#i do appreciate how clean it was. like there was only a little blood on the concrete after we moved it

[sea-buns]

there's this baby kitty in my neighborhood whose tail has been injured and as far as we know doesn't have any owners. we finally got her trusting enough to come up on the front porch and sleep, but the rush of power at being on higher ground must have gone to her head cuz she has since completely ignored us for 3 days while she stalks her terrorizer so hard he waits at her feet in fear of her weirdness. well i think the bout of ghosting us when we call for food time might be over cuz this morning there was a bird next to the front mat and she was screaming for sustenance. the thing is, earlier in the morning she was out there yelling but we didn't have time to feed her then. and we only saw the bird when we came back about an hour later so. either it was already there and we missed it or she said 'oh no food? i can trade u want trade? we share?' and ran to go find an offering. but also the bird she brought isn't one we really get at our feeders so this skinny little paperweight of a cat ran a fair distance somewhere and carried this bird that's the size of her head, if not bigger, back uphill, upstairs, through a patio gate, and gently lined it up next to the mat. not even on the mat. it was perfectly parallel but out of the way of where we walk. i maybe should have been more horrified than i was but frankly i've been missing her and i am flattered by the sentiment.

[prongsx]

Favors in exchange for kisses

warnings: kisses, English its not my first language, small mention of blood. f!reader

1,5 K words

⊷⊶⊷⊷⊶⊷《 ✮ 》⊷⊶⊷⊷⊶⊷

You don't know exactly how you got into this situation with Jason. But you're not complaining.

It started months ago, when your long-time friend Dick Grayson heard you complaining about not having a place to live and mentioned that he knew someone you could trust to share an apartment with, with his brother, Jason Todd.

You were hesitant to accept, after all, you didn't know Jason Todd, but this was Gotham, and finding someone you could trust to share an apartment with was almost impossible. And it would only be for a while.So you went to live with Dick Grayson's brother.

Jason was kind of quiet, mysterious, and his blue eyes left you a little confused and breathless. It took you a while to be able to have meaningful conversations with him, it was hard to learn more about him, but little by little you won a small space in his life.You discovered his favorite books, learned his schedule, understood how sometimes he didn't want to talk, other times he was more open, and you learned to appreciate those moments when you both talked, laughed and smiled softly.

Then came the biggest problem.

Jason was too helpful.

You simply didn't know how to deal with someone who did so many acts of service. When he found out that banana pancakes were your favorite, he woke up early and cooked them. When you complained about that wood that was making noise in the living room, he fixed it immediately. Even when carrying your bag down the street, he would magically appear and hold it. Your coffee was always with those three drops of milk, just the way you liked it.

And when you tried to reciprocate, he seemed almost offended. Like the time you made a big meal, he was offended, you seemed tired from the effort and he didn't like that. Even when you cleaned his things he seemed irritated, you weren't supposed to do things for him.

After months of looking for ways to thank him for his helpfulness, you discovered it in an unusual way. Your room wasn't fully furnished, even months after moving in you were still buying furniture and needing to assemble it. Jason dismissed all the delivery people from the store and said he would assemble it himself, using the excuse that he didn't like strangers in his space.

"You spoil me," you joked with him, sitting on the floor as you watched Jason working on your new vanity. It wasn't a bad sight, Jason's large hands proving skillful and efficient, his t-shirt revealing his biceps that made you a little dizzy.

"I find doing manual labor relaxing." He replied, glancing at you and smiling slightly. You hummed in response, resting your chin on your knees and admiring Jason. You wanted so badly to find something to thank him for, something to show him that you were grateful for him.

When he finally finished the job, he stood up and held out his hand to help you. After gaining momentum, your hands instinctively went to his arm and gave it a squeeze.

"Thank you so much, Jay."

He was silent, you were silent. It seemed too intimate a touch, you were nervous, afraid he wouldn't like it, that he would ask you to never touch him again, which would be a shame because your hands could feel the heat of his skin. Then he smiled. He smiled, a dimple in his cheek.

"Nothing, princess."

After that, the touches became more frequent. Every time he did something adorable, you would touch his arms or his hand. Like the time he carried all your college books for meters and you held his hand in thanks (you stayed like that for longer than usual).

Another big step was when you arrived tired, from a horrible day, and you found Jason smiling shyly at you, the apartment smelling of your favorite food. As you washed dishes side by side, your hips touching, you lifted your feet and kissed his cheek, whispering a thank you. His reaction was adorable, his neck slightly red, his eyes blinking at you in a silly way that made you smile back.

So you continued, becoming a little bolder every time he did something to please you. It seemed impossible now to go back to the time when you didn't touch him, and you could swear he liked it. There were times when you could almost feel him sigh when your kiss on his cheek went all the way to his jaw.

When he came back from patrol, bruised and bleeding, he wouldn't let you help him. He would never dirty your soft hands with his blood. But he enjoyed it when you sat next to him, stroking his hair and talking to him in that calm tone, trying to make him relax with more pleasant conversations. A routine was established.

Jason was a little quiet sometimes. At first you thought he was grumpy and moody, but you soon discovered that he was just someone with poor social skills, and you managed to establish a way to show that you cared about each other.

"Hum, I stopped by the pharmacy, but your order had already been picked up." You jumped, startled by Jason's sudden arrival. For such a big guy, he had an impressive ability to be silent. Damn Batman training.

"Jay, hi." You greeted, as you leaned on the kitchen counter, casually scrolling through your phone. "Dick got it for me, he was just passing by."

He fell silent, making you look up from your phone to look at him. Jason's eyebrows were furrowed, his lips forming a frown.

"Why?" You blinked slowly.

"Why what?"

"Why Dick got it for you. I was going to get it for you." He looked almost... annoyed, frustrated that he hadn't gotten the product for you.

You blinked slowly again, tilting your head.

"He...was closer. I didn't mean to bother you."

He let out a huff, looking annoyed, like when a dog sees his owner reading a newspaper another dog brought.

"Jay?" You called out to him, almost shivering when his blue orbs stared at you.

"I'm the one who does your things. Why is that idiot Dick getting involved?"

"I don't want you to feel like you're my employee, that's all."

He huffed again, looking indignant. Another problem with Jason Todd: he didn't say what he was feeling, it was like trying to win the lottery with blurry numbers. Then he approached you, his posture looking like he was preparing to interrogate a criminal, his hands resting on the counter.

"Did you kiss him?"It certainly wasn't what you expected to hear. Your mouth fell open, your eyes wide.

"What?"

It was the only intelligent thing your lips formed.Jason still had that indignant look on his face, his blue eyes half-closed. He was too close and you felt a little cornered, the kitchen seemed small, the air harder to breathe. You stared back at him.

"Why do you think I kissed Dick?" You repeated, still that confused expression. You would be offended if your brain was working perfectly.

"You kiss me when I do favors for you!" He murmurs.

Oh. That was it.

You let out a breath, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing.

"Jason. Do you think I kiss the mailman every time he brings letters?"

"God, I hope not."

You both stay silent, your hands going to the hem of his shirt, unable to control yourself, squeezing it between your fingers, the weight of the unspoken words.

"Jay. You know...you don't have to do me favors to receive my affection, right?" You whispered, your eyes roaming all over his face, his beautiful features, his slightly crooked nose, his lips that looked so kissable.

"But I like it. I like taking care of you. Fuck, I want to take care of you always."

He himself seemed shocked by the intensity of the words, his eyes widening, his heart beating out of control, just like yours.

"Jay." You let out a breath, your hands rising to his face, caressing his cheekbones. You shivered when his hands held your hips, keeping you firmly against the counter. You didn't know what it would be like to kiss Jason, of course, you had already thought about it a lot, more than was healthy.

And when you finally pulled his face to you, pressing your lips, slightly chapped but still soft, against his. You dominated the kiss for a few seconds, being gentle as you held his face, but then something seemed to snap in Jason, he held you with impressive ease, pressing your hips against the counter and thrusting his tongue into your mouth, swallowing your soft moan. His hands were all over your body, hungry, as if he couldn't lose you.

"Only I can take care of you," he growled against your lips, his breathing heavy.

"Yes. yes," you said, caught in the haze of Jason's kisses, your eyes almost closing again.

"Good," he whispered, before kissing you again, fiercely, his hands gripping the back of your neck.

You were fine with this deal of favors in exchange for kisses.

⊷⊶⊷⊷⊶⊷《 ✮ 》⊷⊶⊷⊷⊶⊷

Inspired by a post I saw about Jason's love languages headcanon. Jaybean is just a guy who doesn't know how to show love in a normal way!!! But we love him anyway. I hope you liked it! I'm very happy to start posting things here, slowly gaining courage.

[lymtw]

Thinking of Toji coming home to you after a rough day at work.

On a normal day he would call out to you the second he steps through the front door, but today he's not in the mood to be loud. He silently walks through the living room, into the hallway where he directs himself towards the bedroom, where he knows you are. He's dirty and sweaty and there's somebody's blood drying on the fabric of his shirt. Luckily, it's just a small area. You won't spot it on your own, and Toji won't be showing it off to you.

The door creaks open and you're there, lying on your stomach, in bed. You're distracted by your phone, too zoned into your own serene little world to notice that Toji was home. He can smell your shampoo and the lotion you used, in the air, the smell getting stronger as he makes his way towards the bed. His stealthiness is a threat, never to you, but the fact that you didn't turn around once really had him thinking about your safety.

He didn't waste another second just looming over you. Slowly, he crawled onto the bed and before you managed to shriek or say something about how he scared the crap out of you, he laid right on top of you, crushing you and revoking your ability to make any sounds but groans under his weight.

"Toji?" you call, once you get accustomed to the pressure your bear of a man added onto you. He doesn't respond, and instead buries his face into the crook of your neck, getting a deeper whiff of the scent that emanated off of you. "Toji?" You try again, turning your head slightly.

"You smell pretty. Could smell you the second I walked in the room," he hums, inhaling your clean scent.

"Yeah, I just showered. Don't you wanna go get cleaned up, too? Dinner's ready."

"Of course I do. Thanks, doll. Just let me have you like this for a sec."

You had no argument for that. You laid there, flat on the bed beneath him, and allowed him all the time necessary to relax. He was quiet, and his hold on you was a little tighter than usual. That wasn't what brought you to your conclusion, but it was clear that he wasn't his usual self.

Something about being able to wrap himself around your entire body was comforting to Toji. It made him feel like he was keeping you safe, like he was the soft blanket you cover yourself with at night, rather than a man who comes home with blood stains on his clothes.

You were the one thing he was positive he would come home to, and that was enough. You were more than enough for him. He always felt there was no way to pay back for every day you spent accepting him as he is. All those nights when you let him hold you, even after he made you cry. Those mornings when you woke up with a heavy heart, alone, only to find out through a text message that he had to leave for work early.

Undeserving was a small word to Toji. It was you still finding it in yourself to give him the warmest of welcomes every day—a greeting normally dedicated to heroes, that made him obsess over finding a word that was more fitting for him.

He loves you and he's serious about it. He knows the infinite range of his love for you and regardless of how small his heart seems compared to yours, you decorate every inch of space within it, and when it reaches its maximum capacity, you go to his head. The space is littered with images of you, like posters on a wall. The space is so crowded that some of them are hanging on to the walls of his mind for dear life. There are images of your guilty smile after you knock a glass of water over and it shatters, another of the look on your face as you try not to laugh when he tries on a shirt that clearly isn't his size, and memories of the times when you would pamper him when he wasn't feeling well, insisting on still sleeping next to him, incase he needs something in the middle of the night.

It all adds up to this clingy behavior he reserves for you. When the day treats him like trash being kicked around by everyone on a sidewalk, he comes home to appreciate the one who embraces him and unconditionally loves him.

He knows his weight on your back must be unbearable and he definitely doesn't smell as good as you, either, but he can't move. Not yet.

"I could stay like this forever, doll. Would you let me?" He smiles for the first time in a bit when he sees your shoulders shaking, paired with the sweet sound of your laugh.

"Of course, baby. I'd willingly stay like this for you."

And he groans. It's like a form of cuteness aggression, but it derives from the fact that he can't believe that you're with him, and that you're so saintly, and he can't for the life of him stop thinking of you. He kisses your jaw and strongly resists the urge to bite your cheek and squeeze you until you can't breathe at all.

His breathing quickens a little when he thinks of how detrimental it would be to his life if you walked away for good, one day. Things are so good, but he can't help but think that the next time they aren't, it'll be an enormous hit to everything he has with you. Maybe you're waiting for the next argument to drop everything. Maybe you secretly can't stand him. Maybe you don't need him. Maybe-

His overthinking is cut off by a low growl, followed by a nervous giggle that is muffled by the pillow you buried your face in.

"Sorry," you lift your head to say, fighting the laughter bubbling in your throat.

"You're hungry." There's a barely there crease between his brows. It's late and your stomach is growling. He doesn't want to think about you skipping meals.

"I wanted to wait for you," you chirp, turning your head the slightest bit to give him a beaming smile.

"Baby." The second he sees the corners of your lips begin to straighten out, he stifles the scolding he was about to hit you with. "I can't even be mad at you. Have you eaten anything at all today?"

Your silence was all he needed to understand that you were running on fumes. He sighs, mentally cursing you for being so careless with yourself for his sake.

"I'm gonna shower, and you're gonna meet me in the kitchen in ten minutes. Will you survive that long? I don't know, but you have to." He kisses your temple a couple times, rolling off of you and directing himself to his clothing drawers.

Your lungs expand and you feel so much lighter without his weight on you. You flip over onto your back, stretching for a moment before you turn over to watch Toji rummage through his drawers. His sixth sense kicks in and he can feel your gaze on the back of his head.

"I love you, doll." He stands still, waiting seconds too long for your response. He turns his head to the side, facing the blank wall of the room. His ear is turned in your direction as to not miss the sound of your voice.

You sit up, prepared to say it back with every fiber of your being. You can see his fingers tapping against the top of the dresser. You don't mean to bring unease to his mind, your intention is to do the exact opposite. "I love you so, sooo much, Toji."

He lets the clothes he picked out plop onto the dresser, and he turns around to head back to you. He holds your gaze until he reaches you. It's the first good look you've gotten at him since he got home. You can't help but smile at the familiar sight of those green eyes and that pretty nose, and that scarred lip. He never failed to make you swoon, even during times when there was a lack of words.

His hands cupped your jaw before he leaned down to kiss you. The duration of his kisses weren't thought out, let alone planned. What was supposed to be ten minutes until you met him in the kitchen, turned into double the amount of time, because he wouldn't let you go. You were just as guilty for the delay, feeling so much ease and comfort with the words he imbedded into his kisses. Eventually you started telling him to go, between kisses and laughter, reminding him that you would be there when he got out. He ignored you until your stomach growled again.

"Fine," he grumbled, placing one more peck on your lips before he left you alone.

[luvsupa]

003 | JEALOUSY?

tags: trueform!sukuna x fem!reader, angst, tension, smut, ōral sex + fingering (f!recieving), petnames, revenge sex. don’t know what to add </3, mdni.

w.c: 2.6k

a/n: THANK U GUYS SOSO MUCH FOR 1K FOLLOWERS <33

+ likes and reblogs are appreciated!!

you lie in bed, staring blankly at the wooden ceiling, sleep evading you entirely. he floods your mind—lewd images, the sounds, the intoxicating scent that clings to your senses, refusing to leave.

his voice.

sukuna, the king of curses, always knew exactly how to get into your head, how to twist your thoughts until he owned every part of you. you scrunch your face in frustration, knowing he sees you as a plaything—something weak, something to be toyed with.

you glance around the room at the other servants, sleeping peacefully in their single beds, until your gaze lands on yorozu’s bed, neatly made and empty.

a bitter feeling stirs inside you—she had spent the night in sukuna’s bed. yet, even as he fucked her senseless, his attention was entirely on you. his eyes, those cursed, cruel eyes, never left you.

quietly, you rise, slipping on a thin cotton robe. with careful steps, you tiptoe out of the room, the wooden door creaking slightly as it opens. you nearly scream as uraume appears before you, arms crossed, their expression as neutral as ever.

“g-good morning, uraume,” you stammer, bowing slightly in respect.

“the king has requested you clean his chambers,” uraume states, and just hearing his name sends a shiver down your spine. that twisted bastard—he’s trying to get inside your head again.

“tell sukuna i do not wish to see him,” you reply coldly. for the first time, you see a flicker of shock on uraume’s face, their eyebrows raising at your blatant disrespect toward the king of curses.

“now, if you’ll excuse me, i’ll be starting my duties early.” you walk past them without another word, leaving uraume speechless at your audacity as you head toward the garden doors.

the sun peeks over the tall mountains, casting a warm glow over the vibrant garden. you stand for a moment, looking up at the orangey-blue sky, before walking deeper into the garden.

you begin your work alone, plucking ripe fruits and vegetables, making sure everything looks perfect. but then, you freeze.

you can feel his presence, dark and oppressive, lingering somewhere nearby.

your heart races. he’s angry—you know it. you must have upset him by refusing his orders. you keep plucking the fruit, desperately trying to ignore the growing sense of dread as his aura thickens, almost suffocating you.

and then, suddenly, his presence vanishes.

you furrow your brow in confusion, turning to scan your surroundings. nothing. he’s gone just like that?

you try to convince yourself that he’s gone, but before you can fully relax, a rough hand grips your face, yanking you around. your breath catches in your throat as you find yourself face to face with sukuna. he looms over you, taller and more terrifying than you remember, his four eyes glowing with a predatory hunger that makes your blood run cold.

“you thought you could ignore me?” he growls, his voice low, almost a purr, but the underlying threat is unmistakable. his grip tightens, forcing you back against the rough bark of a towering oak tree. he’s so close, his body heat searing into you, his scent, a heady mix of blood and something darkly sweet—overwhelming your senses.

“you think you can defy me, woman?” his voice is deceptively soft, but it only makes the fear coil tighter in your chest. his lips brush against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine as he inhales deeply, savouring your scent. “you’ve been blocking me out, haven’t you? my clever little girl.”

his words are laced with a twisted kind of praise, but there’s nothing comforting in it. his breath is hot against your skin, his tongue flicking out to trace the shell of your ear, making you squirm involuntarily. his grip on your face is firm, almost possessive, as he presses himself against you, his presence overpowering.

“fuck you,” you manage to spit out, your voice barely more than a whisper, but the defiance in your words only makes him chuckle darkly.

“such a filthy mouth,” he murmurs, amusement flickering in his eyes. his other hand trails up your neck, his fingers elongating into sharp, black claws that press dangerously against the pulsing vein in your throat. he’s toying with you, every touch calculated to draw out your fear, your arousal.

