#i didn't mean to slap down as much here but

[darknight3904]

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘖𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘓𝘪𝘧𝘦

𝘓𝘰𝘨𝘢𝘯 𝘏𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘵 𝘹 𝘍𝘦𝘮!𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: 𝘈 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘥 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘴, 𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘛𝘢𝘤𝘰 𝘉𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘓𝘰𝘨𝘢𝘯 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘧𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘭𝘤𝘰𝘩𝘰𝘭.

𝘛𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘥𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘱𝘰𝘰𝘭 & 𝘞𝘰𝘭𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘦 (2024). 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘱𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘴 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘺. 𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘉𝘰𝘺𝘴 𝘰𝘳 𝘎𝘦𝘯 𝘝, 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘝𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘢 𝘕𝘦𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘳 𝘔𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘦.

𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘥𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘗𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘦. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘥𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘵 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵.

𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: 𝘝𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘦.

𝘐 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘥/𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘳 30𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘶𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨.

𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘊𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 3.7 𝘬

𝘗𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘗𝘢𝘳𝘵 / 𝘚𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵 / 𝘔𝘺 𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

Happy 21st of September! Originally, I had Pitbull in this story and at the last minute decided to change it to Earth, Wind & Fire.

Logan wasn't sure what to think as he watched you, Wade, and Vanessa pregame your evening. At this rate, the three of you were going to be too drunk to even get in your Uber, let alone actually walk into whatever club or bar you were supposed to be going to.

"Want some, Peanut?" Wade asked as he tipped another shot back

"No." Logan said from his seat at the table

"Oh c'mon, since when did you give up drinking? You were Frank Gallagher level when I picked you up in your universe! Don't tell me you're going all righteous on me!" Wade pushed.

"Are you even able to get drunk?" He asked suspiciously

"Are you?" Wade grinned

"It's girls night, Logan. Humor me with a shot." Vanessa smiled warmly

He slowly took the shot glass from Wade's hands before quickly downing it.

"If it's girl's night, why is this one going with you?" He asked nodding at Wade who was pouring more drinks.

"Honorary member." You winked at him

Logan shook his head, you were definitely drunk already. Senseless flirting didn't fit your style. Not that it mattered much since Logan wasn't focused on any of that currently. The only reason he was still sitting here in the kitchen tolerating Wade Wilson was you, or more particularly, what you were wearing. The skimpy black dress, if it even qualified as that, was simply mesmerizing. The way it hugged your body in all the right spots and left little to the imagination was driving him mad.

"If you keep staring, you eyes are going to pop right out of your head." Wade snickers in his ear

"Fuck you," Logan says

"You wish." Wade sighs

"Why don't you come out with us, Logan?" Vanessa asks

"I'm fine here, got lots of stuff to do." He grunts

"Fucking your hand to that picture I gave you isn't stuff." Wade chastizes

"What picture?" You ask, a mean-looking smirk on your face

"So glad you asked, Pumpkin. Logan here now has a picture of yo-"

Logan jumps up, slapping his hand over Wade's mouth. The slink of his claws coming out of his other hand have the room silent.

"Shut the fuck up." He orders, letting Wade go.

"Sorry, daddy." Wade laughs, darting to hide behind Vanessa when Logan swings for him, claws gleaming in the light.

He takes another glance at you and that damn dress. Fuck it, he wants to stare at you all night, he might as well get a few drinks out of it. And not just the shitty vodka Wade was trying to shove down his throat.

The club, he hadn't bothered catching the name of, was packed. He could practically smell the sweat that was rolling off some of these people. Didn't they shower? Was there a soap shortage in this dimension?

"Kesha!" Vanessa yells as a new song starts.

On his right, you jump up from your seat, eager to dance to whatever electronic-sounding beat this was. He watches as Vanessa leads you to the dance floor.

"Y'know I bet she can sense all the blood that's rushing to your dick right now. Don't you have any shame? You perverted old man!"

"Do you ever stop running your mouth?" Logan groaned, tearing his eyes away from you as you disappeared with Vanessa behind groups of strangers. If they weren't in public Wade would've had three silver claws lodged in his brain right now.

"Nope! Unless you give me something to occupy it with." Wade grins, "I'm talking about what's down under, Peanut. Pull it on out, I bet it's Hugh. Ha! Get it Huge? Hugh?"

Logan scowled at the inappropriate joke, choosing to ignore the Australian accent Wade had thrown into the middle of the sentence. There was something seriously wrong with him.

"Ugh, I fucking love girls night." Wade sighs, tossing his head back

"You're not even a girl." Logan points out

"You transphobic bitch. What if I decided I was this morning?" Wade gasps beside him.

"You've decided to be a girl?" Logan asks

"No," Wade replies, "It's the idea of it."

Logan had no idea what he was babbling about as he leaned forward to sip at his drink.

"I know about your little crush." Wade says, "Can I just say you're totally brave for that one. She always looks like she wants to rip your head off."

"What would you know about it? All you do is give puppy dog eyes to Vanessa." Logan growls, "Too scared to make the first move, bub?"

"Hey, I shared that with you in a moment of vulnerability." Wade groans

"You shared that after you chain-smoked three joints and did a line of cocaine." Logan reminds him

"Yeah, that was nice." Wade sighs, "I'm just saying, you, kitty cat, are bolder than bold, going after a girl that could literally blow your head off your body."

"I'm not going after anyone," Logan says, standing up no longer interested in babbling with Wade.

"Yeah, alright." Wade snorts

The upbeat tune of September by Earth, Wind & Fire has you half-deaf as you dance with Vanessa. The intense body heat of everyone else around you was almost too much as Wade suddenly appeared. In the colorful light, his toupee almost looked real.

"I fucking love this song!" He declares, wrapping a big arm around Vanessa.

Your eyes dart back to where he came from. The table was now unoccupied, minus the empty glasses of your drinks.

"Where's Logan?" You half yell

"Stumbled off to the bar. I think I made too many dick jokes!" Wade responds

You deliver a harsh slap to his chest which has Wade letting out a faux whine of pain.

"Only blue talk and love, remember. How we knew love was here to stay!!"

Wade's off-beat singing has you groaning and Vanessa laughing. They truly were a good match for each other.

You push your way through the crowd of people as you grow closer to the bar. The alcohol in your system had you a bit overconfident as you got closer to him. Perhaps you could convince him to come out to dance with the group. You get closer to him, his small tufts of brown hair unmistakable as he stands at the bar and nurses a drink.

"Oh come on? Not even one dance? I'm a great dancer, y'know."

The vixenish voice of a stranger fills your ears when you finally get close. A tall blonde in a bright red dress was hanging off Logan's arm, her chest pressed into his bicep as she batted fake eyelashes at him.

"Not interested." Logan sighs

You watch the interaction occur. You'd never really seen Logan interact with anyone outside of the apartment.

"You sure?" She smiles, "I'll let you take me to the bathroom when we're done."

Your eyes widen when she leans in and gently bites at Logan's ear lobe. The alcohol has filled you with liquid courage as you close the distance between you and this mystery woman.

"Fuck off." You say to her, "There won't be any mystery trips to the bathroom. Go find another dick to suck."

She turns her head to her and you expect her to ridicule you. Perhaps even call you a bitch for interrupting whatever seduction technique she had going.

"Look at you." She coos, letting go of Logan.

Before you can even process what's happening, she's in your personal space, hands running through your hair and down your body, coming to rest on your waist.

"And I thought he was the finest thing in the club tonight." She smiles, "Have you ever been with another woman?"

Logan slams his now-empty drink onto the bar as you whip your head to him.

"She's not interested. Neither am I." Logan growls

A pout appears on her face but she takes a hint and stumbles off into the crowd, off to find another sucker.

"She wanted both of us." You breathe in shock

"Can't blame her," Logan says quickly

"What?" You look up at him, embarrassed when his eyes are trained on your skimpy dress.

"Nothin', bub." He says with a cough, "Where's the idiot?"

You point to the dance floor where you left Wade and Vanessa. Your eyes widen when you see the two of them making out under the neon lights of the club.

"Looks like we're going home without them." Logan sighs, you're sure you can hear a hint of disgust in his tone.

"Yeah." You sigh, leaning against the bar next to him, "They're cute together though."

"You're nicer when you're drunk." Logan points out, not interested in agreeing with your statement.

"I can still be mean." You say looking over at him, thinking about insulting that stupid face of his

Logan raises his hands in surrender, "I'm good."

The rest of the night is a blur. At some point, Vanessa finds you and whispers into your ear that she and Wade are leaving together. You stay by Logan's side, tired of dancing. Logan has somehow talked you into trying a drink out of your comfort zone and now a martini that takes like gasoline is in front of you.

"Swallow it!" Logan commands next to you over the music.

In the back of your mind, a joke about blow jobs bounces around. It never comes out though because the drink is burning your throat as it goes down.

"That is disgusting." You groan

"It's not that fruity shit you like." Logan laughs as he looks at your face that's pinched together in disgust.

"Not my fault all the drinks you like taste like an old man's bath water."

"Hey." Logan gently nudges you in annoyance.

"Can we go home?" You ask him suddenly

"You sure you're ready?" Logan responded, "Thought you loved to dance?"

"I do, but," You glance down at your feet which are still in your heels, "My feet feel like they're going to fall off my body."

Logan shakes his head with a laugh, "Alright, we can go home."

Logan settles the tab and then leads you out of the club into the cool October air. You're a bit drunker than you thought you were as you lean against a telephone pole, waiting for an Uber to show up. You cross your arms across your chest as a breeze blows by.

"You alright?" Logan asks

"Fine." You mumble

Logan's eyes scan your body as he takes in your drunken shivering form. He rolls his eyes but shrugs off his jacket anyway. Don't girls ever think about bringing jackets with them?

"Thank you." You softly say as he drops it over your shoulders

"Don't mention it." Logan sighs

He glances down at his phone. Where the hell was this Uber?

"Logan look!" You gasp

He follows your pointed arm to see a stray cat, digging through a trash can.

"Here kitty!" You exclaim, leaving your spot by by the telephone to try to go after the cat that looks even meaner than you were when sober.

"No, stop." Logan sighs, reaching to grab you by the arm, "That cat doesn't want anything to do with you."

You deliver a hard punch to his side when the cat runs off. How was it his fault that the cat got scared?

"Just stand there and wait for our ride." He orders, his phone says ten minutes away.

A beat of silence passes as you actually listen to him for once. And then, your mouth is opening again.

"Let's go get Taco Bell." You declare

"What?" Logan mumbles

Before he knows it, you're in the street, moving faster than he thought you could in those shoes. Your destination? The Taco Bell a few hundred feet away. Whoever put it across from the club must be making a killing of all the drunk people.

Logan can feel his anger simmer but he pushes it back down as he catches up with you.

"I need to get you a leash." He says as he makes sure you don't get hit by a car.

"Kinky." You laugh as you pull the door to the fast food restaurant open

You place your order and then tell him to get something for himself. He shakes his head at the annoyed-looking employee.

"He'll have a Crunchwrap." You say confidently like you know his Taco Bell order.

"I don't want one," Logan says

"You're a big guy, you need to eat." You say

Logan sighs but doesn't object. His stomach is grumbling a bit. He reaches into his pocket for his wallet but is stopped by your smaller hand wrapping around his wrist.

"Cut the Sugar Daddy act." You say plainly

Logan's eyes widen as you pull a twenty out of, well, your boobs and hand it to the girl behind the counter. He's not sure how she takes that without disgust. Was it a secret girl code? Boob money?

One Crunchwrap, two classic soft tacos, and a Baja Blast later, he finally has you in the Uber, munching on your food. He doesn't want to admit it, but the greasy food tastes like heaven as he swallows it. It must've been all the alcohol in his system.

You're somehow even drunker as he gets you up the many flights of steps and into the apartment. He tries to shush you and you nearly fall onto your face when he opens the door.

Logan can't tell if it was a good idea to come along for this outing. At least you weren't drunk and alone.

He watches as you flop down onto the couch and begin to pull at your impractical shoes. He sighs and kneels down in front of you, taking your foot in his hand. He curses the little buckle that keeps the heels on you and your giggle fills his ears.

"C'mon time for bed." He says pulling you up.

He leaves you in the bathroom, under strict instructions to brush your teeth as he sneaks into your room, careful not to wake Laura who fell asleep with her headphones on. He rummages through your clothes looking for pajamas. His hands reach for the top drawer of your dresser and Laura's voice has him freezing.

"Third drawer down. That one's got her underwear."

Logan swears his face is redder than Wade's fucking suit as he thanks Laura, blindly pulling a t-shirt and shorts for you to wear.

Back in the bathroom, he's pleased to find you actually brushing your teeth.

"Get changed," Logan says putting the the clothes onto the counter.

You spit in the sink and his eyes nearly pop out of his head when you wiggle out of that damn dress and drop it to the floor. He finds himself spinning around to face the wall, pretending like he didn't see nearly all of you. You had gone out all night without a bra? He could hardly believe it.

"Don't cream your pants." You snicker as he blushes

"Time for bed." You sigh, trying to walk by him.

"Hold on." He grabs you by the waist, spinning you around to face him, "You gotta take that shit off."

"You mean my face?" You ask so dumbly he nearly laughs.

"The makeup." He rolls his eyes

"Ughhh but I want to go to bed." You groan like a child

"Ten minutes ago you asked the driver to take you to Costco so you could get free samples." He raises an eyebrow at your sudden tiredness.

"And now I want to go to bed." You declare

He sighs and quickly picks you up, placing you on the bathroom counter with ease.

"Hey!" You scold, swatting at his hands when he lets them drift too far down towards your ass.

He swears he didn't mean it...He'd never do something perverted like that.

"Stay still." Logan orders, rummaging around in the makeup bag you kept under the sink.

He comes back up with makeup wipes and begins to gently clean your face. It's domestic bliss as he watches your eyes flutter shut under his touch. He feels his heart squeeze as he thinks of the last time he did this for his version of you. It felt like it had been a thousand years since life felt that simple, a life with you in it.

"You're good at this." You sigh, fully relaxed under his hands

"I've had practice." He replies, wiping the dark eyeshadow from your face. You're so much prettier like this, he knows he can't say that out loud though so he holds it in.

"What happened to her?" You ask suddenly

"Don't wanna talk about it." He says

"C'mon. I thought we were supposed to be bonding." You groan

Logan looks at you. You still look utterly wasted, he doubts you'll even remember this tomorrow morning so he decides to throw you a bone.

"I uh...I left her. Ran off like I always do." He sighs tiredly, "She went after me. Tried to convince me to stay with her."

"That's all?" You drunkenly ask

"Drunk myself stupid at some bar and then when I finally grew the balls to go back, it was too late. Humans went mutant hunting and I came back to her and the whole team dead." He said, his eyes fixed on the tiled floor. And even though he had made his peace with it all, he hated thinking about how he failed you.

In front of him, you slowly nod, "At least you know she loved you."

"Doesn't do me much good now. Besides I never got to tell her my own feelings, so why does it even matter?" He grumbles as you open your eyes to look at him. He can't help the way his heart skips a beat when your eyes meet his. Perhaps there's a chance for a do-over in this new life of his. You're right here, a new you is sitting right here in front of him.

"My Logan hated me."

"Was it that star personality of yours?" He finds himself joking, trying to cover up his previous thoughts. He thought about the many fights the two of you had gotten into. He thanked the gods the alcohol was mellowing you out now.

"He was a piece of shit." You glare at him.

Logan raised an eyebrow, wondering what this man had done. Perhaps it was the source of your foul mood towards him now. Whatever it was, it seemed like it was the opposite of whatever he had with his universe's you.

"What'd he do?" He finds himself asking, genuinely curious.

"What didn't he do?" You scoff, glaring at him like he was the cause of your anger.

Logan nods slowly. Perhaps trying to get you to spill your secrets while drunk wasn't the best idea.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to." He assures

You catch his hand that was moving the wipe down the bridge of your nose.

"I was stupid really." You whisper, "I got attached to an asshole who only had eyes for Jean Grey. He used me to get her attention off of Scott."

Logan lets out a small hum of acknowledgment as he drops the wipe into the sink and lets his hands fall to your thighs. He gently rubs circles over the skin that your sleep shorts leave exposed to his greedy eyes.

"I should've known better, I guess. I mean shit, I agreed to it all being casual when he asked. " You sigh, ""S' my own fault I ended up heartbroken."

You look down at your lap where his hands still rest on your thighs. He can feel the sadness pouring off of you as you speak again,

"I got caught up in a stupid dream, and thought I might've had a chance at calling him mine."

Logan is surprised to see tears falling down your face. He can't help but give into the instinct that's screaming at him, the one to comfort you and chase your sadness away. The tears are hot and land on his hands as he gently hooks a finger under your chin, making you lock those teary eyes with his.

"Hey, what's with the tears?" He asks, "Don't cry for some asshole."

You sniffle again and a fresh wave comes out and runs down your pretty face, "Sometimes, I don't know what's wrong with me. M' always going after the wrong guy."

"Let me tell you something," Logan softly smiles at you, "You are, quite possibly, the most annoying person I've ever encountered."

You let out a scoff followed by half a hiccup, "Thanks, Logan."

"Let me finish, hon," He says, "Even the most annoying version of you doesn't deserve something like that. Y'gotta let that asshole go. There's plenty of other guys out there."

A soft silence beats between the two of you as you nod and let a few more warm tears trickle down your cheeks.

"Still crying?" He smiles

"I can't stop. There's something wrong with me." You laugh a bit

Logan gently runs a thumb over your face, brushing the tears away. It's a familiar gesture, one he used to do often for you.

"What other guys are there? And don't you dare say, Wade." You say, your face serious

Maybe it's the alcohol in his system but Logan tosses his head back and laughs, "You're too good for Wade. Besides he'd drive you nuts."

"He already does." You admit

His own name is on the tip of his tongue. He knows he'd be crazy to say it to you, so he doesn't. You didn't deserve to be burdened with whatever stupid feelings he had towards you. Why should you get stuck with him after you escaped that prick from your universe, everyone deserved a clean slate, even you. Whatever it was he felt would go away eventually. At least he hoped they would.

"Can we go to bed now?" You ask, "Before Al wakes up and tries to shoot us with that gun she keeps in her bedside drawer."

"Course we can." Logan nods, helping you jump off the counter.

He lets you lean on him a bit as you stumble down the hall, still woozy. He slowly pushes your door open, and he knows its self-indulgent but before he lets you go, he presses his lips to your forehead.

He can tell you're flustered by it but you remain silent as you look up at him.

You catch him off guard and gently press your lips to his cheek, "Goodnight, Logan."

"Goodnight," Logan says, hoping the darkness hides the boyish smile that certainly is playing on his lips.

He can't believe that just happened.

Part Four

I'd like to think secretly the Wolverine from the newest movie is a big softie. Like did you see the way he smiled at Wade when he introduced him to Blind Al? He's just a slightly emo, soft-hearted guy.

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[ramirezmindset]

❝ 𝐛𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 ❞

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . tyler owens x fem!reader .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° .

→ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: yourself and tyler go way back, further than you'd like to admit, but after a brutal end, it's been years since you've spoken. until one night when your roommate brings him home.

→ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: ANNNNGGSSSSTTTT, talks of fighting and yelling, reader and tyler having history, use of feminine pronouns and description, awkward asl atmosphere, sexual implication, longing, flashbacks will be in italics. ↳ wc: 4671 (not sorry)

→ 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: this came to me when i was sat on the couch with MY roommates hahahaahah - requests are open!

↳ ❝ [ i shouldn't have called, cause we shouldn't speak. you do make me hard, but she makes me weak - save all the jokes you're gonna make, while i see how much drink i can take. then be my mistake ] ❞

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"Y/N, Emmie just texted me, she's found a male at the bar and he's coming back here" Your roommate Caroline slaps a hand over her mouth, biting back a laugh as you shake your head and chuckle. "I knew we should've joined her, but for some reason you refuse to go into that bar!"

"Carol, you know why I don't go there!" You scoff back, a playful smile on your face. You put the teaspoon in the sink and take a sip of the tea you just made, pushing a mug over the kitchen island to where Caroline sits. "I know that he tends to go there a lot and I just- I don't really want to be bumping into him and getting all weird and sad when I'm supposed to be having fun with my best girls"

"Yeah, yeah, Tyler this, Tyler that" You give her a disapproving look. "Ok, I'm sorry, that was rude. But I'm serious, Y/N, it's been four years. We never even met the guy, or even saw a photo! Surely if you were that spent on keeping him locked up in that little brain of yours for your eyes only, it can't have been that serious?"

"Oh, it was serious!" You defend, laughing and holding up your arms in mock offence. Carol wraps the blanket tighter around herself and leads you towards the couch, settling with her cup of tea, urging you to sit in front of her. "It was on and off like a strobe light, but I was crazy about him. And as far as I know, he was crazy about me. We just didn't mesh well. I mean, we had been together since we were fifteen, we grew out of each other, I guess"

"But you still have a photo of him in your wallet?" Your eyes widen at this statement, your face growing pale. "Relax, girl, I went in there to put your Costco card back and I saw a photo of some guy from the back. I assume it was him anyway and not some secret guy you've been hiding from us"

You bury your face in your hands in embarrassment, chuckling lowly to yourself. "That's Tyler alright"

"Y/N/N, will you just get in the truck?" Tyler said, holding his hand out for you to take. "Please?" You could never resist those puppy dog eyes, the one's you fell in love with all those years ago.

You smile at him, taking his hand and letting him lead you down the stairs of the porch towards his beat up old truck. Opening the door for you, he helps you climb in, a smile plastered across both your faces.

"Ty, where are you taking me?" You laugh, shaking your head at him as he just winks and shuts the door behind him, walking round the truck to slide into the drivers side.

"Now what would I gain from ruining the surprise, hm?" He turned the keys in the ignition and sped off down the dirt track of your parent's ranch, but instead of turning off onto the freeway, he heads in a different direction.

Deciding not to question him, you sigh and lean back into the headrest, staring at his side profile as he concentrates on the road. The furrow of his eyebrows, the clench in his jaw when he hits a particularly rocky piece of track, the slight smirk that flicks at the corner of his mouth when a song he likes plays on the radio.

"What are you staring at, pretty lady?" He jokes, glancing over at you and placing a hand on your thigh. "Something got your attention, hm?"

"Just my gorgeous boyfriend" You smile once again, interlocking your fingers with his hand that rests on your leg. "Thinking about how lucky I am to have such a beautiful man that loves me and drives me around and surprises me and buys me flowers and doesn't let me spend a dime."

"Yeah, you are pretty lucky" You both erupt into a fit of laughter as the truck pulls to a stop. He takes his hand off your thigh to take the keys out of the ignition and hops out the truck to open your door. "Here we are"

You look around you, confusion etching your features. "Tyler, this is the woods" He tuts at you.

"I knew you would say that. Just come with me" He takes your hand, leading you into the trees down a makeshift trail that's been made through hikers over the years. "You maybe know about this place, you maybe don't. I'm hoping don't"

You're walking for about 15 minutes before he tells you to close your eyes, grabbing your other hand to help you balance and show you the way. "Tyler, I am going to die out here!" You joke as you stumble over what feels like a branch.

"Relax, oh my Christ!" He laughs back, he pulls you into a stop as you find your feet on somewhat smooth ground. "Ok, keep your eyes closed. No peeking!" He lets go of both your hands and you feel him walk away, the crunch of his feet getting slightly further away before coming to a stop.

You take a deep breath, you arms still held out to the side slightly to keep your balance on the unfamiliar terrain.

