#in my defense this stupid fucker got up when i was about to and asked about it. so i couldnt

[p2iimon]

anxiety is so fucking stupid. im too scared to ask about my assignment that i wasnt here to learn how to do. thats literally his job

[aledethanlast]

I want to clarify something about my Lawyer!Andrew post:

Andrew is not doing this to impress people. In fact he actively doesn't want to impress people. He is done being a superman who holds everyone's lives in his hands. It's not good for his mental health when he's doing it and it's not good for anyone when that he fails, because the law is too big and some of these fuckers are just legitimately dumber and more guilty than his literal murderous mafia husband.

Anyways. Andrew wakes up in the morning, goes to his closet and shoves aside the 15k dollar Armani suits so he can put on the two piece he got at Macy's (then tailored to fit, cause he still has standards), and a matching tie.

He goes to the office. Brad asks him if he heard about the latest draft picks. Andrew stares him down until Brad goes to Andrew's desk and drops a quarter in the "Asking Andrew about Exy" jar. Andrew's coworkers seem to think that he's gonna buy the office a Foosball table with the jar money. They are wrong. It is for a new cat tower. Also, no Andrew hasn't seen it, but he got the rundown from Neil and Kevin, so he knows enough to tell Brad not to bother with a season pass for the Sealions this year.

He has two cases to deal with today. The first is a vehicular manslaughter charge. The client is pleading self defense, and that the victim was a stalker. Andrew likes her because, despite bursting into tears every time they have a trial prep session, she actually listens to instructions and knows when to shut the fuck up. He's confident.

The second is grand larceny. The guy is so super incredibly guilty but Brad gave him this case because he knows Andrew loves police misconduct cases and this one is just so full of protocol breaches that Andrew only had to show Neil the file for him to burst out laughing.

Janet says he has a call waiting. Janet is the highest paid paralegal in the county, because she also filters his celebrity mail. Technically Neil's pr firm still represents him, but Janet knows to turn down the DA's gala invitations without needing to argue with him.

He picks up the phone. It's the DA. The man invites him to the police gala because he knows Andrew ignored the emails. Andrew assumes the man was banking on Andrew giving a polite refusal he can wheedle or harangue into compliance. The man is new to the job, so Andrew will forgive this embarrassing miscalculation.

They spend the next hour discussing court dates for a certain case. Andrew's client for that one is disabled and only has partial aid, and he won't let them set court dates that they know she won't be able to attend. The DA, despite his embarrassing naivate, seems to be on the same page in this regard, so hopefully this will go well when they bring the matter to the judge.

In the span of this phone call, two of Brad's clients come into the office, and within five minutes of walking in are made to contribute to the jar. They don't get their questions answered, because he's on the phone, and they're not Brad.

He has court tomorrow. Court is annoying, because it's a room full of strangers who hear his name and forget why he's there, and he's not allowed to bring the jar. Court is a chore, because he has to walk people through their own idiocy, and then occasionally convince the room of just how stupid or brilliant it actually was.

Court is also, maybe, just a teensy bit fun, because whatever the stereotype of a lawyer is, Andrew really isn't it, and that makes people take him a lot less seriously until he starts quoting their words back to them faster than the stenographer.

(Janet also filters job offers. They tend to crop up every few months.)

(It used to be more fun, back in the early days when Neil would sit in sometimes, until he remembered just how horrifically boring the whole thing is. But that's fine. Andrew is happy having his own thing.)

But really, court is easy. It's a place where your word has weight, where promises are binding, and when everything is going to shit, nobody looks at Andrew like he's the freak for keeping his head.

[archangeldyke-all]

Okay first time I regust something.

So the principal call Sev and reader to the office cause little fucker have been in a fight. Cause she defended herself for a bully(like she taught, come on she’s Sevs daughter)

The bully has been bullying her. She ignores it but when the bully does anything to her friends BOOM

LOVE THIS

men and minors dni

you pull up to your daughter's school in a panic, your eyes frantically searching the parking lot for your wife.

sevika's smoking on a bench waiting for you: a habit she's managed to kick unless she's really worried. and she only gets really worried about you and little fucker.

"hi baby" you say as you approach her, wrapping her up in a quick hug.

she tries to hide her cigarette, flicking it away from her body and fanning the air around her. you snort and kiss her head as she hugs you back.

"how's your day goin'?" she asks, taking your hand and walking the two of you toward the school. you scoff.

"was goin' good until i got this call. you?"

"was actually pretty shit. i was sorta glad i had a reason to leave work, until the secretary told me the little shit's bleeding." sevika sighs. you cringe.

your daughter's been having some issues with a girl in her class, a little asshole who seems to think your daughter is an easy target.

your sweet little girl-- despite the fact that sevika's been teaching her self defense and mma since she could walk-- has never done anything to escalate the situations. she just takes the abuse and comes home with tears in her eyes, crying in your or sevika's chest about the stupid little shit who's been terrorizing her.

you've had to talk sevika out of killing the ten year old about five times this month.

but now, as you push into the principal's office and your eyes land on your baby-- her eye swollen shut, her bottom lip puffy and bleeding, her nose broken-- you think tonight sevika might have to be the one holding you back from child-murder.

"oh, baby." sevika whispers. you can hear her heart breaking in her voice. she approaches your daughter carefully, kneeling down in front of the kid and cupping her cheek. "fuck, kid, are you okay?"

your little girl bursts into tears. your heart breaks.

sevika takes a seat beside your daughter, holding her and cooing at her as she pets her hair and lets her cry into her chest. you press a quick kiss to little fucker's head, then turn your angry glare on the principal, sitting in the middle of the room.

"what the fuck happened?" you growl. the old man sighs.

"your daughter attacked her classmate natasha on the playground." he says.

"that stupid bitch natasha's been pushing my kid around for weeks. and if i recall correctly, you did nothing about it 'cause natasha's parents are big donors." you growl, your fingers clenching into fists at your side.

"ma'am, verbal taunts are different from physical violence."

"did you beat her ass, baby?" sevika's voice cuts in. you chuckle as you watch the principal's face fall in horror, and then look over to your family to watch your daughter nod against sevika's shoulder.

"knocked her front teeth out." she mumbles. you burst into laughter, and sevika ruffles her hair.

"atta girl." she praises.

"ladies, please, we can't encourage this kind of behavior in response to some light teasing--"

"it wasn't light teasing, mr. rolla. she was bothering little jamie, the kid with the crutches in my class. kept kicking his crutches out from under him, so i kicked her feet out from under her. see how she'd like it." she grumbles.

you can't contain your smile. sevika can't either. mr. rolla seems appalled.

"so what are you doing to this natasha kid?" you ask the man. he gawks at you.

"n-nothing! natasha is currently at home nursing her injuries, i think she's suffered enough!"

"listen here you piece of sh--"

"sev." you cut your wife off with a hand, and she huffs. your kid giggles a little, and you wink at her before turning your attention back to the principal in front of you. "what's her punishment?" you ask. he sighs.

"suspension for rest of the week."

you shake your head, scoff, then turn your back to the man.

"well kid, looks like you got a week vacation!" you say to your girl. she smiles at you.

"ma'am, it's not a vacation it's meant to be a punis--"

"maybe me and ma'll take work off-- we can have a family week vacation." sevika suggests. your daughter's eyes grow wide, and you grin.

"i like the sound of that, babe, good thinking." you say. "i think we should get ice cream for lunch today, too. something cold to help that swollen lip of yours." you say.

little fucker bursts into giggles, and sevika grins, hoisting your girl up to carry her on her hip, then walking out of the office. you turn to follow them, but stop before you can fully leave, turning around and glaring at the flabbergasted principal sitting in his desk.

"you know mr. rolla, i know that big donors are essential for the school's livelihood, i get why you're goin' so easy on natasha. but... i also know that you and old ms. washington have been hooking up on the regular. and... i happen to know that mrs. rolla gets her hair done on that salon off 54th? on the first of the month, right? it would be a shame if she were to get a visitor at her next hair appointment with some bad news..."

the man in front of you goes deathly pale, and you giggle, turn on your heel, and leave the office.

outside, sevika and your girl are giggling with one another as they wait for you. when the three of you start your trek back outside, sevika grabs your hand and shoots you a questioning look. you giggle, then lean in to whisper in her ear.

