicks . So Garroth stops getting sleep because of his nightmares. The dreams could just be a million different scenarios but they all lead to Phoenix Drop’s destruction. So he doesn’t know what’s going to happen and the cause changes in every dream. One of the worst dreams involves Laurance giving into his shadow knight form. He kills the entire village including Aphmau and her sons. Once Laurance is himself again he begs Garroth for forgiveness and death. He pleads with Garroth to make him pay for what he’s done.

All these dreams cause Garroth to begin to isolate himself. Then from his lack of sleep he begins to impair his judgement and this is when Zane really begins his manipulation. Zane reaches out to Garroth, Garte is becoming dangerous to everyone (some kind of lie that makes it seem like Zane has no where to go) he somehow creates a lie that opens up communication again. Garroth can’t differentiate between his scared kid brother and the high priest Zane, after all he still is a protector through and through.

Garroth is barely keeping it together and he’s wearing his helmet again. Everyone is noticing this change but Garroth says he’s fine and he’s still managing to keep up his duties as head guard. Garroth feels like he’s going crazy but he can’t falter everyone is relying on him. Garroth is also talking to the enemy (Zane) and he can’t tell anyone because they wouldn’t understand. The final nail in the coffin is when he sees the illusion of Laurance and Aphmau.

They kiss in the clearing and break apart to have a quiet conversation seemingly to themselves. Garroth intently listens despite his heart aching. Aphmau confesses she’s been having terrible nightmares and she falls apart in Laurance’s arms. She sees Phoenix Drop burning to the ground and Garroth realizes she’s having the same nightmares as him. Then she finally says she can’t trust anyone but Laurance and she suspects Garroth is betraying them. He’s been pulling away from them and Aph can’t even recognize him anymore and Laurance agrees with her. Garroth sneaks away after this and decides that he’ll make sure everything is okay. He’ll fix everything at Phoenix Drop and leave for O’kasis so he won’t cause them anymore pain. So, he tells Zane of his dreams, the amulet, and he agrees to go to O’kasis as long as Zane never harms the Phoenix Drop and its people. He’s convinced himself that what he’s doing is for the greater good. He can handle it. He’ll make sure everything is alright, after all he’s a protector and he never deserved Aphmau and Laurance anyway.

[masuchu]

↻ ASS, TITS OR THIGHS ?!

pairing. chuuya x reader, dazai x reader, atsushi x reader

warnings. nsfw, mentions of suffocation (wonder who that could be…), afab reader, degradation, slapping, overstimulation, kind of switch atsushi?, thigh fucking, small breeding/creampie kink

a/n. FIRST SMUT POST HERE WE GOOOOOO!!!

chuuya —

ass man all the way, he is proud of it.

will pinch, squeeze, grab, slap and touch your ass at any chance he gets

and he has no shame either. in public? he’s cracking his knuckles preparing for it. at the port mafia base? he’s winding up his wrist. at home? he’s not holding back.

he’s a mafia executive. why should he have to hold back slapping his partners ass? exactly, he shouldn’t.

and as expected, he LOVES taking you from behind because of this. if your too loud or too bratty? he’s slapping your ass and you already know he’s teasing you when you cry and say it hurts.

“aw, it hurts baby? too bad, cause i don’t care.”

he’s mean :(( he’ll pinch you when you start crying, just to hear the cute little hiccups you make, he finds you so cute, so endearing.

he also loves making you ride him so he can squeeze your ass when you bounce. and don’t even get me started about how he’ll tease you.

“c’mon babe. you’re letting me down. i thought you said you could do it, did you lie to me? huh?”

“n - no, sir!! please let m- me try again! i can hic, i can do it!! promise..!”

he’ll just roll his eyes and tell you to get on with it, please him or he’ll just throw you out and find another toy to slap around.

he loves watching you cook for him as well, he’ll press up behind you and ask questions like ‘hmm, whats that?’ and ‘when will this be ready?’ but it’s all a disguise so he can grind against your ass and tease you.