"Ok, open" You open your eyes to find yourself on a wide cliffside at the edge of the woods, a picnic blanket sprawled out a few feet away from you where Tyler stood, and a basket full of what looks like all your favourite foods. A bottle of wine and two glasses sit comfortably on the blanket, and the city lights from below you glittered as the sun set below the peaks of the mountains miles away.

"Tyler, this is-" You place a hand on your heart, and you move your eyes to meet his, slowly walking towards where he was standing. "Tyler, this is incredible" You put your arm around his waist, pulling him in closely as you admire the intricacy of the set up. He places a kiss to your temple.

"I thought considering I'm leaving tomorrow for that storm, we could have a nice final date" He smiles, letting you go to sit down on the blanket.

"Nice?!" You exclaim, feigning offence. "Tyler, this is more than nice. This is perfect"

"Only the best for my girl" He winks, reaching for the wine and the corkscrew. "Now are you gonna sit down and enjoy this picnic with me, or are you gonna stand there staring?" He jokes again, fiddling about with the wine.

Before he could pester you again, you reach into your bag for your polaroid camera, an old thing Tyler got you for your seventeenth birthday that travels in your bag with you everywhere. Snapping a photo of him from behind, sat on the picnic blanket, the sun creating a silhouette of his frame, and all you could think in the moment was how beautiful he was, and how beautiful this could be.

"Earth to Y/N!" Caroline snaps her fingers from the couch opposite you. You flick back to reality, shaking your head and sheepishly apologising. "You OK?"

"Yeah!" You reply a little too enthusiastically. "Yeah, I'm fine, just a bit tired"

"Do you mean tired or Tyler?" Caroline giggles as you half-heartedly fling a throw pillow in her direction. "Sorry, sorry! But seriously girl, it's been this long and he's still on your mind? He must've had you whipped, you haven't even been on a date since!"

"Yes I have!" You defend, placing your tea down on the coffee table and crossing your legs under your blanket.

"Fucking some guy on the gross sinks of the club handicap stall is not a date" She got you there. Suddenly, you hear the front door open, and Emmie's laughter echo around the hallway. "Christ, here she comes" Caroline sits up on the couch and fixes her hair, as if Emmie and her mystery man would come in the room anyway.

You were proven extremely wrong when the door is pushed open and your second roommate strolls in, three beers in hand. She throws one at you and one at Caroline, using her foot to keep the door open.

"I come bearing gifts!" Emmie exclaims, holding her own beer in her hands as you try biting the lid off the beer open. "We're gonna chill in here for a bit with you guys, Tyler's just taking his shoes off"

"Who?!" Caroline exclaims, as you choke on your own breath. "Who is gonna chill in here for a bit?" She looks between the two of you as you scramble on the couch to find the missing beer cap.

Confusion etches across Emmie's face, staring at you as you frantically sit back up, pushing your glasses back up your nose. "Oh shit!" She exclaims, her eyes widening in realisation. "Oh shit!"

"Oh shit what?" that all to familiar voice asks from behind her as he strolls into the living room, making eye contact with Caroline before turning towards you. His eyes grow wide, his hands immediately reaching to take his hat off and hold it to his chest. The hat that you bought him. That stupid, stupid hat that you spent a stupid, stupid amount of money on, but somehow all seemed worth it to see that stupid, stupid smile on his stupid, stupid face.

It seemed like forever that he was staring into you before Caroline broke the silence by clearing her throat. "Um, it's nice to meet you, Tyler. How are you, Tyler? What's going on, Tyler?" She raises her eyebrows at him, as you shoot her a glare.

"Uh- yeah, I'm good, you must be Caroline" He finally tears his eyes away from you to spare an awkward, tight-lipped smile. A familiar gut-wrenching embarrassment fills your body as you look down at your lap as it hits you that your ex-boyfriend is in your apartment, with the intention of fucking your best friend, and you're sat on the couch in your pyjama's drinking tea at 10pm on a Saturday night.

Emmie awkwardly sits on the couch next to Caroline, slipping her shoes off and mouthing a 'Sorry', reaching into her pocket to pull out her phone.

I'm so sorry, she texts you. I had no idea that was the Tyler, I'm gonna ask him to leave, tell him I don't feel well. I'm so sorry

You reply: you don't have to do that, i'm just gonna take myself off to bed

No this is my mess, Emmie's next text reads. I'll sort it all out.

Tyler's still standing awkwardly in the doorway as you launch yourself off of the couch and into the kitchen, pouring your beer down the sink out of pure humiliation. He still wore the same cologne, you could smell the sandalwood on his skin as you pushed past him, his warm flesh brushing against the bare skin of your arm. He still had that same look in his eyes all those years ago when he looked at you, that one of adoration.

You rub your eyes and look out the kitchen window of your apartment at the city lights, the rain pattering slowly against the glass panes as you sigh and lean your back against the counter. It was almost like mother nature was mocking you, laughing in your face as the memories of your last meeting with Tyler flooded your mind.

"Baby, just come back inside, we can talk!" He bellowed from his porch. "It's storming, Y/N, just come inside!"

You continue down his front path as the rain and hail slammed on the pavement. You didn't know what you were doing, your house was a forty-five minute walk from Tyler's place, but you knew you'd regret it if you gave in. Suddenly, his hand grabbed your bicep from behind, twisting you around. He saw your bloodshot eyes and puffy lips and immediately his features softened.

"Darlin', I'm sorry, please just come inside and we can talk it all out" His palm came up to cradle the side of your face, and you had to fight the urge to lean into his warm, tender touch.

"There's nothing to talk about, Tyler" You replied, shaking your head. Another tear rolled down your cheek, unrecognisable as the rain hammered down on your head. "You made your choice, let me make mine"

Tyler's eyebrows furrowed. "My choice? I choose you! I always chose you, I will always choose you!" His hand left your face, falling limp at his side.

"Tell that to Boone" You shook you head. "Tell that to everyone on that stupid fucking tornado chasing team! That's what you'd rather be doing!" He scoffs, wiping a hand down his face. "What? It's true! All I've done for the last decade is support you, I let you go off and do whatever it is you do in that stupid truck, I supported you in college when you didn't have a clue what you were gonna do with your life, I came with you on chases even though I fucking hate thunder, and I hate the danger, I do everything for you! And what do I get?"

"You get to be with me!" He cut you off, you were both yelling now, drawing attention from the neighbours as lights in the houses around you slowly turned on. "Isn't that enough? Am I not enough?"

"Don't you dare turn this on me!" You turn your back on him, wiping your face. You're too far in to let him see you cry. "Tyler, of course you're enough. I'm in love with you, I have been for ten years, but all I do in this relationship is hurt. I don't feel loved, I feel like you're not satisfied until you've got your adrenaline fix on some tornado hundreds of miles away from you. Am I supposed to sit on the porch knitting, waiting for you to show back up? God forbid my boyfriend cares about me and what I want!"

"If that's how you feel, maybe we shouldn't be together!" He exclaims, his hands flying into the air as the rain beats down harder and harder.

"Maybe we shouldn't!" Your shoulders slump as you stare at him, the hurt in his eyes clouding over as any ounce of hope he had in his body to remedy this is blown away by the wind and washed away by the rain. "We're not fifteen anymore, Tyler. I can't keep doing this, I can't keep hoping and praying that you'll come back to me alive. I just can't."

"Hey" Emmie's voice sounds behind you. You turn your head towards the kitchen door, where she's shutting it behind her. "I told Tyler I wasn't feeling well, and if I'm honest, he couldn't get out of here fast enough" She awkwardly chuckles and walks over to you, giving you a hug. "I'm so sorry, Y/N/N, I didn't know that was your Tyler. I would've never have spoken to him, let alone brought him home if I knew-"

"Emmie, relax" You reply, a dry laugh leaving your throat. "It's fine, there's no need to apologise. I was just shocked to see him, that's all. It's okay, I'm okay, I promise."

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You climb out of the cab, Caroline and Emmie hot on your tail as the three of you link arms and giggle as you stumble towards the bar. The three bottles of wine you had in the refrigerator went down a treat as Emmie and Caroline coaxed you into drinking with them, and you let them convince you going to the bar that Tyler frequented was a fabulous use of your time.

It had been two weeks since your encounter with him, and you'd be lying if you said it wasn't all you thought about. The look on his face, the smell of his skin and that goddamned hat that he still refused to part with all these years later.

You'd spent the majority of the past few weeks reminiscing on the relationship, thinking about what everything was and what it could've grown into. Where would you be today? On your own ranch, like your parents, but bigger, and would you finally have gotten that ring, maybe a couple of kids? Even today, when you pictured your future, it was always with him by your side.

The atmosphere in the bar was lively, music blasting out of the jukebox as you had to elbow your way to the bar for a drink. Your eyes take a scan of the room, but he wasn't in sight. A twang of disappointment struck you, as if you would've approached him anyway.

"What can I get you?" The bartender asks, but before you could open your mouth, someone responds for you.

"Black label, on the rocks" Tyler slides up beside you, the slight redness in his eyes indicating he was just as buzzed as you were. "Hey" He rests his elbow on the bar, passing the bartender his card and shooting you a smile.

He looked somewhat the same, his shoulders were broader and his smile no longer reached his eyes, but he was still your Tyler. The mischievous glint in his eye was gone, and he had grown some stubble, even with all the differences he was still just as charming as he was all those years ago.

"Hi" you reply, taking your drink from his hand and throwing it all down.

"Woah, slow down there, cowgirl" He laughed, his old nickname for you making shivers run up your spine. You glanced over your shoulder to find Emmie and Caroline, but they had scuttled off to a dark corner of the bar, no doubt to watch this interaction.

You had never felt more awkward in your life. All of a sudden the top you thought was cute three hours ago is too much for the atmosphere you're in, and your makeup is too perfect to be ruined by the tears that would inevitably fall within the next fifteen minutes.

Tyler nods his head towards the door, taking your hand delicately in his as he led you to the deck of the bar. Sparks shot up your arm and through your body at his gentle touch, his grasp far from firm, as if you were glass that would shatter. You follow him out and perch at an empty table overlooking the street.

"How are you?" He asked, looking at you, as if he could see inside your brain. You stare back, eyebrows furrowed.

"I'm fine" You reply, nervously licking your lips and twiddling your fingers on your lap. This is so fucking awkward.

He gives you a knowing look. "No, you're not" He looks away from you and wipes his face with his hand, something he always did to stop himself from crying. "I know you're not, because I haven't been fine since we broke up. And we're cut from the same cloth, you and me, we've been interlinked since we met"

You were sat on the back porch of your parents ranch. It was a sweltering summers day, sweat licking at your skin as you shifted uncomfortably in the deck chair. Your friend Hannah was over, bringing a bottle of some sort of dark liquor with her as she sat next to you, pouring you both another glass.

"Say, when is your brother gonna be home?" She smirked at you as you playfully swatted her arm. "What!? He's hot!"

"Hannah, behave!" You laughed. "But it should be any minute now" You winked at her, reaching for your glass. Usually you wouldn't condone any of your friends getting with your twin brother, but Hannah had liked him for years and you kind of just wanted her to shut up.

As if on cue, the french doors of the patio slid open and your brother walked onto the porch, grabbing Hannah's glass and downing whatever concoction she had made for herself. She playfully giggled, and the sight made you sick to your stomach, but you laughed along anyway.

"Hello, Hannah" Your brother gave her her glass back before turning to you and grimacing. "Hello....thing...."

"Hello, ugly" you responded, pulling your sunglasses on top of your head and sitting up properly to face him. "Why did you have to come out here and ruin my time with my friend?"

"Um, it's hot, you fucking idiot, and the AC is broken, so Tyler and I are gonna chill out here. I see you have liquor, so we're gonna be enjoying that just as much as you are" He pulled up a chair opposite Hannah, so close to her that their knees touched. You wished he'd swallow his pride and make the first move, because you knew damn well Hannah wouldn't.

"Tyler?" Hannah asked, her eyebrows furrowing. "Who's Tyler?"

"I am" he said from behind you, a shadow was cast over your face as he moved to stand next to you. You looked up, and there he was, the most beautiful man you'd ever seen, and probably would ever see. "And you must be Y/N?" You nodded. "I've heard a lot about you"

"Good things I hope" You joke, a laugh bubbling out your throat as your brother clears his throat. "But if they're coming from my brother, I can't imagine it's anything but slander"

You all erupt into laughter, and that was it. After that day, Tyler never left your side.

You lean back into your chair, avoiding eye contact with Tyler. He wasn't lying, you two were eerily similar, and he'd always been the one person, aside from your brother, who could read you like a book. There was no denying your souls were hand crafted for each other.

"How's your brother?" He asks, a lame attempt at conversation.

"I thought you would know" You turned to look at him. "He married Hannah a few months ago. I was half expecting to see you there"

Tyler shook his head. "Corey hasn't spoken to me since we broke up. I think he's angry I broke his sister's heart"

Your lips form a tight line. "What do you want from me Tyler? Have you dragged me out here away from my friends to make pointless small talk or did you have anything of value to say to me?"

"Is it so wrong to want to talk to you?" He asks again, hurt brushing over his features before he regained composure. You roll your eyes and stand up, making your way back into the bar. Before you could walk in, Caroline runs over and slams the door to the deck shut in front of you, Emmie furiously pointing at Tyler, mouthing "fucking talk to him!"

You sigh in defeat and turn around to see Tyler smiling, shading his eyes from the heat lamp burning down on his skin.

"Guess you have no choice" He joked. "But I can't talk to you knowing your roommates are staring at us"

"Well, what do you propose?" You asked, pulling your jacket tighter around yourself. You were not leaving the bar with him.

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You left the bar with him. You found yourself strolling down the street, buying a case of beer from the gas station and suddenly, twenty minutes later, you were sat on the cliffside Tyler took you to years ago, moderately buzzed from the mixture of beer and hard liquor.

"I still carry your photo in my wallet" You admit, looking at him on the other side of the bench. "The one I took of you here, in this exact spot, when you made us a picnic before you left on a chase"

"I'd be lying if I said I haven't done the same thing" He reached into his pocket and pulled a polaroid out of his own wallet. It was crumpled and faded, but you could still make out your own face in the moonlight, smiling up at the camera, eyes squeezed shut with Tyler's hat adorning your head. You laughed to yourself.

You settled into a comfortable silence, the subtle admission of lost love still hanging in the air, weighing down on you.

"Why?" He asked. You looked back at him. "Why did you keep it?"

"Why did you?" You retaliate, raising an eyebrow at him in suspicion.

"Why do you think?" He sighed and shuffled ever so slightly closer to you. "I remember when you broke up with me you told your brother I was the biggest mistake of your life. He came banging my front door down, probably ready to beat me to a pulp. I would've let him. But as soon as he told me that- as soon as he told me that you said I was a mistake, every bit of anger in me just dissipated. I was in love with you, hell, I am in love with you, and all I could do was question how I managed to fuck up so bad that our decade together felt like a mistake to you."

"You were never a mistake, Tyler" You whisper softly, choosing to ignore the fact he just admitted his love for you all these years later. "I was mad, mad that I let go so easily, and it was easier to blame you than admit that I broke up with you over something so- so mundane"

He had moved closer to you, his thigh pressing against yours on the bench as he leant down to put his empty beer bottle on the floor. He sat back up, putting one arm around you as you rested your head on his shoulder. You fit in the crook of his neck like a missing piece of a puzzle, and a satisfied sigh left your lips.

"Tyler?" You say, he hums in response. "You're in love with me?"

His shoulders tense as he sucks in a sharp breath. Maybe you should've continued to ignore it.

"Of course I am" he replies softly, lifting your head up and cupping your jaw. Finally, you lean into his touch, a smile tugging at your lips. "I have been for fourteen years. I could never love anyone like I love you, you're it for me"

You stare at him, allowing yourself to fall deeply into his gaze. His features had considerably softened since you first saw him in the bar. The glint of hope in his eyes had returned, and the crease in his brow has gone. The slow breeze pushed his hair slightly back, and you had to resist the urge to run your hands through his blonde locks.

He was slowly leaning in, and before you knew it, your eyes were fluttering shut as you felt his lips lightly graze yours. His other hand found the other side of your face, cradling you like you were the most precious jewel. Your hand instinctively goes up to hold his wrist, his skin rough against your palm.

"Can I- can I kiss you?" He whisper's against your mouth. You nod.

His lips finally pressed against yours, gentle and full of years of love. He tasted the same as he always did, the distinct flavour of vanilla from his chapstick he carried around in his back pocket. His lips slotted against yours perfectly as your arms made their way around his neck. For the first time in years, you felt at peace.

Tyler reluctantly pulled away, resting his forehead against yours. "What do you say?" He whispered. "Be my mistake."

[kurosagi-h8r]

My headcanon on the ghouls in bed 🔞

Idk if anyone talked abt this already but as always you can put them in any place, it's just how i imagined them in my head. This is for funsies ☆

Detailed explanation below. Minor DNI!

Jin would almost say no to bottoming unless he's too lazy and you're too needy. But i feel like he's too prideful to go that way so he'll probably force you to nap with him instead. It's likely that you'd wake up to him taking the initiative first. "Didn't you ask for it?" And he doesn't care if you're still in the mood or not. He is now and it's your responsibility too.

TOHMA SKDJFHSKHD definitely a service top when you're good but becomes a sadist when you deserve to be punished. Either way he enjoys playing both roles and is good at them.

I feel like Luca is one of the best when it comes to aftercare. From the beginning to the end he priorities your need above his and will switch depending on your preference. Guy probably takes it like a study when it comes to please you– excited to learn about your body and all.

Kaito is a pathetic bottom. A perfect subject for mindbreaking. Will cry upon first orgasm and a whimpering mess if you're not stopping (yay overstimulation). So much thank you and sorry despite forgetting his name during the whole thing.

To me Alan is more of a service top but would bottom at first bcs Alan is Alan– he would need guidance on what you like and what you don't like and also reassurance that you're enjoying everything. A submissive top, perhaps. The type to put your needs above his. Probably would take too long fingering you bcs he's afraid he wouldn't fit.

Leo mayyyybee secretly wants to film you going down on him. Will act all sadist at first but really he just wants to see how much it'd take to trigger you. If you give in and be submissive he'd lose interest in an instant because you're too easy. I mean come on do you actually believe people who like spicy food is not into pain? If you want him so bad then take him. The fact that he might resist at first shouldn't be an obstacle to you. He's a brat bottom at its finest.

Sho is pretty simple i guess. Top leaning and would take some convincing to let you overpower him. He'd secretly be addicted to it after the first time but it's because you look hot doing it.

Depending on how his day went Haru would either top the entire session or bottom. A service top most days but would say no to a blowjob or handjob when he has no energy left. I hc him being softer with it when he's drunk bc when the two of you do it sober he'd tease you here and there. But at the same time Haru is still Haru, he has some pent up stress and could let it out through you. So please push him as hard as you can– slap the shit out of him if you need to when it gets uncomfortable.

Should I explain about Towa 😩? He seems sweet at first but the second you show no signs of going along with his tune... also he's probably into roleplay. "Let’s reenact those love stories you've told me before, Dandelion ♡~ You'll say yes, won't you?"

Ren would absolutely refuse being the bottom. Even if he's positioned under you his hands would be on your hips controlling all of your movements. Surprisingly can hold himself being cockwarmed– gotta push rank a bit if he doesn't want to get kicked out of the guild. A bit of a masochist, would force you to be quiet as he destroy you from the inside despite knowing that's what gets you being too loud. Pretending to bottom only to tease you and make you realize how pathetic your attempts were.

Taiga is Taiga.

Romeo is meticulous with everything but everything has to be romantic and worth his while. He's secretly kinky and needs to have all the power on his hand but if you play your cards right, you might just see that side of him that he will never show anyone else. Hot top, pretty bottom.

It's tempting to put Ed in each square. Who knows he's probably the creator of this top switch bottom thingy MAYBE HE INVENTED S3X IDK. Like, he's probably had his fair share of doing everything in the bed. Want him to top? He'd love to! Just surrender your whole being and let him become your God. Want him bottom? Sure. Just be careful and don't get too rough, his joints can only take so much (lol). Either way things will likely be memorable with him.

Ritsu is a top if it's for duty and bottom if you provoke him enough. Bully him; call him a momma's boy and he'll lose his mind soon enough. He would take some time to tame but it won’t be an issue if you like the process.

I imagine even when stripping Subaru would want you to look away and when it's your turn he would be too bashful to look at you. Keeping eye contact is important for him, let him know that he is the center of your world and you'll gladly accept him with open arms. Yes, he couldn’t help but look away everytime, but as long as you distract him with your lips on his he'll ease up bit by bit. He'd probably feel bad not taking the lead but his skill lies on the aftercare (despite him being the one that needed it more sometimes) so please let him take care of you as you did for him.

Haku (lord help me again with this man) will become a greedy bastard if you keep indulging him. "No more round? What a shame. I love hearing my name on your lips." To him being with you feels like a guilty pleasure that's far more dangerous than being addicted to nicotine. He tends to be lazy with other things but will gladly take on the invitation to do it with you whenever you want. "You're tired? It's fine princess. Let me get you some water, ok? Stay right here." And if you think he's stopping after that you're dead wrong. He'll do all the work while you just lay there being pretty. Let him take care of you, ok?

Feminist king. Words of affirmation in the air every five seconds. KING OF PRAISE KINK! Everything you do is beautiful; you are simply an art sent from heaven for Zenji to witness, feel, and devour to his hearts content. I feel like he's secretly a pervert but only to the right person... You are an exclusive muse for his creations that he will never share to others. Everything you want to do to him, he'll agree with no questions asked.

Rui despite being flirty and wanting you to think he's kinky, he preferred to be a gentleman on bed. Don't know how he did it back then with the casual flings but after he's no longer cursed he would cherish every second and every inch of you. Worshipping your body with everything he has until you're sick of it. Mouth, hands, whatever and however you want he'll grant it. Just keep using him as you please; make a toy out of him, he doesn't care as long as your eyes and attention stays on him.

A bundle of nerves in the beginning but if it's driven by instinct Lyca won't even stop when you want him to. He would have his way with you bcs he's too impatient, so you have to really bare your fangs if you want to put him in place.

Yuri is a mess of a bottom. Similar to Kaito but unlike him Yuri's mind will resist before fully submitting. How will he finally submit? When you deny him of his own orgasm. The longer you edge him the more he's losing his mind. He would never admit it but he's grateful that you know when to not go all out, especially when he's tired. Even better when you simply go down on him to be his stress reliever in such state.

Doing it with Jiro is a bit embarrassing at first bc he need you to go verbal with how you want him to do things 90% of the time. Don't get him wrong his mind could break at any moment too (or pass out from exhaustion) so if you make it known to him that he can do whatever he wants... oh boy you're in for a ride. He's looking forward to all the expressions you can make with all the positions he'll try with you, and he'll only stop when he pass out.

[pricegouge]

Alone, Together

alone x reader | on AO3

cw: male reader. dubcon/noncon/coercion. pseudo-tentacles, ghost has two (or more, depending on how you count 'em) dicks. ass eating, oral, overstimulation, anal sex, frotting/handjobs, a small smackeral of cbt, slapping, degradation, exhibitionism, breathplay. implied character death. MDNI

if you need a good visual aid for what i have in mind for the cocks situation, see my ramble here

divider by @/cafekitsune

Taglist @pricegouged

You're helping them. You have to remember you're helping them.