"may or may not have threatened to ruin his marriage."

sevika grins, looks both ways down the school hallway, then pulls you into a wet, sloppy kiss. you moan against her lips, and her hand trails down to squeeze your ass.

"moms, stop! you're embarrassing me!" your daughter whines.

you and sevika pull apart with guilty chuckles, then continue to walk your kid out of the building and toward the nearest ice cream shop.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

[adiduck]

anotha question ✨

there’s gotta be some icemav pining for each other that’s borderline verbal abuse of one another that makes the daggers think they hate each other (affectionately)…or everyone can tell they like each other cause 22’ is right there

You know what? I think I can do this. I'm gonna give a few different snippets (some of which I have already posted) which, in totality, I believe paint a picture:

Pushups with Bradley (already posted)

“Strong silent type,” he says finally. “No worries, no worries. I can fill the air for all of us.”

“He can,” Ice says, because he’s a damn good wingman and knows when Maverick needs a backup straight man in a conversation.

“One of my many talents,” Maverick agrees, gratefully. “Right under fucking up high yo-yos in new aircraft.”

“One-seventy-one,” Hondo says, and his voice shakes a little like he’s suppressing a laugh. Maverick looks up and winks at him while he’s doing his pushup.

“I got him into a defensive spiral and pulled out right before we hit the hard deck, and he reversed positions and got me on lock when I didn’t drop down to weapons envelope,” Rooster says suddenly.

Maverick pauses and then whistles low. 

“One-seventy-two.”

“That’s closer than I got,” Maverick says. “Fucker using the hard deck against you. One of our instructors did that to me first day at Top Gun.”

“And you broke the hard deck to get tone,” Ice interrupts, voice very dry.

“One-seventy-three.”

“And it didn’t count, because of the fuckin’ hard deck,” Maverick agrees. “Probably made the right call there, honestly. Saved yourself a reaming from the brass.”

“Not that Mav’d know anything about that,” Ice offers up.

“A third talent,” Maverick says easily, grinning.

On Ice’s other side, Rooster’s starting to relax a little.

“You really can just run your mouth, huh?” Rooster asks.

“You have no idea,” Ice drawls.

Rooster snorts.

“Alright, that’s enough chatter, gentlemen,” Hondo says, amused. “One-seventy-four!”

-

Football

“Come on, Captain Mitchell, take it off,” Phoenix crows, just after they’re back in the water post-lunch. The Captain, midway through pulling his white t-shirt over his head, starts to laugh, whole-bodied and amused.

“Been a while since I’ve been objectified by someone under my command to my face,” he says, peering out the neck hole as Phoenix grins, unrepentant. Very helpfully, Hangman puts two fingers in his mouth and wolf whistles, and everyone else cracks up.

The Captain’s played with them for the first half of the morning--keeps up, makes it pretty clear that he’s still meeting those medical standards for flight. He takes a few breaks--Maverick makes sure to tell him to remember to hydrate--old people are more susceptible to heat stroke, right?--and to be careful not to break a hip every time he comes back. Like clockwork. It makes the Captain’s jaw tick, which is hilarious enough Maverick doesn’t mind getting his ass kicked the next round every time he does it.

Eventually, though, it’s just too hot, and the guys start stripping shirts off. Maverick’s been enjoying the view, actually. There are a lot of very pretty people slated for this particular mission, and that’s not even counting Ice, with his wide shoulders and swimmer’s build, the freckles across his shoulders and eyes shining with challenge.

Maverick’s not stupid enough to hit on any of them when he’s gonna need to fly a suicide mission with them in two weeks, even on the down-low--Hangman’s definitely watching Maverick under his lashes when he thinks nobody’s looking, he’s not fucking subtle--but the point really does stand.

The Captain’s just about the last to give in, and honestly it probably is because he’s feeling old next to everyone else, if Maverick had to guess.

But here he is, joining the rest of them in shirtlessness. Maverick grins, soaking in the sun and comradery and good cheer, and knocks shoulders with Ice.

Ice shakes his head. “Keep it to a dull roar,” he calls. “I still have to deal with the younger version in a couple weeks after you all inflate his ego."

“Too late for that,” the Captain says, and winks at Ice, then continues to pull the shirt off over his head--

-

Later in Football

“Gotta ask, Maverick, are you also that crazy, or was that something that came with age?” Omaha complains. Over on the shore, the Captain raises his hands in surrender, laughing as he’s herded over to a chair. Still in the water next to them, Bradley scoffs and turns away.

Maverick frowns, and then shrugs, uncomfortable. “I have a pretty high pain tolerance,” he says. “I dunno, if he says Medical said he was fine, he’s probably fine.”

“So,” Omaha says. “The answer’s yes.”

“The answer’s definitely yes,” Ice drawls, he flips the football up onto his finger, gets a few decent spins before it wobbles and falls into his hand. “Hey,” he shouts at the shore. “Are we playing or what?”

“Hold your horses, we’re coming,” Hangman hollers back, as the Captain laughs again, reaches behind him to pull his dog tags to the front of his chest--

Maverick freezes. “Is he wearing a ring on that chain?” he asks, squinting.

Ice frowns, squinting too.

“Huh,” Omaha says. “Looks like it.”

“Aviators,” Bradley shouts suddenly, and Maverick startles a little. “Move it or we’ll move it for you!”

Hangman flips him off, even as Phoenix also rolls her eyes and the group starts moving back towards the water.

Maverick starts towards the shore. “Play without me,” he says.

“Come on, Maverick, if you go sit down we don’t have even teams,” Bradley says.

It’s definitely a ring. The Captain’s noticed him looking now though, flipped his aviators up to raise an eyebrow at him.

“He’s not married,” Maverick says, as Ice catches up to him. “It would’ve been in his file. Divorced? Engaged?”

“Divorced would have also been in his file,” Ice says. “Mav, if he wanted you to know, maybe he’d have told you.”

Maverick pauses. Hesitates. “It’s not Charlie, probably,” he says, feeling a bit guilty. He--well, he hasn’t been thinking about Charlie. He’s been busy, sure, but--

“It could be,” Ice says. “But if he wanted you to know, he’d tell you. Come on, let’s go back and play.”

Maverick hesitates.

“This’d be the second time you run out on me to go talk to someone about your love life, Mitchell,” Ice says. “Gonna start thinking it’s me.”

“It’s definitely you,” Maverick says automatically, and then huffs, rolls his eyes. “Well when you put it like that--”

Ice huffs a laugh, throws an arm over Maverick’s shoulder and turns him around. “Let’s show these assholes how it’s done, shall we?”

-

Drinking Game

“Star Wars and Star Trek got a complete reboot in the form of a movie. Which one really did?” Fanboy asks, grinning.

“Star Trek,” Ice says, only half a beat later. His voice has loosened to something of a drawl along with the set of his shoulders, the sprawl in his chair becoming increasingly boneless with every wrong answer. “Star Wars is only three movies, I don’t know why they’d bother remaking them.”

“Mitchell?” Fanboy asks.

“Uh,” Maverick says. He’s on beer three in about half an hour, and that’s not a lot, but it’s not nothing. And he barely knows what either of those things are. “I’m going to go with Lieutenant Nerd’s assessment over here.”

“Bite me,” Ice says easily.

“You’re correct,” Fanboy says, and Ice smirks in satisfaction as all around them everyone takes a drink. Maverick grins back, can’t seem to help it.

“Okay, next, a sports question,” Payback says. “Let’s see how well you know your baseball. Use of certain steroids was approved in 2007, or the Red Sox won the World Series in 2004.”

The world stops. “They did?” Maverick says, the words bursting out of him without any input from his brain, maybe too loud.

Phoenix cracks up, leaning over the table.

“Of course you’re a Sox fan,” Hangman mutters, rolling his eyes.

“I’m going for steroids are legal,” Ice informs them primly.

“Hey,” Maverick says. Ice gives him a bland look back, mouth pinched at the corners. Asshole.

“Might as well drink, then,” Payback says. “Sox have won most recently in 2004, 2007, 2013, and 2018.”

“Yes!” Maverick says. “Fact check!”