“so brave, yet you tremble under my touch,” sukuna’s voice is a husky whisper, dripping with sadistic pleasure as he watches your reaction. you hate the way your body responds to him, how the proximity makes your heart race, your thighs press together in a vain attempt to quell the heat building inside you.

his bottom eyes catch the movement, and his lips curl into a knowing smirk. “how delightful,” he sneers, releasing your neck and stepping back, leaving you breathless and trembling against the tree.

sukuna hums, turning to leave without a word, no goodbye, nothing. you’re left standing there, breathless and shaking, knowing you’ll never truly escape his grasp.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

the evening buzzes with activity as servants and guards rush to prepare the dining hall for the zenin clan’s arrival. you overhear whispers about toji, the head of the clan, who commands both fear and respect. a secluded home within the estate has been prepared for their stay, a gesture of hospitality from sukuna himself.

you slip into more formal attire, the fabric soft against your skin, when a soft knock at the door interrupts your thoughts. uraume steps in, their expression unreadable.

“the king—”

“i’ve already spoken to him, uraume,” you interject, catching a flicker of irritation in their eyes.

“the king has requested that you serve the food at dinner for the zenin clan,” uraume continues, their tone firm. your brow furrows in confusion, but before you can protest, they add, “i will not tolerate any disrespect towards sukuna-sama, so i suggest you comply.” with that, they leave, offering no room for argument. you let out a frustrated sigh, knowing sukuna is up to something.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

the estate is a flurry of movement as everyone gathers outside to greet the zenin clan. the grand entrance is framed by koi ponds and cherry blossom trees, their petals drifting in the breeze. the noise of the crowd quiets as everyone falls into place, a wide path left clear for sukuna and uraume.

the chatter dies as word spreads that sukuna is approaching. everyone bows as the double doors swing open, revealing sukuna in a black kimono with gold accents, his hair slicked back with a few strands falling against his face.

fuck. he looks so good, you think, your heart skipping a beat.

uraume follows behind him as they move toward their spot at the front. just as sukuna passes by you, your heart clenches. you barely manage to lower your head in respect as you notice his hand intertwined with yorozu’s. she throws a smirk your way, and your eyes flicker between them. a gasp escapes your lips as you catch sukuna’s lower eye locked on you, a smirk playing on his lips as well.

the gates swing open, and the zenin clan’s carriages roll in, the horses' hooves echoing against the stone. the zenin’s guards step out first, followed by a tall, broad man in a black haori. he moves with an air of authority, his eyes locking onto sukuna’s with a tension so thick it feels like the air might crack.

“zenin,” sukuna calls out, their gazes locked in a silent battle for dominance. toji strides forward, his hands casually behind his back, his presence as commanding as sukuna’s.

“ryomen,” toji responds, his voice deep and smooth, sending a shiver down your spine. you study him more closely, noting the scar on his lip, the sharpness of his gaze. he catches you staring, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that makes your breath catch. sukuna’s gaze follows toji’s, his jaw tightening, a vein pulsing at his temple as he harshly releases yorozu’s hand.

“uraume, show our guests to the dining hall,” sukuna orders, his voice low, his breath quickening with barely restrained anger. toji’s eyes flick between you and sukuna, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips as he catches onto the tension.

as uraume leads toji and the rest of the zenin clan inside, toji deliberately brushes past sukuna, the slight contact sparking a flash of rage in sukuna’s eyes. he clenches his fists, fighting the urge to unleash his wrath, the air around him crackling with suppressed power.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

sukuna, toji, and the rest of the zenin clan settle into the dining room, the air thick with chatter and underlying tension. you stand quietly in the corner behind toji, your gaze drifting to sukuna seated at the other end of the table. yorozu is by his side, her smile wide as she leans into him, desperate for his attention while he pets her head, his eyes never leaving you.

the chefs signal that the food is ready, and you step forward, carrying the largest, heaviest plate. as you approach sukuna, yorozu stifles a laugh, her eyes gleaming with mischief. you carefully place the dish in front of sukuna, feeling the weight of his gaze on you, making your heart race with nervous energy.

you retreat back to your spot behind toji, aware that he’s been watching your every interaction with sukuna. he hums, a smirk tugging at his lips as he senses the tension.

“is the food to your liking, lord zenin?” you ask softly, leaning down so only he can hear. but sukuna’s piercing red eyes catch every movement, his stare burning into you. toji turns to you, his gaze appreciative as he sets his utensils down.

“y’er a cute one, hmm? call me toji, baby,” he purrs, his voice dripping with charm. you smile, flustered by the attention, while across the table, yorozu desperately tries to capture sukuna’s interest, even going so far as to eat from his plate in an attempt to please him.

suddenly, sukuna’s voice booms out, calling your name with a force that silences the entire room. all conversation stops as you freeze, your exchange with toji abruptly cut short. you take a hesitant step toward sukuna’s side of the table, but before you can move any further, toji grabs your arm. you gasp, turning to find him grinning, his eyes alight with mischief.

in one swift motion, toji pulls you into his lap, your squeal echoing in the now-silent dining room. “ryo’, let the girl rest, yeah? workin’ too much, baby, isn’t that right?” he coos, his hand resting possessively on your thigh. sukuna’s expression darkens, his anger barely contained, only held in check by uraume’s firm grip on his shoulder, reminding him of the guests in the room.

the dinner continues, but the atmosphere is charged. sukuna’s eyes never leave you and toji, his rage simmering just beneath the surface. toji, sensing sukuna’s barely restrained anger, keeps pushing, his hands wandering over your thighs, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers sweet, seductive words.

toji takes your hand, kissing it softly, his eyes locked on sukuna’s with a smug, taunting look. sukuna’s fists clench, his entire body tense as he fights the urge to tear toji apart.

“meet me in my chambers,” toji murmurs, his voice low and full of promise. you giggle, caught up in the flirtation, but the sound barely leaves your lips before sukuna abruptly stands, the ancient chair crashing to the floor.

“dinner is over,” sukuna announces, his voice cold and final. confusion ripples through the room as he storms out, his heavy footsteps echoing down the hall. yorozu calls after him, but he doesn’t even glance back, his rage blazing as he disappears from sight.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

as nighttime falls, you find yourself at the guest estate just a few minutes from the main one. with a nervous knock, toji answers the door, his grin widening before he pulls you into a deep, feverish kiss. your tongues intertwine, frantic and messy, at the entrance where anyone might witness the two of you.

toji pulls away, his large hand cupping your face. “who is sukuna to you?” he asks, his voice a husky murmur that makes you choke on your saliva, caught off guard.

“h-he’s my king, toji,” you stammer, leaning into his touch, your breath coming fast. he chuckles, a dark glimmer in his eyes.

“i see how he looks at you—he’s always been possessive with… women,” he says, his gaze wandering as a wicked thought forms.

“are you up for something adventurous?” he whispers, his lips trailing fiery kisses down your neck. you tilt your head, desperate for more.

“I want you, toji,” you whimper, and he chuckles, pulling out a black blindfold from his pocket.

was he prepared for this all along?

“may I put this on you?” he asks, his voice dripping with anticipation. you nod eagerly, unable to contain your desire. toji smirks, guiding you to turn around as he binds the fabric over your eyes, plunging you into darkness.

you ache to see him, to watch the way he moves, but the blindfold denies you that pleasure. “we just need to walk a bit, and I’ll give you everything you want,” he promises, his arms lifting you in a bridal style.

the journey feels endless until he finally lays you down on the softest bed you’ve ever felt. he undresses you slowly, making you shiver with anticipation.

toji’s mouth descends on your breasts, his tongue swirling around your nipples- alternating from each breast.

“n-need you inside me,” you moan, your voice trembling with need. he kisses his way down your body, his lips blazing a trail to your aching cunt.

“such a needy one,” he teases, his voice rough as he slides two fingers through your slick folds. he circles your entrance, collecting your essence before pushing his fingers inside. your gasp is loud, your body arching as he thrusts deep, his fingers curling to hit your sweet spot. the room fills with the wet, lewd sounds of your pleasure.

“you’re drenched,” he growls, sliding his fingers out to deliver a stinging slap to your cunt, making you hiss. he licks his fingers clean, savouring your taste before diving into your pussy with feral intensity. his tongue explores every inch of your velvety walls, making you clench around him.

your hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer as he groans into your core, the vibrations sending electric jolts through your body. your legs try to close around his head, but he forces them open, his face and the sheets below soaked with your arousal.

“toji, I need you inside me,” you moan, the knot in your stomach tightening, your orgasm approaching rapidly.

“are you out of your fucking mind?”

you freeze.

your heartbeat halts as his voice cuts through the haze. confusion and fear grip you as you realize who’s in the room.

toji doesn’t stop; if anything, he devours you with even more intensity. loud slurping heard from below as you press your hands to your mouth to muffle your cries.

shakily, you pull off the blindfold, blinking against the bright light. below you, toji’s face is a mask of wicked satisfaction, strands of saliva and cum connecting him to your swollen cunt.

your gaze travels to the end of the bed, and your blood runs cold. sukuna stands there, his four arms bulging with veins, his nails longer and sharper than before.

this is sukuna’s room—the very place where he was with yorozu the night before.

your eyes dart between toji and sukuna, realizing you’re in deep trouble. toji orchestrated this, deliberately placing you in sukuna’s room to fuel the tension between them. “m-my lord—” you begin, but toji spits flat on your cunt, slapping it loudly as you moan uncontrollably.

“c’mon, baby—tell ‘kuna how I’m making you feel.”

[kazumist]

HANDLE WITH CARE .ᐟ

✩ — in which soshiro hoshina finds himself getting treated by his favorite nurse, you.

✩ — includes: soshiro hoshina x gn!reader. fluff. cw: mentions of blood and injuries, inaccurate use of medical terms ?? sorry i just used google uhm. wc: 990. established (secret !!!) relationship. reblogs and feedback are much appreciated !!

✩ — note: i became obsessed with these two that i might just write a part two of reader treating him after the tachikawa base raid arc actually.

soshiro hoshina does not play favorites.

when it comes to his subordinates, at least.

when it comes to the medical team assigned to the tachikawa base, however, that is when he plays favorites (though you would never see the vice captain of the third division actually admit that; he prefers calling it his “preferences”). whenever he finds himself in the base’s infirmary, he will always look for you. and when he’s lucky, which on most occasions he is, then he’ll have you treat his wounds. it’s just something that hoshina has grown accustomed to whenever he finds himself there. nothing more, nothing less (a lie).

you were a special case for the vice captain. there was just something about the way you handled his wounds compared to others. call it picky, but he just prefers the gentle treatment that you give his wounds. (how come hoshina constantly prefers to be treated by you when others would treat him the same? isn't that part of your job in the first place?)

(the answer is simple—it’s simply an act of soshiro hoshina asking for some quality time, even if he’s all bruised and bloody.)

“i’m almost convinced that you do this on purpose sometimes.”

soshiro simply grins at you. you weren’t entirely wrong—but it’s not like hoshina asks himself to get hurt when he goes out on missions in the first place. he could handle himself pretty well; he has the high position of being the vice captain of the third division, for christ’s sake. but perhaps it is inevitable that even the vice captain would come out of a mission unscathed.

“i like the concern from you.”

you give him a lighthearted eyeroll, to which he only grins even wider. "i'm sure you do," yet that grin slowly dissipated as he winced slightly at the feeling of the alcohol touching the wound near his eyebrow. “sorry, did that hurt too much?” you asked him, worried that it might’ve stung too much for his liking. this type of close proximity was normal for you and him. after all, it’s not like this is the first time your face was this close to his—though those are times when hoshina feels rather affectionate with you rather than in pain due to some wound he got.

“nothing i can’t handle, love.” he says, recovering quite fast from the alcohol sting. he was then met with a gentle tap on the lips—hoshina knows it was a warning from you. “watch your words, vice captain.” you say, applying a small gauze pad to his wound and securing it with paper tape.

“can’t really help it when you look so pretty up close, sweetheart.”

you ignored his remark but soshiro could see the smile that tugged on your lips at the petname. you then moved on to his next wound, which is on his left shoulder. his expression softens as he watches you inspect his wound, a small amount of guilt bubbling up inside of him. “this is gonna need a little stitch,” you sighed, grabbing another cotton ball, pouring the right amount of alcohol on it, and preparing to gently dab it on the wound. “and this might hurt a bit again.” you give him a heads up.

“like i said, it’s nothing that i can’t handle,” he reassured. whether it’s you he’s reassuring or himself to convince himself, neither of you really know. he hissed slightly when the cotton ball came into contact with his skin; it was barely even heard that he hissed in the first place. but you noticed it; you always do. you would notice everything about the man before you and he would do the same.

after cleaning his shoulder wound, you proceeded to prepare to stitch it up. there was no one else in the infirmary at the moment; it was now only you and hoshina there. he silently watched you as you quickly arranged the surgical suture. and even when you started the stitching, the deafening silence was still comfortable. 

soshiro gently raised his right arm since it was uninjured and used his hand to smoothly tuck your other strands of hair behind your ear. you looked at him, raising an eyebrow at his gesture. he smiles at you in return. “your hair might get in the way. we don’t want my stitches to have your hair stuck in them now, don't we?”

you quickly finish up the stitch and put gauze on top as well. “i’m sorry.” soshiro’s apology is as genuine as it always is whenever he gets treated in this same room. “i’m starting to feel quite better now, though. couldn’t do it without my favorite nurse.” he continues, as he grabs ahold of your unoccupied hand.

he hears you chuckle at his words as you interlock your fingers together. “avoid arduous training or activities for a good one week and you’ll be good as new.” you said, sighing as now you’re finally done with treating your boyfriend. “eh? no fair. i have to go help the rookies train the day after tomorrow.”

“i’m sure captain ashiro would let you off the hook in the meantime, soshiro.”

“oh, we’re on a first name basis now?” he asks, and this time it was his turn to raise an eyebrow. you bring your other hand up to his cheek, caressing it as your thumb grazes his cheek bone. he leans into your palm as if it were a reflex. “we’ve always been on a first name basis, dummy.” you say.

“maybe all of my pain could go away if you just gave me a little kiss, you know, as your vice captain.”

“now that’s just abuse of authority. do you ask other nurses for a kiss too?” you pouted.

“that’s why your my favorite nurse.” he replies, clearly emphasizing the word “favorite” as he steals a kiss from you.

yeah, vice captain soshiro hoshina definitely does not play favorites.

[nadvs]

cam girl (part two)

pairing rafe cameron x female reader

rating explicit 18+

summary you work two jobs. by day, you’re a maid for the cameron household, where rafe degrades you any chance he can get. by night, you’re a cam girl, hiding your face so nobody can recognize you. when you discover your new subscriber, the filthy-mouthed man obsessively paying you to do everything he can think of, is rafe, you’re not sure what to do next.

» masterlist

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

The next time you log in to the cam website, your heart is racing. Throughout your classes that day, all you could think about was how hot the session with the man you thought was a stranger was last night.

But he isn’t a stranger. He lives in the mansion you get paid to clean twice a week, where he taunts you every chance he gets, practically fucking you with his eyes.

Does Rafe know it’s you on the camera? Is this a sick little game he’s enjoying, thinking you don’t know it’s him? Or maybe he’s aware you know who’s behind the account and he wants to see if you’ll say something about it?

But you do such a good job hiding your face. He can’t know it’s you.

You wonder if it’s wrong to continue doing the nightly private sessions knowing his identity. But when you remember how much joy he gets from berating you while you clean his house, you figure it’s ridiculous to care about the ethics of it.

You try to focus on the fact that you’re making so much money. Rafe gave you over $1500 last night. And he wants to keep paying you for every session. At this rate, you won’t have to worry about bills or your college tuition at all.

You closed your cam girl account to all other subscribers and posted a note that you were no longer streaming. The truth was, you were, but for one man only.

The thought of Rafe lying in bed jacking off to you turns you on before you even start the chat with him.

You take a deep breath, your hand hovering over your laptop trackpad. Rafe Cameron is going to watch you get naked and touch yourself and it makes your stomach feel like it’s flipping.

You start the private session.

Your screen fills with the image of you from your lips down to your feet as you’re curled up on your bed. You’re in a sheer white nighty with no bra or panties on underneath, your body hardly hidden beneath the smooth fabric.

Rafe called your tits perfect last night, so you figured he’ll appreciate you having them on display right when he logs in.

figure8 has joined the session.

You swallow hard.

figure8: been thinking about you all day princess

His words give you butterflies. You try to keep your confidence at the same level now that you’re aware of who’s on the other side of the chat. You refuse to be intimidated knowing it’s Rafe.

“Yeah? What about me?” you ask.

figure8: how pretty that pussy is and how im gonna watch you fuck it from behind

You feel the blood rush to your face. You know he has a filthy mind from the comments he makes to you at his house while you work, but this is more than you ever expected.

“Should I go slow for you again?” you whisper. “I know you like that.”

figure8: what a fast learner

You smirk. There’s the Rafe you know. He has such a natural talent for mocking you.

“You like this little outfit?” you ask him, your hands running down the fabric on your chest, fondling your tits. “I wore it special for you.”

figure8: so fucking hot. bounce those tits for me

You sit up on your knees and arch your back, lightly bobbing on the bed with your hands up in your hair. He has a perfect view of your chest beneath the sheer nighty, your nipples hard under the fabric as your tits jiggle up and down.

figure8: damn. i’d leave hickeys and bites all over those tits. you like to get bitten dont you princess. i know you like it rough

With every other viewer you’ve had as a cam girl, you’ve lied about your preferences just to get tips, but with Rafe, it’s like he knows exactly what you want. You haven’t had to lie to him once.

“I fucking love it rough,” you moan. You put your hands up to your tits and squeeze hard. “I want you to leave marks on me.”

figure8: i’d leave them all over your tits and your ass

“Yeah? Would you spank me? Hard enough to leave a handprint?” you ask, turning around and slowly lifting the nighty over your butt. You stick out your ass for him and sway it slowly for him.

figure8: fuck yes. shake your ass

You spread your knees wider and obey, looking back to watch your body on the screen. The thought of Rafe lying in bed fisting his cock while he watches you makes you get even wetter.

figure8: straddle your pillow. i wanna see how you’d ride my face

You tilt the laptop down so he doesn’t see above your mouth as you move to grab a pillow from behind the computer. You readjust the screen then straddle the pillow, the cotton soft against your naked core.

You start to buck your hips, shuddering immediately. You’re dazed already, desperate for his hands on you, as you rub your body against the pillow.

“I’d ride it fast like this,” you say breathily, humping the pillow.

figure8: my needy girl. my dick is throbbing watching you

figure8 tipped you $200.

figure8: that’s for riding it so well

“Thank you,” you purr, still grinding the pillow. The feeling of getting paid while doing something that feels so good is intoxicating. You’d do anything Rafe’s filthy mind desires.

figure8: don’t cum yet. i’m not done with you

You bite your lip in frustration.

“Okay,” you say heatedly. You slow down your thrusts, back still arched as you await your next instruction.

figure8: show me how you finger yourself. get your pussy nice and close to the camera

You shift to spread your legs in front of the camera, seeing yourself on full display for him.

figure8: start with one finger. i want you to work up to four. can you do that princess?

“I can do that,” you say shakily. You insert a forefinger into your warm, tight hole and let out a contented sigh.

figure8: pump it in and out slowly. add a second finger when you’re ready

You obey, stretching yourself out a bit before adding a second finger. Slowly, you add a third and writhe a bit. You push your hand back and forth, watching yourself on the screen.