There's some method to it, some reason. Pseudoscience and technobabble bullshit that went far over your head even as Reynolds yammered on over the coms. It didn't matter, not really. Not when your entire team is - 

Compromised.

"And how will this help?"

Reynold's voice is croaky in your ear - probably burnt out the long string of five syllable words he'd just thrown at you. It's a struggle to hear him over all the commotion in the room next door, the deep groans of pain and frustration. Confusion. "They way he - it -."

They, you decide, trying to remember that's your team in there, somehow.

"- absorbs people… I think it's a defense mechanism. So you gotta make yourself as inoffensive as possible."

A hard feat, carrying forty kilos of weaponry and tac gear. Removing the most egregious pieces had seemed logical enough when Reynolds suggested it, plates and straps falling away with an odd sense of relief and dread. No one ever relished keeping a full kit on another minute, but to take it off when you knew the next room held a potential hostile went against everything you'd learned since your very first days in basic. Taking it off when you knew the thing in the next room was fuck off big, fuck off angry, and had access to the weaponry of four S.A.S. officers, if not also the capabilities, was downright untenable.

Still, when your boots crunch over the broken glass of the window which separates you from your target, your tread is that much lighter. And when they turn, they do not find you armed to the teeth as they had with all the people who went in before you. It's hard to tell if this pleases them, the whole team having been dressed for a ghost mission meant each head now wore an obfuscating mask. Further, the cold eyes that stare back at you are decidedly not the varied eyes of the men you'd expected to see, each head somehow having adopted Soap's pale gaze. It lends a sense of lifelessness to them, each eye matching the cataract-cloudy irises of the head on the end. They each look like corpses, but the animated way they move toward you reminds you they are something much worse.

They - Simon. The heads - cannot move independently, which renders their necks a bit obsolete. When they turn toward you, their whole, immense chest follows suit. One of the arms toward the back dangles limply, perhaps genuinely dead. You try to clock the equipment which adorns it, hoping against hope it doesn't mean one of them is dead in there. 

"Easy," you try as it barrels closer, stumbling backwards before you can even think it through. 

"Steady," Reynolds warns - must have a good view through the lab cameras - and you cringe when you see he has the right of it, your falter acting as blood in the water. 

Their steps come heavy and hard. Quicker than you'd expect them to move. The rhythm of their steps strike you as odd and when you glance down, you're shocked to find one leg is nearly double the size of the other, an extra shin and foot spliced into the side of their right leg. The boot there has movement, but doesn't quite reach the ground beside the odd tap of thick tread off the tile. Whoever's that was - is -, they're not quite as tall as Simon, it seems.

Despite your backpedaling, it doesn't take long for them to overtake you. Gloved fingers wrap around your wrist, yanking you closer and you can't help the yelp that escapes you, rubbery black tendrils which burst through the seams of your captain's glove brushing against the hair of your forearm unexpectedly. It's sticky, almost, and you can't help but think of this being the end; you've seen how quickly the stuff grows, drags bigger men than you into its collection. If they wanted you, this brief contact would likely be enough and suddenly it doesn't matter that you promised Reynolds you'd be as friendly and approachable as you could manage because this thing has you, and you're going to be taken in, lost amongst them, just another set of useless arms it can hang from its armpits like trophies -

And then the touch is gone, the tendrils with it. You inspect your skin for damage, feel premature relief flood you when you find none. It's not a guarantee that you're safe, ofcourse, but it's further than the others made. 

"Holy shit, it's working," Reynolds breathes, and then his voice is ripped unceremoniously from your ear when another gloved hand lashes out like a viper and yanks the cord that runs up your neck right out.

"Okay! Okay, sorry," you stammer, hands coming up in that oddly placating gesture you know would never work on any of them, least of all from you. "Just you and me, yeah? Is that what you want?"

You're not sure why you don't expect an answer. Perhaps it's the way the visible jaw of the middle head bleeds ominously, lined with more black growth than proper gum tissue at this point. Maybe it's because the one on the left has been eaten away to bone, hanging precariously. Or perhaps it's because the one on the right - somehow the most human of them despite the eye currently trying to escape the confines of its face - looks so twisted in pain and anguish you don't imagine it's capable of thought, much less speech. But they do speak, a low growl which sounds like none of and all of them at once, and the dread you feel when they bend to tilt toward you, talk down at you like your captain was wont to do is a cold, physical thing. 

"No," they drawl, their voice echoing in their own throat like layered vocal tracks, "just want you and us."

***

The jump from one life altering event to the next moves quickly, the way things often do in the field. You'd long ago stopped measuring events in time stamps, the markers ultimately meaningless when they flow like a river, here white water and rapid, there a slow meander. It's usually much more meaningful to chronicle missions by snap decisions - which choices led where, when things started to go pear shaped. When you decided to help your team, and when they decided what that help would look like.

It's all very concise on paper, when viewed as such. They say they need help and you say that's why you're there, sent to take them back to base where a specialized team can start the process of reversing the damage. They scoff, say you all know there will be no recovery. When they say you can help them in another way, you balk. They say they can just absorb you if you refuse and you concede, rationalizing that you are still helping them, in a way. They've already stopped screaming in pain, at least.

So it's not a very wide web of possible outcomes, all told. A concise, logical statement of events you'd feel no shame in returning to your superior at time of debrief. Even if it's landed you here, grinding your ass back onto the skeletal remains of one head's jaw while they work you open with the long, surprisingly prehensile black growth which you had originally mistaken for a vein of sorts running down their thickly corded neck. It seeped through their skin at their jaw, twined and morphed their tongue into something much longer, harder. It still leaked spit like that was its job, soaking your thoroughly in drool as it wedged itself ever deeper.

They had requested comfort, something to take their mind off the pain, but so far you're the only one being touched. Not that you're complaining. As good as the slimy appendage feels inside you, you're not exactly eager to touch them - so much melty, dead-looking flesh triggering the base parts of your lizard brain which still feared things like communicable, flesh eating diseases on a cellular level. There may be some selfish, brazen part of you that wants more of them, but it's the same part of you that can't look away from a car crash or a fallen soldier - a part that revels in the fear and revulsion, mistakes the stomach churn for an excitable swoop. It's not an instinct you want to be listening to now, considering you're riding a razor's edge of being merged forever with this thing but there's no ignoring it, and there's no stopping yourself from thrusting forward into the wet heat of the middle mouth when prompted, your own hardness surprising you when they note it, encouraging you forward with a twined hand at your back. And there's no stopping the whine of frustration when they slacken their tongue, let the base curl back into their mouth to keep you rocking on just the tip. It's no use correcting your movements to compensate, much as you try. The angle's all wrong, your thighs planted above their heads on one side and positioned firmly on their sturdy chest on the other. With your legs spread so wide, you cannot gain enough leverage to thrust properly and even when you do, the black growth moves nimbly with you, never letting you take it any deeper than a few frustrating inches. 

The far head, the only mouth unoccupied, laughs when you groan impatiently. They tell you to beg but you're not far enough gone yet to oblige so instead, a thick arm is propped up behind you, Price's gloved hand sliding up your front to palm your belly. They take over your pace, rocking you back and forth with more speed than you'd been able to manage on your own. But they keep you raised too high above them, your cock barely reaching their tongue no, and when they keep you like that, just there, it would be understimulating enough to let you flag considering the circumstances and the feeling of raw mandible rubbing up against your balls, if not for the free mouth which suddenly won't shut up, prattling on about how good you taste on their tongue, how hot and tight your hole is for them. How much they want you to take their entire length, want you to swallow them whole while they do the same to you.

You tell yourself you're being demanding when you ask why they don't, know you land somewhere closer to whiney. They don't entertain you either way.

"Told you to beg."

And so you do, quiet and shameful, until they stop altogether and suddenly you're calling for them - for their mouth, their strange hot tongue, their fingers, anything. You even beg for their cock when they order you to, a desperate little whore for the hot, wet tendril they slide back into you, so far you nearly convince yourself you can feel it in your diaphragm. This time when they tilt you forward and take you into their mouth all the way to the root, the appendage stays put, rooted deep. And when it begins to pulsate, sliding a knobby bend of itself which may have once been a hyoid bone back and forth against your prostate with a rhythmic series of contractions, the shudder that wracks you nearly knocks their hands from you. 

"Fuck," you hiss, somehow shimmying your hips even lower, reveling in the tight heat which which engulfs you. The unused mouth hums in agreement between gasps for air. When you realize it's probably breathing for all of them in that moment, you lean forward to plant your hands on the ground and fuck into the middle mouth for all you're able, aided by a hand on your hip when your legs go shaky and weak with the work the tendril is putting on you. 

And when they tell you they can feel your pulse in their throat, you cum so hard your vision whites out. They're relentless, the grip on your hip turning iron strong when you try to flinch away from them, the tongue in your hole never once stopping until you're wrung out and crying, too overstimulated to care about the noises you're making other than to worry you're being understood. Small miracle perhaps, given you're too fucked out to grasp the names they call you, or how they tease you for getting off to an abomination like them. If you were present enough to comprehend them, the shame would have overwhelmed you. Good thing your ears are still ringing too hard for that. You're still floaty when they jostle you into position, get you straddling their considerable hips. Two hands hold you high above them while the other works their belt and fly, and you come back to yourself with a cold jolt when their cock springs free, an incomprehensible meld of two genitals which makes you cringe in pain just to behold. 

At the center, Gaz's cock stands high and proud, relatively normal looking all things considered. But around it, split up the center like some kind of perverse flower, a thicker, shorter dicck wraps itself in two branches around the inner stamen, leaking trace amounts of precum from the seams where it clings. 

It makes your stomach roll.

It makes your mouth water.

"Just as ugly as the rest of us, is it?" the middle head growls. They do their best to coordinate a peak down, but the head on the right seems cemented too stiffly to account for the movement. You don't think they can see it at all, though you wonder if that's for the better. You suppose if you saw your cock split up the middle one day, you'd never be able to get it hard again.

For the better? 

"Worse." 

You're surprised when they laugh, though you suppose you shouldn't be. You know the men trapped in there, even if they don't seem very familiar anymore. But then, as if to prove you wrong, an alien hand grips your ass cheek hard while another set of fingers prod your hole to make sure you are indeed stretched enough for them. And then, when they lower you on to their cock, any sense of familiarity leaves you.

The stretch is not unmanageable at first, Kyle's pretty head notching deliciously within you. But the further you sink onto him, the more that second head prods at your hole and you hiss in warning, not trusting the quick preparation you'd received. They tell you to relax, rock you shallowly on the tip until the second head grows wet with precum and when you reach below yourself to spread it over the shaft, you're surprised to find it already slicked. 

They don't stop you when you pull back enough to get a proper look at them, inspecting the shaft and your own hand to find it covered in pre. Curiosity takes over and you drag your fingers along the shaft, ignoring their shiver in favor of tracing the slick back to its source, the seam where the two cocks splice together. The more your fingers explore, the twitchier they get beneath you until you can't help but tease them, ignoring your baseline revulsion in favor of running your thumb over the split head. "Hurt?" you ask, tone indicating you know full well it doesn't.

"Fuckin' -!" This time when they pull you onto them, they do not heed your protests.

You know tensing up will only make it worse but it's an instinct you can't fight, shrieking when they bully their way inside, the flare of the second head becoming soaked when you squeeze against the intrusion. They gasp, throats working around thick swallows while they keep you anchored to them, aborted little thrusts jostling you just enough to keep you  off balance. Keep you from adjusting properly. It fucking hurts, but the surprising amount of pre and spit helps to ease your grip on them eventually, especially when their weak little grinds begin to work the slick into you, their movements coming deeper and quicker the more you let them in.

They know when they've found your sweet spot by the embarrassingly garbled mewl you emit. 

"That's it," one of them growls, the hand on your left hip squeezing impossibly tighter. On the other side, the one in the balaklava calls you a sweetheart, tells you you're taking them so well.

You can't manage much beyond a bobble headed nod in response, but they don't seem to require one, three arms now working to keep you bouncing on their cock at a quick, deep pace which has your breath catching in your throat, embarrassing little punched out sounds bubbling up each time they bottom out. So overwhelmed, you don't even notice your cock stirring back to life until it begins bobbing uselessly, slapping against their marbled belly and leaving pathetic little dribbles of cum to catch in the thatch of hair there. Even the brief touch makes you whine, makes you grab yourself by the base to keep your twitchy length from grinding too hard against the coarse pelt. Except they don't like that, one hand from the seeming never ending supply snaking up to grab your wrist, holding  it behind your back. 

"Useless little thing, ain't you? Can't even properly take us without crying about it."

You don't think that's fair, but you suppose they don't want to hear how this wasn't what you had signed up for, nor would they likely wish to know that no human could probably take them anymore.

But they seem to realize that anyway. "Maybe we should eat you up? Take you in and make you part of something strong for once? They can't expect us to find any real satisfaction in you, can they?"

And something about the way they say it cuts through your addled thoughts, makes your blood run cold. "Reynolds. He said -?"

"Peace offering," middle head clarifies. 

"Not a very good one," righty adds.

The mix of emotions their words bring is concerning, not least because the pre-existing shame you'd felt for even being in this situation now combines with a deeply confusing feeling of being not good enough and the deep seated need to prove yourself to your superiors rears its ugly head. This time, when you work yourself back down onto them, they let you take the lead, dead eyes adopting as near an expression of smugness as they can manage. 

"Better do a good job, sweetheart. Hate to have to merge you with that backstabbing Reynolds just to get a decent play thing."

"Oh, fuck you," you hiss, wires crossing now as you try to figure out if you want their approval or their apology.

You get neither. "That's the plan."

Maybe it's a bad idea. Probably, you'll get your fingers bit off and then you'll sink so far into their chest you'll come out the other side and they'll wear you like a backpack until your cells all melt into an unrecognizable puddle. They'll call you Six despite the fact you'll never watch it for them, just waiting to die every minute.

None of it stops you from sticking your fingers into the offending mouth. "Shut the fuck up."

Your stunt earns you peace for all of three seconds before you remember which mouth you've chosen to take your frustration out on when that same dark, prehensile tongue wraps itself around your wrist, drawing your fingers down its throat eagerly. The shudder it earns isn't entirely disgusted and the other heads laugh at you, insultingly amused. 

You'd almost rather be Six. Especially when the slimy drool begins to coat your wrist, the weird tendril working itself across your skin as if it could wring more pleasure from the appendage while they groan in apparent pleasure, breaths coming slightly quicker.

"Feels so good," one of them confesses, their hips beginning to piston up into you. Sensitive, must be. Fresh new tissue despite its leathery texture. It would explain the way they stroke the skin of your hairy forearm at least. Your frustration grows when you realize that not only have you failed to shut them up, but you've also managed to give them even more satisfaction, somehow. 

Well, maybe they won't kill you at least.

But the hope dies in your chest when they grab your cock in their meaty fist, squeezing until you flinch and cry out in pain. They tut at you condescendingly, continue to work your length with far too much aggression. You're prevented from curling in on yourself by the broad hands at your waist and the hand currently being held hostage by a concerningly strong tongue. All the while they rumble about how useless you are to them, how they'll have to make you into something that suits their needs if you can't please them. It's a bad enough threat, as is, but when they start talking about alpha team like just more meat for the grinder, more limbs with which to combine you, the sob that wracks you isn't solely rooted in pain and overstimulation.

Somewhere, in some base part of your brain which still craves the approval of the men beneath you, you spare a thought for how badly you will have failed your mission if the amalgamation you'd been sent to wrangle, in an attempt to split them back up, ended with you earning the merge of your entire team. Probably, you shouldn't be worried about it right now, but the way they ramble about you being a disappointment to them has already turned you into a needy little thing, so you've just been set up for failure, really. So when they tell you you'll have to do better, you try; and when they prompt you to shove your fingers further down their throat, you do. And when they say you're much too pathetic to please them if you can't even take their smallest cock without crying, you falter, apprehensive.

"Smaller?"

They're mean, your open fear making them shutter beneath you. Their cum is so hot it nearly burns, leaking from you in a frothy ring as they continue to pump into you for a minute longer, working themselves back from the edge before pulling you off their length, Gaz's cock still hard at the center despite the way the split cock still dribbles weakly. They keep you raised high enough you can see when they reach down, one set of thick fingers working their fly looser. In retrospect, you're not entirely certain how you never felt it beneath you. Likely just assumed it was another strange black growth, like the kind that corded him all over, pulsing strangely with angry-looking veins. What he pulls out of his pants next isn't too dissimilar, a thick, angry-looking shaft which splits toward the tip, the pulsing blue vein which runs along the bottom branching into two merged heads, each of which look plenty formidable on its own. The end result is a frankly terrifying behemoth, its head the thickest part except perhaps its belly which looks swollen with whatever that blue vein carries. It leaks in some places, the familiar pearl of precum collecting at its heads and a darker, thinner substance which seems to ooze from the strange veins. It's… pretty, in its own way. At the very least, far more human than the one which now rests against their belly, too heavy to stand tall now that the outer cock is no longer hard. Still…

"That's not gonna fit."

Their laugh is slightly breathless, chest still heaving from their sudden orgasm. "You'd best make it. Told you what would happen if you couldn't please us."

For a moment, you think to call their bluff, your self-preservation instinct finally outweighing your loyalty. Your team isn't here, surely it wouldn't be as easy as they say to turn everyone? But ultimately, they do not need the rest of the team to turn you into something you do not want to be and you decide not to try your luck.

There's no easy way to take the heads all at once so you reach back to stretch yourself on your fingers, surprised at how easily three slip in among the spit and cum. A tendril of shame winds up your spine, the way you've so easily accepted them settling uneasily. Your expression must be telling because they laugh at you, swat your hand away so they can properly assess your stretch. 

"Christ, what a slag. Already dripping with it and wanting more?" The hand they're using is ungloved, but the texture of the skin is all wrong anyway, and the way it twitches and shakes makes it hard to close your eyes and just forget what's working you open on thick, probing fingers, much as you try. It's bad, uncomfortable, makes your skin crawl. Worse even than that, however, is knowing that they're right.

Slick with spend, the noise their fingers make within you is inescapable, a lewd sound you've been conditioned to appreciate since you even knew what getting your dick wet entailed. Despite yourself, it's not long before you're rocking back onto the alien fingers, your head thrown back as they tear breathy little gasps and curses from you. A proper moan when they hook the forefinger of another hand in against your rim and pull.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you pant, unable to get away from the middle finger which slides in against this new intrusion with little preamble due to the way the remaining arms hold you in place. 

"Shut up and take it," they order, fingers now holding you open like a pair of forceps as they wrangle you into position above their second cock. "Should be thankful we even bothered stretching you out."

But despite their words, sliding down onto the double heads makes it feel like they haven't bothered to at all. Their fingers keep you spread until you're notched over the flare, the stretch of their fingers and their cock bringing tears to your eyes which they quickly wipe away with that long prehensile tongue. You hadn't even noticed when your fingers had slid from their mouth, both hands now braced against their chest as you try to keep yourself from sliding down their length before you've had time to adjust. It's a worthless attempt of course, all hands now gripping your waist, hips, thighs, shoulders, and dragging you down centimeter by relentless centimeter. They chatter all the while, degrading words somehow keeping you grounded if only because it gives you something to focus on other than the unpleasant stretch of your ass.

"Ungrateful, that's what you are. Worked you open on fingers and tongue. Slicked that hole right up when we came in you, didn't we? And all you do is whine -."

The slap to your ass isn't too surprising, but the gloved hand striking hard against your cheek with the strength of the two combined arms that wield it, is.

Barely audible over the ringing in your ears, you hear them demand you thank them and you do so, stuttering. "Th-thank you!"

You're not sure if it's your cry that gets them, or their patience finally snapping. You see the cords of their neck flex beneath a ridden-up balaklava when they groan and then their hips are working up beneath you, burying themselves to the root within you. They lay there panting for a moment, collecting themselves. You take advantage of it as best you can as well, wriggling your hips against theirs in an attempt to adjust, feeling the slick leaking from your hole as you do so. 

Overflowing. Fucking slag, indeed.

They want you to ride them again but you can't, legs too far spread and sore to be much use. They roll you over with minimal complaint after a few failed attempts, their grumbling getting lost in the rush of your ears when they pin one leg to your chest and lean heavily against it. Gravity lets their first cock flop onto yours, hot length sliding against your flagging erection while you try to ignore their comments about how tiny you are beneath them.

It doesn't work, and the fact it only makes you harder makes your shame burn hotter.

"Pretty little thing, though," they mutter, one heavy hand cradling your jaw to keep you looking at them. They're the stuff of nightmares, looming over you as they are, but your cock twitches anyway because you've always been so desperate for their approval.

Another fist finds yours, wraps your hands around your frotting cocks as best it can. Combined like this, your fingers are barely able to encase even half of it, your grip not nearly tight enough to do either of you any good despite the way he tells you to give him something to fuck. He hisses in frustration when you're unable, one hand slapping the back of your thigh as he bullies it off to the side, his own hand twining with yours and squeezing much too hard as he begins to fuck up into you, his slick cock moving against yours as the other notches against your prostate when he withdraws, earning a ragged moan from you.

"There?" he asks, pistoning hard enough into you you'd go shuttling across the ground if not for the grip he still has on your hip, or the immense weight he leans on to you. You nod, throat and tongue working uselessly. One hand remains locked in his grasp but the other scrabbles up his chest, catching on some PALS webbing and holding on for dear life. 

"Fuck yeah, squeeze me just like that, love," he pants. You're unsure if he means the way your walls clamp down around him or your fist, currently gripping too tight to be comfortable. You remain tense in both anyway, suddenly desperate to hear more of his labored breaths. It's an instinct you do not want to analyze. Can't, given how suddenly your every thought is occupied by the way the heads of his cock scrapes against your sweet spot, has your mouth hanging open uselessly. 

The grip on your jaw shifts, palm laying heavy and flat against the column of your throat. They don't squeeze, waiting until you whine in want to duck closer, long tongue sliding against your lips as drool drips down on to you. The middle head hums, pale eyes heavy on your pathetic display. "Still need more, honey? Is that it? Need something to suck on too?"

"Knew 'e was a fuckin' slag," the last head mutters, and the tongue slips into your mouth before you can respond - not that you could've, brain sent skipping by the relentless pace he's set. The tendril in your mouth swells, fills the area between your teeth until your jaw aches with the stretch. It thins out some as it creeps down your throat, the very tip of it a thin little column which it eases past your gag reflex. You'd think they were trying to be nice if not for the way it immediately swelled again, your breaths coming hard through your nose as it continued, threatening to cut off your air from within. 

"Needy," the head on the end gripes, but the one in the middle is nicer. "Deep breath, sweetheart."

But nice as the sentiment is, the tongue in your throat doesn't actually give you enough time to abide, forcing its way deeper as the middle head does nothing more than tut disapprovingly. The hand around your throat flexes, all three heads groaning in unison as you tense up tighter on reflex, panic beginning to climb up your throat - only made worse by the knowledge you can't express it for the intrusion blocking your airways.

Within you, the tendril pulses once. The hand around your throat flexes with it, a pressure from within and without which feels like it might tear your delicate skin apart - and then they both relent, pulling away from you altogether until only their thick heads remain notched within you. They watch you splutter and cough, vaguely sympathetic noises cooing down at you while heavy hands trace over your body, too rough to be soothing. After a moment, one of them asks if you're ready, but again they do not wait for a response before filling you completely, hips bucking into you as they make you gag on their tongue. They stay there longer this time, cock twitching against yours when your throat works around the intrusion. 