“You don’t believe him?” Phoenix asks.“I just want to see,” Maverick says, and holds out his hand for the cell phone. “Come on, give it up. This is the best day of my life.”

-

Last run before the mission (already shared in this exercise)

“Still with me, Phoenix?” Maverick asks, swinging into the fourth turn.

“We’re with you, Mav, don’t wait for us,” Phoenix says, and Maverick grins, banking hard.

“Kinda--the point, isn’t it?” he asks through the lung compression, and leans into a bank in the opposite direction. “Can’t do it myself.”

“Red letter day,” Ice says over the radio, sounding equally winded from the banking. “Mark your--calendars.”

Maverick laughs. “You said that, not me,” he says, and turns a flat ninety degrees under the simulated aqueduct.

“Do you know what ‘maverick’ means?”

“Sounds like a story,” Payback gets out.

“Tell you later,” Maverick says, and evens out, grins. “Time?”

“Five seconds under,” Bob says.

Maverick grins. “Fuck yes. Now comes the easy bit. Bob, prep that laser--popping!”

“The easy bit, he says,” Fanboy says. “They’re calling them miracles.”

“Naw,” Maverick says, reaching the apex of his climb. And there’s the target. “They call us ‘Maverick’ and ‘Iceman’.”

[marathedemonoverlord]

Since I really liked S1 of OG Obey Me, I wanted to try my hand at writing for My MC Mara's first year. Apologies if it isn't that great or a bit ooc. I don't really like how fluffied up Obey Me Demons are...

Warning: It's from Mara's perspective, and she's not very nice to the demons at first.

OG Obey Me x MC ( Mara ) - First Year in Devildom Pt 1

It felt as if this was a situation that was a repeated memory from her childhood. Mara sat in the office, a grown twenty-six year old woman in trouble for self-defense, wounded and bitter. Wasn't this a tune she often danced to before? Guess old habits die hard…

"Human. I have informed Lucifer of your behavior. Here at RAD, we do not attack our fellow students." The "principal" of the school said, staring at Mara as if she was a bad animal. This pissed her off; She was a grown adult, she did not start the fight, and this "principal" wasn't even authority. Everyone knew that, that stupid bastard Diavolo ruled the school. Why was she here instead of talking to him? Mara knew why; It was the same reason her father sent her to Oakington Academy when she was fifteen years ago, and it was the reason Lucifer was coming to play the role of "parent" with her. Nobody ever wants to deal with the "troublesome child". It was easier to claim them when it was good but dump them on someone else when it was hard. Mara wasn't unfamiliar with this. As the principal looked at her, she turned her head, dark brown eyes glaring to the side. It wasn't her fault.

It was supposed to be a simple first day. Mara intended to force Mammon by his pact to stay close to her, but he chose to slip away and evade her. The greedy fucker was a slippery son of bitch, managing to slip away while she finally got her chance to go to the bathroom and now here she was, alone in a demon academy, trapped in Hell against her will, with no protection. Mara hated RAD, she hated it here, she hated Diavolo, and she hated the brothers. Regardless, she had a game plan in mind; Flit under the radar, don't talk to anyone, don't bother anyone.

In fact, as she walked into the great halls of this glorified prison, the six brothers all dissipated; Lucifer went to suck off Diavolo like the nepotistic fuck he is, Mammon hid from her like a coward, Leviathan slithered into the bathroom to fap to 2D pixeled chicks who'd never give him the time of day in real life, Satan went to be the fake straight A know it all bitch he always was, Asmodeus went to get fucked by his sycophantic lemmings, and Beelzebub went to stuff his face and just be an extra to the grand scheme of things. It left Mara completely by herself, and for a while, things went okay.

She went to class, she kept to herself, she didn't talk to anyone and merely shot glares at the condescending nature of other students; Everything went okay. Until lunch… Sitting by herself, she had been simply observing the little groups of the school; The students were practically arranged by their sins and if Mara was going to survive she'd have to go back to her old ways; Find a group to assimilate into and use them to protect her the whole year. Issue was…. She was human. It was one thing when she was the weird goth girl back at the academy, but here, her species would be a deterrent. She would be ostracized no matter what she did. These thoughts caused Mara to get lost in her head. She couldn't rely on Mammon to protect her, so maybe proving herself to a clique or sin group would allow her the chance to be protected by them instead. The question of "how" to prove herself would be the tough part. However, as she thought about it, a fist slammed down on her table, causing her to look up.

Just her luck, a demon finally had an issue with her existence. He was a big demon, not as big as Beelzebub but… Close. Glaring down at Mara, she looked him up and down a scowl forming on her face. "Can I help you?" She asked calmly, trying to hide her obvious disdain for the creature as she looked up at him. "What happened to your little guardian, sheep? He decided to feed you to the wolves?" The demon asked, sneering at her. This bothered Mara a lot; She was twenty-six. A legal adult in the human world; she paid her own taxes, lived alone, she took self-defense, worked out, she was strong. She didn't need anybody, let alone a greedy bastard who couldn't even spare her the time of day. "I don't need a guardian, what the hell do you want? I'm trying to eat." She said in an annoyed tone, looking at the demon. "What I'd like is to finally know what expression a human makes when their entrails are ripped out slowly. Care to help with that?" The demon asked, showing his sharp fangs to her, his tail swishing slightly. Mara felt a level of disgust and disdain course through her at his words, her stomach churning at the thought. Demons were truly animalistic and crass creatures, no different than animals. She decided to try and leave; she'll eat her food in the bathroom, she is not going to engage in this. Yet as she tried to leave, she was forced back down into her seat by the demon, his strength shocking her. Mara had always been the stronger person… She was a boxer for fuck's sake. But these demons, this Devildom…. To them she was nothing but a sheep…. A prey animal.

"I didn't say you could get up human." The demon growled slowly, leaning closer to her, the saliva dripping from his maw. Mara cringed and glared at the student, bothering her. "Look back off, I'm not doing anything to you so leave me the fuck alone." She said, making her deep bassy voice come out more as a guttural growl to try and get the demon to leave her alone. Mara was so used to being the intimidating one, she was dismayed as the demon challenged her, refusing as he leaned closer, his breath hot against her face. "I'm warning you right now. Leave. Me. Alone." Mara tried again feeling her anger flare up, this was entirely unfair. She didn't ask to be in this situation, she didn't ask to be taken from her life. These fuckers traumatized her as a kid and now to know they're real and harassing her still was entirely unfair. She could feel rage boiling.

The demon merely laughed at her, probably only seeing her as a fluffed up prey. "Or what? Going to cry for Mammon? That cheap fuck would pay alimony and taxes before helping you. Face it sheep you're going to die here." He sneered, reaching to grab at Mara's black curly hair. And now Mara had enough; She didn't need Mammon to protect her! She could handle herself- She wasn't a sheep! Grabbing her lunch tray, Mara raised it and slammed it as hard as she could into the demon's face, causing him to stumble.

The room now went quiet as the demon stumbled, more so from shock than actual pain. Mara held the tray in her hands, glaring at him. "I told you… Leave me the fuck alone!" She snapped, her voice furious. The demon cracked his neck returning the glare to her. "You're going to fucking pay for that you piece of shit mortal-" He snarled launching himself at her. Mara barely had enough time to dodge as she hit him with the tray again, a brawl beginning as Mara tried with all her strength to fight the demon, the creature using his superior strength and demonic prowess to make this battle near impossible. He had grabbed and practically threw her at the wall, the pain immense but Mara refused to back down. Maybe she was too hard headed, maybe something out there was having Lady Luck bless her, but she tried to fight anyways, with the tray, using her fists or anything she could get her hands on, she was not going to let this demon see her weak. She fought back as much as she could, even when tossed around like a ragdoll, refusing to lay there and take it.

But eventually, Mara ran out of things to prove otherwise. The demon had her in his grip, raising her so her feet dangled as a large meaty hand was crushing her windpipe. She tried to pry his hand off her throat, trying to stay brave even in the face of death. She didn't want to die. She didn't want to die in Hell, but she didn't want to show him that. This world was probably like the human world; any sign of weakness immediately marked for death. However, before more could come, the demon was suddenly thrown off her, air returning to her burning lungs as she panted and looked up. Standing before her was Satan, eyes glaring boredly at the demon assailant as he had knocked the larger demon off with ease, still in his human form.