You add your pinky finger and slightly tense up, your body rolling.

figure8: breathe through it. you can do it

You let out a shaky exhale as you continue, watching your fingers disappear inside of you.

figure8: good girl stretching that pussy out so nice. i bet you taste so fucking good. taste yourself for me

The request is so sinful, so unlike anything you’ve ever been asked to do. You slowly pull your fingers out of yourself, bringing your hand up to your mouth, making sure he can see your lips.

“I’ve never done this before,” you say to him.

figure8: you’ll do a lot of new things with me, princess

You taste your wetness, sucking on your fingers for him with a slurp loud enough for him to hear. It’s such an animalistic, depraved act, and you find yourself wishing you could do it with him in person, have him watch you do this in the same room.

figure8: god i want to taste you so bad

“I want to taste you, too,” you whisper. If only Rafe knew how accessible you were to him, in his house twice a week. “You know, you can send me photos whenever you want.”

figure8: desperate to see this dick aren’t you

You smile. He could not be more correct. You don’t know how you’ll manage to be around him in person and act normal knowing what you know.

Your stomach heats when you see that he sent a photo. He’s holding his cock, the curve of it so perfect, a pearl of precum leaking out of the tip.

“I want to use my mouth on you,” you keen. “My pussy is aching for it.”

figure8: i know you’d love the taste, princess. show me how you’d take my cock doggy style

Finally. You pick up your dildo and turn around, backing up towards the screen. You angle to slide the toy in slowly, feeling it fill you up, then move your hand so he can view you clearly.

figure8: i can see you dripping

Sure enough, you look down on your sheets to see drops of your own wetness. This man has got you hornier than you’ve ever been.

“That’s what you do to me,” you rasp. “Fuck, I bet you’d destroy me.”

figure8: that pussy would grip my dick so well. i’d fuck you so hard

“Can I please do it now?” you say breathlessly, throbbing with need.

figure8: only because you asked so nice

You dip your arm between your hips, knees sinking into your bed as you lean so your cheek is pressed against the mattress and out of the camera’s frame. You hold the base of the toy and shut your eyes and imagine Rafe’s warm, hard cock inside of you instead of a dildo you have to control.

Breathy moans spill out of you as you thrust the dildo in and out of your slick cunt. You picture him behind you, his hands on your hips as he ruthlessly thrashes in and out of you.

The orgasm slowly builds and builds.

“I’m gonna come,” you say, muffled. You bite your tongue, stifling the urge to call him by his name. Your eyes roll back as the orgasm ripples through with a powerful force, making you shake with pleasure.

When you finally regain enough energy, you sit up and turn to look at the laptop again. To your delight, you see that Rafe sent another photo.

You look closer at the image to see his cum sprayed across his muscular stomach, the white splashes of his pleasure glistening atop his abs.

“Shit,” you rasped. The image is so sexy that you feel yourself getting aroused again.

figure8: see what you do to me? i never cum this fucking fast

figure8 tipped you $100.

figure8: use the money to buy this. have it ready tomorrow

He sends a link in his next message. You open it to see a sex toy website. The page he sent is for a rose vibrator.

“I’ve always wanted one of these,” you say breathily. “Thank you, baby.”

figure8: dont use it without me watching. understand?

“Yes,” you say.

figure8: sleep. you’ll need your rest for what im doing to you tomorrow

figure8 tipped you $1000.

Rafe leaves the chat. You follow his instructions, ordering the toy right away and selecting the option to have it delivered tomorrow. What is he planning?

You decide to do some more online shopping, finding a top you know he’ll like.

After you buy the items, you stare at your laptop, reeling from what just happened.

You look at the pictures he sent again. Rafe was always such a cocky asshole whenever he taunted you at work and it definitely isn’t from overcompensation. He’s so well-endowed that you know it’d hurt so good having him inside you.

How would he react if you told him you were the girl he was jacking off to? Would he be embarrassed? Or relieved he could fuck you for real? Because you’d let him have sex with you. After tonight, there’s no doubt about it.

You close the laptop. It’s Thursday, meaning you’ll likely see Rafe in two days when you’re back at the Cameron estate on Saturday as scheduled. You typically see him around the house, but there are times where you don’t run into him at all.

You don’t know if you’d prefer to see him or not. How could you act normal after having him talk to you like that, after seeing his naked photos?

You try to go to bed right away, but your head is spinning.

The next night, you log in wearing skimpy white panties and the pink tank top you bought the night before, the word “princess” stretched across the front in white cursive letters.

Rafe joins the private session and you can imagine the smirk on his face once he sees your outfit.

“Hi, baby,” you coo, pinching the peaks of your nipples poking beneath the shirt. “You like my top? Bought it last night.”

figure8: its perfect. i want you to spoil yourself with every dollar i give you

You giggle and hold the small silicone rose toy up the camera.

“I was tempted to use it, but I didn’t,” you admit. “Promise.”

figure8: good girl. i hope you got your rest last night. im not paying you til you cum three times tonight

“Oh, my God,” you laugh. “Three? I don’t know…”

figure8: you can do it, princess. take ur panties off but keep that shirt on. don’t want u to forget who u belong to

His possessiveness is so attractive that you feel yourself getting wet already. You slide your underwear off, spreading your legs and putting yourself on display for him.

figure8: tell me what you’d want me to do if i was there. you’d like my head between your legs wouldnt you

You giggle, “You read my mind.” You put your fingers on your clit and close your eyes, imagining curling your fingers in Rafe’s hair as his tongue presses against your middle.

You would have never guessed that Rafe Cameron likes eating pussy, always having assumed he was selfish in bed. But he’s been surprising you since the first message he sent.

“I’d want you to start off kissing me right here,” you purr, “then you’d start using your tongue. Then you’d suck my clit.”

figure8: then i’d put my tongue deep inside your tight cunt

Reading the words makes you tremble. You lower your hand to spread your lips open and show him your opening.

“Right here?” you tease.

figure8: i want my face all wet from you

You groan, imagining his pretty face glistening, his pink lips swollen from eating you out.

You grow wetter and wetter as you touch yourself.

figure8: get the toy

You eagerly pick it up and hold your finger over the “on” button.

“Which setting?”

figure8: whatever will make u cum the hardest, princess

“You get off on me feeling good, don’t you, baby?” you tease.

figure8: those sounds you make are so fucking perfect. i’m already rock hard

“You want me to be loud?”

figure8: don’t hold back. i’ll count your orgasms with you ok? and on the third one, we’ll cum together

This man could not get any sexier if he tried. You curiously explore the toy, finally turning it on and hearing it buzz immediately.

You place it on your clit and the pleasure is instant. You let out a sharp exhale, imagining Rafe touching himself while he watches you.

The toy buzzes and suctions on you and it doesn’t take long at all for the first orgasm to roll through you. You don’t stifle the moan that comes out of you, knowing he’s enjoying it.

figure8: that’s one. that was so fast, princess

“I was horny all day,” you confess.

figure8: thinkin about me?

“Mhm. That picture of your cum all over your stomach is so fucking nice.”

figure8: then u can imagine how much i enjoy watching u fuck urself

“I want a video of you rubbing your cock,” you say impulsively. “I want to hear your sounds, too.”

figure8: you’re such a needy girl

“It’s why you like me,” you flirt. He doesn’t respond right away, making you anticipate that he’s recording a video for you.

A file from him pops up in the chat. You eagerly play it, watching six jaw-dropping seconds of his hand moving up and down the thick girth of his dick in his dark bedroom, his heavy breathing filling your ears.

“God,” you whimper. “I’m ready to go again.”

You pick up the toy and place it on your clit, pressing it down hard as it pulls another orgasm out of you after a minute. You moan out a jumbled, high-pitched mess of “oh, fuck”s as you cum.

Your muscles are tingling and tired. You’re not sure you can give yourself a third orgasm.

figure8: two. not done yet

“Maybe we stop here?” you whisper. “I’m already so weak.”

figure8: are u going to be a good girl or not

“I will,” you resign. “I will.”

figure8: go again. on the max setting

Feeling spent but determined to please him, you put the toy on your sensitive clit again. You hang your head back, looking up at your bedroom ceiling as you press the button a few times to turn on the highest level.

The toy’s suction and pace is brutal and unforgiving. You cry out from the overstimulation, writhing beneath it. The forced orgasm rises inside you and you groan loudly as you cum, tremors ripping through your body.

You’re panting when you turn off the toy and sit up to look at the chat. Rafe sent another photo. His hand is holding his cock at its base, the swollen shaft covered in his cum.

figure8: would u lick this up?

“Every fucking drop,” you say, wishing you could have orgasmed with him inside of you.

figure8 tipped you $2000.

figure8: extra for being so good

The high of the orgasms, of your bank account growing all because this man wants to watch you pleasure yourself, makes you feel like you’re floating.

“I belong to you,” you tell Rafe drunkenly, unable to imagine letting anyone else watching you like this ever again.

figure8: yeah you fucking do. that pussy is mine

“All yours,” you whisper.

figure8: ill see u tomorrow. good job today princess

Rafe exits the chat, leaving you a heaving mess.

Your heart feels like it twists reading his last message. He surely means he’ll see you on camera tomorrow… but what if he means at the estate for your housekeeping shift?

No, he doesn’t know it’s you. He can’t. You breathe out a tired sigh and take a long, hot shower before going to bed.

Your shapeless uniform is scratchy against your skin as you walk into the mansion the next day, still not sure if you want to run into Rafe or not.

You finish up cleaning downstairs and move up to the bedrooms, leaving Rafe’s room for last.

When you enter his room, it’s empty, the late morning sun hidden behind the blinds covering his big windows. You hear the shower in his ensuite running. You curse to yourself, suddenly nervous to see him. Maybe you can quickly collect the laundry and leave before he gets out.

You start to strip the bed, picturing the photos he sent you of himself on it, fucking his own hand and cumming with you. He lies right here, typing dirty things to you, watching you fuck yourself.

You’ve only unbuttoned one button of the duvet cover when you hear the shower faucet get turned off. Shit.

You rush to unbutton the cover, but you finish just as the door squeaks open behind you. You can’t bring yourself to look at him.

“I’ll give you some privacy,” you mumble, keeping your back to him and leaving the bed half-done.

“You’ve seen it all already,” Rafe huskily says behind you. You freeze for a second.

You shyly keep your eyes on the hardwood floor as you turn. When you look up at him as he towers over you, his mouth merely inches away from yours, you see he’s wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his hips.

His hair is wet, his broad chest spattered with water drops. He smells amazing from the body wash he used and his eyes are heavy lidded and his smirk is so damn self-satisfied.

“Why do you look so surprised? You really think I didn’t recognize that pretty mouth right away, princess?”

{ read part three here }

[juletheghoul]

crossing the line

a/n: I have been possessed by this man, he has singlehandedly cured my writers block. This is un beta-ed, any mistakes are my own. Shout out to @foli-vora for joining in the hysteria with me, thanks for cheering me on my love Hopefully you enjoy!

Warnings; 18+ no minors, vague but big-legal age gap, piv sex, dirty talk, Marcus jerking it so right, creampie, vaginal fingering, master / slave dynamic (power imbalance), Marcus calls reader Girl, reader calls Marcus Dominus, let me know if I missed any!

Pairing: Marcus Acaciusx F!Reader

word count: 2.1k

reblogs are appreciated

Prev chapter Masterlist series masterlist

Maybe someone else would have been upset to see how little they owned in the world, but it made no difference to you. The tunic on your back, an extra one to swap out for cleaning, a shawl, and a pair of sandals. That was all you had, that was all you needed, not much to fill your new quarters, modest as they were. Only let you get accustomed to your duties all the quicker. 

You held no melancholy at having been sold into the service of another, it was the story of your life and had happened before. You had no doubts that it would happen again. Instead, you focused on learning the layout of the new villa that would be your home, on learning the moods of your new Dominus and praying to the Gods that he was not heavy handed with his slaves. 

You’d been purchased by none other than Marcus Acacius, the General of the army of Rome. 

Getting used to being in his presence took great effort, meeting his gaze was akin to being struck by lightning. He had the unique power to make your stomach roil like waves, but it wasn’t always an entirely unpleasant feeling. He was older, his hair streaked with gray and his face lined with age but it did nothing to diminish his beauty, or his prowess. You could almost believe he was a marble statue, an Emperor of the past, come to life. He’d caught your eye instantly. 

Months passed, then a year, and you did indeed learn his moods. You learned all about his needs and did well to anticipate his wants, so much so that eventually, he had you follow him around like a shadow. Your prayers had been answered, although his moods could get quite dark, he never raised his hand to anyone in his service. He had no need to. He could correct any misstep with a look. There was a cloud that loomed over him though, an intensity, an air about the man of bottled energy. Any words he did speak were short, and cut to the heart of the matter and despite the fact that he never hurt you or the others, you thought it might only be a matter of time before someone got the brunt end of his misplaced wrath. 

“He has been away from the battlefield for too long, pay him no mind. Do your duties, and he will settle.” One of the older women in the house noticed the way you wring your hands at his dark temperament, seeing her unbothered by it did much to calm you. 

You didn’t notice it at first, but more and more often you felt his eyes linger on you. Felt him follow as you set the table with his meals, when you helped him dress in the morning, more still when you helped him with his night time rituals. He was unabashed and unrelenting, his eyes traveling the length of you, lingering on the swell of your breasts when you stood before him, on your backside when you walked away. You knew the look, had seen it in countless men in the houses you’d served before. You’d seen on the boy that served with you when you were both coming to the age of such things, when young men stretched and grew overnight, and girls flowered, breasts blossoming and blood coming at the turn of the moon. You had seen it in the young man that had taken your chastity, fumbling at your tunic when everyone had gone to sleep.

At first it had shocked you, not because of some notion of propriety or disgust, this was something that happened in every house. The Dominus was there to be served, no matter what they wanted, it came with your station in life, what shocked you, was how welcome his gaze was. How much you relished his heated stare, how much you wanted him to look at you, always. He’d been the object of every heated fantasy you’d had since stepping foot in the house but you’d been under the impression that he was a solitary creature, uncaring for the company of anyone, except his hounds, two great big beasts that he doted on. He never pressed the matter however, and so you contented yourself with your dreams. 

-

He’d been gone most of the day, leaving you to help the other attendants with their duties, and the time passed quickly, and with the moon rising you thought it best to go to sleep–trusting that by this hour, surely he’d be staying put. With your own clothes washed and hanging to dry for the morning, you settled into bed. It was not to last however, one of the older women came through not long after you’d undressed and gotten into bed and announced that he’d arrived, looking for you. 

“God’s be damned.” You swore under your breath, “Gratitude, I will see to him shortly.” 

You had no choice but to put on one of the damp tunics, hissing at the frosty touch but running off to tend to him just the same. 

With a light knock to announce your presence, you entered his private chambers. 

“Apologies Dominus, I had thought you would be gone until the morning.” You bowed your head in deference to him, “Shall I fetch food and wine? Or will you be going to sleep?” His eyes were narrow slits, fixed on your body. You looked down to where he stared and noted that the wet fabric left nothing to the imagination. The dark patch of hair between your legs was clear as day, as was everything else. “Apologies Dominus, I had washed them when I thought you would be gone.” You stood there, the room pregnant with tension as he looked his fill. After what felt like hours, he looked up to your face and the expression made your nipples harden, a fact he did not miss. 

“No, Girl. I am not hungry.” He set about undressing and you hurried to help him, doing your best to keep your touch from lingering too long. “I will cleanse and go to sleep. Snuff out some of these candles, and be off to bed.” His voice was low, and it opened a river between your thighs, the arousal for him so sharp it ached. 

“Yes Dominus.” You did as he asked, leaving only a couple of candles burning near his bed, and leaving him there. You were just closing the door to your quarters when you realized his basin had not been filled, so you ran back to make sure he had the water he needed. It would have to be cold at this hour. 

This time, you did not knock, hoping that he’d still be preoccupied enough that you could just slip in, fill his basin and slip out. 

There was a slick, rhythmic noise that greeted you, along with a low, guttural groan. His chamber was darker without as many candles but the sight that greeted you was clear as day, and would forever be burned into your mind. Him, bathed in candlelight, his cock thick and shiny with his pearly arousal. 

His strength could never be denied, but like this, with his arm flexing with each long stroke, his muscles glinted. You’d seen all manner of people nude in your service, there was no shame in it. The human body was a work of art and growing up and giving into desires meant you’d seen men nude and ready to rut, but this was something else. The young men you'd been with were callow boys. This was a man. 

You stood there, frozen, and aching with an emptiness you hadn’t felt this keenly in so long. 

He felt you then, and looked up to see you watching him and before you could say anything he focused on the place so clearly visible through the wet fabric between your legs and moaned a filthy moan. You didn’t know whether to drop the jug of water and run, or mount him like you would a wild horse. You bit your lip, willing him to beckon you forth to him.

“Did you come back just to torment me, girl? Or would you lend a hand?” He watched your face, letting you decide what you wanted, you put the jug down and walked towards him. 

“I live to serve you, Dominus.” His brow furrowed with every step you took until his face tipped up to look into your eyes. 

“Take that off–” He grunted the last word, squeezing his cock in his fist while you obeyed. “Put your foot right here.” He gestured to the spot beside his thigh, and you did. “Spread it open. I want to see it.” He watched your sex, his mouth opening in a silent ‘O’ when you complied. “Are you wet for me, girl?” He sped up, fucking his fist in earnest. 

“Yes Dominus.” You slipped your fingers down, dipping them inside for a moment before showing him. He moaned again and your heart felt like a hummingbird in your chest. He grabbed at your fingers with his other hand and shoved them into his mouth, eyes closed and groaning around them and it was almost too much. 

“Take it Dominus, take me.” You whispered, watching his rapturous gaze with unwavering desire. You had no time to think, because within a second, he was up and pushing you down onto his bed, settling between your spread thighs. His sex hung heavy, an angry red and for a moment your stomach dropped imaging it inside you. 

“This will be quicker than I would wish it to be,” He grasped himself in hand, almost trembling as he lined himself up and sunk inside with one, quick thrust. “Gods above, girl, this little cunt was made for me.” He couldn’t hold himself back or give you time to adjust to his size, instead he set a brutal pace, and you held on, with arms around his neck and legs high on his hips for dear life. 

Your fingers ached with how tightly they gripped the curls at the base of his skull. You pulled him closer, needing to feel his weight as he stretched you open on his length, over and over, making everything bounce with the force of it. He was right about it being quick though, a handful of pumps was all it took for him to seize up, one hand palming your breast as he seized with a growl. You felt it, the spurt of him deep inside.

“It is a gift, my gift.” He watched himself, hissing with discomfort as he pulled himself out. “My seed, just for you.” His breath came in pants as he drew himself out, softened and spent and you were struck again by his beauty. With the flush of exertion blooming on his cheeks, and the rare smile on his lips, you couldn’t help but mirror the expression, even as your own climax slipped away with every passing second. “Your turn, now I must see pleasure on your face.” He huffed out the words before laying on his side to your right, resting his head on one hand to gain a better view of you spread out beside him. 

His fingers found the source of divinity between your legs. 