"Again," they hiss, but you gag and cough, eyes growing swollen and leaky in your panic and they relent, panting nearly as much as you as they wait for you to collect yourself.

They don't even bother to ask if you're ready this time, their hips fucking up into yours the only warning you get before the hand around your throat tilts your face just so, the slimy tendril slipping down your raw throat nearly familiar. "Breathe," they warn, and this time they give you enough time to comply before slipping past your reflex, their fingers drumming off the column of your neck as they sigh into it, curling around you as their hips keep working. You whimper when their grip tightens around your cocks, but it just comes out as a snotty sound.

"Swallow, sweetheart," the far head whispers, breath hot against your ear even as it's filtered through the mask. You blink a few times, confused as to how you can manage that, and then the tongue in your throat pulses and it's automatic, reflex, the mouth at your ear groaning as the hand against your throat tightens. 

"Can feel ourselves," the middle head admits, flexing their grip again. "Here."

This time, when they grip your throat, their fingers dig into your pulse points and your vision tunnels, sensory input narrowing down to each place they touch you - the way they occupy your throat, control your breathing, your very pulse, the way their cock slides hot and wet against your own, grip so tight it would be painful if not for the way their twin heads keep notching against and framing that spot deep within you on each pass.

They only make it worse when you cum, tongue thickening in your throat as their grip tightens. They relent when you gag, the relief of your first breath only heightening your release until your back arches and you're cumming up to your chin. They hiss at the way you clench around them but their hips work even harder, balls slapping against your ass as they bury themselves into you until they're cumming so deep you think you can feel them in your stomach. 

Panting, you feel them pull out and the flood of cum that follows. You grimace, your leg lowering as you try to regain some semblance of pride. You have no clue how you're ever going to look any of them in the eye again, if they're ever successfully split. Despite your lethargy, your body spent after two rounds with a literal monster, your brain is finally coming back online, conveniently choosing now to remind you that Reynolds definitely saw all that from his end of the security feed. You roll onto your stomach when they pull away from you, desperate to bury your head in the ground while you collect yourself -.

But then a firm grip around each ankle makes your blood run cold, and you yelp when they pull you close again, leaning forward until they hover over you ominously, the length they slide into you slipping past your rim with ease.

The first cock. Gaz's. He still hasn't finished.

"Not going anywhere, are ya luv? Thought you could handle all of us?"

[scoobydoodean]

(abuse mention) let it bleed is an interesting episode but the bit where dean smacks ben always makes me so confused bc it feels like gamble dropped that in and then didnt. fucking address it. like i dont know if its fair to call it abuse bc dean was in a Very high stress situation and trying to get his attention, but it feels SO out of left field for dean and it feels like it was just there for shock value or there without much thought to what it means for dean and implies about his upbringing.

Ngl this doesn't bother me. Lisa was bleeding out, Sam was not answering the phone (because he was knocked out and locked in a room), and the whole building was warded against angels. Dean had to carry Lisa out because Ben wasn't big enough, and there were still demons in the building ready to kill them. So when Ben shut down at the crucial moment, Dean did... what he had to do in that situation. Slapping anyone is generally not advisable, and it isn't a pleasant thing to do to anybody under any circumstances, but the entire situation isn't pleasant or normal and normal circumstances cannot and do not pertain to it. The entire experience is traumatic and something no one should ever have to experience, but especially not a child. I also wouldn't call it abuse. Abuse is about consolidating power, while this moment is about being placed in a life threatening situation by a third party who wishes to do all of you harm. You have no options other than to move immediately or you are all going to die.

That said, I do also think this moment and Dean having to put a gun in Ben's hand after swearing Ben would never shoot one (6.02) contributes massively to Dean asking Cas to erase him from Lisa and Ben's lives (coupled with the lies from the demon who possessed Lisa about wishing she'd never met Dean). Dean didn't want Ben to have to live with a traumatic memory like this above all else. These kinds of experiences are things Dean believes change a person irreparably based on his own experiences. I'm sure he was also terrified that losing Lisa would send Ben down the hunter's path, and it made Dean so sick he couldn't stomach it. I don't think you're wrong to suggest maybe there's an intended nod to Dean's own upbringing here (nod @ 6.02), but the crucial difference (that Dean himself likely fails to see) is that Dean is not actually the one who put Lisa and Ben in this situation. He blames himself for it, but the person who put them in this situation was Crowley. No ifs, no ands, no buts. Dean was so scared something like this would happen that he left Lisa and Ben pretty early into the season and he and Lisa broke up. They were no longer associated. Dean expecting himself to have forseen all of this assigns a level of responsibility and clairvoyance that is completely unreasonable. In contrast, John put his children in situations like this of his own free will. No one forced him to do it. He chose to make them hunters. He chose to put guns in their hands and teach them to fight monsters. He chose to put their lives at risk from the time they were very young.

[adriartts]

Something about purpose and pasts, old worlds and new ones.

(Dialogue from @dungeonsanddragonsfifthedition‘s Bird and Bear are Friends)

[javiscigarette]

Teacher's Pet

Joel Miller x virgin f!reader

Summary: 25 years old, anxiety-ridden, and still a virgin, you ask your friend Joel for advice on your upcoming date. But you're more of a...hands-on learner. And he's more than happy to help. 

Warnings: PWP, unbalanced power dynamics, virgin!reader, neighbor/bff/more experienced! Joel, age gap, first kiss, virginity loss, fingering, oral (f receiving), frequent check-ins, soo much banter and Joel is a menace also so soft and sweet :')....(ends on a cliffhanger but there will be a part two I swear).

w/c: 7.7k idk what happened

a/n: I am resurfacing for your monthly reminder that I do in fact still write!! Inspiration for this came out of literally nowhere but I took it and RAN with it and I think I like it?? As always, thank you to my baby love @undrthelights for helping me with this and always listening to my rambling and for being my biggest enabler Ilysm

Part Two

my masterlist

"Fine! What if, hypothetically speaking of course, you were to, hypothetically, give me a, um, hypothetical, lesson or whatever." Your heart is pounding so hard you can feel your pulse throb in your neck pound in your ears. You slowly drag your hands away from your face and look at him. He stares right back at you, brows furrowed. "A what?" "Forget it. forget I said anything,” you mutter, shaking your head.  "No no wait, hang on, what do you mean? A lesson? Like a…a sex lesson?” 

"Seriously, Joel. Fuck off" you snap but with no bite or heat behind it. You bring the sweating bottle of beer to your lips and finish the rest of the now lukewarm liquid off in one gulp. 

"What? I just find it hard to believe that you've never even had a kiss. Didn't you go to high school? Didn't you ever get invited to a party? Didn't you go to college? College kids do the do like all the time” 

"Clearly not all the time" you mutter, a tad bitterly.

Joel raises his hands defensively and takes a sip of his own beer. "Just seems crazy is all. There's gotta be some chick or dude out there willing to take pity on you and pop your cherry."

You audibly gag at his choice of words. "I don't need a pity fuck, thanks." You stand from the couch and head over to the fridge. The bottles of cold alcohol inside are calling your name and you want something that will help soothe your nerves. You're not a big drinker, but when Joel is prying into your love life like he is now, you wish you were.

"Okay,” he starts from the living room. “Maybe I worded that wrong. What I meant to say was, there's gotta be someone out there who would be more than willing to show you a good time."

You groan and let your forehead fall against the fridge door. "That's the whole point! I came here to get advice for my date, someone who might actually be interested in me, and all you've done is make fun of me for not having fucked anyone yet. So thanks, Joel. You're a real pal."

You push away from the fridge and slam the door shut, a second beer in hand.

"Alright, alright, calm down." He says, hands in the air as if you were holding him at gunpoint as you head back to the couch. "Look, if this guy really likes you then he's not gonna care. Probably won't even be able to tell if you are or aren't."

"You think so?" You ask hopefully.

"Well, I mean, unless you're like... super bad."

Your heart drops into your stomach and you glare at him, "Joel."

"Oh come on, I'm kidding. You're not gonna be bad, okay? Just, go into it with an open mind and just relax. If he tries something you're not comfortable with or makes you feel weird, tell him. And if he gets pissy, dump his ass."

"That simple, huh?" You scoff.

"Well, yeah. You're the one who made it complicated by thinking it was a big deal."

"It is a big deal, Joel! I know nothing!

"Nothing? You ain’t ever watched porn? Jesus, I had no idea you were such a prude."

You can't stop yourself from rolling your eyes and slapping the back of your hand against his arm. He yelps and laughs, rubbing his arm.

"I've watched porn before" you retort. 

"What kind?" he asks with a wiggle of his brows.

"None of your fucking business" you respond, feeling your face heat up.

Joel's lips quirk into a shit-eating grin and you're quick to smack him again.

"Okay okay, sorry!" he says through his laughter. "So what exactly are you afraid of?"

You're not really sure how to answer. It's a combination of so many things, most of which are irrational fears and insecurities. Sure you've seen it all done before, but you're well aware that none of it is realistic. At least, not completely. And just the fact that you're freshly 25 years old without a single notch in your bedpost makes you dizzy with anxiety. It's not like you're saving yourself or anything, it's just that hook up culture has never agreed with you and there's never been an opportunity that made you feel like it was the right one. That is until now, with your cute coworker who you thought was miles out of your league asking you out on a third date. And now, the prospect of being in bed with him is looming over you like a dark cloud and the last thing you want to do is mess it up.

"I guess, I'm just afraid that he's gonna be disappointed, or I'm gonna weird him out, or I'm gonna do something wrong and embarrass myself.” Joel nods along and listens. "And if it is bad then we still have to work with each other and then what if it's awkward and everyone knows about it and then he hates me and--"

"Okay, whoa slow down there, buddy" Joel says, putting a hand on your shoulder. "One, you're overthinking this. You're literally thinking like, five steps ahead of what's actually going on. It's a date. And even if it does end up in the bedroom, you don't have to do anything you don't want to. No one's forcing you, okay? He can't. No one can."

"I know, but I want to," you reply quietly.

"Alright. Then do."

"I don't know howwww!! " you whine, flopping backwards into the couch.

Joel groans and sits up a little straighter, scrubbing a hand down his face. 

"Well, there's no magic trick, I don't have a secret sex manual I'm holding out on ya."

You sigh, shoulders sagging as you look over at him. The idea comes out of nowhere, well, not exactly from nowhere, but it pops in your head so fast that you then have to bite your tongue before the words bubbling up from your throat come tumbling out. 

It's not a bad idea, not necessarily. 

You've been good friends with Joel ever since you moved in next door last year. An unlikely pairing, a 40 year old contractor and an almost 25 year old office worker. But after offering him a six pack as part of introducing yourself to the neighbors, you'd gotten along fabulously. He fixes things around your house and you send him home with hot dinners and warm, gooey cookies and you watch movies together almost every Friday night.

 It's an easy friendship, open and honest and supportive, and Joel has never given you reason not to trust him. He's a good guy, if not a little brash, but you know deep down he means well. And it doesn't hurt that he's objectively attractive, with his tall and sturdy frame, strong, calloused hands, dark messy curls....It's not a bad idea.

It's an absolutely insane idea. 

You continue to stare at him, clenching your teeth together to hold back the question sitting on the tip of your tongue.

"What?" he says, looking back at you.

"Nothing" you mutter, eyes flicking away.

"You've got that face you make when you're about to say something really stupid, so just get it out."

You glare at him again, not enjoying the way he can read you so well.

"I wasn't gonna say anything."

"Well now you're lying."

"I'm not."

"You're doing it again!"

"Doing what?!"

"That face!"

"I'm not making a face!"

"Yes you are! Just spit it out!"

You groan and hide your face in your hands. You blame it on the one beer even though you know you’re not anywhere close to being drunk because how else would you justify what you’re about to say? You wait a moment, thinking about the weight of it but your mouth opens before you can stop yourself. 

"Fine! What if, hypothetically speaking of course, you were to, hypothetically, give me a, um, hypothetical, lesson or whatever."

Your heart is pounding so hard you can feel your pulse throb in your neck and hear it in your ears. You slowly drag your hands away from your face and look at him. He stares right back at you, brows furrowed.

"A what?"

"Forget it. forget I said anything,” you mutter, shaking your head. 

"No no wait, hang on, what do you mean? A lesson? Like a…a sex lesson?” 

His eyes are wide, and he looks incredulous. You can't blame him, because the more time that passes between your suggestion and now, the more ridiculous the idea seems.

"I’m sorry, that was…It was stupid. Pretend I didn't say anything. Let's just watch a movie." You move to grab the remote, but Joel's hand covers yours, stopping you.

"Is that what you want?"

You look at him, searching his expression for any sign of disgust or apprehension. But all you can see is the same Joel you've known for months, patient, warm, and understanding.

"I know. I know it's stupid. But I can't get this date out of my head, Joel. It's all I can think about and the more I do, the more worried I get and I just don't want to fuck it up. And I know we're friends and this is weird and gross, but I just thought that... maybe, I could have some practice, so to speak."

He doesn't say anything. Just keeps looking at you, the panic rising in your chest the longer the silence stretches. You start to fidget, wringing your hands together in your lap.

"I'm sorry, that was way out of line" you say, moving to stand up, your skin sweaty and hot with embarrassment and your feet ready to run out the door and never come back. 

But Joel catches your wrist, gently pulling you back down to sit next to him.

"Joel" you whine, not wanting him to humiliate you any further.

"It's okay, come here."

His voice is softer than before, and his eyes are kind. You let him pull you closer, the two of you sitting knee to knee. You can't bring yourself to look him in the eyes, not with your cheeks and the tips of your ears burning like they are, but Joel doesn't push. He simply moves his hand from your wrist, sliding it into yours. His palms are rough and warm, and the simple touch alone is comforting.

"You really wanna do this?” he asks softly. You can feel his eyes boring into you. “I mean, I'm not exactly a prize winning catch. And it's not like there's a shortage of willing men out there."

You shrug and chew the inside of your lip.

"Yeah, but you're my friend and I...I trust you."

There's another pause, and you wish that you could just disappear into the couch and erase this moment from your memory.

"How drunk are you?" he asks, glancing at the beer bottle on the coffee table.

"You saw me finish one bottle. And half of another. I’m barely tipsy."

"Not drunk?”

"Nope."

"You're gonna remember this tomorrow."

"Uh huh."

"And you still want to?"

You groan for the millionth time and squeeze his hand.

"Yes I want to! Look, if you don't want to then that's fine. It was just a dumb suggestion and we can just forget this ever happened."

He hums, considering your words. His hand slips out of yours, and you think that's it, you've scared him off and washed the friendship down the drain. That you'll have to hide from him from now on, that you'll have to pack your things up and move because the mortification would be too much, and that he'll hate you, and—

His two fingers sliding under chin surprise you, and he tilts your head up. He's looking down at you with that same even expression, eyes big, soft, and warm as he slides his hand over to cup your jaw in his palm. 

"If you want to stop at any point, just say so, okay? I won't be upset and we can go back to the way things were before. Got it?"

You nod, your throat suddenly too tight to speak. His thumb sweeps over your cheekbone, the tender touch is enough to make your heart skip a beat. There’s no way this is actually happening. That your first kiss is going to be with your 40 year old menace of a neighbor. That you’re going to, how did you put it, get a sex lesson from him. His gaze flicks down to your lips and back up to your eyes and you’re positive you’re no longer able to breathe. 

"Can I kiss you?" he asks softly. You nod. 

You're sure he can hear the thumping of your heart in his own ears as he leans down. His other hand comes to rest on your hip and when his lips touch yours, a soft, tentative pressure, you're not prepared for the electricity that shoots through you.

He's barely done anything and already you feel like you're floating. Your own hands reach out to clutch his shirt, keeping him close, afraid he'll pull away and leave you cold and wanting if you don't. But he stays put, pressing himself against you, his lips working gently against yours. You follow his lead, kissing him back while trying not to overthink it.

It's nothing like the kisses in the movies or the books, where fireworks explode behind your eyelids or where your foot pops up in the air. It's far more subdued, more quiet and subtle. But the warmth that pools low in your belly and the goosebumps that erupt on your skin when his tongue slides against the seam of your lips, light and quick, makes you absolutely melt. 

He pulls back before you can really react, and you're left with a dizzying rush of both blistering desire and excruciating anxiety. You want to pull him back in and never let him go. But your heart is beating so fast you can hardly breathe, your nerves are buzzing, and the urge to run and hide is nearly paralyzing. 

"Was it bad?" you ask tentatively, cheeks heated.

"No" he replies, giving your hip a squeeze as a smirk plays on his lips. "It was fucking awful. Worst kiss of my life"

"Shut up!" you hiss, pushing him away with a hand on his chest. He laughs, the sound easing some of the tension in your body. 

"I'm just teasing" he says, voice dropping lower. "C'mere, we can work on it."

His lips find yours again, and you try not to smile into the kiss but it's hard when you can feel the way his lips are quirked up as well. It doesn’t take much else to get you to relax and let yourself fall into the moment, into the gentle press of his mouth and the warm hands on your hip and your cheek. He swipes his tongue against your lips again, his fingers pressing lightly into the hinge of your jaw to tilt your head back and coax your lips apart.

You let him, sighing as his tongue glides across yours, hot and smooth and sweet. Your hands slide up his chest, finding purchase around his shoulders, and when you move forward, pushing yourself against him, he grunts softly but lets you. He kisses you until the both of you are gasping for air, and when he pulls back, his lips are wet and red and you're certain yours must be as well.

"Better?" you ask, a bit breathless.

"Getting there" he answers with, his breath warm where it fans across your cheek. 

"You're such a liar" you say with a goofy smile.

"Yeah, I know. Now try again, practice makes perfect.” 

You roll your eyes but lean back in nonetheless. It's a bit more heated this time, the feeling of his teeth nibbling on your bottom lip making you squirm. His hand rounds over your hip, palm smoothing to the small of your back to pull you closer, the heat of his body radiating through your clothes and warming your skin. Your hands move on their own accord, no thought behind the action as they slide up to his shoulders and then his neck, your fingers finding home in the curls at the base of his skull. When you give them a slight tug, you're rewarded with a muffled grunt from Joel. Emboldened, you pull back, lips swollen and tingling.

"You’re a good kisser,” you pant. "Is that something people usually say?"

"When it’s true" he says, grinning at you. "And since I know you're gonna ask, I'd say that was a C+, maybe a B-."

You scoff but blush furiously at the smile he flashes, his eyes crinkling in the corners.

"Well then, tell me what to do next. What do I need to know?"

Joel hums as he thinks for a moment. 

"What do you want to do?"

You stare at him for a second, blinking.

"I don't know, that's why I'm asking you" you say, shaking your head a bit.

"Well, how far do you want to take this?"

You swallow hard, suddenly feeling very shy. You can’t deny that when the idea popped in your head it was accompanied by the mental image of you naked, spread out on his bed, but the actual act of asking him, or better yet, actually doing it is... intimidating to say the least. Are you really about to let him go all the way, to see you bare and vulnerable, let him pop your cherry as he would disgustingly put it? All just to “prepare” for a date with a guy who might not even like you that way?

Yeah, probably.

"All the way" you answer. “I want to go all the way” 

He doesn’t pounce on you like you expected, doesn’t press his lips against yours in a frenzied kiss that you had half hoped for. Instead, he simply looks at you, his brown eyes boring into yours, searching.

"Are you sure? You can always say no and you're not gonna lose me as a friend if this isn’t what you actually want. I don’t want you thinking that."

You can't help the laugh that bubbles up and slips out, because of course Joel, your kind, thoughtful Joel, would say that. He's a good man. A great one, even.

"Yes, I'm sure. But if you don't want to, I get it, I can just leave and-"

Joel laughs, the sound traveling up from deep in his chest, the rumble vibrating against you.

"Sweetheart, I wouldn't be doin’ this if I didn't want to. Just makin’ sure this is what you really want."

"I want it.” 

He squeezes your hip and swipes a thumb over your cheekbone once again. 

“Alright then.” He nods, firm and resolute, and then looks around the room. “ We’re not doing it here, though. If you're getting the full Joel Miller experience, we're gonna do it right.” 

Your eyes roll reflexively, but your heart picks up its pace regardless.

"I’m not gonna do anything if you call it that ever again."

"Fine, fine,” he relents. “Let me show you what a good, thorough fucking feels like. Better?"

Your jaw drops, and he's laughing at you, his body shaking with amusement.

"Fuck you" you grumble, shoving him away while trying to hide your coy smile. 

"Yeah, that's what I'm hoping for," he says with a wide, self-assured grin.

"I'm leaving" you declare with a false sense of offense as you rise to your feet. Joel is quick to do the same and before you can take a single step away, he slips a finger through the belt loop of your jeans and tugs you back into him, wrapping an arm around your waist.

"I’ll stop, I’ll stop. I'm sorry" he says, not sounding it one bit.

You huff, but let him pull you closer until you’re pressed against his chest and you have to tilt your head back to look at him.

"I’ll be good. I promise."

"Liar"

"Well, yeah. But I can promise that I'll make you feel good."

You can't help the giggle that spills out and he kisses it away, his lips warm and plush and sweet against yours. The hand not resting on your lower back comes up, curling around the nape of your neck and keeping you close. You sink into him, and the fog creeps in again, dulling the rest of the world, making it seem fuzzy and distant, like the memory of a dream. All you can focus on is him, the warm solid weight of him against you, the strong arms holding you, the way his mouth moves against yours. And then he’s pulling back all too soon and you have to stifle a whine.

"Come on" he says, tugging at your hand.

His bedroom is dim, the little lamp on his nightstand and the faint glow of the moon through the curtains providing the only light. You swallow and take a deep breath as you step inside, your bare toes digging into the plush carpet, his hand warm and large where it grips yours.

He holds onto you as he sits on the edge of the bed. You step forward, letting him pull you between his knees. His hands settle on your hips, and you can feel their heat through the fabric of your shirt.

He doesn’t ask if you're sure again and you’re grateful because you’re not sure if you could form any kind of response right now. Instead, he slides his hands up and under your shirt, fingers dancing across your skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps. Your breath hitches as his hands smooth over your ribs and around to your back, the tips of his fingers mapping out the curve of your spine, skimming over each notch and bump. They climb higher, the fabric of your shirt bunching around his wrists. 

“Can I take this off, baby?”

Your heart jumps to your throat but you nod anyway. He grabs the hem and tugs your shirt up and and you lift your arms so he can slip it off over your head. He tosses it aside, the fabric falling to the floor beside the bed. You’re left exposed, vulnerable and bare, save for the worn out bra you wear, a few too many washes and a few years past its prime.

Your hands itch where they hang by your side with the instinct to cover yourself, hide the imperfections that you know so well, the stretch marks, the softness of your stomach, the way the cups of your bra are just a bit too small and spill over the tops.

But then he’s pressing his lips to the space just above your navel, his scruff tickling your skin and making the muscles in your abdomen jump and twitch. His hands find your waist again, and when his lips continue their path upwards, his palms follow, skimming up your sides, thumbs tracing the outline of your ribs before stopping at the band of your bra.

"This too?" he asks, voice quiet and husky.

"Yeah" you answer with a squeak, and he grins like a kid in a candy store.

His fingers undo the clasp deftness that makes your knees go weak, the straps slipping from your shoulders and the whole thing sliding down your arms, landing somewhere near your shirt. 