"You're interrupting my reading." He said bluntly not even glancing at Mara as the demon froze "S-Satan what are you-" The assailant was cut off as Satan raised his hand silencing him "Here I am trying to study for an upcoming hexing exam and you and the Sheep there are causing a ruckus." He said calmly before looking up, his eyes flashing with a toxic green."Knock it off before I show her your entrails instead." Satan threatened darkly, causing the demon to nod and run off, fear evident. To Mara, it made no sense… This demon was bigger, taller, and broader than Satan. Satan was a twig threatening a log and yet…. There was an aura of power that made certain demons back up or think twice. It boggled her mind, but she could admit gratitude even if she didn't like the blondie. There was a moment of silence before Satan turned back to Mara, the green in his eyes ebbing slightly.

"You don't look so good." He pointed out, looking Mara and her wounds over. "I'm fine… I just…-" Mara winced as she tried to get up. It felt like that demon cracked her ribs and gave her a concussion during that scuffle. "- Need to see a nurse." Satan finished kneeling down and checking her over. "I can have someone escort you to the nurse's office. It wouldn't look well on Lucifer if you're bleeding out here…" Satan said before pausing a malicious smirk lining his pretty features. "Actually…. Bleed out a bit here and here. I'll go get him for you." He remarked with an air of cruelty in his voice, laughing with a suave lilt to his tone as he got up, walking to find Lucifer. Mara scowled as he walked off. She shouldn't be surprised that Satan would ditch her like that, any reason to stick it to Lucifer, but part of her did hope he could stay close at hand, especially given her condition. Whatever, she didn't need anyone before, and she didn't need anyone now. Forcing herself up, Mara tried to make it to the nurse's, but one of the professors stopped her, hearing about the fight and sending her to the office. And now…

Now, here she was, injured, alone, and bitter in the office, in trouble for self-defense. Mara sat by herself quietly. So much for a first day, but part of her hoped Diavolo would see this and send her home. She hated being held captive here. It wasn't right.

Soon Lucifer made his way into the office, annoyance evident on his dark perfect features as he looked down at Mara condescendingly. "So, this is what you got up to on your first day? You truly are hopeless, human." He said with that smooth, deep voice of his, his look making her feel inferior to his gaze. "Shut up. This is your brother's fault, I didn't ask to be harassed by a demon on my first day in this glorified nut house." She snapped irritation, lining her dark features as she clenched her aching fist. People like Lucifer annoyed her; nepotistic, egotistical ass kissers like him who sucked up to the higher ups and sneered at the lesser pissed her off to no end. She despised him even now. "Now, now… you needn't worry about those things, Mammon will be punished accordingly, but so will you and that demon for causing disturbance in our schedules." Lucifer replied calmly, his black eyes sparkling with crimson malice as he smiled coldly at her. Mara hated him; He was like those managers or administrators in a company trying to softly explain why you deserve a pay cut at work. "Why the fuck am I being punished for defending myself?" Mara asked bluntly, glaring at him angrily as her irritation had built up, simmering to the surface. Mara had a nasty, horrible temper; She had tried so hard to work on it but just Lucifer's prideful face was enough to piss her off. "Because you attacked another student first and caused Diavolo and Barbatos to put a meeting on hold to deal with this issue, be grateful you are required for Prince Diavolo's Exchange Program otherwise your punishment would be worse." Lucifer said in his calm manner, not even giving Mara a glance. It was going to be a pattern wasn't it, that Lucifer would not even dignify her with a look, as if she was below him in every sense of the word. She loathed it.

"Whatever. Can I go to the nurse now?" Mara asked in a grumble, glaring at him. Lucifer seemed disinterested in her, merely looking at some papers as he prowled around the office as if he owned it. In a way, he, Diavolo, and Barbatos did. They pretended to be students when, in reality, they were administrators and staff to this wanna-be high school. It was pathetic to Mara, but god forbid Diavolo ever hear a negative thing in his life; When royalty is a man-child, everyone's the parent. "Hm? Oh yes. You may go. They will provide some magic to mend your brittle body. And for the rest of the school year, you are to stay solely in the House of Lamentation." Lucifer decided, smirking at Mara's indignant expression. "You will go to school accompanied by a brother, and you will go straight home and be locked in your room by bedtime. Are we clear?" He asked. "That's bullshit! I'm not a fucking child Lucifer! You can't keep me contained!" She snapped trying to stand up before wincing as she fell back into the seat. "I can do whatever I want, Sheep. You live in my care, our home, and under my rules. Now you can agree to our terms or I can make sure your broken ribs recover slowly." Lucifer threatened darkly his gaze now meeting Mara's. "And I do warn you, RAD has no patience or sympathy for slow students. Even for a human." He added those onyx eyes glaring into Mara's dark brown ones. Mara hated this, she needed the magic to feel better and this stress and being cornered… She hated him.

"Fuck you Lucifer." Mara growled darkly, knowing she had no choice. Lucifer's eye twitched slightly but he simply stepped away, the aura of arrogance glowing off the demon of pride as he smiled calmly. "Glad we are in agreement. Now go see the nurse and remember…" Lucifer turned to Mara, pausing at the door. "Such coarse language is hardly tolerated at RAD." He said in that condescending tone, his deep laugh echoing in the halls as he returned to Diavolo. Mara watched him go with utter loathing.

"Fine… Go be the prince's lap dog you uptight piece of shit." She thought to herself before getting up, wincing as she tried to make her way to the nurse's. This was going to be a long, painful year, she could tell. 

[cremationstayshun]

Kiss with a Fist - Chreon

Summary: If one thing was certain, is that Leon S. Kennedy knows how to push buttons. Something from the beautiful man that was Chris Redfield was better than nothing, right?

Right?

Trigger Warnings: Implied sexual assault/rape

AO3

Leon sneered at the lone double bed in the hotel room. He could hear his roommate for the night lumbering in behind him.

"Well at least it's a king," Chris shrugged trying to maintain neutrality with the prickly DSO agent standing next to him. He received a scathing look as a reward for his efforts. Chris took a deep breath to simmer down his exasperation. Their flight back was delayed due to a blizzard, which was currently screaming at the windows outside. While the sleeping situation was not ideal, it was better than staying the night at the airport. As much as he tried to remain civil and gain favor with Leon, the man seemed to push back harder and harder. He looked back to the man who was eyeing up the couch against the opposite wall, his face barely giving anything away. It was enough for Chris to know what he was thinking.

"Oh, come on, are you serious?"

Sharp, blue eyes cut over to him, "what?"

"Why are you so dramatic? We can just share the bed, Kennedy."

Leon did not answer right away, but the pause was barely noticeable. A crease formed between his brows in thought and his eyes darted across the other's face before his face hardened. A vicious smirk fell over his face, instantly setting Chris on edge. He practically sauntered across the room, reminding the BSAA captain of a predator. He came up to where Chris had moved closer to the bed and met the larger man's eyes defiantly. Chris shifted quickly into defensive. He was not about to put up with the DSO agent's shit.

"You that desperate, Redfield? Valentine isn't around, so you gotta shoot your shot at the nearest warm body?"

"The fuck? That's not what I am asking for and you know it. You're so fucking difficult."

"Yeah unlike you. Evidently, it's easy to get in the pants of the great BSAA Golden Boy."

"Better than being the bitch of the DSO who crawls around for any scraps that they throw your way!" Chris' voice has risen in volume at this point, and he was chest to chest with Leon and he felt a prickling in his face as his anger grew. The little fucker remained perfectly calm with his stupid perfect hair and that just pissed Chris off more.

The calm was downright eerie when Kennedy responded, "Yeah, they fucked everything out of me like a cheap whore to keep her safe, and I let them. But at least I was able to protect her because I wasn't hung up on my boss betraying me instead of fucking me."