“Spread those pretty thighs nice and wide for me, girl, I would have access to all of you.” He spoke low, pressing his lips to your temple as his fingers used the slip of his own mess to stoke the fire spreading through your veins. “So lovely.” 

The reverence in his tone was so at odds with the confidence in his fingers, his skill was no tawdry thing and within a few moments the euphoria was so close you could taste it. You turned your face to him, silently begging for his mouth and he obliged, his kiss sweet as summer wine and all at once the wave crested. Your legs closed of their own accord, but this only bolstered him to slip two fingers inside, pumping through his seed and your liquid desire, laughing softly at the way you clutched at his arm. 

All of the times before, had been a jest. It was hard to know if anything you felt before could even be called pleasure. 

“Can you walk?” He pressed his lips to your shoulder, lowering them until he took a nipple into his mouth. You nodded. 

“Yes Dominus.” He placed a final kiss to the soft skin of your breast, the whiskers on his face tickling you. 

“Very well, off to bed.” The smile was gone, but it was replaced with a sleepy, satisfied look, one that you were sure would be gone in the morning. 

“Yes Dominus.” You rose, on shaky legs, grabbed your damp tunic, and slipped out of his chambers. 

—

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[thriftedtchotchkes]

come clean

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: joel comes home after a messy day on patrol, but you're already in the shower

warnings: 18+ MDNI, fluff, language, getting together, slow buildup, jackson era, smut, handjob, f!masturbation, fingering, unprotected piv, rough sex, shower sex, size kink

word count: 4.7k

a/n: this one goes out to emotional support daydreams! as always, thoughts and feedback are always appreciated. hope y'all enjoy 💕

Joel’s having a rough day. It’s late, and he’s bone-tired and covered in…well, he’s not really sure what he’s covered in. Mud and bits of dead grass, definitely, but there's splotches of red on his jeans, too. He couldn’t tell you whether it’s his blood or something else’s—the adrenaline still hasn’t completely worn off, so it’s entirely possible he’s not feeling the full extent of his injuries yet.

His day hadn’t started that badly, but it wasn’t a typical morning, either. Maria had stopped him and Tommy at the gate to ask if they'd mind checking out a situation at the dam instead of patrolling their usual route.

Apparently, some of the machinery was acting up and the only person she trusted to oversee the repairs was Tommy. She honestly hadn't given much thought to Joel's part in all of it—their relationship is still pretty tense, even after his return to Jackson, so he was just along for the ride.

Things went downhill fast after they arrived at their destination. No one's really sure how the infected got into the facility, but it was a lucky thing Joel was there after all. With the help of a few guards, they were able to dispatch everything in and around the building without any bites or serious injuries but, boy, did they make a serious mess. Of the facility and the machinery they were supposed to help fix, and of Joel.

So now here he is, exhausted and dirty, getting shit from his kid when all he wants to do is get clean and take a fucking nap.

“Ew, gross,” Ellie groans, clearly not giving two shits about how badly Joel’s day is going or how little she’s helping right now. She had the day off and is somehow still watching movies in the same spot he left her in this morning. “Stop touching things! You’re getting shit everywhere.”

He ignores her and shrugs off his coat, walking into the living room to toss it over the back of his recliner, but she throws him a dirty look that stops him in his tracks.

"Whatever, m'gettin’ in the shower," he grunts, dropping it on the doormat instead. He'll probably have to burn that coat anyway if the stains and…odor are anything to go by.

"Uhhhh, no, actually you're not," she says matter-of-factly, and he raises his eyebrows, eyeing her expectantly when she doesn't elaborate.

"Why the fuck not?"

"Did your hearing get worse or something? Shower's already on,” she nods toward the stairs. He’s not sure how he didn’t notice the sound of running water filtering down from the second floor earlier, but now he’s annoyed that he can’t shower and that she might actually be right about his hearing.

"Well then, I'm waitin' here," he sasses back, taking a seat on the recliner with zero regard to the upholstery.

"Dude!" She’s starting to look as exasperated as he feels. And her reaction isn’t unwarranted. If he touches literally anything in this living room, they’ll probably have to burn it, too.

"Fine, fine, m'not touchin' anythin'," he stands back up, holding his hands up in surrender. "How long's she been in there?"

"Like, five minutes. Probably gonna be a while, knowing her,” she replies with an amused grin. Oh, so she thinks this is funny.

"The fuck do ya expect me to do then, stand here ‘til she's out?" He asks as if it’s not exactly what he’s been doing the entire time they’ve been having this conversation.

"As long as you don't sit on any of the furniture, I don't really give a shit what you do," she shrugs.

He rolls his eyes at her, running a hand down his face in frustration. He’s just about to give up and hose himself down in the yard when she finally offers a solution.

"You could just knock and see if she'll swap out with you. She basically just got in, anyway."

“Y’know what, I think I will,” he grumbles, heading upstairs to the bathroom and leaving Ellie to her shitty 90s sci-fi thriller. She shakes her head, laughing as she slips on her headphones.

“Don’t be too loud up there!”

But with his bad ears, he doesn’t hear her.

God, you needed this shower so badly. It's been a rough day, to say the least, and it’s finally time to get the relaxation you deserve. You got saddled with an extra patrol shift because two of the usual guys had a last-minute change of assignment, and it turned a typical day into an unbelievably exhausting one.

But tonight you got lucky. There was no one around to use up all of the hot water besides Ellie, who’s been glued to the TV all day, and you miraculously got home before Joel. So tonight, you get to enjoy the expensive bottle of shampoo you found at some fancy store in some fancy mall last month, and let yourself forget for a while that there’s fucking fungus monsters out there eating people.

That is—until someone knocks on the door and ends your perfect evening before it begins. Now you’ve got soap in your eyes, and you’re slightly worried because Ellie either needs something from the bathroom or the house is on fire. There’s never an in-between with her.

“Ellie? Everything okay?” you call out, really hoping it’s not the latter.

The voice that responds is muffled and decidedly much deeper than Ellie’s, and you’re momentarily taken off guard before you realize it’s not a burglar. It’s Joel—of course, it’s Joel. He probably got off his shift late and wants to clean up, and now you feel bad for making him wait and using up all the hot water.

You can’t really hear what he’s saying over the shower, so you slide the curtain open to poke your head out. “What? Sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

He tries to answer you again, or at least you think he does, but you still can’t make him out, so you tell him to come inside. The door only opens a crack, but it's so quick that there's no time to duck behind the curtain before Joel's face appears and you're both staring at each other blankly.

“…Hi,” you breathe out, praying it’s just your head and not the rest of your body peeking out. “So, um, what were you saying?”

He looks a little embarrassed and it’s adorable, but the thought only crosses your mind for a split second before you notice the rest of him. He’s—there’s really no nice way to say this, but he looks revolting.

There’s dirt everywhere. Matted in his hair, under his fingernails, all over his clothes. It looks like he’s been rolling around on the ground all day, and honestly, maybe he has. He’s also got…gross, is that a chunk of…? Nope. It looks like someone exploded in his face, and he needs a shower. Badly.

The only problem is you’re covered head-to-toe in soap, and you’re pretty sure you’ve only got about 15 minutes of hot water left.

He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. “Sorry to barge in on ya,” he mumbles, looking pointedly away from you. “I came up here to see if you wouldn’t mind pausin’ your shower for a bit, but I, uh…can see that’s gonna be a little difficult.”

You look down at yourself and, yeah, he’s right. You’re dripping water and soap all over the floor. Getting out now would be a pain in the ass, but he also really needs to get in.

“No, no. It’s totally fine! It makes way more sense for me to sit around soapy than for you to, um, stand around like that,” you reason. It’s his turn to look down at himself, and he grimaces. “Just turn around for a sec and we can swap.”

He nods, still looking sheepish, but grateful.

You duck back into the shower to shut the water off and gather up your toiletries to make room for his. You’ve already shoved half of your stuff to one side before you realize it was probably just a waste of time because there was already plenty of space—and that's when it dawns on you.

This stall is pretty big—as far as showers go, anyway. There's no reason you can't both fit in here at the same time. It's also not like he's never seen you naked before. You joined up with Joel and Ellie long before running water was in the picture, so you've had your fair share of awkward bathing encounters. Really, it's just a matter of whether or not he'll go for it.

You pop your head back out, taking a second to admire those strong, broad shoulders of his before getting his attention. Damn, he's a real catch. Hot and respectful. But seriously, he's so disgusting right now and it would be a shame to allow that to continue.

"Hey, Joel," you start, and he glances back carefully over his shoulder. You hesitate for a beat before continuing, “So, hear me out—what if we just…if we both showered…at the same time…”

He looks confused, and you realize how badly you botched that entire sentence. Okay, so talking around it didn't work. You take a deep breath to steady yourself before trying again.

"Just—just get in with me," you say softly. "We can shower together."

His brow furrows, eyes unreadable. He looks like he might be thinking it over, but his silence isn't exactly the most encouraging reaction in the world. Subconsciously, you hold your breath while you wait for an answer.

There’s no way he’s going to go for this, is there? It’s Joel. He can barely look at you in a tank top without blushing, let alone wet and naked. You’re not even sure why you bothered asking. It was clearly a dumb—

“Yeah, guess that makes sense,” he nods, turning back to you fully, and you swear he’s looking at you differently. That's…not what you were expecting. Not that you're complaining in the slightest. He's not even trying to hide his eagerness, and you're starting to think maybe he was waiting for you to ask all along.

"Well, come on in, cowboy."

Joel undresses slowly, eyeing what little of you he can see greedily, and it makes your cheeks burn. It’s like he can’t look away—from your eyes and lips, your collarbone. Even the tiny droplets of water that fall from your hair. It feels more intimate than any moment you’ve ever shared with Joel, and he hasn’t even touched you. Yet, hopefully.

You’re getting impatient. He's making a show of stripping down and it's taking everything you have not to get out of the shower and rip all of his clothes off yourself. His fingers are so thick, and more and more of his tanned, weather-worn skin is exposed to you as they work to unbutton his shirt.

You’re pretty sure you’re drooling at this point, imagining those fingers sinking deep inside you before you can stop yourself. Fuck, you're pent up. And should probably have a lot more shame, but now he's unzipping his jeans, and you feel like you're about to combust.

You let out a pained noise without meaning to and he chuckles, shaking his head as he picks up the pace. "I'm comin', I'm comin'," he teases, dropping his pants to the floor. "Why don't you get the water goin' for me?"

Now you're the one having trouble looking away. Damn, who even is this guy? He’s nothing like the Joel you’ve known for years, and definitely not the Joel who stepped into this bathroom ten minutes ago. If you'd known it would go like this, you would’ve invited him to shower with you a long time ago.

He’s down to just his boxers now, and maybe it's wishful thinking, but he looks like he’s already hard. Swallowing is suddenly extremely difficult, so you shoot him one last appreciative look before doing what he asked.

You turn the water back on and it’s still pleasurably warm as it rains down onto your tense shoulders. The steady pressure soothes some of the nerves while you wait for him to join you, but you’re so caught up in the moment that you don't notice the curtain opening.

"Scoot over," he murmurs behind you, his breath fanning out over the back of your neck. He’s close, so much closer than you expected him to be. You assumed you’d be dancing around each other for at least a little while longer, but it seems like Joel knows exactly what he wants, and it’s not just the shower.

He reaches around you to grab that expensive bottle of shampoo you’ve been looking forward to, his fingers grazing your bare skin, and you shiver despite the heat of the water.

“Or you could stay right here,” he says, even closer now, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “We could help each other out—with washin’ up, I mean.”

You inhale shakily, your reply getting caught in your throat. “Y-yes—yeah, yes…we should definitely do that,” you breathe out.

He chuckles and the sound is surprisingly affectionate. It gives you hope that this won’t just be a one-time thing. That after all this time, he wants you as much as you want him.

You’re the first to initiate physical contact, reaching back to bury your fingers in his hair which, in retrospect, turns out to be a terrible idea. He’s still filthy, and your fingers get caught in tangles and dirt and…probably a lot of other nasty shit you don’t want to think about.

You snort out a laugh, turning around to face him. “I think you’re up first, handsome.”

The corners of his mouth tip up as he nods, and you can’t resist the urge to reach up and trace his bottom lip with your thumb. He kisses the pad of your finger, and you wish so badly that it was your lips.

For the second time tonight, you’re feeling incredibly impatient. You want to feel more of him, let him press you up against the wall and kiss you, touch you the way you both want him to, but it’ll have to wait.

You pluck the bottle from his hands and squeeze a huge dollop into your palm, telling him to turn around with a small smile. His eyes drop to the quirk of your lips for a moment too long before he obliges, and you’re starting to realize he’s getting impatient, too.

You reach up to thread your fingers into his graying hair and, somehow, the strands still feel soft despite everything tangled up in them. It’s going to take a decent amount of scrubbing before it’s back to its normal, fluffy state of disarray, but you’ll make it feel good for him. A little taste of what's to come.

He tips his head back as you massage in the shampoo, letting out the softest groan when your fingernails scratch along his scalp, and you have to press your thighs together to relieve the growing ache in your core. You’re not going to make it through this shower if he keeps making noises like that. But, of course, he does, and they're getting louder.

You can feel his body starting to respond to yours, too. It’s a little cruel how you’re purposely working him up, sliding a washcloth over his shoulders and across his back, letting your fingers skim teasingly over his skin as you stretch your arms around him to reach his front.

His stomach flexes under your palm, and he inhales sharply as your hardened nipples graze across his back. You continue your path down, running your fingers through the coarse hair at the base of his cock, and his hips jerk forward, seeking the friction you so desperately want to provide. He's panting, and you're both having a difficult time holding yourselves back.

Brown and red swirl in the water around your feet and down the drain, and it's enough to tell you that he's finally clean. And that you can finally touch him the way you want to.

Pressing yourself firmly against his back, you reach down to wrap your fingers around his cock and he feels huge in your hand, rock hard and pulsing with his racing heartbeat. You pump him a few times, giving him a firm squeeze at the base, and he keens, already leaking all over himself.

He braces a hand on your hip to steady himself as you trail open-mouthed kisses down his spine, digging his fingers in roughly when you slowly start to jerk him off in earnest.

"T-that's it, pretty girl—,” he pants heavily, eyes dropping down to watch you work him, and you twist your wrist up on the next stroke, thumbing over his head. "Keep goin', just like that."

You whimper damply against his skin at the pet name, feeling a pleasurable whoosh in your belly as your cunt drips pathetically down your thighs. The throbbing between your legs is almost unbearable, but you don't want to let him go, not when his hips are meeting your fist so fucking desperately. You wedge a hand between your bodies, slipping it lower and lower until your fingers rub against your slick folds, gathering some of the wetness to rub soothing circles into your clit.

“I got you, I got you,” you moan at the sudden relief. Your caresses start to match his thrusts, and soon he's trembling in your arms, whimpering like he'll cum any second if you let him. You rub your cheek tenderly against his back, murmuring soft, encouraging words into his heated skin.

"You're doing so, so well," you tell him, and he seizes up at the praise, chest heaving as you focus your attention closer to the tip. "You wanna cum or are you gonna wait for me? Want you to fill me up…can you do that for me?"

For a second, you think your words might've thrown him over the edge, his hips stuttering against your palm even as you slow your movements. But he's still clearly fighting the urge to cum, and that has to mean he wants to fuck you badly.

His hand shakes as it lifts to wrap around yours, guiding you down to squeeze the base of his cock to stave off his orgasm, but you're not making it easy for him. You barely notice your other hand still working your pussy, too turned on to realize you've started pumping two fingers in and out of yourself.

Joel notices, though. Something that sounds almost animalistic tears its way out of his chest as he turns on you, snatching your hand out of your cunt and slamming it against the shower wall. Your fingers are shiny and glistening with your wetness and he leans forward to suck each of them into his mouth, groaning at your taste on his tongue.

The look on his face makes it seem like you're the best meal he's ever had, and you feel a strong, sudden urge to have his tongue in your mouth so you can taste yourself. He pulls off your middle finger with an audible pop, and then you're crashing your lips into his, immediately licking into him.

God, why do you taste so good in his mouth? It's salty and heady, and really shouldn't be as hot as it is, but you can't bring yourself to care as his tongue tangles with yours. You feel two—shit, no, it’s three—of his fingers slip into you, and, holy fuck, they're so much bigger than yours. You're already so full and they feel even thicker at the base, nudging a spot that makes you see stars.

There's no way his cock is going to fit inside you…right? But the thought of him trying anyway almost makes you cum on the spot. Another wave of heat crashes through you and your walls convulse around him, pussy gushing down his fingers, and he abruptly breaks away from your lips, groaning lowly, desperately.

"Fuck, I-I need—shit, I need to fuck you, pretty girl," he twitches against you, leaking a glob of precum as he ruts into your belly. “M'gonna fill ya up real good, just like you wanted—," and you gasp, clamping down on his fingers one more time before he's pulling them out and hauling you into his arms, your legs quickly wrapping around his waist as he shoves you higher up the wall.

His hands roam your skin hungrily before eventually settling under the soft swell of your ass, holding you up as he slicks up his cock between your folds. Every time the tip catches your clit, your hips buck clean off the wall and he presses into you harder to keep you in place. You bury your face in his neck, thighs squeezing into his sides.

"S'not gonna fit," you slur, a little drunk off how good he feels between your legs. The next time his hips buck forward, the blunt head of his cock catches your entrance. "J-Joel—ngh…Joel, s'too big, you have to make it fit, please."

And that's when his patience runs out.

He sheathes himself to the hilt in one harsh thrust, growling roughly into your hair, and the stretch is mind-numbing. He stays deep, letting you adjust to the feeling of being split open, and his head drops to your shoulder. His eyes are locked on where you're joined, your pussy stretched around him almost obscenely.

"Would'ja look at that," he mumbles to himself, rocking in and out slowly as he turns his head to suck a bruise into your collarbone. You reach a hand down curiously, wanting to feel yourself around him, and your jaw drops when your fingers brush where his thickness is forcing your cunt to yield to him. "Knew you could take me…pussy feels s-so fuckin' good, like you were made for me."

You whine pathetically as the ache starts to subside and the need for him to fuck you becomes overwhelming. Pleasure blooms where he's already grazing that heavenly spot again, and you tug his head back by his hair, bringing his attention back up to you.

Everything pauses, just for a moment. You kiss his lips delicately, so much more delicate than he's about to be with your body but, right now, you need him to know that it's more than this for you. More than the sex and the physical intimacy. And the way he kisses you back reassures you beyond a doubt that it's more than this for him, too.

Then, your patience runs out.

"Joel, move."

And suddenly, he's spearing up into that spot deep inside you with reckless abandon, bouncing you on his cock, and you're not entirely sure, but you might actually be screaming.

Your head lolls back, thudding dully against the wall, and he ducks down to wrap his lips around your nipple, tongue circling the nub as he continues you work you up and down his shaft. The sound your pussy's making around him should be humiliating, but it only spurs him on, the wet squelching echoing loudly over the running water.

"Hear that? That's all you, baby. So fuckin' wet, look at that," and he's watching himself again in awe as he fucks in and out of you. You follow his gaze and, holy shit, he's not kidding. You're absolutely soaking him. "You look so good like this, so goddamn pretty stretched around my cock."