"God, baby, look at you" he murmurs, his hands cupping the underside of your breasts, his thumbs sweeping over the tops and then down the slope and around your nipple. Your breath hitches, the gentle touch sending a shiver up your spine. "You're fucking perfect."

The praise is unexpected and it sends a jolt of heat through your core. You whimper quietly and his hands are on you again, the calloused palms rough on the soft skin of your breasts. He kneads the flesh, squeezing gently before rolling your nipples between his fingers, pulling and pinching and teasing. 

He pulls you closer and ducks his head, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. He looks up at you through his lashes, eyes dark and hooded, and his pupils blown wide with desire.

"Can I?" he asks.

"Please."

He leans in and wraps his lips around a peaked nipple, his tongue swirling around the sensitive nub, the gentle heat of his mouth on your skin making your knees weak.

His mouth works on one breast, tongue flicking and teasing while his free hand continues its work on the other. Pleasure builds and coils deep inside, the sensation unfamiliar but certainly not unwelcome. You whimper and he pulls away, releasing your nipple with a wet pop before giving it a sweet parting kiss.

He turns his attention to the other, his teeth grazing over the stiff peak and drawing a whine from your lips. He sighs when your fingers tighten in his hair, pulling at the strands until he groans softly against you. He sucks your other nipple into his mouth, the flat of his tongue pressing against it and dragging up and around, swirling and flicking. You’re already breathless, panting, a thin sheen of sweat glistening on your forehead.

"Feels good, Joel," you whisper shyly. 

"I know, honey" he says, a soft smile pulling at his lips when he pulls away. "Feel good anywhere else?"

He doesn't wait for a response, simply slips a hand between your thighs, cupping you through the denim, the simple action making you squeak.

"Here, huh?" he says, the heel of his palm pressing against you.

You gasp softly and nod, biting your lip, too shy to say anything.

"Get on the bed, baby."

You comply, crawling onto the mattress and scooting backwards towards the pillows, sitting at the head of the bed as you watch him. His eyes never leave you as he pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it onto the floor. Your heart thumps as you stare at his bare chest, his tanned skin dotted with a light dusting of salt and pepper hair. He's broad, his shoulders thick and chest solid. Your fingers burn with the urge to reach out and touch him, so you do, extending a tentative, slightly shaky hand.

He watches you closely, eyes flitting down to the palm pressed against his chest before meeting yours again, his mouth curling into a smile.

"You can touch" he says, reaching down to curl a hand around your wrist and bringing it up to his lips, pressing a kiss to the center of your palm before guiding your hand back down to his chest. "I think most people would enjoy that."

"You're having entirely too much fun with this,” you mumble while your fingers spread out across his pec.  

"It is fun" he counters, his own hand sliding up the inside of your thigh, thumb pressing against the seam of your jeans and rubbing up and down. "But it'll be more fun once these come off"

Your lips part, a puff of air rushing out.

"You gonna take them off?" you ask, the words slipping out, bold and unbidden.

He grins, his brow quirking up.

"Look at you, being all bossy"

"You like it" you say, finally feeling some of the anxiety slipping away, the familiar and comfortable banter between the two of you slipping into place in a new, unfamiliar situation.

His smile takes up nearly his whole face as moves closer. 

“I sure do.” 

He looms over you, bracing himself on an elbow next to your head before ducking down to kiss you, his tongue easily slipping into your mouth, warm and insistent. You sigh into it, your hands finding the warm, bare skin of his back, muscles gliding beneath your palms as you slide them up and around, fingertips digging into his shoulders. He's so warm and solid and you can't help the little noise that slips out, a soft, needy moan. You're about to break the kiss and beg him to touch you, give you something, anything, but he pulls back before you can. 

"Impatient. I like that too" he says, voice barely above a whisper.

He kisses the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, then down your neck, his beard scraping against your skin. He continues his path, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses across your collarbones and down the valley between your breasts, his beard tickling your sternum.

His palm presses into the top of your thigh, and you instinctively open your legs for him, his hand immediately moving to cup you through the denim, thick fingers pressing against the seam and the bundle of nerves just below. Your hips rock up, seeking more pressure and he grins, entirely too pleased with himself right now.

You huff, and he laughs, the sound rumbling in his chest, but he relents, undoing the button and zipper of your jeans and tugging the fabric down, revealing the pair of pink panties underneath. 

Joel sits up, pulling your jeans down your legs and letting them drop off the side of the bed, the sound of the denim hitting the floor indicating that you've officially crossed a line that neither of you can come back from. But if the hungry, desperate look on his face and the way you're practically vibrating underneath him are any indication, neither of you want to.

"I'll start with just my fingers, yeah?" he says, his hands running up the insides of your thighs, touch light and teasing, the tips of his fingers brushing the edge of your panties. You nod dumbly, at a complete loss for words right now.

He ducks his head, his lips landing on the smooth skin stretched over your hip bone. You squirm, ticklish, and he grins. His mouth is a great distraction from his hand, which has found its way back in between your legs, his fingers now pressing against damp fabric.

"Shit" he curses, his touch firm. "Fuckin' soaked already. Am I just that good?" he quips with a smirk.

"Jesus do you ever shut up" you gripe, but the effect is ruined by the whimper that escapes you when his thumb sweeps up, pressing hard against your clit. 

"Oh, that's a pretty sound" he murmurs, repeating the motion to pull out another one, your hips bucking against his hand.

"Now," he starts, his tone shifting to the same one he uses when he's about to impart some life lesson. "This guy you're gonna see, or any man for that matter, should always take care of you before himself. That's just common fuckin' sense. And if he doesn't, you send him on his way" he continues. "Because a man that don't wanna see a woman get off is no fuckin' man at all"

You're about to interrupt, tell him he's an idiot and ask him to please, please, get on with it, but his fingers sliding under the elastic of your panties, swiftly pulling them down your legs steals the breath from your lungs. Your pulse sky rockets and you shift underneath him, crossing your thighs in instinctual effort to hide yourself from him. 

"M'sorry I didn't shave or anything" you blurt out, your throat tight with anxiety and embarrassment once again 

Joel just shakes his head as he pries your legs apart.

"Baby, I could not give less of a shit about that."

"But-"

"No" he says, the word firm, an edge of command to his tone. "You’re not apologizin’ for that. And if a man gives a shit, he's a fuckin' child who doesn't deserve the honor of bein' between these thighs" he says, pushing your knees further apart.

You nod and bite your lip, the words that are just so very Joel, settling in your chest and easing the tension in your body. You let out a long, slow breath and relax, trying to ease the nervousness.

"There ya go" he says, his fingers dancing along your slit, gathering the slick pooling there. You shudder at the gentle touch, your hips rolling up just a bit before you force them back down into the mattress, trying to keep yourself still.

"Nuh-uh. None of that" he says, immediately noticing the movement. He slides his free hand under you, his palm pushing into the small of your back and encouraging you to move again, to lean into your pleasure. "You take what you want, baby. Show me how good it feels. That's all I wanna see."

You squirm and whimper, the simple, almost lazy touch driving you insane. You've touched yourself before, brought yourself over the edge while imagining what it would be like to have the things you read about and watch in videos happen to you. But you've never managed to make yourself feel this good, never felt pleasure so intense, never felt a burning pressure in your abdomen so demanding that it radiates all the way to the tips of your fingers and toes.

And he's barely touched you.

"How's that feel?"

You can't even form the words, so you just nod and hum, the sound a mix of a whimper and a moan, your hips rolling up against his palm. He chuckles, and then the pressure increases, the friction building, his fingers slipping down, collecting more of your wetness to ease the drag against your skin.

He moves his fingers down, down, down, the tip of one circling your entrance, gathering the wetness pooling there. You whine loudly, any shame and modesty you once had replaced entirely with desperate need and pure desire.

"Please, Joel" you whisper, voice shaky.

"I gotcha" he says, dipping his fingertip in, just barely, and pulling a moan from deep in your chest. "Gonna give you what you need"

You groan, a long, low sound as he slowly sinks his finger into you. It's nothing like your own, so perfectly thick and long/ And you found the spot before, the spot that he curls his finger up into, but never at this angle, never with the perfect amount of pressure that he's applying right now. 

"Mmm, look at that" he coos as you clench tightly around his finger.

"Joel, god, feels so good" you whimper pathetically. 

"I know, honey, I know."

You clench again, the cockiness and self-assured attitude that usually gets under your skin now ignites your whole body in an entirely different way. He keeps his eyes on your face, watching as your eyes squeeze shut and your mouth drops open, your head tipping back as the pleasure builds.

"Another" you beg, the fullness not nearly enough.

"Greedy girl" he chides, but he pulls his finger out, and slides two back in. You swear that you could come from this alone, but he doesn't let you, the hand that was supporting your lower back disappearing, only to reappear between your thighs, his thumb circling your clit with firm, steady strokes.

White hot pleasure wraps around the base of your spine, the dual sensations of his fingers and his thumb sending you spiraling. The sounds falling from your lips are unrecognizable, high and desperate as your mind goes blissfully blank, your entire focus on the heat coiling in your abdomen. Your eyebrows pinch together and you bury your face in the pillow next to your head, trying to hide the ridiculous expression you're surely making, but you inhale the traces of his shampoo and cologne that cling to the fabric, the scent pushing you even closer to the edge. 

You try to hold back. Surely you're not supposed to come this quickly, not just from two fingers and a thumb. Surely that's a sign that you're an easy lay, or too inexperienced, or-

"Just let it happen, baby. I can feel it, Just let go" Joel says, his voice cutting through the thoughts racing through your mind, his fingers crooking inside you and dragging across the spot that makes your hips stutter and a cry fall from your lips.

You can't hold back any longer, the pleasure cresting and crashing down around you. You squeeze his fingers, your back arching, the heels of your feet digging into the mattress as you roll your hips up into his touch, seeking more and more and more. And he gives and gives and gives, working you through it and drawing it out for as long as he can before you melt into the mattress, bones and muscles liquid and warm and satisfied.

He pulls his fingers out, and the sudden emptiness draws a disappointed whine from you, his answering chuckle making you smile.

"That was- fuck" you sigh, not quite capable of coherent thought.

"Absolutely mind-blowing? Yeah I know" he teases. You roll your eyes but don't say anything because it's true, and his cocky grin fades into a soft smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he watches you return to Earth. 

"Can I- can I return the favor?" you ask, your gaze flicking down to the noticeable bulge in his jeans.

He grunts and shakes his head.

"Not yet. Got somethin' else in mind."

You frown and push yourself up onto your elbows, watching as he shifts from his position. You're about to ask what he's going to do until he's settling himself on his stomach between your thighs. You suck in a sharp breath as you realize exactly what he's got planned and your heart jumps, anxiety clouding your mind once again. 

He rests his cheek on your thigh, his eyes meeting yours.

"Alright?"

You swallow and nod, licking your lips.

"Yeah. Just... no one's ever-"

"Yeah, I got that much, that's why we're here" he says, smiling smugly when you glare at him. 

"But what if it's not good? Or I don't taste good? Or-"

"Stop" he says, the single word halting your runaway train of thought. "You need lessons in relaxing, not sex. You're so fucking tense all the time"

"Sorry" you say, immediately cringing.

He sighs, his breath ghosting over the skin of your inner thigh, making you shiver. "What did I say about apologizin'?" he says, his tone slightly sharp.

"I know. Sorry- shit, sorry! Fuck!"

He barks out a laugh and you huff, bringing up both hands to scrub over your face.

"See what I mean?"

"Yes, yes, you're very smart and know everything"

He hums and nips at your thigh.

"Damn right I do."

You want to snark back, but his mouth is moving, his lips trailing down the inside of your thigh and towards where you're aching for him, slick and wet and throbbing. He takes his time, laying kisses on your thighs, hips, and stomach, his scruff scraping the sensitive skin, huffing out a laugh when you start to squirm, your patience wearing thin.

His hands smooth over the soft flesh of your inner thighs, urging you to spread them wider before spreading you open with his thumbs, exposing you completely. You feel exposed, vulnerable, and the urge to close your legs and hide yourself from his gaze is overwhelming, the embarrassment making your skin burn. But before you can even think about closing them, his tongue is on you, sliding up the length of you and circling your clit. The moan that escapes you is embarrassingly loud and high pitched, but the mortification is easily swallowed up by the pleasure.

He hums against you, the sound and the feeling sending a shudder through your body. Your hands grip the pillow behind your head and you try not to buck up into his mouth, but your attempts are futile. He doesn't seem to mind though, in fact you think it spurs him on, his tongue flattening against you and lapping at you messily, the wetness he's coaxed from you smearing across his mouth and chin.

The sound is lewd and obscene, the sloppy, slick noises and the soft grunts and groans that rumble in his chest as he works you up. He pulls back, his breath coming out in pants, his chest heaving as he looks up at you, his eyes dark and hooded.

"Don't know what you were worried about" he says, his voice low and raspy. "You taste fuckin' divine"

His beard is shiny and damp, his lips glistening, hair messy from where your fingers were tangled in it. The sight of him looking so completely disheveled and filthy has you clenching around nothing, the ache almost too much to bear.

He doesn't say anything else, just ducks his head and gets back to work, his mouth moving with a renewed urgency, his hands gripping your thighs and pushing them further apart, allowing him better access.

Your eyes roll back and your mouth falls open, a constant stream of moans and whines and babbling pleas and praises falling from your lips, but you're not really sure what you're saying, not really sure of anything except the intoxicating pleasure coursing through your veins.

You hear him moan, can feel the vibration against your skin, and you glance down at him, and that's a mistake. The sight of him, his eyes closed and brows drawn together in concentration, his cheeks hollowed out as he sucks and nips and laps at you and– is he fucking grinding his hips into the mattress?

You're fucked.

A throaty moan tumbles past your lips as your hips start to rock, a rhythm forming as you chase your orgasm. His hands leave your thighs and he slides one arm up, the weight of it resting against your abdomen to keep you still while his other hand snakes down, fingers dipping inside again, finding the spot that makes you see stars.

"Fuck, Joel, please, oh my god, I'm so- please"

He groans in response, the hand on your stomach pressing down harder to meet the two fingers curling and stroking inside of you. You cry out at the increased pressure right as he wraps his lips around your clit, sucking and swirling his tongue around the bud, his fingers moving faster and faster. Flames lick up your spine and spread throughout your body, threatening to burn you alive. 

Your orgasm hits you like a freight train, knocking the wind out of you and turning your limbs to jello. Wave after wave of blinding euphoria crashes over you and all you can do is cling to the pillow and arch your back, your toes curling as he continues to work his fingers and tongue, happily letting you ride his face and grind into his mouth.

He doesn't let up, not until you're a whimpering, trembling mess, physically pushing his head away when it becomes too much. He pulls back reluctantly, a wicked grin plastered to his face, his chin and mouth absolutely soaked. You're panting, struggling to catch your breath as the aftershocks make you shiver despite the content warmth spreading throughout your entire body.You feel sated and sleepy, a bone deep satisfaction making you feel boneless. 

But as you come down from your high, rational thoughts start to filter in and you suddenly remember the reason this all started in the first place.

You're here to learn, he should be teaching you how to please a man.

How to please him. 

You watch as he gets off the bed and wipes his chin with the back of his hand. Your eyes shamelessly rake over him, the dusty pink flush that decorates his neck and chest, the curve of his belly down to the impressive bulge in his jeans. 

You push yourself up, ignoring the way your arms tremble with the effort. He looks at you, his eyes scanning your face no doubt looking for signs of distress.

"You ok?" he asks, eyebrows pinched together in his typical concerned Joel fashion.

"Yeah" you say, a little breathlessly. "But I still want to..."

Your voice trails off and you glance down at his crotch, hoping he gets the message.

"That's alright, baby. It's a lot, we don't-"

"No" you interrupt, a hint of desperation in your voice. "You said you would teach me. Please, Joel. I-I wanna learn" You hope it's a good enough cover to the fact that you really just want him, your original goal forgotten. "I just don't want to embarrass myself" you add, pouting slightly for good measure, praying to god that he can’t detect the underlying want for him and him only.

He watches you for a moment, seemingly contemplating his decision. And then his eyes narrow, because of course he knows. There's never been an instance where you succeeded in lying to this man. He always, always knows when something is off.

"Alright" he says, a slow smile spreading across his face, something mischievous sparkling in his eyes. "Dick sucking class is now in session"

You groan, your face twisting with visible disgust.

"Oh my god, that was terrible."

"What? It's true" he says with a shrug.

"That is- no, no way. Never say those words ever again. Ever." you say, pointing a finger at him accusingly.

"Or what?" he challenges, taking a step towards the bed.

You gulp and lick your lips.

"Or..."

He waits expectantly for a response. You have none, so you just shake your head and look away.

"Yeah, that's what I thought"

You glare at him and then sigh.

"You're a bully"

"Am I?” He asks, taking a step back to give you more room. “ 'Cause you're the one that asked me to teach ya. On your knees, kid. Let's see whatcha got."

You chew on the inside of your cheek, trying to suppress a grin. You don't know how he does it, but his ability to make a joke or a quip out of anything always has a smile tugging at the corner of your lips, even when the jokes are awful and the puns are terrible. Even when the joke is about you getting ready to suck his dick. 

"You're a bully and a pervert" you say, sliding off the bed and sliding to your knees, the plush carpet doing a decent job at protecting your joints.

"And proud of it.”

"Pride is a sin."

"So is premarital sex, so I'll see you in hell, honey"

You snort and look up at him from your place on the floor, grinning widely.

"You're ridiculous"

"You love it"

And that's the thing, isn't it?

Because you do. You love his innate ability to make you laugh, to make you smile even when he's about to take your fucking virginity. He knows how to comfort you, how to put you at ease, when to push you with his teasing and when to pull back and let you take control. You've never met a person who has so effortlessly made their way into your heart.

And here you are, on your knees for him under the false pretense of practicing for a man who's name you can't even remember right now.

You shake your head, the motion clearing the thoughts and the emotions that were swirling in your head, the ones that make you want to stand up and kiss him, kiss him until your lips are numb and you're left gasping for air.

"Joel?" you say his name softly.

"Yeah, baby?"

"Teach me."

Part 2 is already in the works I promise hehehe thank you for reading I hope u all enjoy!!

[luv4freddie]

Fools - T.N

in which the only Hufflepuff friend in the group of slytherins develops a crush on Theodore Nott— something only fools do.

fem!hufflepuff reader, bff Pansy, use of euphemisms and teasing yn for being innocent but sfw, reader is very emotional, jealous theo, 2800 words

"Y/n!!"

After a year, you'd think that people would get used to seeing the same Hufflepuff go over to the Slytherin table, but alas, half the Great Hall turned to watch you approach the table and take a seat next to Pansy.

She sticks her middle finger up behind your back, aiming it at all of the people who are still staring, and they quickly turn away. It was an unlikely friendship, but she was not going to let anyone make you feel bad about it.

"About time you get here," Draco huffs, "I've had to hear Pansy's 'girl talk' while you were sleeping."

You smile sheepishly at him, you had taken your sweet time this morning, hitting snooze a few times before listening to your favorite record and doing more singing than actually getting ready— resulting in you being extra late to breakfast.

"Sorry, Draco."

"Don't apologize yn, he doesn't deserve it."

You can hear the teasing lilt in Theo's voice from across the table, and Draco throws a handful of grapes at him.

"Whatever," Pansy turns her back to them, "did you hear, apparently the Hufflepuff chaser has a crush on you."

Your eyes flit between her face and your hands, and you wonder where she got her information from.

The boys around you seem to perk up at this, and Draco chides Pansy for deeming that piece of information unimportant compared to all her other, much more useless, girl talk this morning.

"Where on Earth did you hear that?" You cut in, not enjoying the way everyone is suddenly interested in your (nonexistent) love life.

"From a very trustworthy source," is all she'll give away, and you cringe.

"Can we change subjects, please?"

Theo narrows his eyes at you, as if he's searching your face for something.

"You don't care about it then? You're not jumping at the chance to ride his broom?"

The Slytherins around you snicker at his euphemism, but you go bright red.

"I- what! Why would you say- no!"

This only makes them laugh harder, but Pansy collects herself enough to place a reassuring hand on your arm.

"Don't worry, we all know our little puff would never."

You slap her hand away, upset at them treating you like a child.

"Well if you guys are only gonna tease me, I'm gonna go back to my own table."

"Y/n, we didn't mean-" Theo starts, but he's still got a smirk on his face, so you ignore him, leaving before he can try and stop you.

You take a seat at your own house table, and the Hufflepuffs around you immediately welcome you into their conversation.

You don't know why it bothered you so much. They were right, you weren't going to be "riding someone's broom" anytime soon, but hearing the way they talked about it— like you were just some silly, innocent baby— really bugged you.

If you were being honest with yourself, you also knew that deep down you've been repressing feelings for Theodore, because you knew enough stories about him to know it would never work. He was a heartthrob, and had no issue finding girls to entertain him at night— to him you were just a little girl. That conversation was just more proof. There's no way he'd be interested in you.

You unintentionally make eye contact with Zacharias Smith when you finally get out of your head, but you immediately look away, turning back to your friends just as Hannah asks about your Christmas plans.

You don't see your Slytherin friends again until Charms class, and Pansy immediately brings up what happened at breakfast.

"Hey, I'm sorry about that. I don't want you to feel bad, that's just how we are."

You give her a tight lipped smile, shrugging your shoulders. You've realized that most of the anger came from the realization that Theo probably saw you as a child, not actually their teasing.

"No biggie, it's forgiven."

She eyes you suspiciously but decides not to question it, instead starting to talk about her next party idea until she gets shushed when Professor Flitwick starts explaining directions.

You use the quiet moment to sneak a look at Theo, who's leaned back in his chair smirking at something Draco said next to him.

Pansy turns to you and you quickly shift your focus, but it appears she's already seen you. She gives you a raised eyebrow, and you play dumb, looking back at the teapot on your desk and trying to give it legs.

"What was that about back there?" Pansy asks as the two of you walk out together.

"I know it took me forever to get those stupid legs," you cringe, hoping to throw her off course.

"No I meant your staring."

You try not to look guilty, just shrugging your shoulders and explaining, "figured the boys might have figured it out faster. Should have known better."

She grins at that, muttering "you really should have." But something tells you she doesn't quite believe your story.

Your thoughts are only confirmed the next day when she invites you over to her dorm and then immediately suggests the two of you take veritaserum to play a game of truth or dare.

You let out a sigh.

"I'm not doing that Pans, just ask me whatever you want to know."

She grins, "you know me so well."

"Unfortunately," you tease, and she slaps your arm but asks her question anyway.

"Do you have a crush on Draco?"

Her face drops into confusion when you start laughing hysterically.

"That's what you thought? Merlin, you had me scared for no reason. No Pans, I absolutely do not have a crush on Draco."

She lets out a small sigh of relief, but you can tell she's a little peeved you laughed at her.

"Well what was I supposed to think? You got all grumpy yesterday when we were teasing you about your love life, and then the staring. It was either that or you're secretly in love with Nott, which, lets be for real."

She leaves it at that, but your cheeks flush pink. Be for real what? Be for real, he'd never want you? Be for real, what universe would the two of you work out? Be for real, he hates you?

The thoughts keep coming one after another, and suddenly your vision is blurred.

"Hey, woah, what's wrong?"

You cursed Pansy for being so observant.

"Nothing, I think my allergies are acting up." You say, but there's sadness in your voice, and there's an inch of snow outside, which isn't exactly pollen friendly.