CRACK

Leon felt the impact but could not register the pain as he was losing his balance. The backhand sent his body into a spiral and he would blame it on exhaustion that Chris actually got a hit on him. His ribs which were bruised from their mission slammed into the arm of the couch which was barely padded. He could definitely feel the sharp edge of its frame jam into his tender flesh. He was thankful that he kept himself from making a sound. It took him a moment to breathe through the pain and when he finally looked back up Chris was hovering over him, hands up and not touching him, and his face pinched in guilt and worry. He opened his mouth, probably about to apologize or ask what he needed or some other dumb caring thing that will just make Leon love the man more. He could not let that happen when he was already so vulnerable. He easily cut the other off, still keeping his cocky persona, "That all you got? I've been hit harder while getting railed on some nice fat cock."

It’s like your pretty boy face was made to be bruised, kid. 

The man cycled through many emotions which were etched clearly in his expressions. Shock, confusion, a strange grimace that Leon couldn't read, and then a grim determination that almost made the smaller man regret his words. Chris pulled him up easily by the front of his shirt. Grip so tight, that Leon can hear the fabric creaking in strain. His eyes burned with a frightening determination. His gaze flicked down to Leon's mouth, but he made no move to press his own against them. He took his other hand and shoved three thick fingers past those slightly parted lips and down his throat, making the DSO agent gag and moan around them. Fuck. Yes. His tongue quickly worked against the digits, trying desperately to memorize Chris' flavour since this will likely be his only chance with how furious the man seemed. His breath was being cut off in a delightful way and he decided then that he would take whatever he got tonight.

"You're right about one thing at least. You really are a cheap whore huh?" He pulled his fingers out of Leon's throat. He coughed and gasped for air, his legs shaking with arousal and something he couldn't quite explain. Drool dripped down his chin but that was the last thing on his mind as he looked up at Chris through hazy vision. The other man looked harsh, cold in a way he had never seen before. Leon's entire body trembled, help up only by the hand gripping his shirt. Leon was struggling with catching his breath, but Chris didn't seem to care, "absolutely pathetic. The great Leon S. Kennedy is such a slut that it just takes the promise of cock to make him listen."

Leon's world tipped off balance as Chris shoved him onto the bed, his back hitting the soft mattress. The plushness off it was a pleasant surprise but he did not have enough time to think about it as Chris' voice sliced through his thoughts.

"Strip."

Leon stared up at the other man for a moment, absently not believing this was happening. Chris, however, was out of patience, "Strip or I'll cut them off."

You’ll do anything to be stuffed full on a nice dick.

The threat was very serious from what Leon could tell. He scrambled up onto his knees and started undoing the buttons of his shirt. Apparently, the man was really fed up. As soon as the buttons were undone, he yanked the material down to Leon's wrists and deftly twisted it so that the man was trapped. He could easily get out if he tried but before he could he was pulled down the bed with the force of the tugs on his pants and boxers. He was quickly exposed to chilled air drafting from the windows. He wasn't sure if it was that or Chris fully clothed and towering over him that caused shivers to wrack through his body. He figured he probably went from predator to prey for the other man, his eyes wide and anxiety forming deep in his gut. It was quickly forgotten, though, as he was flipped onto him stomach and his ass pulled into to air. He tugged at the shirt tangled around his wrists. Leon managed to free then but not without leaving friction burns behind.

"Spread your legs." The command was simple, and Leon could not do anything but obey. Apparently, it wasn't good enough and Chris took a moment to jerk Leon's legs further apart, forcing him to bow his back unnaturally. He knew Chris was still fully clothed and that did so much to make Leon feel even more vulnerable beneath him. A large hand grabbed one cheek and spread it to expose the tight pink hole there. The feeling of cold air sending another shiver through his body. He had to force himself to remember that this was the only way Chris would touch him. He gasped as a dry thumb pushed against the tight ring of muscle, forcing it open. The dry pull of it thrusting in and out soon followed and Leon had to clench his jaw to hold in the sounds that wanted to pour out. He realized he was painfully hard which caused his face to redden. The flow of blood warring between flowing north and south made him dizzy. He felt like everything was swaying around him, adrift at sea and lost in the own torrent of his mind. The sharp pain of Chris' other thumb pushing into him was like the beam from a distant lighthouse.

You’ll spread your legs for anyone, won’t cha?

"If I didn’t already know how much of a slut you are, I do now that I see how loose your cunt is."

Leon could barely believe the words coming out of Redfield's mouth. They were filthy and caused the thump of his heart to be deafening. Leon hadn't had sex since-- well it's been a long time. Either way the words still made feel cheap and dirty, but the arousal was undeniable. In his embarrassment there was no words that he could say to fight back.

"Bet a whore like you doesn't even need lube."

He didn't take the words seriously until he felt Chris lean forward and spit harshly onto his spread hole. He wanted to cry but would not allow himself. As much as he did like it rough at times, this is not what his first time with Chris was like in any of his fantasies. This Chris was someone that he had only seen directed at his most heinous enemies. He was ripped out of thoughts when the larger man pulled his thumbs from his hole and quickly replaced them with three thick fingers. It was all too much at once and the sound that tore from his throat was a strange mix of a moan and sob. He rested his cheek on the bed and breathed raggedly through the painful stretch, pleasure still burning through his veins despite everything. He was given a few rough thrusts that provided no pleasure before they were yanked out.

Tense silence pervaded the room only disrupted by Leon’s ragged breath and the jingle of a belt being unbuckled. Leon could barely move except a slight adjustment to be able to watch Chris over his shoulder, sure the other man could see how much of a mess he was. The larger man’s eyes were impossibly dark, and lust was clear even through harsh downturn of both his brows and lips. The anger was clearly visible. Leon swallowed even though his mouth and throat had long gone dry.

C’mon comrade, I know a slut like you can take it. Don’t you disappoint me, now. 

"Fuck, Kennedy," the words were punched out between thrusts and clenched teeth, the man below him practically sobbing into his arm. Leon felt like he had lost time somewhere, but it was hard to tell with the miasma that was his psyche. His heaving chest was pressed into the bed and hips held in the air by a bruising grip. He was tight, not prepared nearly enough before he has speared on the obscenely large cock of one Chris Redfield. He practically wailed when a large hand came down on his ass.

"You just can't shut the fuck up, can you?"

The words pierced through his haze and doused him in shame.

"Such a whore. Bet you'd let anyone fuck you," Another harsh slap. He had stopped thrusting at the bruising intensity as he leaned down and pushed his mouth near Leon's ear, "You get passed around the office as a cocksleeve? I bet the reason you won't shut that slutty mouth is cause you need a dick down your throat to satisfy you."

I always knew you were mouthy. How ‘bout I teach you how to use it?

Cold was creeping through Leon, taking over the pleasured delirium he was previously in. Chris' comforting warmth, despite the previous harsh treatment, (and really that was Leon's fault anyway) was replaced with a familiar and oppressive weight of a body on top of him, taking what it wants. He wanted it to stop. His throat had closed, and it felt like his jaw was wired shut. He couldn't get a sound out. What had felt so euphoric moments ago speeding towards nightmarish. His chest was tight. He couldn't breathe. Was he even breathing? A hand on the space between his head and neck pushed him deeper into the bed and terror alike. He couldn't even fight back. This is what he had wanted wasn't it? He decided to piss Chris off and goad him into sex. Of course, the man would be rough. He hated Leon and he wanted the mouthy agent just to shut the fuck up.

When Leon tried to speak, all he could get out was a thready and pathetic whimper. He felt so small and weak with spots dancing in front of his eyes. He still couldn't tell if he was breathing, focus having closed in to racing thoughts and flashing memories. Rough, battle worn hands, a gun pressed to the back of his head then those hands around his throat pushing him down, a cold gravelly voice in his ear.

That's it comrade. You're so loose, you fuckin’ cocksleeve.

"Leon?"

Chris had been working up into a good rhythm, enjoying watching the gorgeous agent beneath him squirm on his cock. He never thought he would have a day when he would be able to fall into bed with Leon S. Kennedy of all people. Well, it was more like he had pushed the man, but it seemed that he liked it rough and mean and Chris was trying his best to do that for him. His concentration was broken by a small sound from below him. It sounded different from his previous noises, without a hint of pleasure. It was like ice went through his veins as he looked at his bedpartner.