You still haven't completely acclimated to how thick he is, not sure you ever actually will, and the syrupy-sweet pain of him has you clawing at his back. You use the wall as leverage, arching just enough so you can actively meet his thrusts, and the new angle sends you reeling.

"Feels so…full, so full," you gasp, your back inching higher up the wall with the force of his thrusts. "K-keep going…there, Joel, there."

It's not just that one spot he's hitting anymore—fuck, it feels like he's everywhere. The ridge of his cock is rubbing your walls just right and every other thrust fucks deep enough to graze your cervix. You sob at the onslaught of overpowering pleasure, burying your hands in his hair to tether yourself as your brain begins to fizzle.

Just a little more, you only need a little bit more. You can feel the lower half of your body locking down and, as if he can sense exactly what you need, he grinds his cock in as deep as it'll go.

"That's it, baby. C'mon, give it to me," he grits against your throat. "Squeezin' me so fuckin' tight, you're almost there."

The coarse hairs at the base of his cock scrape roughly and a little painfully against your swollen clit as you rock against him, but the slide is still so slick and raw that your thighs begin to quake around his waist, and it's—fuck, it's so…so…

"M'gonna fucking cum—gonna…oh fuck, fuck, Joel," your lips part around what you pray is a silent scream and your body goes rigid, cunt spasming violently around him.

He chokes out a moan as you clamp down impossibly tighter on his cock. "Fuckin' hell, there we go," he rasps out shakily as he fucks you into the wall blindingly hard, letting you ride him through your orgasm.

"So, s-so good. Feels so fuckin' good," he's starting to mumble to himself deliriously, squeezing your ass hard enough to bruise. You whimper helplessly as his thrusts get sloppier and more desperate, "Gonna fill you up 'til it's leakin' out…c-can I, pretty girl? Please…bet you'd look so fuckin' good with my cum spillin' out of you—"

Before you can even answer, you feel him throb and then his entire body stills, his cock visibly pulsing as he empties into you. He moans his way through it, his head dropping to your shoulder again to watch himself pump you full of cum just like he said he would.

If you thought you felt full before, it's nothing compared to how you feel right now. He's still so deep, twitching pathetically inside you as he lifts his head to nose at the underside of your jaw. He presses a soft kiss there and you sigh, wrapping your arms and legs around him tighter.

"Christ, Joel, where did that come from?" you rasp out. He chuckles, and his whole body shakes with it, jostling his hips into your sensitive clit. Your pussy flutters around him and his breath hitches, fingers digging into the softness of your thighs. He still hasn't pulled out and you have a feeling he doesn't want to.

"Been waitin' a long time for that," he murmurs, meeting your eyes. You smile softly, and your lips command his attention. "Waited a long time for you."

So full of surprises tonight. You’ve traveled with him for years, settled down with your kid, but you never expected this. For him to finally feel the same way you do, to fuck you like that. You’re suddenly extremely thankful he came home in dire need of a shower.

You run your hands up his chest, settling one on his shoulder and burying the other in his hair. The dirt, the grime—it's all gone now, replaced by your release and the sweat of your exertion. He smells so good, just like your fancy shampoo. Just like home.

You lean in to kiss him deeply and he melts into you, his lips soft and warm against yours. When you part, you're met with that look again. The one he gave you after you asked him to shower with you, and that he hasn't stopped giving you since. Like he's observing you, contemplating you.

You recognize it now—it's hope.

"I've been waiting a long time for you too, Joel."

He kisses you again, holding you close as the water goes ice cold.

thanks so much for reading! 🥰

[euthymiya]

for you, i’d do it all again — ft. alhaitham

the story of how you replace the acting grand sage as the permanent one. alternatively: three times alhaitham wanted to say i love you and one time he finally does

before you read: 6.2k word count ; fem reader ; friends to lovers ; former bimarstan nurse to grand sage reader (girlboss hours) ; reader is ambiguous but from the desert ; themes of prejudice against desert folks ; lovesick alhaitham ; nahida appearance (she’s very sweet) ; mentions of blood and injuries ; reader sits on his lap ; fingering ; semi public sex/office sex (the door is locked) ; slight hand jobs ; unprotected vaginal sex ; pulling out ; soft linguist alhaitham :(

His head is pounding. Hard.

Alhaitham fights mercenaries often—far too many of them are easy to run into deep into the desert. They tend to get territorial over ruins, too, not too keen on rainforest folk. Their teeth always grit, and their eyes always glare at him like he’s more than just an intruder.

He supposes he is.

For far too long, the desert population of Sumeru has been an afterthought. For far too long, they’ve fought tooth and nail for an opportunity—any opportunity. The desert ruins and their secrets are the few things that they have, the few things that they can cling to. The ruins are one of the rare things that are theirs to control.

Alhaitham doesn’t blame them for being hostile when he approaches. They scoff bitterly when he offers up his Akademiya-approved stamp on a paper to be there.

Get out, they grit, in their mother tongue.

It’s a language Alhaitham recognizes. Something entirely different from anything people speak in the rainforest. People in the city. But he knows what they say—he learned this particular tongue some years ago from a book in his father’s collection. This version is vaguely different, though, something of a dialect, he assumes.

I don’t mean harm, he says quietly, hand held up in surrender.

They pause. One of them, the leader, he deduces, steps up and chuckles.

“Fancy fer a little ‘ol scholar, ain’t ya?” He asks gruffly, “so ya know ta speak a few other languages. So what?”

His grammar is slightly off, Alhaitham notes. He must have picked up what he knows from traveling to and from Caravan Rivat. It’s impressive, Alhaitham thinks.

Only a sharp mind could pick up a language so easily just from hearing bits and pieces in a bustling place like the trading hub between the two borders. He imagines with proper education, this man could put even him to shame with how easily he picks up new tongues.

“I mean no harm,” he repeats. “I’m just here to explore these ruins for research.”

The words seem to do little to ease their minds. Instead, they draw their swords, and just like that, he prepares himself for another grueling fight.

As usual, Alhaitham wins in the end. Not without a good few hits landed on him, though—this particular bunch was a rough fight even for him. The blunt head of a sword handle hitting his head is particularly rough, hence why he lays in the bimarstan, eyes closed as he holds an ice pack to his temple.

“You don’t have to fight every person who picks one with your first,” you chastise, rolling bandages around his bicep where a small gash is littered on his skin.

He grunts, fighting through every pounding thump in his skull as he says hoarsely, “I don’t particularly have a choice. It’s either fight back or be killed.”

“You could always seduce them,” you tease, giggling when he opens a weary eye and gives you an unimpressed stare.

“I have my doubts about that plan,” he says dryly.

“They don’t mean any harm,” you hum quietly, tossing away the dirtied rags you’d used to clean his blood. “The desert folks aren’t exactly the happiest with Akademiya ones, you know.”

“I’d appreciate it if such grievances didn’t have to end with knife fights,” he says tiredly.

Alhaitham, no matter how bloodied or bruised he could show up to you in the hospital, finds that you always have a soft spot for those of the desert. It makes sense, he supposes, seeing as you come from there yourself—still, he’d really appreciate it if you could acknowledge that he’s been a victim of unwarranted violence.

It’s not that he particularly blames them for their actions. Researchers are quite pushy—too pushy, in fact. They take up room in villages they’re unwelcome in often times. They build institutions they’re not permitted to build. They claim ownership of ruins that aren’t theirs to claim.

Researchers like Alhaitham, who intend to observe and do nothing else, aren’t trusted, regardless of their intentions. The mercenaries have taken to force if that’s what it requires to keep the desert rightfully theirs.

“Akademiya-approved exploration permits mean little to them,” you shrug, “the only person I’m sure they’d make an exception for is Cyno—only because he’s one of them. But a lot of people have much to say about him too for leaving nowadays, anyway.”

“How would you know?”

“My mother writes to me,” you say, wrapping up the bandage around his bicep before pulling away. He misses the heat of your fingertips almost instantly, fighting back the urge to grab at your retreating hands.

“Lord Kusanali sent me,” he says quietly. “She…she was looking for something.”

You don’t press for more, thankfully. His vagueness is enough to tell you he probably can’t share much of what he was sent for, and you don’t seem offended even the slightest.

Alhaitham appreciates that. Not many of his friends (if he can call most of them that, anyway) are ever too pleased by his curt, dry answers. Perhaps Cyno is the exception, but the General Mahamatra is equally as curt as the scribe on most days. Kaveh is too nosey for his own good, Dehya is just as pushy for details, and the traveler wouldn’t be so bad if not for that irritating little pixie friend that floats by her head, always demanding for more information.

You never ask for more, though. He likes that about you.

He likes a lot about you. Alhaitham, as emotionally stunted as most people assume him to be, is aware of most of his feelings. Perhaps expressing them is a different story, but recognizing them for what they are is an easy enough step.

He knows early on that he’s deeply enamored by you. Later, he’s not too shocked to come to the realization he’s in love with you, either.

He comes close to saying it sometimes. It’s a dangerous, slippery slope to tread—sometimes whispering I love you feels as natural as saying thank you when you patch him up.

Probably because he says it so many times in his head.

I love you, he says in his mind when you laugh.

I love you, he thinks, when you worry over him.

I love you, he realizes, when you attach yourself to his side and accompany him to Puspa Cafe.

“Speaking of the Archon,” you perk up, excitedly putting away the medical equipment in a rush as you turn to him and add, “did you hear? Sumeru is finally expanding the Akademiya’s education to the desert!”

Alhaitham wants to tell you he’s one of the first to know. He was part of the operation that resolved conflicts and led to this evolvement, after all, but he doesn’t tell you that.

Instead, he nods and smiles softly at you. “I did, yes.”

“It’s wonderful,” you beam excitedly, “I’ve always felt guilty for leaving the desert. Not too many get the opportunities I had—it’ll be wonderful if the children there are granted the same ones, don’t you think?”

I love you, he wants to say when you’re so happy and thrilled by changes he had a hand in.

Pride swells itself into his chest at the look on your face. Alhaitham doesn’t help people for this sense of pride or self-fulfillment—it’s simply the right thing to do, and the course of action that leads to less catastrophe.

The lesser the catastrophe, the easier his life will be.

But for once, he’s proud to have done something for the greater good if it means painting a smile on your face like that.

“It’s great news, yes,” he confirms.

“You’ll have to tell me how you and the others pulled off such a grand scheme sometime,” you say casually, fighting off a knowing smile when he shoots his head up to look at you.

He groans at the sharp pain in his head at the action, rubbing his temple as you laugh.

“How—how did you—”

“I may be out of the loop, but I’m not clueless,” you snort.

You hand him a pill and a glass of water, making him stare up at you before he mumbles, “they’ve asked me to be acting grand sage. Just for the time being.”

“Will you accept?”

He swallows the pill down with a long sip of water before handing you the half-empty glass. With a slow nod, he sighs, “I don’t have too many options on this matter.”

“Well, I’m sure you’re more than capable, Haitham.”

I love you, he thinks, when you make it so apparent that you believe him like you breathe. So easy, so natural. So involuntary.

—————

Alhaitham is tired of being the acting grand sage. He doesn’t mind stepping up and doing something for the sake of his nation—especially when he’s one of the only seemingly capable individuals, too.

Lesser Lord Kusanali requests him to temporarily take the role until she finds someone suitable to take his place. Alhaitham is not one to put his faith blindly into divinity—he doesn’t care much for the divine as it is.

But Sumeru’s archon is one who loves her people. He can admire that much.

So, with a slightly mournful goodbye to his free time, he accepts.

“I’m tired of paperwork,” he grumbles. You giggle, earning a more sour look from him. “Glad you’re amused.”

“Sorry,” you clasp a hand over your mouth as you apologize through your fit of laughter, “it’s just funny to hear from the scribe of all people that paperwork is the main trouble of grand sage duty.”

“It’s an entirely separate realm of paperwork,” he scoffs. “It’s quite tiring.”

Alhaitham, on a normal day, would not accept an offer to stargaze in place of going home, taking a hot shower, and going to bed. Not before reading a few chapters of his book, of course, but that’s beside the point.

It’s a little different when the offer comes from you, though. If it’s you, he has a hard time declining. You don’t seem to notice that yet, which is a good sign, but it leaves him a bit painfully aware of just how much control you hold over his mind.

“I’d love to be grand sage one day,” you sigh, looking up at the stars as you admire them.

They’re not as nice here as they are in the desert, you’d told him one night. In the city, the lights make the stars hard to see. In the rainforest, the thick layer of leaves from the trees makes them nearly disappear. In the desert, however, where there’s nothing to block out the darkness and the fluorescence of the stars, you can see them clearly.

He grunts, hand itching to run a finger over your cheek as he stares at the shadow of your lashes against the swell of them.

“You would?” He raises a brow.

“Yeah,” you nod, humming as you let out a soft exhale. “It’s about time we get a grand sage that doesn’t just care about the rainforest, don’t you think?”

“It’s not easy work,” he responds flatly, “being a sage.”

“So?” You turn to him with furrowed brows, “I don’t mind.”

“Having the power isn’t as great as you might think.”

“I don’t want to be grand sage for the power,” you say through a clipped tone, glancing at him from the corner of your eyes, “I want to be sage for the opportunity to make a decision. Not a lot of desert folks have that chance, you know.”

Alhaitham is silent.

Not many people can say they’ve left him with no retort or smart comment to throw back. It’s easy, he thinks, for someone like him to think of Akademiya work as a chore. So many rules and regulations to remember, so many demands people make that he has to keep up with. Request after request. Proposal after proposal. Decision after decision. This type of work seems like too much trouble than he can be bothered with.

Not for you, though. Someone like you has never had a chance to find a chore out of a job you’ve never been granted. Someone like you would never complain over an opportunity you’ve always dreamed of.

He’s quiet for a while longer before he finally murmurs, “you’d make an excellent grand sage. Better than me.”

“You think so?” You beam instantly—he’d chuckle at how easily a little praise brightens your earlier mood, but he’s too busy eyeing the dimple at the corner of your mouth. He aches to trace it with his thumb.

“Yes,” he says simply, “the Akademiya is extending opportunities and developments into the desert. You’d make an appropriate individual to oversee that.”

“Maybe one day,” you whisper, “for now, as long as we get some books for the kids out there, I’ll be happy.”

He loves you, he thinks. He loves you and your kindness, and your ambitions, and your dreams. They’re crystal clear, always so tangible, even if they used to be so far out of reach. He doesn’t think he’s ever had that.

When was the last time he dared to let himself dream? He’s never had any long-term goals that really mattered.

Graduate.

Get a stable job.

Live a peaceful life.

His goals have always been so dull compared to yours. Important things to achieve, nonetheless, but nothing worth remembering.

I love you, he wants to say.

Instead, he mumbles, “there are six libraries approved for construction as of now across a few villages.”

“Did you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Approve of them. As grand sage.”

He doesn’t look over to meet your eyes; just nods before swallowing thickly as you grin. You reach over and give his hand a tight squeeze.

The words bubble up his throat once more before dying down from another heavy swallow.

—————

Lesser Lord Kusanali thinks it to be a great idea to allow people to apply to be grand sage instead of appointing someone. Something about getting to see the enthusiasm of the Akademiya and its scholars! as she says.

Alhaitham thinks it’s silly. Naturally, many people apply just for the ambitions of a high paying and largely powerful position. He couldn’t be bothered to glance through most of the applications. He declines half of them as they come—he recognizes enough names to know that none of these individuals have a place in the mechanics of running a nation.

Still, Lesser Lord Kusanali is hopeful. She’s certain there will be a promising applicant who can be relied on to carry the responsibility of leading a nation and its government on deft shoulders.

The only good thing about this system, however, is that Alhaitham gets to make his own suggestion for someone to take his place from the pool of applicants, seeing as he is, of course, the current grand sage. This means he can suggest you through your application—unsurprisingly, you do apply.

The Dendro Archon offers him this as a means of a truce.

He sifts through applications, and she considers his suggestion. It’s a fair trade, he thinks—especially because he can reject everyone who’s not you.

The only trouble is that he has to formally submit his proposal to the sages, too. Should all six approve of his recommendation, Lord Kusanali will accept his decision without any further action.

Should even one decline, you are to meet with the Archon herself alongside Alhaitham so he can defend his position.

That’s a problem—Alhaitham knows you won’t be too pleased to know your position was achieved through his influence, and even more, he doesn’t exactly want to explain all the reasons he admires you in front of not just you but the Archon herself.

He’d rather let a couple of mercenaries in the desert draw their blades on him again than go through that humiliating exchange.

For their own sakes, Alhaitham hopes the sages have accepted his proposition.

And then he sees it—your name on the paper. He stills, carefully plucking out the page and glazing his eyes over the words over and over again before he quickly stands and leaves his office.

“Grand sage Alhaitham, there’s a formal request submitted here for—”

“Not now,” he walks through the doors of the Akademiya in long strides, leaving the poor man to follow after him as best as he can.

“B-but it’s rather important—”

“Leave it on my desk for my return. I’ll look then.”

“It’s rather urgent, you see. We must—”

“I said not now.” He halts to a stop, eyeing the man with deadly, narrowed eyes as his voice comes out in something just short of a growl.

Alhaitham is known across the Akademiya for being dry. Blunt. Painfully stripped of any and all emotion. This sudden show of not just emotion, but pure rage has the man stunned to stiffness as he nods tensely and quickly walks away. He lets out a fuming sigh as he pinches the bridge of his nose.

Three out of six sages have declined.

Three. Out of six.

Alhaitham knows that at least two of them have made their decisions simply based on the fact that you come from the desert. He’s never been more certain of something in his life—the sages have yet to all be replaced themselves, and there are two that still remain from the original appointees from Azar himself.

There is no denying Azar’s distaste for those of the desert, and Alhaitham is certain the sages he once appointed years ago would be no different. How else would he hold onto such power all these years if they did not share similar views?

There’s a burning, unsettling rage simmering in his ribcage, pounding into his heart and pumping adrenaline into his veins.

With the power granted to him by the Dendro Archon herself, he’ll take matters into his own hands. (And no, this doesn’t mean his power as the grand sage. This means the much more powerful authority he holds as a vision wielder. A power that none of the sages seem to have acquired yet).

—————

“Lord Kusanali,” Alhaitham greets, bowing slightly as he walks up, noting as you fidget when he joins you to stand in front of the Archon herself. “You’ve summoned me?”

“Grand sage Alhaitham—”

“Acting grand sage—ow,” he hisses, glancing at you as you elbow him.

“Don’t correct the Archon,” you scold quietly. “Apologies, Lady Kusanali. Alhaitham tends to be…stubborn.”

The Archon smiles—it’s hard to think that someone as small and innocent-looking is meant to be the embodiment of wisdom. Divinity that is all-knowing.

Does she know that Alhaitham has made his decision solely based on his heart alone and nothing else? Sure, he thinks you’re very capable for the job—more capable than himself, in fact. And as much as he dislikes this position, Alhaitham will not deny that he does it quite well.

But this decision is based on his feelings. Not his logic. Something he doesn’t do often—if ever at all.