"Don't lie to me y/n."

"I'm sorry for being so stupid and emotional." You cry, and Pansy rubs your back slowly.

"Hey, there's nothing wrong with being emotional! You don't see us do it much, but a lot of that's got to do with how we were raised. I wish I felt things as deeply as you do."

Your tears seem to slow, and she smiles.

"Now as for stupid, that depends on where that fit came from."

You look up at her in embarrassment, more hot tears threatening to fill your eyes.

"I... what did you mean?" You ask instead.

"Huh?"

"When you said be for real about me secretly being.." you couldn't bring yourself to say it, as if saying the words would make it true and something you could no longer push away and pretend wasn't there.

Realization dawns on Pansy's face, and she immediately wraps you up in a hug.

"Oh yn, it all makes sense now."

You continue to cry, and she looks at you with what you assume is pity in her eyes.

"I know, I'm such a fool! I know it would never happen, I know half of Hogwarts has a crush on him, I know he'd never want a girl like me." All of the things you'd been keeping to yourself and secretly thinking come spilling out of your mouth, and Pansy rubs your back while you continue to cry.

"Hey don't talk like that! Theo doesn't care about those people, and I know he cares about you. Not to mention, "a girl like you"? You're the exact type of girl that Theo needs. He practically never smiles the way he does when you're around. Just calm down okay?"

You nod through your cries, finally settling down as Pansy throws a magazine at you and the two of you lay across her bed.

Unknowingly, you end up falling asleep, tired from the amount of crying you did. Pansy notices but decides not to wake you, heading down to the common room where the guys would be getting back from quidditch practice soon.

When you wake up the room is dark, and a quick looks around reminds you you're in Pansy's room and not your own. You check the bathroom attached to the dorm, and when no one is in there you head down to the common room, assuming that's where she's gone to.

The whole group is sat on leather couches and armchairs when you make it down the stairs, and you rub the sleep out of your eyes as you approach the group.

"There's our bella addormentata," Theodore purrs, and you immediately flush even though you only understand half of his phrase. (sleeping beauty)

"Sorry for falling asleep." You apologize as you take the seat Pansy offered you, coincidentally landing between her and the reason for your crying.

"Stop apologizing so much," Theo whispers in your ear, and you refuse to look at him in fear of him seeing exactly the effect he has on you. Instead you continue to look at Pansy.

"No biggie, you needed it after that." She says, and you nod.

"After what? What happened?" Draco asked, ever the nosy weasel.

Pansy looked at you, obviously waiting for you to answer so she could go along with whatever you say.

You consider lying, but figure there's no point. They all know you're an emotional person, no one would find it unusual.

"I- uh- cried a little bit. Tired me out."

The boys (that you can see) all nod their heads in understanding and decide to switch topics, finally letting you relax.

However, since you'd turned your back to Theo, that now meant when you leaned back to get comfy you leaned directly into his chest, as he had one arm on the back of the couch behind you.

"Oh I'm so sorry!" You whisper, shooting back up and speaking only to him in an attempt to not draw attention from the others.

"Don't be silly," he says back, pulling your shoulders so you're back in the relaxed position against him, "you're welcome in my arms any day ragazza dolce." (Sweet girl)

You flush red again, but this time you do look up at him, a teasing glint in your eyes.

"You know I have absolutely no idea what you're saying, right?"

He grins, "that's part of the fun."

"Whatever," you turn back away from him to look at the group, your head resting right over his heart, "as long as you're not calling me a troll."

"I promise I'm not." He says, ruffling your hair before the both of you rejoin the main conversation.

"Zacharias Smith was at our practice today," Draco tells Pansy, and she looks at him in surprise.

"Really? Maybe he was looking for yn. She does sometimes keep me company in the stands."

"Oh he definitely was." Blaise smirks, and you feel Theo tense behind you. "Walked right up to Theo and asked where the pretty little one we're always hanging out with was."

"What?" Pansy shrieks, looking over, although you're unsure if the intentional target was you or the boy behind you. Her eyes momentarily widen at seeing your position before she notices something and smirks.

"Theo," she drawls, "I didn't notice those cuts on your knuckles earlier, is that new?"

Everyone turns to look at Theo, and you sit up in alarm, turning to look at his hand that's laying behind your spot on the couch.

"Theo! What happened? Why didn't you go get this checked out?"

He averts his eyes from your gaze. "Just wasn't thinking about it," he shrugs.

You frown. "How could you not be thinking about it, that looks painful!"

He shrugs again, grimacing when you grab his hand, insisting he let you heal it.

"Just let me go get my wand okay? I left it in Pansy's room."

You get up to leave, and with your back turned you don't see Pansy whisper to Theo and then him get up and follow you.

"I'll just come with." He announces, following you back to your friends room.

You try not to think about the intimacy of being alone with Theo while you tend to his wounds, trying once again to shove all your feelings down far in your heart.

Thankfully none of Pansy's roommates had come back, and Theo sits on her bed while you grab your wand from her nightstand before standing in between his spread legs.

"Give me your hand."

He complies, and you try not to blush at the warmth of his, much bigger, hand resting on your own.

"This is nasty Theo, did you punch a wall or something?" You ask, beginning to heal a few of the cuts. Luckily most of them were clean from where he'd washed them when he showered after practice, but they were scabbed over and his knuckles were blue with beginning to form bruises.

He lets out an amused huff of laughter and you stop your ministrations, looking up at him immediately.

"Tell me you didn't actually punch a wall."

He shrugs, "it was either that or Smith, and I know you don't like when I get into fights."

You feel yourself heat up. He didn't hit someone because of your preference, and the person just happened to be the guy who supposedly has a crush on you.

"Well I'm glad you didn't send my housemate to the hospital wing at least, although I wish you wouldn't have hurt yourself," you sigh, continuing to heal his hands.

Out of nowhere he pulls it away.

"Theo?"

"Look, I-" he cards a hand through his hair, contemplating his next words. "I didn't like it that Smith came looking for you. Especially that he asked me."

You look at him in confusion, "what? Why?"

He looks distraught, but he can't help the crooked smile that etches itself on his face.

"You're damn oblivious, you know that?"

You continue to look at him, no thoughts behind your eyes.

"Uh, I mean I guess? I've been told that a few times, though I'm not sure how it's pertinent to this situation."

Suddenly Theo's hands are on your cheeks, and his face is inches from your own.

"What- what are you doing?"

"I want to kiss you." He states plainly, as if it's the most normal thing in the world— as if the five words didn't have you spiraling out of control.

"Wait- do you want to kiss me because you think I'm like pretty or do you want to kiss me because you like me?"

You'd never even thought he would consider you pretty, but at his words you had to rethink a lot of things you thought you knew.

"I like you, amorina." (Little love)

"Really?" You know you should be celebrating, but you can't help the doubt that creeps into your mind. "You don't think I'm a silly, innocent, little Hufflepuff?"

He grins, "you can be my silly little Hufflepuff. And no I don't care that you're not jumping at the opportunity to go broom hopping."

You can't help but laugh a his phrasing, but you're glad he knew what you meant.

"I like you, amorina, I don't care about anything else, as long as I get you."

You smile, and Theo swears he could die happy if it's the last thing he sees.

"Well in that case, I want you to kiss me too."

He can barely hold back his own smile as he places his lips on yours, cradling your jaw with one hand while the other holds your hip.

He kissed you gently, not at all like what you'd expected, but you feel his adoration flowing out of it, and you can't help but break it to let out a giggle.

"And to think I was crying over you a few hours ago."

He grins, standing up and grabbing your hand to walk back down to the common room together, where your friends were waiting for you to go to dinner.

"No more crying over me okay?"

You nod your head, and he pulls you in for one more kiss before you rejoin the rest of your friends.

[erinaeris]

Laios Touden and the Responsibility of Power

First off, let me gush just a bit about how fucking STRONK this man is. Olympic weightlifters are dying of sheer envy and lust over this man. He is a FUCKING POWERHOUSE.

My favorite panels ever, and judging by the cropping of the second photo, Tumblr agrees.

AHEM, where was I?

Ah yes. He's not just strong and incredibly hot, my man is literally an invasive species in this dungeon. He knows every single weak spot of every monster Thistle tried to throw at him and when he finds it he just fucking RAMS HIMSELF AT THEM AND TAKES THEM DOWN.

And when he's a dwarf HE LITERALLY BENDS STEEL.

"Beat Namari at arm wrestling"? My boy, she wouldn't let you anywhere near because you'd FUCKING BREAK HER HER HAND ALONG WITH THE TABLE. (It's such a fucking shame we didn't see Senshi at least raising an (perfectly plucked except it just grows that way naturally) eyebrow in the background when he sees this. Alas, he was too distracted by his hair.)

But I mentioned responsibility, didn't I? Strength is power in the dungeon, and we all knows what comes with great power. And Laios is, in fact, very responsible with that power!

(Futther examples under the cut, wee bit spoilers for anime watchers)

This scene lives rent-free in my head forever, because of two things: Thistle suddenly realizing just what the hell he's up against,

And Laios breaking Thistle's arm.

Now, I think Laios didn't mean to actually break his arm here, he's just half-blind and dizzy and knows he has to restrain Thistle or it will all go to shit. So that's what he does. The move you see above is a restraining hold. The point is that the person pinned down can't struggle much because the position of the arm presses the suprascapular nerve, so it hurts a lot, but unless they're held that way for too long they'll be fine.

But Thistle is TINY and elves are generally fine-boned. I think Laios really did just underestimate his strength.

And the moment the dragons aren't an IMMEDIATE THREAT anymore?

Laios heals him. Thistle's a better mage than him by miles, he could have done it himself. But no. Laios does it. He was too rough, too careless with his strength, and he immediately backtracked, fixed what he broke, and continued with more mindfullness.

And these are just the examples that stuck in my mind the most. And it happens often enough that the team isn't even fucking surprised! Laios' strength would 100% scare people who only saw him in a barfight and didn't know anything else about him. Hell, the other adventurers they meet fucking quiver before this guy who just took down a monster they had nightmares about in one blow, up until he opens his mouth and they relax. You put more malevolent software in that sort of hardware and he'd be the next Shadow Governor.

But Laios is Laios. He's a gentle soul at heart (a Great Pyrenese, specifically, the gentlest souls ever unless you're out for their flock) and he is VERY CAREFUL with his strength, ESPECIALLY around his team. Chilchuck, who is literally half his size and underfed to boot, can smack Laios as much as he wants with ZERO fear because Laios is aware he can hurt Chilchuck by literally tripping over him, so he just stays still and lets Chilchuck smack at him. I'd be surprised if he ever managed to leave a bruise. Chilchuck has to aim at Laios' weak spot (back of the knee here) just to get Laios to notice him!

But because I have some experience with marital arts and close combat, I think the fight with Shuro exemplifies my point so fucking well! Laios is HURT here, he's living every autistic person's worst nightmare.

And he HOLDS BACK. His restraint is fucking IMMACULATE.

Shuro is fucking lucky Laios still liked him when he started talking shit, because he would have broken his spine otherwise. Laios doesn't even take the fight seriously! He starts with a fucking SLAP.

Shuro retaliates with an actual punch (that does nothing but piss him off)

Laios wobbles. Shuro HITS THE DIRT.

And this is the part where he realizes just how outside his weight category he is. Shuro definitely has technique on his side, but that means jackshit when you need ten blows to to even bruise your opponent, but one hit from them will leave you drinking through a straw for a week. For a second there, Shuro thought he was in ACTUAL DANGER.

But instead of finishing the job, Laios tries to talk him down, which just sets him off again. Man was at his fucking LIMIT, and it snapped. Self-preservation who?

And the best part is? Shuro is throwing all his strength behind his punches and Laios just takes them, but Laios? He mostly pushed Shuro around!

They're mostly grappling here, precisely because Laios is very conscious his friend is pretty fragile right now.

And when he does have enough?

Shuro is flat on the ground again, and Laios has a black eye and a bloody nose. He sits down and five minutes later he's ready to go! Like yes, Shuro was at a low point here, but he's been mowing through monsters at only a bit slower pace than Laios' party. He's no weakling regardless. And Laios had to HOLD BACK SO HE WOULDN'T HURT HIM. And it's so obvious that Maizuru takes one look at the two of them and leaves them to their toussling.

When I saw her reaction I had to scroll back and take another look, because I was sure she would intervene! But she doesn't! She is aware of Laios' strength, she has to be, and she doesn't lift a finger to help her precious charge. She knows the big dog he's wrestling with knows to watch his strength.

And that's my whole point: my boi is STRONK AF! And he is very aware of his strength, and how he could hurt the people around him is he wasn't careful, so he is ALWAYS CAREFUL. He has deeply internalized the fact that to have strength is to be careful with it, to use it in service of people rather than to hurt them (possibly from his dad). He is going to SUCH a good king! He's not going to like the job but by GOD he will do it really well.

And I will give my right arm to see a fic about the first corrupt lord/governor/courtier who attempts to misuse their authority for their own gain. Kabru's gonna have to talk Laios out of an execution.

[jinwoosbabyboo]

“That’s Enough For You”

Taking care of the LADS Men when they’ve had a little too much to drink

Zayne

You managed to get Zayne to go on one of the outings with his coworkers. You forgot how much of a lightweight he is.

MC: Alright my love that’s enough for you *carefully pulls the glass from his hand*

Zayne: Can I have some of you?

MC: *Covers his mouth* Watch your mouth we’re in public

Zayne: That is none of my concern

MC: Well it’s of my concern let’s go

The bar wasn’t far from your apartment so you walked home hoping the cool night air would sober him up a little

Zayne: I love you

MC: I know you’ve told me 100 times just on the walk here

Zayne: because I love you

MC: I love you too now drink this

Zayne: What is it?

MC: Water

Zayne: Are you lying?

MC: Why would I give you more alcohol?

Zayne: The alcohol was bitter … your lips are much sweeter *leans in for a kiss*

MC: No kisses for you we need to get you out of these clothes first you spilled sake on yourself

Zayne: you can undress me whenever you want

MC:

Rafayel

Thomas: I told him to slow down on the lemon drops

MC: You know he doesn’t like when you tell him what to do

Thomas: I know ... he proceeded to yell ‘you never let me have any fun’ and run into the sea

Rafayel: I can hear you *Currently laying in the backseat wrapped in a towel*

MC: Go back to sleep … I’ll take it from here thanks Thomas

You drive him back home; stumbling through the doorway of his house and making your way to the bathroom.

MC: *starts taking his shirt off*

Rafayel: *slaps your hand* Hey! I’m taken are you trying to take advantage of me?

MC: I’m trying to get you out of these wet clothes before you get sick *grabs the hem of his shirt*

Rafayel: No! My girlfriend knows how to fight she’ll kick your ass

MC: I am your girlfriend and I’m about to kick your ass

Rafayel: *squints* My baby 🥹

MC: Yes it’s me now take off your damn clothes

Rafayel: Yes ma’am …. You’re so hot you know that?

MC: Yea I’m what dreams are made of now get in the shower

Rafayel: *pulls you in with him*

MC: If you weren’t drunk off your ass I’d slap fish flakes outta you

Rafayel: Don’t threaten me with a good time I’m already hard

MC: No your-*looks down* PUT IT AWAY

Rafayel: Believe me I want to put it somewhere

MC: Stop it

Xavier

MC: Get up

Xavier: mm mm

MC: Xavier

Xavier: mm mm

MC: You can’t lay in my lap like this all night can you even breathe

Xavier: I’m fine right here

MC: No you need to drink some water

Xavier: You have something I’d like to drink

MC: Yea this glass of water

Xavier: No I’m laying on it

MC: and you’re getting none because you’re drunk

Xavier: Pleaseeeee 🥺

MC: Fine sit up first

Xavier: *Excitedly sits up*

MC: *Grabs trash can*

Xavier: What’s that for?

MC: You’re about to throw up

Xavier: No I’m- *throws up into the trash can*

MC: *Rubs his back* And this is one of the many reasons why you need to sober up first

Xavier: *groans*

MC: Now drink

Sylus

Sylus: I’m going to marry you

MC: I know

Sylus: How did you know? Did the twins tell you?

MC: You already proposed Sylus

Sylus: and you said yes!?

MC: Yes I did

Sylus: Let’s fucking go what did I do to deserve you?

MC: You didn't drink like a fish .... Take your shoes off

Sylus: My wife already bossing me around I love it

MC: Ow Sylus I can’t hold your body weight use the wall

Sylus: Did I hurt you?

MC: Im fine

You manage to get him to the bedroom where he takes a seat on the edge of the bed

MC: Take this off *pulling his shirt*

Sylus: Can I take yours off too?

MC: No

Sylus: That’s hardly fair don’t you think

MC: I think you need to get undressed and lay down

Sylus: Will you lay down with me?

MC: If I say yes will you get undressed?

Sylus: *Nods*

MC: then yes

Sylus: Do you love me?

MC: Yes

Sylus: I mean wholeheartedly

MC: I love you Sylus ... with every fiber of my being

Sylus: I can die a happy man just hearing that

[entitled-fangirl]

A soft spot.

Cregan Stark x Targaryen!reader

Summary: During the celebration of the birth of Rhaenyra's son, the reader meets the Starks.

A/n: I have to stop writing shit that can make a great series if I ALWAYS FORGET TO WRITE THE SERIES WTF but anyway. I'm gonna tryyyy to write at least one more part to this

Masterlist

.........................................................................

The second the great Lord Rickon Stark saw her, he knew she could've been a Stark in another life. He just knew it.

But she wasn't. She was the Targaryen Princess.

…

With the birth of Princess Rhaenyra's fifth son, Viserys II, the King threw a celebration. A proper tourney, feasting, and the most important: the lord's vowing their alliance to the family once again.

One by one, each Lord was expected to step in front of the intimidating Iron Throne to vow to both Viserys and Rhaenyra to protect the newest addition to the Targaryen line.

Y/n Targaryen stood idly by with her family between her brothers, Aegon and Aemond. 

She and Aegon had always been close, their teasing and playful personalities often getting them in trouble. Aegon had always wondered what would have happened if Alicent had betrothed him to her instead of Helaena. 

He leaned down and whispered to her, "Which lord do think is shitting his pants right now?"

Her brows furrowed as she looked at him, but he only smirked and motioned for her to look. 

She looked over the crowd, her eyes pausing on a particular man that was sweating profusely. An unexpected chuckle came from her throat. She slapped a hand over her mouth to hide it. 

Aemond let out an annoyed scoff and glared at her. "Control yourself, sister."

She cleared her throat and nodded. But still she bit her lip to keep the smile from growing. 

The next Lord moved forward and began to speak to the King and Rhaenrya.

Aegon smirked and leaned down again, "I mean really, do you think he's ever seen a real person before?"

A loud giggle left her mouth, echoing through the throne room. 

Pure silence followed, every head turning in her direction. 

Her cheeks turned a bright pink when her father gave a stern look. "Apologies, father. It will not happen again."

King Viserys shook his head in mock annoyance and turned his attention back to the Lord in front of him.

When everyone's attention returned to the throne, she sent her elbow into Aegon's stomach and he let out a grunt.

Lord Stark stood not far from the royals, a smirk on his face the entire time.

…

That night, Lord Stark managed to speak to the girl. His northern accent was thick as he spoke, "Your brother seems a right cruel one to get you in trouble, eh?"

The princess turned to him, "I'm sorry?"

"No, pardon me," He took her hand and kissed it as expected. "'m Lord Rickon Stark of the North."

Her eyes lit up. "Lord Stark, yes. Thank you for journeying so far."

He chuckled and shook his head, "'Tis nothing if it is for the King. I've come for every celebration of every royal birth. Even yours, Princess."

She smiled. "That was some time ago, my lord."

"Indeed."

A voice interrupted them. "Father."

"Ah, my boy," Rickon patted his back firmly. "Princess, this is my only boy, Cregan."

Her eyes met Cregan's, getting lost quickly.

He was a firm and gruff man, that much was obvious. Standing taller than his father, Cregan was built sturdier than the Wall itself, broad shoulders and a strong back hidden under his surcoat. The wolf sigil laid proudly on his chest, but her eyes didn't even journey that far.

"I… M… My Lord…"

Cregan looked between her and his father, "I apologize, princess, if I am interrupting in any way."

She shook the thoughts from her head, "N… No. No. You are not, I promise."

Rickon Stark's smirk grew into a grin.

Cregan nodded, "That is a relief indeed." He looked around before giving his full attention to her finally. "My father has journeyed here many times, but I'm afraid this is my first since I was a mere boy of 4."

"Four? And for what reason was that?" She asked curiously.

"The celebration of Prince Jacaerys' birth." He smiles, "That was many years ago."

"Yes," the words slipped from her tongue lightly as she continued to study the man. 

Silence lulled over them, but they did not mind. 

Cregan noticed her wandering eyes, and his head tilted as his soft grin grew.

Finally, she broke her train of thought again and turned, "Pardon me, Lord Rickon-"

Rickon had disappeared into the crowd without excusing himself, and the two hadn't even noticed until just then. 

Cregan let out an amused chuckle when her cheeks warmed with embarrassment. "My father has been most excited since we arrived here."

"For what exactly?"

"It's," he chuckled again. "It's an embarrassing tell, I'm afraid."

She shook her head, "Do tell me."

He crossed his arms in thought as his typical northern demeanor returned, "I shouldn't. It is not mine to tell, Princess, but my father's."

She hummed, disappointment flashing across her face. "Ah. I apologize. I should not pry at what is not my business to know."

He shook his head, "Consider us even." Then his head turned back to the festivities. "Do excuse me, Princess. It has been a pleasure to meet you."

"You as well." 

She'll remember how delicately he had kissed the back of her hand.

…

"Sister, you've been quiet all evening. It is worrying," Aegon grinned when she later sat at the high table. 

She leaned to him, "Perhaps because you made a fool of me earlier."

"You know it was all a jest of good fun," he sipped his wine, "Father wasn't even mad at it."

"We were supposed to be respectful to Rhaenyra and her child!" She rubbed at her forehead. "Perhaps you and I should not stand together during serious moments."

He scoffed, "Sister, if we did so, we'd never be seen together again." He took a bite of food and spoke, "This castle is only ever serious."

She finally grinned, "I fear you're right."

Her gaze looked out over the many tables, finally resting on the form of Cregan Stark. His back was to her, practically giving her nothing to note, but she continued to stare. 

Until her eyes wandered just barely past him to see Lord Rickon Stark looking back at her with that same knowing grin and twinkle in his eye. 

She froze before giving him a nod of her head in acknowledgment and then looked back down at her plate in front of her. 

This was going to be a long week.

....................................