Leon was barely moving. He was practically panting, and his breath wheezed out of him harshly. His eyes were distant and unfocused with tears flowing freely down his cheeks. Blood oozed from his lip where he seemed to have bitten it at one point. Chris instantly loosened his grip on the back of Leon’s head as his protective instincts took over. This clearly was not right to him. Even if he had never been with Leon in such an intimate way before, it felt off. He pulled out from the man, dick already softening as his panic overtook him. When he released Leon’s hip he fell limply against the bed. It reminded Chris sickeningly of a marionette with its strings cut.

“Leon?” He crawled up the bed to lean over the man. He did not seem to notice Chris. He tried calling his name again, but there was no response. He lifted his hand to place it on Leon’s shoulder, and before he could the man flinched violently, another small whimper whistling from his throat. His gaze locked on the larger man’s form. Chris still was not sure that Leon was completely seeing him. He reached out again, this time carefully telegraphing his movements. He could tell that the other was tracking his movements sluggishly with his eyes, but the flinch when Chris made contact was much more subtle.

He just rested his hand on Leon’s shoulder and let the man work through his panic with silent support. It took a painfully long time for the smaller man’s breathing to slow to a even a marginally reasonable pace. Chris didn’t think he was fully back to the present, but the panic seemed to dull enough for him to be comfortable with bundling Leon against him. He ripped the blanket from where it was tucked into the bed as an afterthought and wrapped it around both of them. Leon hadn’t lashed out or freak out more, which Chris decided to take as a good sign. He settled in to wait for Leon to come back to reality, the silence leaving space for an unbearable guilt.

[charmixpower]

Issue Thirty-Five: The Trial

Ah yes because of the safety and defense of Andros, Solaria, ect is the responsibility of the magic schools on Magix

I wasn't aware that they were military outposts and not schools!!!

The way they treat the schools in the comics bothers me soooo much

Kiko has wings now, asking questions will only confuse you more

"here let me show you what my students were doing" *immediately shows two people from a different school*

Bravo actually

HOW THE FUCK DID THEY EVEN GET TO VALTOR!!!! WHO LET THEM INTO THE OMEGA DIMENSION!!!!! SERIOUSLY!!!!

And expelled.....god the comics are worse than the show about sensical punishments for the Trix

This fucking idiot is annoying and stupid but he has a fucking point, who the fuck was watching the Trix and how did they let them end up on Omega in the first place

But like it's not anyone's fault that the Trix in the comics are just naturally evil

You're both so stupid. When they immediately betray your dumbasses and nearly gets you two killed I hope it will be worth it

A TRUE FUCKING NECK BEARD OH MY GODDD

Why is Stormy pretending to be Flora??? Darcy makes more sense and Flora and Stormy are VERY different

This only worked because there were fat away

Also, reverse S8 shape shifting

If Helia got closer, the other guy is a literal tree, he would have figured out this was a trap but he doesn't

He kinda follows them around from a polite distance, which is really funny

FLORA DOESN'T EVEN GET A CHANCE TO FEEL SAD!!! GIRL FEEL BAD FOR YOURSELF FOR ONE MINUTE, YOUR MOM FRIEND ENERGY IS MAKING ME TIRED

You know this dream had her actually communicating with Brandon so I got to wonder if that's actually Valtor

This sequence is so beautiful!!!

How Stella spoke to Brandon in her dreams is brushed off, she simply did, power of LOVE baby

When Riven fucked up and nearly got the squad killed Helia was all like "I must take responsibility and accept this because I was leader while it happened and it's my fault" but now he's lying

He's embarrassed!!! Helia bby nooo it's okay

.... Actually I agree with dumb and dumber now, you are one stupid ass mother fucker and I don't know how anyone in the light council made it into adulthood being that idiotic

BCJDHFJSJD HELIA WHY ARE YOU BEING SO DRAMATIC HELP FNSNDJSK A SIMPLE EXPLANATION WOULD SUFFICE

He's soooo busy being in his own feelings and upset with himself he forgot about how Flora must feel gjsnfjsks he's such a little idiot Im starting to love him

Riven: *fucks up and nearly gets himself and Timmy killed*

Helia: well we all make mistakes, as long as he apologizes and promises to not do it again

Later

Helia: *makes one mistake*

Helia: I AM A FAILURE OF THE HIGHEST ORDER, I MESS UP EVERYTHING, I CANT BE ALLOW TO CONTINUE TO RUIN THE GOOD NAME OF SPECIALISTS

This boy has NO self esteem babyyyyyyy

I love him, please get therapy your self esteem has broken though the floor and is underground

[anonymous1038]

Revenge

@ila-appreciationweek day 3

(cw: implied abusive relationship and bullying)

That arrogant little shit.

Cody has been thinking about that shitbag ever since he was driven away from the party by his friends, all of them leaping to his defense almost immediately.

It makes his rage boil to the surface. It boils in his bones, in his blood, in his entire body.

“Little fucker…” He hissed, kicking a loose stone into the air, fishing his phone out of his pocket and going to his contacts, finding a specific one almost immediately. “And to think I gave him love when he wanted it…”

Cody remembered middle school very, very well. How his eye caught a very peculiar and stupid looking head of shaved lavender hair. How he gave him the kindness and affection he craved for from whatever the hell happened to his friend.

And he rejected him.

Jasper Bright rejected him.

They say time heals all wounds, but for Cody, those wounds only got worse overtime.

It’s why he targeted Jasper in particular. As revenge for turning him down. As revenge saying all that shit about him.

Yeah, he only kicked him a few times, but it was to make him stronger.

Yeah he pulled his hair too hard, but he couldn’t look at him in the eyes while he was talking. He deserved it.

He deserved everything coming his way.

He presses the call button to Jocelyn’s number, and soon he hears her voice.

“Yo, heard the shit that went down.”

Cody spent the next five minutes ranting to her about how ungrateful Jasper is and how much of he hates him and his friends.

“Yeah, fuck that guy. Nerdy little loser.”

“And you know what? I think I should get some revenge on him. A prank. Catch my drift?”

“What drift? That twerp wrecked your car didn’t he?”

Cody doesn’t bother to correct her.

“You’ll see.”

.~.

Cody waits outside Britney’s house until he caught sight of a red jacket and lavender hair leaving the property, talking animatedly with that pretentious student body president.

But what really set him off was the linked hands.

They were holding hands.

They were holding hands.

Jocelyn said earlier that Britney caught them both kissing in her dad’s office or whatever, but seeing it in person made him sick.

It made him mad.

“You want to stay at my house tonight?” Jasper asks, rubbing soothing circles over Lucas’s hand. “Your parents probably won’t appreciate you staying out late.”

“I’ll be fine. They come home late on this day so they won’t notice.”

They give each other a kiss on the cheek. Cody struggles to not gag at the sight.

“Walk home safe.”

“You too.”

.~.

Jasper turns around every few minutes as he takes the path to his house, Cody taking extra care to not be noticed as he follows him.

As he stalks him, a thought creeps into his mind.

Why the hell should he do it at his house?

Why not do it right now?

His mind made up, he looks around to make sure no one is able to see him. It was late and barely anyone is on the streets.

Once Jasper is away from the light of a streetlamp, he rushes forward.

“Hu-“

He slumps to the ground before he had a chance to scream, out like a light.

Cody takes his unconscious form into his arms, heading in the direction of his house.

.~.

Cody opens the basement door and walks down the steps, flipping the light switch on and seeing the stirring form of Jasper Bright, wrists chained to the wall. A groan escapes his throat as he looks around, the light forcing him to keep his eyes shut for a few seconds.

He comes forward and yanks his hair, earning a yelp.

“Hey, Jaspy.” He spat out the nickname like it’s poison.

That seemed to get a reaction out of Jasper, his eyes widening and blinking a few times, dread and terror crossing his features.

“…Cody?”

“Hey, love.”

Jasper glares at him.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Where’s your little nerdy loser friends to tell me that, hmm? Where’s your boyfriend at?”

The way the word boyfriend left Cody’s mouth is reminiscent of venom.

“Wh…what?” Metal cuffs prevent flesh from moving, and panic crosses his face as he looks back and sees the chains. He begins to tug at them, trying to break free.

Cody kicks him in the stomach. It stops the thrashing as he heaves from the impact.