“The scribe and all of the sages have confirmed you to be a suitable candidate for the grand sage of Sumeru,” Lesser Lord Kusanali begins, “as such, I’ve summoned you both here to discuss this possibility.”

“I…oh,” you breathe, voice practically an inaudible gasp. “Me?”

You turn to Alhaitham, as if the idea of him accepting your application seems as something unlikely. He itches to poke your forehead and reprimand you for doubting yourself.

As thought she knows, like she can read his mind, Lord Kusanali eyes him with what almost seems like an amused stare.

“You’re very capable,” he nods, ignoring the Archon’s gaze, “your answers in the application, as well as your ideas, have merit to them. It would be wise for the benefit of all of Sumeru to put them into action.”

“All six of the sages? Approved of me?”

Something bitter bubbles in his chest at the sound of pure shock in your voice.

“Well,” the Dendro Archon hums, “interestingly enough, three of the six sages have decided to resign—it seems we have our work cut out for us to replace them, too. As it stands, we only have three sages—all three have approved of your application.”

“Looks like I’ll be demoting you of your job,” you glance over at Alhaitham. He smiles slightly, humming as he pulls out a book and opens it to his marked spot.

“My pay will remain the same, so I have no complaints. I much prefer the simplicity of the scribe’s role.”

“Oh, I don’t plan on making the scribe’s job too easy once I’m in office,” you tease.

I love you, he thinks, as you sit in awed shock, still processing your achievement.

Alhaitham is almost certain the Archon’s mouth twitches into a slightly wider grin as soon as the words materialize in his head, aching to exist between his lips as well.

———————

Sumeru, the nation of wisdom, is a land where the people are proud of who they are. It’s a nation rich in culture and heritage. There are so many traditions, that Alhaitham himself could never hope to learn of them all from his many, many books on history.

Still, in its surplus of years of being a proud, standing nation, it has never thrived like this before.

You are the answer to this recent development. Many older scholars in the Akademiya are unhappy with your presence at first. Slowly, one by one, they are relieved of their duties by the Dendro Archon herself.

Not many people give you trouble after that.

The first order of business you handle is allowing the Akademiya to grant new students. A good number of desert children and adults have been offered places to study here—more in the last few weeks than there have been in the last few decades. The children are bright, too. You’ve taken to scouting the most brilliant of minds. 

A number of them have even disproven the theses and dissertations of seasoned scholars regarding studies of desert ruins. (Alhaitham finds this slightly amusing, as do you. The irony is not lost on most that the same people who have been treated as lesser for decades have contributed more in just a few short weeks than some at the Akademiya have in years. The two of you have shared a good few laughs over the shame that one too many scholars must be facing right now).

Alhaitham has happily returned to being the scribe (with an added pay raise, of course). He’s back to his much smaller, much quieter office that is less akin to the door being knocked on (or being burst open) and intruding on his peace.

Except today. 

Today, the door is burst open in the middle of him examining files, making him look up unimpressed with an unsavory insult ready on his tongue. He quickly bites it back when he realizes it’s you. 

“Scribe,” you say simply.

“Grand sage,” he responds, raising a brow.

“A word, please,” you shuffle in, closing the door behind you before clicking it locked. If his eyebrow could raise any higher, it would—you’ve never needed to lock him in his own office to have a word with him before, no matter how private the matter. 

“Yes?” He asks smoothly, leaning back in his chair. 

“I’ve been looking to appoint new sages for the three we are missing,” you begin carefully. He stiffens slightly at the topics—he’s sure it doesn’t go unnoticed by you. It seems to be the confirmation you need. “I’ve heard a funny rumor.”

“And what would that be?” He shuffles his papers to seem uncaring, not meeting your eyes. “I don’t typically partake in Akademiya gossip. It’s a waste of my time.”

“Well this particular rumor is interesting—it might interest even you. There’s word that someone of a dendro vision user from the Akademiya has threatened the former sages to leave their positions. There is worry such events could repeat amongst potential candidates.”

“Interesting,” he says plainly as he nods. 

“There aren’t many dendro vision users I know of here,” you sigh. “Haitham, I’m not dense. I earned this position by having the approval of the only three remaining sages. After the other three quit. It wouldn’t take a particularly genius individual to assume what took place here.”

He swallows, taking a slow breath before he quietly murmurs, “I’m sorry.”

You furrow your brows. “What are you apologizing for?”

“You’re upset, are you not?” Alhaitham blinks at you in confusion. It’s one of the rare times you get to see him unsure, so unlike the usual know-it-all self he always is. “That I interfered with your application?”

“I’m upset,” you confirm, stepping closer as you inspect him. He feels oddly seen under your gaze. “But not because you interfered. Because that was risky—you shouldn’t go that far for me, Haitham. Why in the gods’ names would you attempt such a ridiculous thing?”

It’s easy, he thinks. Because he loves you. Enough that it’s easy to risk his career and credibility at this institution if it means he can help your dreams become something more than just dreams. He’s come so close to saying it so many times—this time, it falls from his lips before he can stop himself.

He’s not so sure he wants to stop himself anymore. You should know—even if you don’t feel the same, even if you do, you should know.

“Because I love you,” he murmurs. “I’d go even further for you. I can’t help it.”

Your eyes soften. They don't widen in shock or recoil in distaste. Instead, they well with glossy, wet tears that alarm him slightly as he sits up straighter. You let out a light, watery laugh before he can apologize for unintentionally upsetting you with his confession.

“Oh, you fool,” you shake your head, “only you would sooner risk your entire livelihood before you simply admit your feelings.”

“I—”

He’s silenced by the touch of your palm on his cheek. Any words he’d like to say get cut off from his tongue. (He has none, really—as embarrassing as that is to admit for someone of linguist such as himself.) 

“Haitham,” you say gently.

“Yeah?” He croaks.

“Don’t risk your reputation for me again.”

“I don’t know if I can promise that,” he mumbles, grabbing your wrist and pulling you closer. You follow his tug, carefully seating yourself on his lap before you frown, opening your mouth to protest—but he cuts you off before you can. “But, lucky for me, the grand sage has a soft spot for the scribe. I think that’ll be helpful for any predicaments I might find myself in.”

“Are you saying you want to have the grand sage use her power for corrupted reasons?” You gasp, making him grin as he chuckles. “And after all the trouble you went through to overthrow a corrupt government, too.”

“Is it really corrupt if it’s the only two logical individuals of the nation? I’d say it’s simply an executive decision.”

“That’s not how that works,” you giggle fondly. And then you’re kissing him—Alhaitham has wondered how your lips would feel many times before, but he’s never been fully prepared to truly know. They’re softer, warmer, gentler than he imagined. “I love you too, by the way,” you murmur as you pull away for a moment.

That confession makes him desperately close the gap again, tugging you closer on his lap as he kisses you harder. Deeper. Alhaitham has always admired your goals, your dreams and ambitions. He realizes that maybe he has never given himself enough credit until now. 

His goals, his dreams and ambitions, have always been you. There has never been a more beautiful dream, he thinks—nothing is worthy of comparing to you. He thinks, by default, that makes his ambitions admirable, too. 

“Those sages could not know wisdom, talent, nor brilliance even if the Archon herself presented it before them. Otherwise,” he kisses down your neck, “otherwise they’d have understood it was you. They would have approved of your application. I did this nation yet another favor by ridding the Akademiya of them.”

“I suppose all of Sumeru owes you twice, then,” you hum, breathlessly gasping as he sucks lightly on your skin, right over your pulse point. 

Your hands travel to untuck his shirt from his pants, letting them wander under the fabric to feel over the hard planes of his abs. They’re as defined as they look through the skin-tight shirt he always wears. He groans into your neck as your touch sears into him, just as you gasp when his fingers slip past your waistband and tug down slightly. 

He stops before he can expose anything, however, pausing through a labored breath as he murmurs, “can I?”

“Yes,” you plead, lifting your hips slightly so he can pull the fabric down your thighs, your panties following before he pulls you back down to be seated on his lap. Your fingers tug at his hair when his fingers prod at your entrance. An exchange of sorts—a touch for a touch. 

You whine when his thumb circles your clit as his middle and ring fingers pump into your tight cunt, burying past your folds and finding a sensitive, spongy spot in your walls that makes you bite your lips and stifle a sob. 

“Well,” he says amusedly, “I suppose neither of us are very good models for grand sages if this is the sort of activity we partake in while in office.”

“It’s your fault,” you pant, rocking your hips to meet his fingers as they thrust into you, searching for more, for a deeper, harder pace. 

“Oh?” He laughs, a low chuckle that he sears into your skin with a kiss, working his way up your jaw, “I wasn’t the one who locked the door when I came in. I wonder if you had motives of your own when you came in.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Haitham,” you huff, “I just didn’t want someone to walk in when I yelled at you. I was doing your ego a favor.”

“Do my ego one more favor and cum for me,” he murmurs, pulling you into a kiss as you whine into his mouth and shiver. Your belly erupts with a warmth of pleasure, snapping the coil that sends shockwaves through your whole body. An ache that was building in your core seems to have reached the tipping point, making you quiver on his lap as you shatter from his touch.

He groans, just from the squeeze of your walls around his fingers alone—only Archons know how much he’s itching to feel you on his cock. (He hopes Lesser Lord Kusanali’s seemingly all-knowing wisdom doesn’t extend to this. Sometimes, it feels like she can read his mind—he sincerely hopes she doesn’t have the ability to read just what goes on in his head when he thinks of you.)

He’s hard—it almost hurts from just how much so. You’re kind enough to reach over and slowly work him free from the confinements, letting his erection breathe from the strain of his pants. He tries not to let out a shaky breath when you slowly trace a vein along the underside and study his cock. 

“It’s pretty,” you murmur, “you’re so pretty, Haitham.”

“Stop,” he pleads hoarsely, blush dusting over his cheeks, “don’t stare.”

“Shy?” You giggle, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “C’mon, baby. It’s just me.”

And oh—he could cum from just that affectionate drawl of that pet name and that lingering sweet touch. He twitches in your delicate hold, making you hum in approval before you slowly stroke him, fist gliding up and down the thick girth of him. 

“F-fuck,” he hisses, bumping his forehead against yours gently. 

Finally, when your eyes meet, and you both seem to understand just what the other wants without an exchange of words, you lift your hips slightly, guiding him to your entrance. His hands settle on your waist, slowly helping you sink down on his length as you both gasp at the way he intrudes into your sweet, dripping cunt. 

You’re as tight as he is deep—it makes for a good connection. You squeeze around him the same way he rubs against you. Everything about both of your bodies joining feels like it’s meant to be this way. Him in you and you around him. 

“Fuck me, Haitham,” you whisper, cradling his face in your hands by his jaw. You feel it clench under your palms as he stifles a groan at your words.

“As you wish,” he murmurs. 

The first thrust of his hips upwards makes you collapse against his chest. The second makes you whimper as you cling to his muscled body. By the third and fourth, you’ve adjusted enough that you can slowly roll your own hips to match his rhythm and meet his pace. It makes him sink in even deeper, hit the right spots, and drag along every ridge. 

“S-so big,” you marvel, moaning as the fat tip of his cock brushes against that sweet, sensitive spot in your walls. “You fit me so well, Haitham.”

“And you take me so well,” he groans back, “so tight and wet. What if they’re looking for you right now? I wouldn’t be surprised if they were—imagine how surprised they’d be if they knew the grand sage was falling apart on the scribe’s cock. What would they say?”

“They’d think the scribe has some nerve distracting such an important figure for the nation,” you huff, biting your lip and whining his name when he sends a particularly sharp thrust into your walls. 

He chuckles, panting as he kisses your forehead. “Then I suppose it will be our secret. For the sake of peace.”

“Good idea,” you giggle breathlessly, pulling him into a passionate kiss. 

His hips drill into you, bullying his thick length into your tight cunt—splitting you open on him like you’re his to spread. You are. And he’s yours to have, too, as you pull on his hair and bring him closer, hands wandering over his body as you feel every tight, defined muscle. 

You breathe his name. He breathes yours. Somewhere in the mix, your thumb brushes over his nipples from under his shirt, and his finds your clit to rub teasing circles over. 

“I-I’ll cum,” you admit first, “again, Haitham.”

“Go ahead,” he groans, letting out a soft whine when you squeeze around him at the sound of his low, pleasure-hazed voice. “Cum for me, again. Cum around me so I can feel you this time.”

So you do, giving him what he wants. How could you not when he’s gone to such lengths to make sure you’ve gotten everything you want? You spasm around his throbbing length, squeezing around him and making it harder and harder to roll his hips and fuck into you. 

“Haitham,” you whine, a quiet, high-pitched sound that makes his eyes flutter shut, and his mouth hang open as he lets out a low moan. The sounds you make could be enough to send him over the edge. The soft “I love you,” that you whisper is what ends up really doing it, though.

He quickly grabs your hips, roughly lifting you up before he wraps his fist around his cock and strokes himself, pumping his aching length as thick, hot ropes of cum leak from his tip and drip onto your thighs. He groans, strangled and low, as he makes an effort not to be too loud. 

Your lips map along his jaw and cheeks, kissing soothingly as your fingers stroke through his sweaty hair, helping him work himself through his orgasm as he fucks his own fist. “F-fuck—I…I love you, too. I love you. I’ve always loved you.” 

He can’t stop saying it now that he finally can. So many times, the words have almost escaped from the safety of his mouth. So many times, he’s risked them out in the open air. Now that he knows it’s safe, he wants the words to permanently reside between your bodies, in the atmosphere between you and him, in the middle ground where your skin is separated from his. 

If there is space between the two of you, he only wants it to exist to house all the words he never had the nerve to say to you. All the words he’ll admit to you now. 

“I love you, too,” you whisper, “so much. So, so much, Haitham.”

He pants as he calms down, uncaring of the mess for now. With his good hand, he grabs your hand, lacing his fingers with yours before he pulls them both up. His lips press a delicate kiss to the back of your hand. You melt over him. 

“There is no brilliance like you, neither in the rainforest nor desert. I have searched everywhere.” 

Your eyes tear up, a breathy, watery laugh dancing from your wobbly lips as you whisper, “you’re incredibly cheesy for a Haravatat scholar, you know.”

He laughs brightly into your shoulder as he buries into the crook of your neck. 

I love you. He’s always wanted to say it. It feels good to finally be able to. Alhaitham will never take for granted the chance he now gets to say it as often as he wants. 

I would like my man who’s not really my man to defend my honor by threatening violence using power granted to him by divinity on a random Tuesday. That would be nice.

[heartfeltcherie]

Human Alastor with an s/o who knows he is a serial killer but was never bothered by it.

human alastor is beginning to grow on me a lot, this is possibly the fastest blurb i’ve ever written <333

☾. °.   ࿐  ` , •

“you don’t have to do this every time i come home, my darling”

you were both sat on the edge of the bathtub, a wet washcloth that was warm in your hand as you cleaned alastor’s face of his victim’s blood. you didn’t know what time it was — all you knew is that it was late. and no one was up at this godforsaken hour.

“i know i don’t have to. but i do it because i want to,” you wipe off the last remainder of red splotches on his cheek, gentle and with care. and he’s staring into your eyes almost as if he’s enchanted by you. “think of it as a way of saying thank you, i suppose”

alastor chuckles at your silly little statement.

“thank you? my dear,” he reaches up to gently cup your cheek. your movements nearly stutter at how flustered you get, eyes widening with a flutter of your eyelashes. “there is no need to thank me in such a way when you know i’d kill anyone who even looks in your direction”

it’s messed up, you know, how your heart skips a beat at his confession, how it warms your heart that he’ll make damn sure that you’ll only be his for all eternity and beyond.

but you can’t help it.

everyone you’ve ever known has always been so prim and proper, made it feel like you were stepping on glass as you had to watch what you said and did so you weren’t damned.

but with alastor? he was a true gentleman; in a dark and twisted way. he danced with you in the living room to soft jazz, telling you how you were the most beautiful belle he’d ever laid his eyes on. you shared kisses in dark alleyways that you knew no one walked through at nighttime. he made you feel like a princess in some sort of fairytale.

it was poetic, bloody, and dark all at once.

and you were addicted to the thrill of it all.

you set the now blood stained cloth down as you took alastor’s glasses off his face, cleaning them with a breath and the hem of your summer dress.

“and you know i’ll always be here to clean you up afterwards,” you carefully place his glasses back on his face. you busy yourself with his bowtie, making sure it wasn’t crooked. “you don’t scare me. and neither does your infatuation with me. it’s rather… charming”

alastor hooks his pointer finger underneath your chin, making you look up at him.

“i suppose that makes us quite the pair then, hm?” he leans in closer with half lidded eyes.

“a murderous chap and his innocent beau”

please comment/reblog if you enjoyed my works, it’s greatly appreciated <3

[the-modern-typewriter]

Your vampires are amazing. Would you write something about vampires for halloween?

"Oh, dear." The vampire studied the vampire hunter with a fierce and searing hunger in their gaze. "That's an awful lot of blood."

The vampire hunter managed a rasping, panicked breath. Their eyes went wide. They struggled to shift, to reach for a weapon.

The vampire smiled.

Lightning quick, the vampire crouched and straddled the hunter, pinning them down against the dirt. They placed a firm hand on the hunter's stomach, applying pressure to the wound. "Ah, ah, ah."

The hunter gasped in pain. They scrabbled at the vampire's hand, but the blood loss had already left them weak.

The vampire inhaled deeply, the smile on their lips only growing. With their free hand, they brushed the hunter's clammy hair back from their face. "How many people have you killed to ensure your own survival, do you think?"

"None."

"Oh?"

The hunter clenched their jaw. "Vampires aren't people."

The vampire chuckled. Their grip on the hunter's hair tightened, yanking back, forcing the hunter's back to arch with another groan of pain, and their throat to bare. "You'd make a good vampire."

The hunter shook their head, or tried to. Tears leaked down their cheek.

"No, really," the vampire said. "Your first instinct was to try to slaughter me, even now, at the very end of you. What a murderous little thing you are! I can appreciate that. None of the other hunters around these parts will come near me."

"Just finish it!"

"You'd love that, wouldn't you?" The vampire leaned down, to ghost their lips against the hunter's neck. "How about this. You can die when you can best me in combat."

The hunter went perfectly still at the teasing prick of sharp fangs. "W-what?" It would have been inaudible to a human.

"You can die when you can best me in combat. Until then, I'm going to keep bringing you back, mortally wounding you, and bringing you back again and again and again."

Vampire venom was curative. It kept their prey alive, their blood fresh and drinkable, for longer.

The hunter's heart raced.

The vampire bit.

The hunter's eyes fluttered, their body jerked, before the venom seeped in. Heat and life and desire and hunger. Intoxicatingly good. The lure of immortality, without the curse of a devil's bargain sealed.

The hunter moaned.

The vampire hummed, pleased.

The hunter struggled then, with greater strength as the wound on their stomach began to knit closed beneath the vampire's hands.

When the vampire pulled back, still straddling the hunter, it was to let go of the hunter's hair and capture their wrists instead. It was to release the pressure on the hunter's stomach, and bring a hand cat-like up to their lips to lick the hunter's blood clean away.