A/n: *rubbing my hands together like a little fly* the things I'm thinking yall

Taglist: @twinkletwinklenotastar, @kidd3ath,@yujyujj, @misswynters, @cosmosnkaz, @sithapprentice, @kaniromi, @lovemesomevesey, @its-jackie-bb, @8812-342, @thorins-queen-of-erebor, @kingdomzeldaquest @nyxbranwenn, @callsignwidow, @a1lexh-blog, @alyssa-dayne, @ethereal-athalia, @ashovertheriver

[angelsrcute]

⌗ THEM FUCKING THEIR DARLING AT A MOVIE THEATER. 𐙚˙⋆.˚

(´∀｀*)ε｀　) ౨ৎ N–sfw content !! ; Dom!Alhaitham, Ayato, Tartaglia + Sub!F!Reader ➜ cws: Exhibitionism (Movie theatre), fingering(Tartaglia + Alhaitham), riding(Ayato), clit stimulation, raw + unprotected sex, almost getting caught, praising, dirty talk(Tartaglia). ᡴꪫ‎

꒰ † ੭ — For the event! + I'm sorry this took so long!! but I hope you'll like it.（×_×；） req by @vieannee

⌗ ALHAITHAM would shove his fingers in your cunt, your face all red with embarrassment as you try to bite back moans. Well, he really isn't a fan of romance movies, it's just not his cup of tea but he'd do anything for his darling. While watching the movie, he didn't expect a sex scene but he suddenly got turned on by the noises. So now he's here, a hand on your mouth so that the others can't hear his sweet little lover. He's definitely enjoying this too! Two of his fingers stretching your cunt out while his other hand rubs slow circles on your puffy clit, I mean, if someone really paid any attention, they'd hear the sinful noises coming from the back. Guess they're really enjoying the movie, huh?

“C’mon now, you wouldn't want others to know what we're doing here, do you? I'll fuck you properly when we get back home, so be a good girl for now.”

⌗ AYATO would book a whole ass theatre for you, having you sit on his lap while he plays with your hair, the sex scene in the movie caught him off guard, he got a boner too! Well, no one is here anyway, you riding him wouldn't hurt anyone, the sound of skin slapping filling up the room along with your mewls. His hands guiding your body up and down, groaning at how good your cunt feels, praising you. The guard coming inside the theatre and asking if everything's alright made him stop his movements, hands covering your mouth as he acts normal. His voice so calm, like he wasn't just fucking you.

“Ah yes, do not mind us, everything's fine, my lover feels a bit under the weather, I'm taking care of her, you see.”

⌗ TARTAGLIA would just tease you throughout the movie, commenting on how cute you look while blushing during some romantic scenes. He didn't know this movie had a sex scene! Well now he's blushing as his eyes flicker to you. Gloved hands covering your mouth to cover your noises as he scissors your cunt open with his fingers, hitting your sweet spot that made your eyes roll back. Whispering dirty words to your ear.

“Hey is it me or the sounds are too loud, like it's happening in this room” “Dunno man, I don't hear anything, you're thinking too much.”

Poor dudes, they didn't know there was a live show going on behind them, only if they turned their heads!

Taglist: @blueberrisdove

[mattybsgroupie]

tape | matt sturniolo

contents: cursing, fighting; established relationship; oral (m receiving); spanking (f receiving); degradation; p in v; creampie; use of “y/n”; dom!matt

- ♡ -

notes: posting this and another one later this week in celebration of almost 600 followers. so thankful for this community and for every single person that enjoys my writing (but if one gets more likes than the other im KILLING MYSELF) <3 not proofread blablabla hope you enjoy i love y’all so so much

- ♡ -

“y/n!” matt slammed the door shut, loud voice taking over the kitchen, where i was peacefully sitting. “are you fucking dumb?!” he hissed at me, throwing his phone on the table.

“wow, chill” i said, frowning my eyebrows, confused look in my face. “what are you talking about?”

“what did you do with our camera’s flashcard?” matt crossed his arms, impatiently tapping his foot on the ground. my mouth hung open, but no words came out of it. matt looked so angry, and i knew i had cause us trouble. as i kept searching on my mind, he screamed once again “fucking tell me!”

“i don’t fucking know!” i hissed back at him, throwing my hands in the air. “i changed it the last time, i told you we were out of memory but i don’t remember where i put the other one!”

“oh you don’t?” he narrowed his eyes, stepping closer to me and removing a tiny object from his pocket. he showed me the flashcard, holding it with his thumb and index right at my face. “what about leaving it on this fucking table next to nick’s work stuff?”

my eyes widened. “matt i-i’m so sorry, fuck” i stuttered, realizing what i had done.

“you’re sorry now? after nick saw everything? we have so much shit here y/n, for christ’s sake!” matt kept holding the memory card, free hand running through his hair as he tried to calm himself down. “he saw your naked pictures, he saw mine! there are compromising videos in here y/n, can you imagine if he had uploaded any of them by mistake?”

“matt, please” i got up, walking closer to matt and resting my hand on his chest. “babe, i didn’t mean it, i’m really fucking sorry.” he looked away, scratching his freshly shaved beard.

“sometimes i think you’re asking for it, you know?” he said grabbing my wrist. “you fucking want our pics to get leaked, so that way everyone can know how much of a slut you are”. matt finished, pulling me to his room as he walked, grip in my skin getting stronger.

he slammed the door once again and pushed me on his bed, my breath turning heavy from his sudden change of behavior. matt went next to his computer, grabbing our camera. it was one of the first cameras the boys ever used to record their youtube videos, and nick gifted it matt after they changed to a new, more modern equipment. matt opened the video screen and turned it on, green light signaling he had started recording.

“take your shorts off” he demanded and i knew i could no longer run from my punishment. i kept sitting, slowly removing the cloth down my legs, kicking it away with my foot. i was wearing pink panties and a t-shirt i borrowed from him, not looking my best.

“you wanted this so bad, didn't you?” he asked, positioning the camera on the nightstand. matt sat next to me, but only to pull my legs over him. he turned me over, my belly now resting on his thighs and my head falling down, only my left arm resting on the mattress. i opened my mouth in disbelief, my calves trying to move away from him somehow.

“what are you doing?” i asked, trying to at least get a bit more comfortable in that position.

“giving you what you wanted” matt said, his arm locking my legs together while the other one held me by my breasts - at least my head wouldn’t be spinning. one of his cold hands smacked my ass, the sudden contact making me choke on a moan. i could feel matt’s grin growing wide as he palmed my skin, preparing me for another slap.

“fuck!” i groaned as the burning sensation started. i knew matt didn’t actually want to hurt me, he rubbed my butt after each smack, soothing the tingles i felt as my blood started to run faster.

“matt- please” i tried to speak, but another spank interrupted me. “behave, yeah?” matt whispered in my ear and pointed to the camera. “everyone’s gonna see how much of a fucking slut you are. can’t even take a punishment, right?” he teased, long fingers now travelling between my buttcheeks, brushing lightly over my panties. matt pressed his digits harder over my cunt, feeling the wetness there “soaked already?”

i looked away, trying to cover my embarrassment with my hands - it was humiliating, my ass in the air being spanked by matt after a mistake i didn’t even mean to make. “you’re fucking embarassed? can you imagine how i was after nick gave this to me? my brother saw everything, your dirty whore” he didn’t stop the slaps, and i couldn’t stop whimpering as his hand kept on marking my skin.

“ah!” i cried once more, until he two other spanks were enough. matt gave a kiss on each of my senstive buttcheeks and tossed me out of his lap, getting up and standing in front of me. he grabbed the camera once again, turning the screen so that only him could see what he was filming. my face was burning red and i was already exhausted. matt looked at me, rising his eyebrows, wide grin on his face.

“come on” he said, zooming the lenses on me. “you’re gonna look so pretty with your mouth wrapped around my cock”.

i gulped, quickly nodding and moving my hands to his belt. i had barely unbuckled it, but i could feel matthew’s impatience growing. i pulled matt’s pants down along with his underwear, revealing his hardened dick. matt moved the camera to show off his own length, eager for me to touch him, even when he was the one in charge.

i wrapped my fingers around his shaft, veins pulsing in my palm. i brought my mouth closer to his tip, lips wrapping around the sensitive area as i received a groan in response, matt finally getting some relief to his aching cock. i couldn’t fit him entirely - matt was huge - so both of my hands started pumping the missing part as i moved my head down.

i heard matt chuckling, delighted with the view of my teary eyes begging for him. he started to slowly move his hips forward, trying to thrust his leaking dick inside of my throat. one of his hands went to my hair, already messy and tangled, in order to set my pace as he pleased.

i mumbled on his cock, asking if i could please, please, please, take a breath. of course, no words came out, my muffled voice only sent vibrations and warmth to his length which made him push his cock forward in my mouth, making me gag.

i could feel the saliva running down the sides of my lips when i softly tapped matt’s thigh and he slowly removed his cock, realizing he might have been a little too rough. i coughed, catching my breath as he pouted at me, faux sympathy showing by the lust in his eyes.

“can’t you take anything?” he asked, tugging the hem of my - his - shirt. “you cry when i spank you, you can’t even blow me properly… weren’t you supposed to act like a good slut?” matt said, helping me remove the white cloth, exposing my breasts. my nipples had been poking through the shirt from a long while, but only now matt decided to zoom in on my nubs. i caught him licking his lips as i positioned myself further on the bed, showing off my body to him. my fingers around as his followed from my neck to my collarbones and down to my tits as i teased my hardened nipples with my own digits.

“so pretty” matt whispered so low i wouldn’t have heard it if i wasn’t paying attention to his lips. “on fours” he said in a serious tone, making my pussy clench.

i turned my body over, standing on my elbows and knees, sticking my ass out as he placed himself on the bed with his knees behind me. matt’s cold fingers touched the waistband of my panties, slowly pulling it down my legs as he filmed everything.

he grabbed his own cock and pumped a few times, spreading the pre-cum along his length before dragging his dick between my buttcheeks and moving it down my cunt, lazily rubbing my folds, not really trying to fuck me. after teasing me a bit more, matt quickly put the camera back on his nightstand, now filming both of us.

matt placed his digits on my entrance, pressing my wet hole with two fingers. he slowly started to push in, but didn’t go all the way, pulling out when he saw me biting my own lips. i whined in protest - i needed him to fill me up. “fucking shut up” he spoke in a lighter mood than in the beginning of the night, showing that he was now just as needy as me.

his hands rested on my hips, holding it tight as he gradually buried himself inside of me. his pre-cum and all of my juices made it easier for matt to slide in, quickly stretching my walls and not giving me time to adjust to his size before pounding into me. “gosh- matt!” i moaned, throwing my head back as my cunt throbbed.

“always so tight for me” he said, hovering his body over mine. his chest was almost glued to my back, one of matt’s hands holding my jaw so he could kiss me. “who owns that pretty cunt, huh?” matt asked, my mouth hanging open as i could no longer stop my gruntings “y-you! ah-”.

“my fucking slut” he kept on talking while jointing his hips forward, cock finally hitting my spot. “only mine”.

“yes matt, fuck!” i pleaded, feeling my cunt clench its own walls against his dick. “i’m gonna cum, please!”

“don’t you fucking dare coming before me” matt said as his thrusts turned sloppier, trying to reach his orgasm. “f-fuck, taking me so well” he groaned loudly, palm once again meeting my ass as he slapped my skin. suddenly, i felt matt’s release filling me up completely, his sticky spurt leaking down my thighs as he finally allowed me to cum as well. my whole body trembled as my orgasm washed over me, my chest panting heavily, letting my head fall on the mattress.

matt slowly pulled out of me, lying down by my side as he came back from his high.

“are you okay?” matt asked, his hand resting on my back while i still recovered. “was i too rough?” he caressed my skin and i could feel the concern in his voice starting to show as i didn’t say anything in response.

“i’m never” i started, still out of breath. “losing the fucking card again”. i heard matt chuckle as he moved his other arm further, trying to reach the nightstand. he grabbed the camera and placed it next to my face. “say hi, pretty”

“hi pretty” i joked, matt giggling before turning the lenses to himself and winking to the video, pressing the finish button and closing the video screen. “and yes, babe. i’m okay” i assured him. “im sorry for being irresponsible and-“ he cut me off with a kiss. as he pressed his lips against mine, i realized he was no longer mad at me, and i could finally let myself relax.

“by the way” he spoke, throwing the camera on his side of the bed “you can leak this one” i giggled, hugging him, both of us acknowledging we could never - ever - lose this flash card again.

- ♡ -

taglist (drop a 🌸!): @thepubeburgler @marselise @pearlzier @mattsfavbitchhh

[waldau-archived]

how they take care of you — seventeen | 2,531 words | hurt/comfort, fluff

i didn't know i liked writing ot13 this much!

gender neutral reader. warnings: reader is stressed out/tired/scared/ill/sad? y'know, the usual spectrum of negative human emotions?

seungcheol

gets so concerned when he hears a hitch in your voice when you greet him that he drops whatever he’s doing and rushes to you. doesn’t matter if he’s on a call or if he’s doing some important paperwork, he’s all yours now.

gives you a big, comforting hug that tries to shield you from everything but him. kisses your head to try and ground you.

doesn’t make you talk if you don’t want to, but he insists that you don’t keep it in for too long because it’s only going to hurt you in the end. lasts only for a while before asking if there's someone that needs some talking to for making you feel this sad.

tries to do anything in his power to see you smile, even if it's momentary. shows you a funny picture of his favourite child (mingyu) to cheer you up. asks if you feel okay enough to walk kkuma with him, because she needs some time with her other favourite person (you).

“you know i love you, right? that's never changing.”

jeonghan

is proud to be the person that becomes your comfort when something doesn’t go right, or when you’ve had a bad day.

immediately bottles up any jokes he’s about to make and wipes away your tears, stops only when you bat his hands away. even if he doesn’t want to let go of you, he respects your boundaries.

when you're feeling a bit better, he pulls you down into the sofa and cuddles with you, and is content whether you choose to tell him what’s on your mind, or if you want to be silent and fiddle with his shirt instead.

kisses your forehead and looks into your eyes when he promises you that it’s just one bad day, and that he’s always here for all the others. links pinkies with you because he knows how much it means to you, even if it may seem childish.

will resort to tickling you to make the last traces of your sadness vanish, and asks if there’s anything else he can do to make you smile.

joshua

comes to pick you up from work because he has a free day, and realizes something’s wrong the moment you greet him hello without even looking at his face for more than two seconds.

doesn’t make a big deal out of it, though. takes your stuff from you and greets you softly. opens the door for you and buckles your seat belt. asks you if it’s okay that he’s not taking you home first, because there’s some place else he wants to take you.

dismisses any concerns you have about not looking “good enough” to go out, because you look absolutely gorgeous at any time of the day, and he’d never lie about something like this to you. lets you choose whatever music you want as he weaves through the traffic on the streets, telling you about his day.

parks the car and gets out to hold your hand in his as he guides you over to the many stalls, asking you to pick whatever you want to eat. sits next to you on one of the benches overlooking the river, your legs swinging as you lean into his side and enjoy your meal. is glad he could take care of you like this because you needed it.

“trust me when i say whatever happened is not your fault, okay, sweetheart?”

junhui

is more confident in his actions than his words, because he can immediately notice the little changes in your behaviour: your tired smile, and the way you’re kind of curled in on yourself, as if trying to take up less space.

gives you a long hug with lots of cheek kisses and pulls you into the kitchen to show you what he’s working on: a dish that coincidentally happens to be your comfort food. it’s your favourite, especially when jun makes it in his own style.

this six foot man becomes small as he tries to do anything to make you smile. hates that you’re even feeling this way. throws random pickup lines at you to see which one gets you to crack and slap his arm and tell him to stop (he won’t, because he loves you too much).

offers to feed you dinner once it’s ready and makes random airplane noises that bring out a giggle from you. watches as you eat slowly and is glad when he sees your bowl is empty. doesn’t resist your offer of feeding him dinner once you’re done.

hides under the blankets with you and watches cat videos till your eyes shut from exhaustion and his arm hurts from holding up the phone from so long. cuddles with you and doesn’t let go even when you halfheartedly complain about how warm it is.

soonyoung

becomes so gentle that it pulls you out of your dullness a bit, makes you wonder where your usually hyperactive boyfriend is.

doesn’t baby you because he knows you don’t like it, but he makes sure you get everything you need. calls his mother to ask her the exact recipe for this soup she used to feed him when he used to get ill. stays by your side even when you have a raging fever and you’re worried he’s going to catch it if he kisses your cheek one more time.

doesn’t complain even once when you wake him up because of how uncomfortable you’re feeling. what else is he there for, if he can’t take care of the person he loves the most? wraps himself along with you in your blanket even if it’s hot enough that he can just melt.

is your hype man when you finally get better enough to start moving around the house by yourself. watches you with the biggest smile on his face that he will not tamp down when he sees you eating the soup he made, and almost cries with joy when you ask him for a second serving.

doesn’t blame you one bit when he catches the same bug a week later, because you’re there to take care of him through it, and because he loves you too much for it to be an issue.

wonwoo

gently pulls you into his chest the moment he sees your tear-streaked cheeks, and rests his head on yours. doesn’t ask you what’s wrong because he feels it’s more important to make you feel better.

doesn’t care that your tears are leaving behind a spot on his shirt, and shushes you for even pointing it out. in fact he wants you to do that so that you can run out of tears and he can take care of you properly.

gives you his hoodie to wear because it’s oversized on you, and he loves seeing you in it just as much as you love wearing it.

makes you wrap your arms around his waist from behind and cling onto him while he goes about the house finishing his share of chores. does yours without asking if he senses you’re too drained out to do them.

absolutely needs you by his side regardless of what he’s doing, whether it’s playing a game or brushing his teeth. offers to read you a book if you’re having trouble falling asleep. tells you he loves you in the lowest voice possible when he sees you finally asleep against his chest, breathing evened out.

jihoon

might not very verbal, but when it comes to you, he knows exactly what to do to make things better.

knows you’re in his studio when the door shuts, but you don’t greet him. decides to finish some edits on the song he’s working on before he turns to you, only to find you lying on the sofa facing away from him.

genuinely sad to hear you had a bad day. he got through today only because of all the encouraging texts you sent him. decides the least he can do is return the favour.

wraps you in your favourite blanket that he always keeps at the studio for when you visit. holds your hand regardless of whether you want to talk or not. offers to order food to the studio so that he can make sure you’re not hungry.

very thankful that you came to him because you were feeling down, and he very much wants to call it a day and take you home so that he can cuddle with you and make your day just a bit better.

seokmin

his mood almost always mirrors yours, so when he sees you so exhausted and down, his heart genuinely hurts.

not a confrontational person, but he’s willing to fight whatever made you sad, even if it was a table you stubbed your toe on. happy that it brings a smile to your face even if he didn’t actually fight anything.

have you seen his arms? wraps them around you till you push him off with a bit of a smile on your face. he then decides he wants to use them to bake something for you. you’re the better baker between the two of you and since he’s got loads of time today, he decides he wants to learn something that he can make the next time you’re away and he doesn’t have to feel that lonely.

is your own personal jukebox. belts out whatever song you want, and does a mini infinite aju nice in the comfort of your kitchen, making you jump while the oven works, till you’re tired and actually smiling.

“it’ll be okay, i promise. i love you.”

mingyu

hates that you had a nightmare but is thankful that he was sleeping right next to you when it happened.

the biggest cuddle bug you’ll ever see you in your life. when you wake him up with a shaky voice, he immediately blinks out of his sleep and holds you in his arms. he’ll hug you and keep hugging you till he can drain your sadness even just a little.

doesn’t matter how late it is; if you can’t go back to sleep, he’ll pull you to the kitchen and make his ramen just for you. makes you help him chop some ingredients and stir the broth so that you feel involved. keeps purposely bumping into you every time you cross paths and takes a kiss as payment.

finds some cheesy, slow music to dance to and gently pulls you all over the kitchen, twirling you and even bending you as the song ends. loves hearing your laugh when he pulls you back up.

“i hope you dream of me when you sleep again. i love you.”

minghao

words aren’t necessary when he can just take care of you the way you always deserve to be taken care of.

actually gets upset (a little) when you apologize for crying in front of him. who else will make you feel better when you’re down if not for him? makes you promise never to feel nervous to be emotional around him.

runs a bath for you and makes your favourite food. when you’re done with dinner and feeling a bit better, he takes you to bed and cuddles with you, wanting you to focus on his breathing so you can calm yourself. he whispers endearments into your ear. also makes sure you know how proud he is of you for getting through today.

would give you the entire world if he could, but when you tell him the only thing you want is him, he promises you he’s never going anywhere, no matter what happens.

“i’m so lucky to call myself yours, my love. always.”

seungkwan

he can never stand seeing his loved ones sad, so when he sees you, he needs to find a way to make your smile get back to your face.

sees your lips wobble when you say hello to him, and he eventually coaxes the issue out of you: your friends had ditched a get-together you’d been planning at the last minute, and they didn’t even have the decency to apologize for it. he feels extremely angry on your behalf and is ready to curse. doesn’t do it only because it won’t help you.

thinks about what he can do to make you happy. asks if he can take you out on a drive tonight so you can watch the stars with him. when you regretfully decline the offer, he asks if you want to create a blanket fort and watch movies or go to sleep.

it’s not long before he’s constructing a blanket fort for the first time in his life thanks to some youtube tutorials. he’s upset when it collapses right in the middle of constructing it, but he realizes he’d build it a hundred times more if it meant you’d laugh the way you just did.

sets up snacks and your favourite drinks after a while. keeps apologizing to you on behalf of your so-called friends till you tell him to stop. promises that he’s always going to be with you, and that you don’t have to be sad when you’re with him. falls asleep with you in his arms, and a smile on your face, snacks and movies forgotten.

hansol

feels bad the moment he sees you try to mask the sadness on your face with a smile.

better with actions than words, so he kisses your forehead and trails you around the house while you try to relax from the day you had. if you’re really sad, he lets you just rest your head against his collarbone and breathe till you feel better.

“you’ve got this, and you’ve got me, okay? i’m right here.”

has a bunch of handmade coupons for whenever you feel sad. each coupon has the same four options: eat, talk, watch a movie, sleep. does whatever you choose, whether it’s only one or all four.

another one who has no problem with prolonged eye contact. he looks at you till you understand that he loves you more than he can say and that he’s always there for you when you feel like this.

chan

always used to being babied by his older brothers, so he feels happy to get a chance to take care of you. just doesn’t like the fact that you’re sad, because you deserve to be anything but.

very transparent with his affection for you. he whispers “i love you” into your hair when you ask him for a hug, shouts it across the living room when you come out to get some water, and holds your hand under the table during dinner even if it’s inconvenient.

if you’re really down, and don’t feel like talking, he bundles you into a blanket and puts you on the sofa and sits close to you, so that you have your space but he’s close enough if you need him.

sits with you while you work and watches intently even if he doesn’t understand much of what you’re doing. ready to go to the store and get you anything you’re craving, regardless of how late it is.

“i love looking after you, okay? don’t ever feel bad about telling me what’s troubling you.”

taglist: @bookyeom @wootify @strnsvt @cloudycaramel @thepoopdokyeomtouched

@minnieminshi @nonononranghaee @hrts4hanniehae @viewvuu @bewoyewo

[goodbird1]

My firecracker

Alastor x fem reader

Word count: 634

Summary: Charlie learns about Alastor wife.

Warnings: mention of death and murder (please tell me if I miss any)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~🌹🥀🌹~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alastor stood on a balcony overlooking the city. The hotel was celebrating for some reason or another he didn't particularly care. Reaching into his coat pocket he pulled out a locket. Unclasping it reveals an image of a woman.

“I thought doing this would make me feel better in some way, or at least dull the pain for the time being” Alastor began, looking down at the locket. “It was foolish of me to think that would happen. It's happening all over again, and I don't think I have a chance to see you again.”

Tears started swelling in his eyes. Quickly pulling out a handkerchief and wiping them away.

“You know I always took you as someone who likes entertainment and parties are pretty entertaining” Charlie said coming out on the balcony.

“Oh I'm just getting some fresh air, it's far too stuffy in there” Alastor replied, shoving the locket back in his coat. Not before Charlie notices.