“chuu, s - stop it.. it might burn..”

“hmm? i don’t care, we can always order something.. you aren’t gonna deny me are you?”

in conclusion, you might wanna watch your back with him. nine times out of ten he’s already there, ready to leave a bruise that’ll make it hurt to sit down for a while.

dazai —

BOOBIES!!!!!!

dazai. loves. boobs.

small, big, medium. he doesn’t care. he loves them.

he will not let a chance to grope you pass. he’s always shoving his face in your tits wether you like it or not.

no warning. no nothing. just face, plonk, boob.

u seen that reddit post where it’s like ‘life hard, life cold. tiddy soft, tiddy warm.’ ?

that’s dazai.

he can not resist the boob. they’re his personal stress relievers, how can he not like something so squishy? he can’t.

also explains his fixation on you riding him. face full of tiddies, you sitting on his cock, whimpering and telling him to move, playing with your nipples? sounds like heaven.

if he could die with your pussy wrapped around his cock, suffocating himself in your chest, god knows he would.

like chuuya, he’s mean :(

he’ll make you sit there and cockwarm him while he reads one of his fancy novels, trying hard not to show the smirk on his face.

he loves hearing the way you sob, whining and crying for something, anything. you’ve been good! just fuck me already!!

he’ll pinch your nipples and shove two fingers in your mouth and tell you to ‘be good.’ because nobody likes a desperate baby.

and when you’ve managed to be quiet for a few minutes, albeit a few hiccups and sniffles here and there, he’ll thrust up into you just to watch your tits bounce and hear your voice crack and plead for release.

and he’ll give it to you.

again. and again. and again.

aw, your poor thing. are you crying again? i thought you wanted this? were you not crying and begging to cum not too long ago, no? pathetic. how bratty.

he’ll forgive you though, as long as he can watch your tiddies bounce for a few hours and hear your voice fade into nothing but whimpers and sniffles, he’s happy.

atsushi —

you know that tiktok trend where they add a personality box and then go back and tick the other ones? thats him.

he is a thigh man, for sure. good luck getting him to actually admit it though!

he shows it in smaller ways, he’s way to shy to do anything bold like the other two horny fuckers.

for example, he’ll flush red whenever he sees you in thigh highs. stammering, coughing and looking away from you but his eyes inevitably going back to the way they pour out of the sides, to big to fit.

you’ll ask him “what’s wrong?” (you know what’s wrong) and act concerned, feeling his forehead for a fever and pressing up against him.

you know what you’re doing.

he’ll wave his hands around, stammer and blush, trying to explain himself, saying “i- i’m okay!! it’s just hot today, isn’t it!! h - haha! don’t worry about m- me!”

it’s 5 degrees, atsushi.

that’s how things will always go with him. he’s too shy to admit that he loves watching the way your thighs bulge out of your thigh highs, the way they jiggle when you walk, the way you wrap them around his waist when you sit in his lap, god what he would do to fuck you in a mating press and see the way his cum drips down-

it’s almost like you can read his mind, because you’ll stroke your hands on his neck, exhale next to his ear and say “hmm, atsu.. do you wanna fuck my thighs?”

HE’LL SHUT DOWN.

you’ll lay on your back, squeezing your thighs around his dick, telling him small praises like “you’re doing well, atsu.. you can use me however you want, baby…”

keep it up and he’ll go completely feral.

he’ll loose all self control, completely forgetting about fucking your thighs, slipping his cock into you and pounding you until you see stars

he’ll ignore the way you gasp and stammer “a- atsushi!! s - slow down, ah!”

gooood the way he’ll growl and say “shut up.” snarling and fucking you fast and hard, like an animal (pun very much intended)

as much as you whine and beg for a break, you can’t deny the way arousal fills you up when he rambles about how ‘he’s going to fill you up’ and ‘watch his cum leak out of you.’

damn.

once he comes back to his senses, he’ll apologise thoroughly and make sure you’re okay, but he won’t say that it wasn’t extremely hot to loose control.