The hunter stared at them in horrified, mesmerised disbelief. Still reeling.

A vampire never looked so good as when they had just fed.

"You're delicious," the vampire murmured, with soft satisfaction. "I knew you would be."

"This is - why would you - I - we -"

"You thought I'd turn you?" The vampire's grin was wicked. "Just to torture you with being what you hate most?"

The hunter shivered.

The vampire laughed again. "No, no. I'll only turn you when you want it, when you beg for it."

"You're insane."

"I'm immortal." The vampire rose to their feet. "I'm ancient." They offered the hunter a hand to help them up. "And I'm bored. Have at, killer."

The hunter reached for the vampire's hand, feinted, lunged.

An instant later, they were on the forest floor again.

"Oh, dear," the vampire said. "That's an awful lot of blood." There was a pause, then, "best of three?"

[sae1549]

Head canons of the companions: Sfw/// Nsfw

Word count: 1.9k

Very random head cannons for the companions + Halsin

Shadow Heart:

—-Sfw——

•If she were to get her nails done she would get stiletto nails that are black chrome.

•I feel like she would argue with you about who gets to cuddle with your shared animal.

•She used to be an emo kid.

•I could see later if she does not become shars Dark judiciary she would change her style to something with cottagecore undertones.

•She loves to give you flowers.

•She also gets over her fear of swimming and now it is an activity she looks forward to doing with you.

•Always cold.

•Would love to have kids.

-----Nsfw below-----

•She is a switch, but prefers to do the work.

•But if you are the top best, believe she expects the princess treatment.

• Her favorite body part would have to be the stomach and thighs.

•She would be willing to have an extra partner in the bedroom, but she is mostly referring to Halsin.

•She is skilled with her hands.

•She loves to listen to all the sounds that you make.

•Very good with aftercare, either getting a towel to clean any fluids or getting water and a soft blanket. So that the two of you can cuddle and relax.

Astarion:

—Sfw—

•He loves his hair being played with.

•He also loves laying on your lap when you are reading.

•He hums when he is reading or “looking into the mirror”

•He often asks you to describe his face because he cannot see it. And if you can draw he will bashfully ask if you can draw him, mostly to see how you view the way he looks.

•Once you get into a relationship he becomes a softie only to you.

•He wants to try and knit or crochet but has no idea how to.

•He likes to hold your hand, or be at least touching you all the time in one way or another.

•He loves soft blankets and will wrap himself up in one before sitting in front of the campfire.

•Does not want kids.

-----Nsfw below-----

--------------------------

•He loves the predator/prey kink. Especially if you're willing to have your blood as the reward.

•7.5 inches. (19.05 cm) All ima say

•He loves to lightly drag his fangs down your neck before he bites you.

•Thigh guy. He can appreciate all body types, but something about plush thighs makes him want to sink his teeth into them.

•He always likes seeing your face, but not opposed to other positions. He just favors seeing you.

•He is a very caring partner, always watching and adjusting what he is doing so that you are enjoying it too.

•Man is absolutely amazing with his hands.

•Overstimulation plays a big part in your sex life, he would make sure you came 3 times to every one time.

•He likes to whisper into your ear how much he loves you while deep inside you.

Karlach:

—Sfw—

•Cuddling is a key point for relaxing

•Most of the food she likes is spicy.

•She is also very into Mead, and hard liquor.

•She always looks intimidating but literally the minute she starts talking she is the sweetest. This throws off everyone when they meet her.

•Very protective of everyone in camp. But I also want to see when fights happen.

•I believe that she has lifted Astarion by the middle of his shirt when he gets a little blood thirsty.

•She can dance like it's no one's business.

•She is the biggest flirt!!!!!!

•If you are a girl she calls you “hot mama” in passing or “hottie” as a male.

•Will forget what she is talking about in the middle of a sentence.

•Works out at 5 am every day, often going with Wyll and scratch.

•Loves kids.

-----Nsfw below-----

-----------------------

•Top

•Big mommy Karlach

•She loves sweet soft sex.

•Totally an ass girl. She will spank you any chance she gets. Sexually or non-sexually.

•Her tail is sensitive and loves when you touch it.

•Same with her horns but at the base of her horns.

•She would want to cuddle with her partner after finishing.

•She would also be great with after care, checking to make sure you are okay and that she didn’t burn you. If she had she would go into full freak out mode. Getting you anything and everything she can to make sure that it heals well.

Lae’zel:

—Sfw—

•She would be elated if you brought her a sword as a gift.

•often sighing when she was not involved enough in conversation.

•She has back pain, often asking for someone to walk or crack her back.

•Stretches often.

•Likes to work out as well, but does it around 4 to avoid everyone else but will find somewhere nice to have breakfast.

•Does not like flowers.

•Will give you a massage if you are in pain, telling you that you have been working well.

•Very Jealous.

•Her best friend is the owl bear. And you of course.

•Bae’zel

•Wants kids

-----Nsfw below-----

----------------------

•Possessive

•Very forward with what she wants.

•Rough sex all the way.

•Likes Ass. But will never outright say that.

•Likes it when you call her name.

•Likes being kissed.

•If you have a tail she likes it if you wrap your tail around her in some way.

•Low key freaky, but nothing too extreme.

•She likes to cover your mouth if you are being too loud, as she does not want anyone to hear how well you are getting off.

•She is not very good with aftercare. She will give you water though.

Gale:

—Sfw—

•ROMANTIC

•Wants to go on a picnic with you so bad.

•He prefers eating Gloves over shoes for his magical artifacts.

•When he is lost in thought, if you are also a wizard you can see bits of weave around him. Mostly circulating his head and hands.

•He loves reading and finding new books. Will even go out of his way to talk to withers to see if he knows of any more interesting books. Sometimes withers will give them to him to read. When he gets them back there are many dog eared pages. With different nice notes for Withers.

•He writes all over his books. He even gives you one that was enchanted to tell a different story that he loved of you each time the book is opened.

•He wears glasses when he gets older.

•DILF.

•Wants kids but is scared of having any thinking he wouldn't be any good at it.

-----Nsfw below----

-----------------------

•8 inches.

•Magical, loves to incorporate magic into your sex life.

•Mage hand?

•Boob man. Does not matter the size as long as he can suck on them.

•He is amazing with his hands and his mouth. Those spells are not easy to pronounce.

•Loves to slowly undress you to build up to the moment.

•Moderately horny.

•Making love to you makes him feel like you are becoming one.

•Whispers praises to you.

•Also loves to be praised.

•Never afraid to initiate the act with you, going as far as to pulling you away from the camp to enjoy eachothers company.

•Lovesssss to hear you moan, it makes him sure that he is doing everything correctly and well.

•Breeding kink. Goodnight

Wyll:

—Sfw—

Such a sweetie.

•Loves to dance, and will ask you if he may have this dance even if there is no music.

•He would go crazy for a Bard at his side.

•Man can sing. And dance what more could you ever need.

•He is charitable. Helping anyone that he can, almost pushy about it sometimes. But he is purely doing it out of kindness.

•Karlach is his bestie. They love to shit talk Mizora.

•She would love to adopt Scratch if he could. But believes he would be better off with Gale or Shadow Heart.

•Loves drinking wine. Often getting wine drunk and giving you so many kisses you could suffocate.

•When you are sleeping together he likes sleeping on the outside incase anyone comes in he can protect you and worst case scenario you can escape.

-----Nsfw below-----

------------------------

•8.5 inches

•He would be a boob man.

•Caring, and gentle.

•Loves getting heads, but is not opposed to giving it either.

•When getting head he would get too excited and fuck the back of your throat.

•Loud, will get very embarrassed if anyone happens to hear him.

•If you were on top and used his horns as leverage he would go wild.

•His favorite position would be missionary, so he could be closer to you and hold you in his arms.

•Needs to feel needed, often will ask for intimacy. But does not always mean bone and be done. He likes to take his time and enjoy each part.

Halsin:

—Sfw—

•Literally the sweetest man.

•Want to be the rock to everyone, and loves if anyone comes to him asking for advice.

•He would become everyone's therapist, but to talk with him he will also teach each person how to whittle a figure while talking. This leads to an excess of carving statues, surprisingly Lae’zels is the best. Making an owl bear that she let Halsin keep.

•Is basically the doctor, everyone going to him when they need healing.

•Often will find an area where he can be one with nature in the morning.

•Loves to cook, always making sure to feed everyone else before himself.

•He is a lightweight drinker. And will baby a drink for hours before finishing it.

•Likes going swimming in his bear form.

•Often going into his bear form when he is sleeping.

•Take baths in nature.

•he will hand pick flowers to give to you so that you have something beautiful from mother nature.

•Chews on pencils.

•Tests your food after Orin shows up at camp, he would rather him getting hurt than you.

•Wants kids, he would be such a good father!!!!!!!!!!

-----Nsfw below-----

------------------------

•HUGE DICK im talking 9.5-10 inches.

•He is big and he knows it. Making sure to prep you well before doing anything.

•He will split half and half when he does it in bear form or in his normal form as long as you are okay with it.

•He is a thigh man.

•He loves stretch marks, kissing them, running his finger tips over them. He just loves them so much.

•Amazing with his hands.

•Speaks in a way that's like honey dripping from his lips. (Very sweet)

•Animalistic when doing the deed.

•Freaky, and i mean like freakyyy.

•Does not care if anyone within a 10 mile radius can hear the two of you.

•Doggy style is his go to.

•He is not opposed to an extra partner in the bedroom, hell he enjoys to the fullest as well. Everyone involved is being satisfied does not matter how long it takes.

•Aftercare is top tier!!!!!!!! He is going to sit with you for a few minutes while he heals any of the wounds that may have been afflicted while everything was happening.

•He cleans you up, and sits you in his lap while he strokes your hair. Swallowing you up in his arms and chest.

•He will want to go over what happened later on after you have recovered. To see what he can improve, what you liked and what you didn’t like. Every detail is saved in the back of his mind for another time.

•Horny ass man.

————————————————————————

This was so fun to write. I’m not the best with writing about smut but I did my best.

[bulletswithribbons]

Loving and fearless

TateLangdonxFem!reader // NSFW

Summary: You find out your boyfriend is a mass murderer. He's worried about what you will think of him but he never knew you weren't a good girl from the very start.

Warnings: Smut (obv), unprotected piv, sex with feelings, implied murder...

Word count: 1.7k

a/n: Ok so sorry I took really long to write a new fic I was working on a Part 2 for my Kai one but then thought of this. Had to write it down to satisfy my pookies since I didn't take so long writing it. Basically why it's short.

𝕱𝖚𝖑𝖑 𝖋𝖎𝖈 𝖚𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖈𝖚𝖙 ⋆⭒˚.⋆𝜗𝜚

“Are you scared?” He asks. He wasn’t trying to hide it, nor deny it. He just wanted you to accept it as it is. He was no saint, but so weren’t you. No sugarcoating things for this once at least.

You shook your head slowly, “no.” You said, and it wasn’t a lie. At least yet. You weren’t afraid of him, you knew him better than anyone. Or maybe that’s what you chose to believe. You didn’t want to change anything about him or live in a deluded world of your own thinking of him as someone he isn’t. As fucked-up as it sounds, you liked that psychopathic trait of his.

Tate tilts his head partly to the side, daring you to say that thing you were desperate to.

“I doubt it,” he replied, regret somehow dripping from his tone. You knew he didn’t regret shooting up his school nor all the murders he committed, rather of the way you found out. He had already apologized, what else would you need? Him to get on his knees and beg you to forgive him? He would gladly do that.

“I want you to embrace it,” you finally said, the thought lingering in your head for a while now. You just didn’t know how to express it without sounding like a weirdo. 

“Embrace it?” He repeats after you, confused, a hint of surprise in his voice.

You nod.

“You killed them. There’s nothing you can do about it anymore. You’re troubled Tate. Stop hiding that side and accept it as a part of you. You can’t run away from your past and you being trapped here actually proves my point.” Your tone was comforting, all loving. You were one of the very few –the only one– that actually cared about him in a non-twisted way. He wasn’t ready to lose that. He would never be.

“But would you accept it as a part of me? You want me to go around killing people and then come back to you so you can clean the blood of others from my own hands?” He asks, his voice quavering, a bit shaky and unclear, he was upset and you knew he's on the verge of crying.

And Bingo. There it is. Those poor souls, he doesn’t care about them, but rather what you would think. Nothing matters as long as you’re still there standing by his side. Was it unhealthy? Maybe. But for you it only made your relationship stronger.

“Isn’t that what you would like?” You ask, your hand darting to his face brushing his blonde strands of hair away from his face as you cup his cheek.

A single tear runs down his cheek as he smiles lightly. His dimples looked more adorable than ever. All he ever wanted was to be appreciated. And he is.

The sight of him taking two steps closer to you had your heart speeding up, even though he's your boyfriend you can't help but feel like a silly little girl with a silly little crush. Except it wasn't little, nor silly. His hand grips at your waist as he pulls you to him, getting rid of every inch that separates your bodies. His head tilts slightly before he attacks your face with his lips embracing yours in a hungry lustful open-mouthed kiss.

Your hands quickly find the back of his neck, pulling him even closer and deepening the kiss while his tongue pushes through and fights yours for domination.

He was completely teasing you, or maybe not, maybe he just craved you so bad. His covered erection was tempting your core, begging for release. One of his hands slides down your shirt and cups your boob, squeezing tightly. A soft moan escapes your lips and onto the kiss.

At that time, you thought maybe a somewhat evil spirit took over your boyfriend as he aggressively pinned you against the wall, too impatient to hop on the bed. But you know it was no evil spirit. There was no need to keep on finding why’s to his actions.

He yanks your shorts down to your knees then grips at your thigh lifting it up to his hip, probably to get better access. Meanwhile his other hand unzips his jeans and pulls them down along with his boxers freeing his rock hard dick. Yeah now it's confirmed that it was to gain better access. Tate always gets hard easily, that was a fact you knew. Whether it was a silly little cuddle session or you whispering the randomest topics in his ear. It didn’t bother you, you actually loved it. It enthralled you.

Your arms wrap around his neck while his breath fans against your nape. Each passing second your pussy screams for him to fuck the shit out of you even louder.

His digits found their way to your inner thigh, trailing toward your center. Once they reach your clit, his pointer finger runs up and down the thin soaked fabric of your underwear. He taps on the wet spot a few times, teasing you or maybe to later remember how desperate you were for him inside you. “This is my way of thanking you, y/n.” He whispers in your ear, your body shuddering at the sound of his voice, excitement surging through your entire temple. Every second passing by the atmosphere gets even hotter.

You nod, “mhm.”

His finger curls at the edge of your panties pulling it to the side, baring your pussy to him and the arousal glistening within.

Tate leans over you even closer, capturing your soft skin between his teeth sucking in deep; while he uses a hand to line his cock up to your dripping entrance. His tip caresses your sensitive bundle of nerves. “I’m not waiting any longer,” He mutters under his breath to your ear as he pushes himself deeper into your cunt and slams into you. 

Tate has never ever hidden the fact that he craves you desperately. You loved that he would kill for you but hated how you would too.

You let out a loud moan, if he didn’t know you any better he would’ve thought that was a scream for help. Your hand grabs a fistful of his hair. Your moan made him groan quietly. He loved the sound of you squirming beneath him, and even the sound of your voice when you talk about anything no matter what it was. He couldn’t stop himself, of course not since he couldn’t even wait to hear you screaming his name. Your legs curl around his hips as he thrusted in you deeper, moaning uncontrollably as he feels your tight warm wet walls wrapped around his thick length. “My cock.. Is pure love..” He breathes out. Your eyes hardly widen, Tate isn’t used to dirty talking. Not at all. If anything he was actually nice and making sure you’re ok nearly between every two thrusts. Unless he was jealous or upset with you. But mostly that’s it. Your eyes barely stay wide for 2 seconds before they roll to the back of your head once his tip hit a spot in you that made your moans louder than they already were. “Oh fuck, Tate!” You scream, He slides out slightly then back in forcefully. He didn’t recognize mercy, and your pussy wasn’t getting any of that. His cock pounding into you merciless, unsympathetically, inhumanly. All of the above. Abusing that same specific spot of yours. 

His intense tightening in his chest made him hungry for air as he breathed heavily, humping you remorselessly. Your pussy swallowing every inch of him and lubricating like crazy, your own arousal leaking down your pussy and out to your thighs. Such a slut you are for him. Problem is you were shameless about it.

Your grip on his hair tightens, holding on as hard as you can but making sure not to hurt him. You would never. Soft moans are whispered in your ear as he presses his mouth a little harsher against your skin, his fingers tightening on your thighs. His lips trailing kisses up and down your neck, leaving small bites here and there as he slowly makes his way up to your jaw. His hands slide up your thighs and stop at your clit, rubbing it as if his life depends on it, all the while his hips are pounding into you as fast as they can. You arch your back involuntarily immediately once you feel the contact. He groans softly as he feels your arch into his touch, his fingers going inhumanly faster than before. 

Seeing how it is, it wouldn't be long for you until you came.

Shockwaves of pure pleasure began to ripple throughout your body. Legs trembling and eyes rolling back. Your face was bright red and a wheezing sound came out of your mouth with every inhale. The perfect combination of his fingers stroking your clit and the fast paced abuse on your cunt was enough to make you see stars. He was chasing his own release and you were begging for yours. You knew you were close.. Real close.. “Tate.. Please.. I’m so fucking close..” You whimper, not knowing what exactly you were begging him for. Tate knows your body well enough to know you were close, he speeds up. Judging by his breathing, you can tell he was getting tired. You let out your moans freely as you feel your orgasm crashing down. A complete mess leaking down your thighs. You can’t hold your back arch anymore but it didn't matter, waves of ecstasy and euphoria taking over your body. Tate wasn't done yet, and although your lips were already burning up, you didn't protest. “Hmph..I love you,” He moaned in between thrusts as they were getting erratic, feeling you cum around his cock was enough for him. But that didn’t stop him from abusing your swollen red cunt until he was fully finished. Tate thrusts into you for a moment longer before you feel his ejaculate drowning your pussy breathing heavily, his release splaying across your walls in ropes. Tears had stained your cheeks.

Tate had you still pinned against the wall, with your legs wrapped around his hips and his hands grabbing your thighs. His now softened dick still in your abused pussy. Why isn’t he pulling out yet? This is the first time he lasted this long. Usually he doesn’t stay so long.

His head was resting on your shoulder, nose burried into your neck. His breathing slowed down steadily and went back to normal.

It felt weirdly comforting.. Him being so close, you didn’t even want him to pull out. Your legs still crossed behind your boyfriend’s back.

“You want me to pull out?” He whispers to you lovingly as he brushes a strand of hair away from your face and tugs it behind your ear.

“No, let’s stay this way for a while..” Your arms wrap around his neck, hugging him close. You can feel him nodding.

[k3n-dyll]

On A High [Sevika Drabble]

||Men, minors, and ageless DNI

Masterlist | Divider Creds | Palestine Links!!