“What's that?” Charlie said, reaching out.

Instinctively Alastor slapped Charlie's hand away, holding the locket even closer now. Towering over her with a cruel look on his face, he saw the fear in her eyes. Normally he'd relish in it but this was no sight he wanted to see on charlie. Signing he pulled out the locket again shifting it through his fingers.

“My apologies dear,” he said, turning back to the city. “I didn't mean to snap, it's a locket with my wife's photo in it, it's the only thing I have left of her.”

“You never told me you were married,” Charlie said, coming to Alastor's side.

“I don't much like to talk about it” Alastor signed.

“Can I ask, what was she like?” Charlie questioned.

“Oh she was wonderful” He began. “She was a firecracker, always 3 steps ahead of everyone. Beat you in any game and once you thought you had the upper hand she'd pull the rug right out from your feet. She was kind and considerate, and believed in second chances. She'd taught me that. And oh she could sing like an angel. I would play the piano, she would sing and the world would fade away.”

“She sounds amazing, you know maybe if you redeem yourself you can see her again in heaven!”

“Haha oh darling, anybody worth knowing comes down here!” Alastor said between laughs. “She would always tell me she would rather burn in hell with me than sit alone in heaven. Did you know that our fathers decided to put us together to ‘contain our unnatural behavior’? And she came up with a plan to kill both our families and then burn the evidence! Oh it was then I knew she was the one.”

Memories started flooding back when they were both alive and then both died. But this time they didn't hurt so much now.

“What happened to her?” Charlie asked, bring Alastor back to reality.

“The first or the second time?” Alastor joked trying not to spiral.

“Both?” She whispered hesitantly.

“The first time she was in a tree, mistaken for a bird and shot down the fall was what killed her. The second time…” Alastor choked clutching the locket for dear life. Clearing his voice he started again. “Well you don't make it as far as I have without making a few enemies. They sent her back in pieces.”

“That's awful!” Charlie exclaimed.

“No need to worry they won't hurt anyone now.” Signing, he stepped away from the edge. “Come on dear, let's join the party.”

“Hey Al, can I ask one more thing?”

“And what would that be?”

“Do you think she would have liked the hotel?”

Turning fully around to face Charlie. A kind smile across his face with a hand reaching out for her.“Oh she would love it.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~🌹🥀🌹~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[clan-ackerman]

-----mdni-----

------18+-----

🩸🩸 BUTTER KNIVES🩸🩸

Human!Alastor x f!reader

blood / size kink / bitting / incorrect usage of knives / virgin reader / fucking in general / ALASTOR IS FILTHY AS HELL / porn with plot

---------

---------

Your father always disapproved of him. A girl like you should never marry such man.

"A radio host? Pumpkin, you need a man who will be able to look after you when you grow old." Your father had said to you when you had gathered all your courage at dinner table one evening.

"But... I love him father..." You mumbled quietly.

"Love? You're far too young to know what love is. And besides, didn't you see at the ball how all the girls were looking at him? I can bet, that he looks at all the girls the same." Your father continued and dabbing at his moustache with napkin, cleared his throat:

"I must head out. Moon is out tonight and it's perfect for hunting. Lads will be waiting on me by now."

"Stay safe." Your mother kissed your father on cheek and saw him off. You were left sitting alone at the table, staring at your half eaten plate.

"Dont take it so hard, petal." Your mother stood next to you and gently run her hand through your hair.

"A man I respect is keeping me away from the man that my heart yearns for..." You sighed.

"Does father want me to marry someone I do not love? I'd kill myself in such marriage, mother."

"Don't even say such thing. You know your father is only looking out for you. For your future." Your mother said, trying to calm you.

"Alastor is also looking out for me." You narrowed your eyes at mother. With a hard look down at you, your mother advised:

"I think... It would be better if you did not see him anymore. Don't make your father angry, petal."

You looked up at her, not believing what she had just said.

"What..? Mama... How could you say such thing?" Your lip started to tremble. With blurry vision you looked around the table, butter knives shining in dim light. With angry huff you tried to brush your tears away and stood up, chair falling over in process. Your mother took a step back:

"Behave now." Mother said in sharp tone. You took a quick glance at the clock on the mantle piece and then bolted for the door.

"Where are YOU going at such hour?!" Your mother grabbed your hand before you even got two steps away from table.

"Clearly away from here." You spat, not breaking eye contact.

"You will sit back down, finish your dinner and go straight to bed." Your mother stated, her grip on your arm tightening. What she didn't notice, was how your other hand sneaked behind you and blindly reached for the first thing - the glimmering butter knife.

"I will not do such thing. Now. Let. Go." You said through gritted teeth.

"That's it. You insolent daughter." Your mother's hand reached up to grab your hair, but before she could do so - you were pointing the knife at her.

With wide eyes, both of you stared at the knife that was between you two.

"Mother.... I'm so sorry... I didn't mean--"

Your mother looked up at you and in one swift motion slapped you right across your face. With a cry you clutched your cheek and finally escaped the house. Leaving your mother to seeth back at the doorstep.

Quickly running down the front stairs of the house, you bolted across the yard. Ducked through the wooden fence that held your father's horses out of mother's garden, and run bare feet in the field. Trying to put as much distance between her and yourself.

When you finally had reached the other far off side of stockyard, you felt like you could breath again. Not bothering to climb over the fence you sat in the wet dewy grass and leaned against the fence pole. Distinct sounds of hunters gunshots and hound howls echoed in the forest behind.

You looked down at your hands. Right one still clutching the butter knife. From holding it incorrectly in your hand while on the run, you had accidentally nicked your fingers. New tears gathered in your eyes and you let out pathetic whimper.

"Y/n...?" You heard steps approaching on the other side of the fence on the gravel road.

"A-Alastor?" You immediately jumped up. Switching the knife from one clammy hand to other and hiding it behind your back. Now free hand, whipped your nose and cheeks, unknowingly to you - leaving red streaks across your face.

"What has my darling doe crying?" He quickly approached the fence when he picked up on your sniffling.

"Its fine, Alastor. Just had quarrel with my mother." You tried to laugh it off.

"A bloody one, as I see." He eyed you, reaching for your cheek. You tried to step away, but his warm touch was so inviting.

"Show me your hands, love." he said. He wasn't asking.

Swallowing thickly you brought both hands in front of you. Feeling like child in trouble. Trembling, and both bloody by now.

"We were having family dinner. And my father was reminiscing on the previous ball. And asked if I fancied any men there-" Alastor eyed you sharply for a second, unknowingly to you as you kept on rambling:

"-and I said that there was a man that I have had eyes for such long time, that the other men at the ball didn't even interest me. And he asked who. I said it's you. And he said that I should look elsewhere. I stood my ground and told him I love you. And he disapproved. Then mother said I should listen to him. Then she was screaming, saying I should stop seeing you. I got angry. She grabbed me. Tried to pull my hair and I... I just -I just pulled a knife at her... And then... And now I'm here..." You ranted so quickly that now you were out of breath.

With gentle chuckle, Alastor reached for your hand that was holding the knife, his ever seeing eyes, noticing the cuts on your other palm. He slowly frapped your fingers alongside his around the hilt of the butter knife and pulled both of your hands across the fence.

"When in dire straits, slice the sinew to halt movement," he murmured, gently drawing the knife across his chest. "Stab and pivot to temporarily cease motion," he directed, gesturing towards the center of his chest.

"You're wicked, Alastor..." You mumbled looking up at him.

"And you should never shed your blood. Though I am touched by your eagerness in defending your convictions concerning me, I would prefer not to witness your blood spilled, my love."

"Even if blood is such a pretty colour on you." He continued, his eyes flickering across your face. Standing up on the first wooden beam of the fence, he now stood way taller than you. Grabbing your chin he tilted your face one way, then the other.

"Since you say I'm wicked-" he gave you a cheeky smile,

"I might be afraid that your parents are correct. You should stay away from me." He looked away from you and across the field behind you.

"But I love you, Alastor..." You whispered so quietly, afraid that he might not have heard you.

"You have brought a knife in bloody hands tonight. What an odd way of confessing one's love." He bent his head closer to your face.

"What a lovely thing you are." His voice suddenly sounded sultry. It was enough for you to stand on your tippy toes and press your lips against his.

You could feel his smile against your lips. One of his hands sneaking to hold the back of your neck and pulling you closer. When that was not enough, in swift motion his legs swung over the fence and he was right in front of you. His lips never leaving yours.

It felt so right to kiss him. To kiss him felt like finally quelling an obsession. Just to feel the painful withdrawal as soon as his lips traveled to your neck to leave love bites there. Love bites that bloomed the same way as the blood splatters on your light summer dress.

His hands traveled down your back, the butter knife still in his hand. Both of you knew that no one would come down this road at this hour, but there was urgency in your actions. Desperation, almost. Your hands traveled to the front of his shirt, to get rid of the bow tie and open couple of buttons.

"The next move shan't be quite gentlemanly of me, my doe.." he was breathing hard and put the hilt of the knife in his mouth. His tongue briefly tasted your blood on it. Alastor's hands deftly gathered the skirt part of your dress and pushed you against the fence. Then raising the fabric around your hips and bunching it to the side, he grabbed the knife and pinned your dress to the fence.

"Alastor..." Your breath caught in your throat as your lower half was exposed to the cold nights air.

"Too much?" He asked, now stepping closer as his hands worked on his belt.

He clearly did intend to fuck you here. In empty field. Against a fence. In middle of the night.

"No, just perfect, you're perfect..." you breathed, hands looping around his neck to pull him in for a kiss.

"Lovely." He whispered and kissed you. His hand reaching down between your legs.

"Ah..." You moaned at the first contact.

"Needy little thing you are..." Alastor sighed against your lips, feeling the wetness between your legs.

It was the first time someone else's hands were touching you down there, besides your own. Feeling was not entirely new, but the anticipation was almost killing you. Your hand around Alastor's neck tightened, pulling him down, so you could hide your face in his shoulder. Breath heavy against his neck.

His fingers deftly slid through your slit.

"How.. many...?" Alastor implied, trying to shift his face away and look at you, making him pull his hand slightly away and his fingers circling back to your clit.

"Ah.." you gasped, not hearing his question and just trying to hide your face again.

"Sweetheart..." Alastor's hand slid from your cunt and instead dug his fingers in - right where your thigh met your pussy. This finally got your attention and your head shot up to look at him. You could almost swear that you could see your own debauched image reflecting in his glasses. He tilted his head down at you, and your reflection was gone and his warm eyes were staring right into your soul.

"How many men you have sle-" before he could ask the question you were shaking your head.

"None. No one." You said. "None has touched me this way," you looked down at his hand between your legs. His pointer finger that was closest to your pussy, slowly slid through your slit once more. Your head fell back and you stared at the sky. Stars were slowly starting to appear in the night sky.

"... except myself." You swallowed. Your head feeling empty of any coherent thought. Alastor's mouth fell open slightly:

"Say the word, and I'll stop, my doe..." He leaned down to your exposed neck, and gently run his nose up and down your pulse point.

Your hand shot down and grabbed his wrist:

"I want you and you alone."

His smile against your neck was almost infectious.

"Well, then... To rephrase..." He planted slow, open-mouthed kisses against your shoulder, his free hand pulling your dress down your shoulder. He moved his lips against your ear, as if to tell you something that no one else could ever hear:

"...How many of your own fingers have you taken?" you could hear his wicked smile in his voice. And you could feel his hand moving between your legs. His middle finger slowly, almost feather lightly, circled your clit and slid down to your opening. Your breath hitched:

"A-Alastor..."

When you didn't provide him the answer, he quickly pulled his hand out of your underwear and grabbed your hand putting it up between both of you. He pressed his palm against yours and looked at your hands. You did the same. Both of you could see how his fingers shined in the moonlight from your wetness coating them.

"Tell me."

"One."

"How far?"

You were staring at your pressed together hands. He was looking straight at you, watching how your eyes showed the realization of how much bigger his hands were and how longer his fingers were.

"Second knuckle..." You whispered and your eyes met his, over the frames if his glasses.

"Oh, my little doe... I will give you so much more than that..." He chuckled and looked at your hands as his fingers interlinked with yours.

"When I kneel before you, you shall receive all I offer. Diligently." He let go of your hand and took off his glasses.

"Understood?"

You nodded. For such a gentleman, he definitely had such a filthy mouth. You'll soon learn it both ways.

"Hold these for me, will you?" He innocently asked and put his glasses on you, quite lower so you could stare over the round frames. Before you could say anything else, he was on his knees in the dewy grass, both of his hands sliding up your bare legs. His lips gently leaving kisses on your hips as he dragged your panties down your legs. You couldn't look away from him. His soft lips moving from one hip, across your stomach to the other side. His fingers running between your folds, time to time coming up to circle your clit and then tease your entrance by dipping in a fingertip.

"Mark me..." you breathed out as one of your hands slid to his hair.

"That will hurt." He looked up at you.

"You won't hurt me. I trust you, Al..." You said through a moan.

"...where...?" He quietly inquired.

God, please, everywhere.

"Here..." you gently tapped your hip. Alastor smiled, leaned closer, pressed his lips to the top of your hand and then gently bit your fingertip.

"This shall mean you're mine, my love, I hope you are preparing for the consequences that it ensues." He said against your skin as you pulled your hand away.

"I was yours as soon as our eyes locked when I saw you riding horses with the hunters all those years ago..." You moaned as his fingers circled your clit, as if he was encouraging you to finish your though. Next second, you felt his teeth sink into your skin and his middle finger plunging into you.

"Alastor! Ah.." both of your hands flew to his hair, as your hips jerked against his hand.

"Shhh.." Alastor smiled against the blooming love bite. His eyes then locked on how you were taking his finger.

"Good girl." His smiled and looked up at you. His other hand joining to circle your clit.

"Oh Lord..." You moaned. He playfully rolled his eyes at you and leaned his temple against your hip.

"Such a good girl, taking my fingers so well." He praised, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. He twisted his finger and you let out a high pitch keen.

"Look at me." He straighted a little. Your eyes locked with his. Opening his mouth, he stuck his tongue out. Your eyes grew big, and a flash of warmth traveled down from your chest to your legs. Your pussy involuntary clamping down on his finger. And then his mouth was on you. As soon as his tongue got the first taste of you, his eyes fell shut and he moaned against you, sending vibrations straight through you.

"Ahh...ha...." You moaned loudly, both hands moving to his hair and pulling it. He lapped at your pussy as if he was a starving man. He sucked on your clit and then you felt a second finger stretching you open.

"Please.... Just don't stop..." You moaned, your hips jerking against his mouth. His fingers picked up the speed and your breathing did the same.

"I think I'm going to..." Your hold on his hair grew tighter and you were starting to push his mouth harder against your weeping cunt. Alastor grunted, his hand that was constantly squeezing your ass traveled down to his crotch and palmed himself. His pants growing too tight.

Alastor curled his fingers forward and sucked hard on your clit. With a loud cry you came on his fingers and tongue. You yourself could never reach such intense peak. Your toes curled, your knees almost wishing to pull together. You pressed Alastor's head closer to your dripping core, at the moment careless if he could breathe or not.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuckkk..." Your eyes rolled back into your skull. For a moment you felt weightless, your hands falling away from his hair, to hold onto to the fence beams that you were leaning against.

Flatly dragging his tongue from your twitching hole up your slit to the clit, he placed chaste kiss on your mound. Alastor leaned back and looked up at you.

When you had gathered at least some wits about you, you looked down at him. His chin and lips were glistening from your cum.

"You taste sweet." He gave you a wink and licked his lips.

"Alastor..." You whispered his name and in swift motion crossed your hands and pulled the dress over your head. Leaving it hanging by the knife. Alastor was caught off guard and sat back, his hands slowly starting to unbutton his vest and then his shirt.

Was Alastor intending to fuck you against the fence or where you intending to ride him in the dewy grass?

In two quick steps you were in front of him and straddling his hips. Your lips immediately seeking out his and hands helping him to unbutton his shirt faster. With a groan he pulled away and grabbing your hand dragged it down his chest to the front of his pants. Unzipping his pants you dipped your hand in his boxers.

"Fuck..." He moaned, his eyes rolling back. You wrapped your hand around his cock and gently freed him from the confines of his pants.

"How is that going to fit...?" You blurted out when you looked down at him and gave him two long strokes.

"... perfectly..." He hissed through his teeth and threw his head back when your thumb swiped across his dripping tip. You switched your hands, and raised now free hand up to your face. Alastor looked at you through lidded eyes. Gently you licked your finger, tasting him on your skin. Seeing you do that, Alastor's hips jerked up into your fist and his eyes fluttered shut.

"Lover." He gritted through clenched teeth. His hands coming to hold your hips. You only smiled at your ability to drive him as insane and he was driving you. You slid your hand down to his base and gently squeezed.

"Cheeky little thing..." Alastor opened his eyes and pulled you in for a kiss by your neck. It was slow but messy. Tongues twisting, saliva smearing against both of your lips.

You got up on your knees and wrapped your hands around Alastor's neck. However, he grabbed your hand and wrapped it around his cock alongside his own.

"Now, now." He smiled against your lips. "You gotta learn how to take it. Put. It. In." Alastor whispered absolute filth against your lips and moved your hand so that his cock dragged through your soaked folds.

With a shaky breath you dragged his cock through your folds once more. Pausing on your clit and moaning against Alastor's lips.

"Yes... Take your pleasure..." He whispered.

Then moving his cock down, you pushed it's tip against your entrance. And then with a hissfrom your mouth, your hips were flush with his. The unknown feeling between your legs made you bite Alastor's lip. He groaned in your mouth, but didn't pull away if both of you felt the tangy taste of blood.

Alastor was patient with you, and let you decide when and how to move. But once your hips started to twitch against his, Alastor ground hips up into yours. His warm hands moved up to your back and shoulder blades to pull you closer. Your own hands tangled themselves in his dark hair and scratched down his back. By now your moans were echoing the same as the hounds of the hunters.

"Harder.. Al... Please..." You moaned against his cheek, as your hips moved up and down. Your desperate cunt twitching around his cock and making Alastor moan in your ear.

Next moment you were on your back, your legs on his shoulders as he leaned over you. Your eyes locked with his. Both of you as mirrored image to each other. Hair disheveled, foreheads sweaty, short rapid breaths. And then he was fucking you as if this is the last night out here with stars. As if the coming morning you won't stop by the coffee shop where he gets his morning dose of caffeine.

The way his cock so deliciously dragged against your walls - you had nothing in this world to compare it to. Leaking tip of his cock was carving your cunt out with every push back in, and each drag of it made you clench around him. As if to say, that you need him back in and not let him pull out.

You grabbed Alastor's cheeks:

"I'm in love with you...." He said first, as if he had read your thoughts on what you were about to say.

"I love you." You smiled back and pulled him in for a kiss that was broken by your moan as Alastor gave harsh thrust, hitting your cervix. Making you lose your breath momentarily.

"More.. please..." You begged, your cunt twitching around him.

"Fuck..." Alastor moaned, his hips taking on harsher and faster movements. You could swear that you felt him in your guts. Your hand traveled down your stomach and pressed on the outline of his cock. He smirked at you, as if saying that no other cock will ever be this deep, no one ever will pleasure you the same way.

"You're mine..." He groaned. Letting your legs off his shoulders, he pulled your lower lip with his thumb until your mouth opened and he could slide his finger in. Your tongue latched around his digit and sucked hard, making him stutter in his movements as he wondered how to use that mouth of yours in other ways.

With press on your tongue, your mouth opened once more, Alastor pulled his finger out and dived in to kiss you. Your tongues meeting before your lips could. You moaned in his eager mouth as his wet thumb now circled your clit. Your hips raising to meet his thrusts. When your wandering hands were enough for him, he grabbed them and pinned both of them above your head.

"Keep them there..." He said breathlessly and leaned back lifting your hips with his.

He was fucking you like drowning animal would fight for air. And the pleasure was rapidly pulling both of you under. The way your cunt clenched around him more and more frequently, was a sign that you were close. As if not being able to stand not touching him, your hand raised to rest on his stomach, feeling the lean muscles flexing there.

Not wanting to soil you on your first sexual encounter, Alastor was ready to pull out when your legs wrapping around his hips locked him in place. Sliding his hands up your legs and then sides, he leaned over you.

Your orgasm approached you unknowingly, as such intense feeling you have never felt before.

"I got you. Just let go." Alastor said against your chest as his forehead rested against your collarbone. With a moan that stole all your breath - you came. Alastor's name tumbling out of your lips like the sweetest honey. Your body arched off the ground and pressed against Alastor. Not knowing what to do with your hands as all nerve ends felt like going haywire, you opt to grab Alastor's hips and, as if your legs being locked around him wasn't enough, you pulled him against you.

Corrupting such sweet doe as yourself felt so rewarding. He could almost feel your orgasm on his tongue. Perhaps that was just taste of your cunt that kept lingering on his tongue. His own hips stuttered and with deep groan he came deep inside you, his teeth latching on the side of your left breast, leaving another love bite to remind you of this night of debaucheries.

For a moment neither of you moved. Still ongoing gunfires of hunters and howls of hounds could be heard echoing, meaning that hunt was still on. And you could return home without your father seeing you here.

Alastor wrapped one hand around your back and gently laid you back on ground.

"I must beg your pardon. A lady such as yourself ought never to be deflowered in such a place for the first time." He said quietly against your soft breasts that were still raising and falling in short breaths.

"Oh, hush. I enjoyed myself very much so." You took a deep breath trying to steady your breathing. Alastor looked at you and you smiled at him. Gently running your hands through his hair in order to tame it.

Steadying himself on his hands, Alastor pulled out and couldn't help but to stare at your cunt that was already leaking his cum. Catching him staring, ought to teas him a little bit. Bending your legs you spread them open. Gaining Alastor's attention, you trailed one hand down your body and dipped your fingertips in your folds. Shyly looking to the side you spread your folds, making more cum leak out. Alastor was watching your hand like it was a prey.

"Darling-" Alastor warned as his lashes fluttered. He leaned to kiss your knee instead. Fighting so hard not to take your overstimulated body the second time.

"We should talk in the morning." Alastor got up with a sigh, tucked himself away and walked over to the fence to retrieve your dress.

You quietly got dressed, not questioning anything. You weren't sure what we're you to say in such moment. While you were getting dressed you couldn't help but stare as Alastor was putting on his shirt. His skin on the back scratched by your nails. Or how the fingers you had cut had smeared blood all over his body.

"Shall I escort you home?" Alastor turned to you.

"No. It's late, we both should be getting home and to bed. And besides, I know this field like back of my hand." You shook your head.

"Alright." Alastor tilted his head to the side and smiled. He walked up to you and gently took off his glasses from you.

"Not a scratch. Good girl." He praised you, leaning down to your eye level. Your cheeks immediately flushed red and you quickly pressed your lips against his.

As he watched you walk back home, you couldn't help the smile that was on your lips. The faithful butter knife clutched carefully in your hands, will be neatly stored in your vanity as a reminder.

Meanwhile Alastor was sitting on the fence, watching you walk away, with skip in your step. Once you were far enough, he hauled himself over the fance, back on the road. What you had not seen at the very beginning, was that Alastor had come with knive of his own. Quite menacing butcher knife, that he had wedged in the nearby tree.

You were almost home. You had just ducked through the fence and walked quietly across the yard when, one, so much differently sounding gunshot, made you turn back around and stare at the field where you had come from....

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Part 2?