“Listen here, you’re never going to leave this place again. Not until you make up for what happened in middle school.”

“…fu…fuck…you.” Jasper looks up at him with pure hatred. “You hurt me. How can I ever be with you?”

“You will be. One way or another.”

Cody smirks.

“But suit yourself. Rot here until you yield. Can’t wait to see all the missing posters of you at school.”

[sw33tsuccubus]

My Bloody Romance

kobra kid x reader

summary: Kobra is a creep

A/N: reupload for anon

TW: mentions of blood

He was always there. Wherever you went. So why were you surprised? Even you didn’t know. 

There he was, sat across from you, clad in a tiger print tank top. His smile was unnerving, and you weren’t used to seeing his eyes. He always wore pure black sunglasses.

“Are you awake?”

His voice, smooth and sounding unusually creepy, drew your attention back to the situation. You gave the man you once called your friend a small nod, and his smile widened.

“That’s great! I’m so happy to have you here! I’ve been looking all over for you, y’know.”

You cringed at his words. You had left the motel ages ago, having found a run-down trailer park and being welcomed in. You were sure those ‘joys would look for you, but in the meantime, you were stuck with Kobra.

“Where did you go? I missed you.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Right! Because you’re here now.”

Kobra stood and made his way over to you, grabbing hold of your shoulders. He leaned in and kissed you. You would have punched him, if you could have. Stupid fucker tied you to the chair.

Once he pulled back, he sighed happily.

“Oh, how I’d dreamed of that.”

You scowled at him, looking away.

“What’s wrong, dear? How are you not happy?”

He grabbed your chin, turning your head to look at him. His thumb went to trace your lips when you didn’t answer, and you bit him. He yanked his hand back and used the other to slap you.

He took a deep breath, and forced his smile back, going to caress your cheek, the one he had slapped.

“Sorry about that, dear. Didn’t mean to snap like that. Are you okay?”

You looked at him with disdain, and he shook his head. 

“I don’t understand why you won’t return my affection. I only want to take care of you.”

“I’m tied up, Kobra. Can’t really do anything.”

Kobra weighed things out in his head. You could return affection if he untied you, but you had bitten him. He hummed, trying to decide. He finally knelt down to untie the ropes, and you decided to wait. You would get a chance.

As soon as he stood back up, you got up and hugged him. He happily returned the affection, and you leaned in to kiss him. The kisses trailed down his neck, and you felt yourself get close to his jugular. You had been raised for self defense. If you needed to rip his throat out to escape, you would.

The moment your teeth made contact with the skin, Kobra’s fingertips sunk into your skin and yanked you to the side. Taken off guard, you stumbled to the ground.

“Why are you like this?”

He sunk to his knees beside you, extracting a knife. You tried scrambling away, but his elbow landed on your stomach. You wheezed, trying to gain your breath.

“I’m impatient. You know that. Either love me now, or never. I’ll have your body either way, dear.”

“You’re gonna fuck my corpse?”

You wheezed out, letting out a small chuckle. If you were going down, you would go down laughing.

“No. I would just love it. If it asked me to fuck it, I would.”

That was when you decided he was actually insane. You might as well go down.

“You disgust me, y’know. I left for a reason.”

Kobra narrowed his eyes, his hand reaching your throat. He gave it a light squeeze, letting you know what he was capable of. The point of the knife poked your side.

“What would Party think of this? Your dear sibling seeing their little brother murdering someone because they didn’t love him.”

“Shut up!”

A vein bulged in Kobra’s neck, and you could feel the knife poke in a small bit. You knew him; if he was in a knife fight, he aimed for certain point. You assumed he would aim for your liver.

“Party didn’t care about me! They just wanted to live and be famous!”

You knew that wasn’t true. Party loved Kobra, wanted to live with him until the end. Getting taken by BL/i wasn’t their plan.

You wouldn’t stand for him talking about Party like that.

“Party loved you, jackass. Don’t talk about them like that.”

“Don’t tell me you like them more too!”

Kobra growled out the words, and you gave him a look of disgust. He was acting animalistic. This was getting ridiculous; what even happened to him?

“I don’t like anyone. Even if I did, it wouldn’t be you.”

“Stop it!”

“It’s the truth, you need to confront that.”

“Never.”

He hissed it out, and you felt his grip on your neck tighten. A lot. You let out a small gasp, your hands grabbing onto Kobra’s wrist. Little wheezy sounds came from you as he tightened his grip more; he could see your face turn red, your eyes slightly bulge out.

He smiled manically as he plunged the knife into your side. You let out a gasp, feeling tears stream down your face. He extracted the knife, only to stab the opposite side of your torso. He then went to brush the hair out of your face.

Your eyesight started blurring drastically as he brushed strands of hair out of your face.

“Oh how beautiful you are. All red, just because of little ol’ me.”

Mustering as much strength as you could, you brought up a shaking hand. Small groans escaped your mouth as you stuck up  your middle finger. Kobra’s small smile fell as his face darkened.

“I can’t wait for you to be dead. At least your corpse won’t be such a bratty bitch.”

He let go of your throat and you let out deep breaths, just for him to plunge the knife straight through your neck. Everything was fading so fast, and all you could see above you was Kobra’s face forming into a loving smile.

[obetrolncocktails]

That's Alright, Mama | Josh Kiszka X Reader

Warnings: ATTENTION-- Minors absolutely DNI. This fic is not for the faint of heart and it is definitely not everyone's thing, so please be advised. Alcohol consumption, degradation, Unprotected Sex, name calling, impact play, slight mention of breath play, pain, spitting, BODY SHOTS, explicit language, sub/dom/brat galore--this fic constantly shifts between who is leading and who is following, and I love how it turned out. You have been OFFICIALLY warned. Proceed at your own risk.

Word Count: 4.5K

A/N: You horny fuckers asked for it, so I made sure to give it to you with a fucking cherry on top. I hope you guys enjoy my demented brain and whatever appears in this fic. It was my goal to make this sinful and I think I may have gotten it too sinful, if that's even possible. Huge thanks to @gretavanlace and @capturethechaos for reading this bullshit and whispering sweet nothings in my ear while I worked. Love you guys 💜

“Well, ladies and gentlemen, this one’s for you.” Josh throws his arm up in the air on stage, his pointer finger extended out to the crowd before landing on you, seated just above stage left. There’s a slight lull in the band before Jake begins to play the familiar rockabilly riff that sends you straight to hell. “That’s alright, Mama. That’s alright for you.That's all right mama, just anyway you do.”

What a little fucker. That song is your weakness and it is rare when the band performs it, but when they do, it makes you squirm in your pants every time. He has a shit ton of nerve to perform this song in public knowing what happened the last time.

 “Oh, mama. Why so upset?” He purred later that night. “Got you a little too worked up? Did you ruin your panties with your own slick watching me perform for everyone?” 

The way that you had fucked that night left you begging for more, but he made sure to save it for another day–and damn if tonight wasn’t that fucking night. He knew that you loved it when he would sing in his low register, loved it even more when he could tease you with it. Tonight, you sit in your seat, wanting nothing more than to tear Josh’s stupid fucking jumpsuit off and fuck him on sight. 

“Alright, LA! Goodnight, aha!” You watch intently as he runs off stage. You rise from your seat, politely excusing yourself from the small strands of fans who know who you are. While you would usually spend as much time with them as you could, tonight, you had one goal and one goal only. You knew he’d be ready and waiting for you, too. 

You stomp your way past security, flashing them your crew lanyard, making your way backstage to the sectioned off area for the band and their crew. Your eyes trace every head and face, searching for Josh. All you had to do was look Jake in the eye for him to raise his hands in defense. “Wasn’t me, he put it on there at the last minute.” 

Your face blushed immediately, “What the fuck are you talking about, Jake?” You step forward, invading his space. “Put what on there at the last minute?” 

“That’s Alright.” He eyes you with raised eyebrows and a knowing smirk. 

You huffed loudly. Is there anything sacred? “Why the fuck would he tell you that?” That earns an even wider smirk from Jake, “We talk, Y/n. Take it up with him. I’m innocent. Need to see my white flag?” 

Jake takes his ear pieces out, putting them back into the case and continues on to grab his guitar from one of the stage hands.