CW: 18+, wlw, not proofread, dom!Sevika x fem!reader, oral (S!recieving), drug usage (Shimmer), squirting

A/N: "You've written a drabble and a fic about Sevika fucking readers face and squirting all over it already!" Hey, maybe it's time to consider I'm projecting my desires onto you! Hope this helps! <3

Sevika, high on a more experimental dose of Shimmer, pushing you down to the floor of her office because she can't force herself to wait any longer. Her flesh hand is wrapped in a tight fist around your hair as she shoves your face into her pussy without much regard for your airway. Ever since she injected it, she's been heated, and taking down the dumbasses that had tried to smuggle a supply of the glowing purple liquid drug out of the factory to sell for themselves wasn't enough to calm her down.

She was just meant to be testing it out. It was a much smaller dose than she normally takes - barely half a vial, and yet she can still practically feel her own blood coursing at rapid speed through her veins. Each muscle in her body feels tense, the tips of her fingers are buzzing and it's all she can do to not start clawing at your scalp just to push your face harder against her dripping cunt, guttural grunts and moans escaping her throat through bared teeth

"C'mon baby, there you go....fuckin' take it, jus' like that" "Look so good strugglin' to breathe - fuck"

You try your absolute best to keep up with her, but her thrusts lack a true rhythm, her hips bucking back and forth against your tongue, which you eventually just leave flat and tense on the surface of your bottom lip. Deep down she knows she's probably hurting you a little, and she can hear how much of a struggle you're having in your attempts to take a full breath but she can't stop herself if she tried, and she knows how much you like being used.

"My little fuckin' toy, aren't you?" She taunts from above, her brows knit together in almost anger the longer it takes her to just fucking cum already. Though it hasn't been much longer than it normally takes, it feels like it's been an eternity to the point where she's on the brink of tears. The irritation only makes her go harder, sliding her cunt against you, forcing your nose to bump up so nicely against her puffy, impatient clit over and over again.

"C'mon c'mon c'mon, fuck, please"

Of course, the first time you hear the woman break down and beg for something is when she isn't even begging you. Instead, she's just begging her own body to let her get there. There's no sense of broken pride within her, no feeling of lost dignity, just the insatiable need to let go.

And when she does, it's fucking explosive.

Her thighs shake, then tense up hard on either side of your head, abs flexing, toes curling against the floor. She can barely keep herself upright, her wobbling forcing you to bring your hands up to her ass to help her stay in place. Sevika isn't normally a loud one but at the moment she can't help it, damn near whimpering in pure ecstasy as her juices squirt out all over your face in light bursts.

Sevika looks down at you, breathing still ragged and heavy and she just laughs watching the makeup run down your wet face. Her grip loosens around your hair and her irises transition back to their normal silver tint as she calms down, breathing out a sigh of utter relief as she feels her once tense and overwhelmed muscles relax.

Her body officially gives out, flopping down on her desk chair, taking a moment to gather herself before lazily patting her still twitching thigh.

"C'mere, let's get you cleaned up, hm?"

Wanted to put out more Arcane stuff since I feel like I've been more focused on my TLOU girlies lately

Reblogs are appreciated | Taglist: @archangeldyke-all, @delinthecut @sevsbaby, @half-of-a-gay, @porcelainmystery

[thecampjuicebox]

Astarion relationship headcannons that I cannot stop from absolutely ✨rotting my brain✨(SFW & NSFW)

Early on in your relationship, he would be absolutely caught off guard by any sort of affection, and would probably prefer much smaller forms; gentle brushes of your hands together. A passing kiss on the shoulder. Small acts of service like sharing a piece of food, fixing an out of place curl, adjusting the ruffles on his tunic, etc.

Once he becomes more comfortable, he'd search for more frequent displays of affection throughout the day, probably whining if he goes too long without a touch or a kiss or a hug. He'd pull you to him in front of the others in camp just to hear them snicker and groan at how disgustingly cute the two of you are. Cup your cheek and hold your gaze as his lips hover over yours to tease you before kissing you like he's out of breath and you're his only source of oxygen.

He'd hold you by the hips when walking through the city. Or the hand. Or the back of the shirt. The pocket. The beltloop. Anything to keep constant contact and subtly but not subtly show everyone you belong to him.

Clingy? Yes. Possessive? Secretly. But not really. He'd shoot eyes like daggers at anyone that looked at you with too much interest. He'd mostly keep quiet about it, the fear of upsetting you much more important to him than how he feels about the situation (absolutely to his detriment)

He'd probably try and teach you how to sew. How to fix garments, make new ones, hem pants and tunics, anything he'd deem useful information if for some reason the two of you were to separate or be separated (Not that he'd expect that to happen, or would allow it). He'd see it as a bonding opportunity, for sure.

In the beginning of your relationship he would still offer sex regularly, even though he'd still struggle with actually enjoying the act. He'd put all of his focus on you, your pleasure, how you're feeling, what you want, etc.

When you'd offer to reciprocate, he wouldn't know how to feel. He'd always been made to perform and give instead of receiving and it would take a long long time for him to become okay with it again. You'd be patient, though. And he'd appreciate it more than he could ever express in words.

Once he IS okay with sex again, my gods he'd out-do himself each and every time.

He'd do his best to make it as romantic as possible at first. A warm bath to soothe your muscles, candles, a good meal, a massage, he'd brush your hair, butter you up as much as possible before absolutely ruining you for hours on end.

That time of the month? No problem. He'd relish in your moon blood. Take his time with you. Little bites in your inner thighs so you're reminded of him the following day. Bruising kisses, exploring you with his tongue, tasting every last drop like he's starved. All the while being as gentle as possible with his hands and his words. Help clean you up, lest a single drop be wasted. Not on his watch!

He'd definitely be the type to talk you through your orgasm. Tell you how beautiful/handsome you are, cumming for him. Stare into your eyes and watch as you unravel completely. Kiss you so you're forced to moan into his mouth. He wants to taste your pleasure. Taste your desperation for closeness. And he'd deliver each and every time.

When it comes to his pleasure, I think he'd be relatively simple. Sweet kisses along his cold skin, enjoying the warmth of your hands and lips all over his body. He'd prefer you on top so he can watch you the entire time, or have you pressed tightly to his chest so he can hear your heart quicken and your blood rush through your veins. A symphony to his ears. Your life force, your sweet nectar, all driving him absolutely mad as you ravish each other.

I live and die by this, Astarion would be BIG into aftercare. Giving it and receiving it. Kisses, cuddles, cleaning each other up, picking out comfortable clothing for bed or just stayed pressed together in the nude.

Sleeping next to Astarion would never be truly sleeping NEXT to him. He'd bury his face in your breasts or neck. Or rest his head on your stomach and giggle at the gurgling noises it makes. Tangle his legs with yours, hold your hand, press your foreheads together, anything to be as close as possible. Eventually this becomes the only way he can sleep. The only thing to keep his nightmares at bay.

I hope you guys enjoy my lil headcannons. I'm sure they're not much different from others, but my gods do I think about these REGULARLY.

[bonefall]

i’m curious- can you explain, from prepping to actual processing and cooking and such, how the clans make sausage? is it really that easy?

SAUSAGES!!!

It's SO easy. The WHOLE process from prep to cooking is essentially 5 steps. Sausage is so old that it predates the historic record. The earliest record of it is from 4,000 BC-- but it's SO simple to make that it's almost a guarantee that any carnivorous society would learn how to make their own.

You don't even need fire. Most types of sausage are made by cooking the meat with heat or smoke, but you can get SALAMI through passive fermentation and air drying. Pepperoni is also in that same category of "dry sausage"! It was an invention of Italian American immigrants modifying sopressatta back in the 1920s.

Sausage is how you can use every last little scrap of meat on an animal, AND preserve it while you're at it. There's a ton of different types of sausages, but what binds them, literally, is that they're meat stuffed in digestive tract. ALL types of meat. The filling can be offal, muscle, or even blood, packed in with varying types of preservatives and spices.

(though in modern sausage production they use don't use natural cases as often, because it's more expensive than artificial collagen casing. that's actually how you can tell right away if you're at a quality pizza place or not-- if your pepperoni "cups" up after it's cooked, it's made with the real stuff. That's caused by the natural casing shrinking because of the heat.)

the TL;DR of making sausage is collect, scrape, soak, stuff, dry. Five simple steps. I am going to create an incredibly detailed walkthrough of it, every little tiny thing, from harvest to mealtime.

Minimum tools needed: a flat rock and a dark place, such as a cave.

Recommended tools: A flat rock, a bird bone with a stick, a cold underground den, fire.

It usually begins when an animal is brought back to camp, though it could even be started right in the field where prey is caught.;

CONTENT WARNING

This post contains discussions of evisceration and unsanitary topics in the context of natural butchery.

We're going to talk about disembowelment and processing animal organs into food. This includes how to open a carcass, and washing out the things that intestines usually contain. There is also an image of sausage casings at various stages of processing, including when it's still raw (but clean) intestine.

I was taught how to clean a deer carcass when I was only a teenager and I've never been squeamish, but everyone's tolerance for this sort of thing is different. It's okay if this isn't something you can handle; just know that the process of sausage making is easy, yet still a work of skill.

Appreciate the effort that goes into making your food! Just remember; there's a reason why they warn you about "finding out how the sausage is made!"

Step 1: Collecting the offal

You might think that because the prey that Clan cats hunt are so small, there would be some animals they can't make sausage from because of it. That's not the case! Bowels are naturally stretchy and will expand when stuffed; even a mouse can make for snack-sized sausages that a cat would enjoy.

(Remember; an entire mouse is approximately 1 meal for a single warrior.)

Removing the intestines is easy to do, requires no fire, and is necessary for avoiding parasites. Even a canon-compliant Clan can, and should, do this as part of their food processing. Canon treats claws like they're small knives and I do too because it's cool as hell, but if your Clan is more tool advanced, you could even allow them to use knives.

That gruesome phrase, "there's more than one way to skin a cat" is EXTREMELY accurate for ALL types of skinning. EVERY hunter and butcher you will meet will have their own method. Here's ONE way to do it, for right after the carcass has been bled dry and skinned;

It is helpful to hang the carcass by the legs, but not required. Especially for a large animal like a hare, this will make gravity your friend in getting the organs out. Clan cats have access to plenty of twine for this; brambles, willowbark, flax, etc.

Cut a "circle" around the anus first, under the tail. You want to keep the whole tract in one piece. If the intestines rupture, it might contaminate the rest of the ENTIRE carcass. This part you cut now will be the back end of the "tube" you're going to pull out.

From the bottom of the "circle," slit carefully down the belly until you hit the bone in the middle of the ribcage. This is tricky. If you go too deep, you'll cut the guts and spill waste everywhere. Don't go deep enough and you won't even get through the membrane. A good mentor would guide their apprentice's paw at this point, showing them how to carefully hook one layer deeper each time and how to angle the claw so they don't cut deeper than they mean to. (NOTE: the sternum is a lot shorter in most four-legged animals than it is in a human. The warrior's cut will be much further down the "chest" of the prey than you think.)

Now, the guts need to be cut from the back of the cavity. This is MESSY, but not tricky. This is the part where an impatient warrior would mess up, start yanking, and puncture the gut. If the animal is hanging, this is MUCH easier as the anus is still "anchored" to the pelvis like a big noodle.

Lastly, reach down and pull the throat up, then and take the whole tract out in one piece! In a very "large" animal like a muntjac or a hare, a more advanced Clan might tie off the colon with string before pulling it out, to avoid making a mess.

That's it! You now have the entire GI tract of an animal, including esophagus, stomach, large intestine, small intestine, and all the extra species-specific organs (like tripe or gizzards) they contain. An experienced butcher can do this whole process in less than a minute on a smaller animal-- and the small intestine of a mouse alone is over a foot long for making into sausages!

(In Clanmew, this "tract" is called a gwussip. It basically means "pile of slightly processed food." It's also used to refer to the dough used to make tunnelbuns in WindClan, and the minced meat that will be used to stuff the sausages later.)

Various types of sausage are made from the stomach down. Haggis is one type of sausage, for example, traditionally made of a sheep's stomach. The esophagus doesn't have the same "stretchiness" that the intestines are known for, and is more often made into a mince and sauteed if it isn't just wasted by being tossed.

BB!ThunderClan in particular likes to let it slow cook in fat and fruit sauce until it's more tender, but still delightfully chewy. It's not enough to fill a warrior up, but it makes a good snack for in between mealtimes. If you're familiar with Mexican cuisine, pig esophagus is prepared as "buche."

mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

But, digressing,

Now that you have your intestines, it needs to be turned into casing.

Step 2: Scrape the inner membrane

Intestines are full of fecal matter. We all know this. Especially if you collected it correctly, it's going to be full of unwanted liquid when you first pull it out. Thankfully, it's just a tube and it can be washed.

These organs are made to contain everything icky inside of the gut, protecting the rest of body with its specialized buffer layers; the meat itself is perfectly fine.

The first thing a warrior needs to do is run it through a clean stream of running water, just like rinsing out a reusable straw. They'd be taking care to rub every fold clean, like a raccoon washing stockings in a river. Depending on the species the organ comes from, the culture of the Clan, and the condition of the animal before it was killed, some intestines might smell worse and need to be washed for longer than others.

BB!ShadowClan is different from other Clans in that they will flush it with a mix of vinegar and water to clean intestines. Especially since so much of their territory is stillwater, they're extra concerned with making sure their offal is cleaned. Other Clans find vinegar repulsive. ShadowClan finds other Clans dirty. Other Clans point out that they're the ones that eat literally anything. ShadowClan says they'd be able to stop wasting food if they spent less time whining and more time food processing. Cultural friction ensues.

After it's flushed, the cleaned intestine is turned inside-out. Just like a sock. From there, the inner layer of membrane is scraped off.

A long, flat rock is the best tool for this, or a good bone scraper. I've also heard of people doing this with a knife, so the rock is actually still technically optional for even the most thumbless Clans... but the cats can weave ropes out of grass canonically. They can use a rock.

(meanwhile in the background the bb!cats are playing instruments around a fire, absolutely ignoring canon's inconsistent tech level)

This is what it looks line at each stage of this process. Totally raw intestine looks like the image on the left. When turned inside-out, it resembles the middle. After scraping, it looks like the right.

Now there's just one more step before you officially have casing.

Step 3: Soaking in salt solution.

This is actually the hardest part for a Clan trying to be ecologically accurate. Salt is very rare in most forest environments. If your Clans are set up in a place with a natural salt source (near a beach, or near a geological deposit), you'll have no problems!

But... most Clans would, logically, not be so lucky and need to get creative.

The first option is stealing salt from farmers and hunters. Salt licks are usually left out in large, white blocks for sheep in fields, and deer in the woods. However, BB!Clan cats, except SkyClan, strongly avoid interacting with humans. That includes not approaching the salt licks left out for deer and livestock.

So, traditionally in the Forest Territory, they used the second option: Slowly burning the roots of coltsfoot. Dandelion also works, but will give you much less salt. In the Lake Territory, cats are sent on regular "Salt Patrols" to the ocean, bringing back bags of ocean salt from evaporated water for medicinal and culinary use.

Once that's done, simply toss the intestines in salt water for a few hours. That's it. You now have casing.

Step 4: Stuff the casing with mince.

Mince is just finely shredded meat, mixed with any spices your little kitty heart desires. Humans use a lot of herbal spices such as fennel, but as obligate carnivores, warriors prefer mushrooms which have compounds resembling the taste of meat.

The real secret to stuffing, though, is to make sure EVERYTHING is chilly before you do it. Cold mince is less sticky, keeps its shape better when being handled, and the fat is distributed more evenly in the mix. Sausages made during winter come out better than ones made during summer, for that reason.

Don't overstuff and try to keep it even. You can do it by paw, but it would be MUCH easier with a simple gadget. The earliest sausage stuffing tools we know of were as simple as a funnel and a plunger like this antique;

But since Clan cats are stuffing little animals, they can work with much smaller natural materials. The bones of birds are naturally hollow-- just clean one out, get a stick to push the meat through, and you're making tiny sausages.

And the last, but most important part,

Step 5: Dry it by way of heat and smoke (sausage) or fermentation and air drying (salami).

What you have in your paws before you start this process is, essentially, a little bag of raw meat. Most food preservation can be understood as the simple act of drying. Salt, fire, smoking, wind exposure-- those are all just fancy ways of removing moisture from food.

So generally, the more moisture the technique removes, the longer it will last.

"Fresh" sausages, your bratwurst, cheap hot dogs, bangers, the ones that are JUST made of mince and casing and you're not planning on doing anything else, those get cooked and eaten immediately. These types are actually pretty "recent" historically speaking, because it was a luxury to not be making sausages to store and transport meat.

So to make it last, they will usually be "cured." That means that the mince was mixed with salt before stuffing. Simple as that. Smoked cured sausage is self explanatory once you know what the terms mean-- it's been cured with salt, and then put in a smokehouse to dry.

(side note: curing is also required for smoking, else the conditions inside the sausage become the perfect breeding ground for botulism)

But the thing you're really waiting to hear about is "dry sausage." NO refrigeration required, NO fire needed at any point in the process. Salami specifically is cured, fermented in a dark and humid place, and then air-dried. This process takes only a few days if it's hot, and up to a week if it's cold. There are often starter cultures and sugars (fruits) added to the mince which reduces the "failure" rate, but this can work completely on its own.

Its taste will also vary depending on the cultures of bacteria doing the fermenting-- but that's unironically the kind of thing beyond the scope of this. That's culinary science.

This is where a dedicated "den" for hanging fermenting sausage would be handy. You can make do with a cave, but being able to completely control the environment can be the difference between having food in two days, versus having food in a week. You can even store it while it's fermenting for months if you can control the environment perfectly.

The last step is simply to take it out when it's at the absolutely perfect conditions and stop fermentation. If it ferments ALL the way, it will taste so sour it's inedible.

And that's it.

It's that simple. You hung it up in a cave for a while, and now you have shelf-stable meat that doesn't need to be refrigerated.

The catch; this works best in hotter, sunnier, southern environments, where the post-fermentation process is finished off with air drying. Drying is VERY GOOD because it totally removes the moisture. BB!Clans, in Northwestern England, prefer to finish this off with smoking unless they're doing it in summer and the weather cooperates.

Air drying is better because it typically removes more moisture and makes the sausage hard. Finishing fermentation with smoking causes it to be "semi-dry."

This far north, the days are cloudier, darker, and colder than it is further south, where the most famous dry sausages are made. It's not impossible to make fully dried sausage here, but it's a LOT more precise of an art.

If your Clans are based in the USA, don't worry about that. Dry fermentation is possible everywhere there except Alaska. Even if they're at the very tippy-top north of the continguous 48 states, they are barely higher in latitude than Paris, France. To put what BB's environment is in context, remember that you could walk a straight line across the globe from Liverpool, UK and be somewhere near Edmonton, Canada.

(in fact, dry fermentation can be done easily anywhere it isn't too dry or too cold. RIP Southern Chilean fanclans you will simply have to smoke it just like the Brits.)

And that's sausage. That is an in-depth guide to how salami can be made by Clan cats.