“And where is he anyway?” You ask, looking around. Jake turns to you while placing the guitar in his case.

“Said he was grabbing a drink. Check the dressing room. Don’t worry. It locks.” He winks at you before snapping the case shut and walking off to join Jita who was talking with Danny and Sam. 

You march off towards the elevators, thinking about what to say when you see Josh’s smug face. Entering the elevator, you choose the floor down and wait for it to arrive. You spend a moment checking the notifications on your phone. When it dings, your attention remains focused on your phone as you step forward. The doors open and you step out–at least you were going to. 

“Just on time,” You hear his voice first before raising your attention upward, seeing his hand holding the elevator. “Miss me?” He obviously wants to play with you today, but he won’t tame you so easily. The exciting thing about your relationship was that you are both equally matched when it comes to being bratty with one another. You step forward, brushing past him. 

“You’re a cocky son of a bitch,” You spit at him, struggling to conceal the smirk that threatened the corners of your mouth.

“Cocky? Whatever could you mean, Y/n?” He looks at you with an innocent-looking expression. He knew exactly what he was doing.

“Stop with the eyes, Joshua.” You look at him intently, raising an eyebrow. “You did that on purpose. Even Jake fucking knew. What the fuck is wrong with you?” You step towards him.

“Oh I get it. Mmm,” He says, nodding his head and wagging his finger at you. “I got you weak in the knees, didn’t I? Choosing the bitchy angle so I don’t see that there is nothing but sex in your eyes and cum in your panties. What did I tell you last time, Y/n?” You lower your eyebrows in a grimace, but struggle to maintain eye contact with him. “I told you that I wasn’t done with you. Remember, I didn’t call you down here. You found me on your own–because let’s both be honest with one another,” He paused for a second, swirling his finger in a circular shape in the air. “We go round and round and round chasing the glory of that first orgasm. Trust me when I say that if we enter behind that door,” He gestures over his shoulder to the dressing room, “There is no going back.” 

“What the fuck are you waiting for, then?” You ask as you throw your hands up to the collar of his jumpsuit, pulling him into you. “This. I was waiting for this, Y/n.” He chuckles at you, which only makes you hornier. 

“You know, I’ve been thinking about fucking you all night, could you tell?” Being so close to him, you could feel his breath on your skin. 

“I think you just wanted to piss me off.” You bit back, pulling the material of his top down his shoulders.

“Piss you off? Please. You’re not pissed, baby. You want me to fuck you so badly that you resort to anger to downplay the fact that your panties are soaked through. Even I can feel your clit throbbing right now as we speak.” Suddenly, you feel his hand squeezing at your clothed pussy, eliciting a soft gasp to fall from your lips. 

“That’s not true,” you attempted, throwing his hand back. “Y-you know I hate that song.”

“Only because you wish I wouldn’t sing it in front of fifteen thousand other women who want to fuck me just as much as you do.” You couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you drunk?” Your eyes widen with surprise.

“Would you like me to be? We could solve that easily.” You roll your eyes, groping for his hand, pulling him toward the dressing room.

“Come,” You order simply, satisfied when he gives in, following you. 

“One rule, Mama. Don’t pretend you’re in charge here.” He eyes you intently, his expression is unreadable. “Strip. Naked. Give me your panties.” You raise an eyebrow at him. “For a souvenir.”

“You are so fucked up,” You sneer at him, unable to stifle the wicked grin mixing into the expression.

“Not enough to stop you from coming back.”

You undress completely, handing him your panties in a wad. “So fucking wet,” He murmurs, bringing them to his face to smell. You watch as he rubs the tips of his thumb and index finger along the crotch of your underwear, making an obvious display of your arousal. 

Pointing to the couch, he begins to speak again, careful to not waste a single word. “Lay down. On your back.” You begin to protest, struggling with losing control.

“Y/n. Stop. You’re fucking pathetic.” You swallow, the sting of his words cutting into you, but not nearly enough to stop the wetness that is beginning to slip down your thighs. “We both know you want me to break you, so stop with the show that I didnt fucking pay for. Lay down.”

 “Yes sir.” You resign yourself to him, feeling your body buzzing with electricity, wanting with every firing synapse for him to ravage you completely. You do as you’re told and lay on the couch, waiting for further direction. 

“I’m feeling…a bit too sober right now,” you hear him say, his voice traveling towards the stocked bar cart that is placed on the opposite side of the room. “Vodka makes me laugh…” his voice trails off and you can imagine his fingertips hovering about the slew of bottles as he makes his selection. “Tequila makes me cocky, but I don’t need much help with that tonight.” There is a pause before you hear bottles clinking against one another. “Ah. Fireball. Makes me a horny son of a bitch.” You hear him uncapping the bottle, lifting it from the cart. “Those sexy girls on the barricade got me started with a few shots already. All I had to do was give them a little wink and there we go, got a few mini bottles.” He walks towards the center of the room, lifting the bottle in mid air, swigging down the liquor as if it were spring water. “The thing is, Y/n–I could have fucked any one of them tonight, and there wouldn’t be a goddamned thing you could have done about it.” Anger flames within you, making it impossible to stay quiet. 

“Why didn’t you, then?” You furrow your eyebrows, but realize that you’re only fueling his satisfaction.

“Sex is always better when you have to work for it, isn’t that right, Y/n? You’d just want me to fuck any woman with a hot, wet pussy? We both know that’s a lie.” He slings back another drunkening lot of whiskey, wiping sloppily at his mouth with the back of his hand. “I like watching you burn with jealousy.”

“Fuck you,” You spit, sitting up suddenly, turning to him. “Oh and fuck you, I will. You’re so wet hearing me speak–I know that you are making a mess of that poor couch.” He flicks his hand in the air. “I’ll just pay the venue for another. If you want to stay, you can. You are allowed to leave whenever. If you stay, I will fuck you to tears–and I will not apologize. So, what will it be, darling?”

You are speechless, but you didn’t want to leave. You wanted to punch the fuck out of him…and fuck him. Whichever came first. Suddenly, you fly up to him, throwing your fist towards him, hoping to crack him on the cheek, but your attempt is ruined when you feel him catch your arm just as quickly, raising it over your head. In an extended moment of heated silence, you stare into his eyes. 

I hate you, but I want to fuck you. But I hate you, you’re a fucking asshole. But, Jesus Fucking Christ.

Your body decides before your brain can, toppling into Josh with the force that knocks him backwards, the bottle almost falling out of his grip and into the floor. His free hand pulls you in, smashing his lips against yours. His breath is ragged with lust, and you can taste the liquor upon each exhalation and within every kiss. 

“Josh,” You moan against his lips, letting his hands grope hungrily about your body. 

“Do you want me?” He says in a barely there whisper, his lips coming to graze yours. 

“I need you. Now. Please.” Josh backs away slightly, lifting your head slightly with the tip of his fingers. “Do you know what you are signing up for?” His eyes are dark, deepening with the possibility of what could occur if you say yes. “You want out? Just say…fireball. I’ll stop completely and you can leave.” You nod with understanding. 

“Yes, I understand, and I am telling you to fuck me–right here, right now.” You meet his gaze with matched intensity, challenging him. 

“Get on your back. Actually do it this time.” You do what he asks immediately, laying down flat on the couch, wiggling your body to find the most comfortable position. 

“Up for a little fun?” Josh asks, biting at his bottom lip as he approaches you. 

You nod your head slowly, moving your eyes along the slope of his shoulders and down his bare chest. When he arrives beside you, you feel his hand at your jaw. 

“Open up.” 

You do what you’re told immediately, unsure what is about to happen. Your eyes dart to the whiskey bottle as Josh tilts it back to his lips, taking a generous mouthful. You feel his thumb pull your bottom lip back slightly as he leans down over you, releasing the warm liquid into your mouth. “A gift,” He murmurs softly, closing your mouth gently with the curve of his knuckle. “Figured you could relax a little.” You swallow the alcohol down, feeling it burn at the back of your throat. Soon, its warmth blooms in your belly, calming the edge off slightly, but you know you’ll need more soon. 

“Stay still, let me look at you.” Josh’s eyes scan your body intensely and you swear that you can almost see hunger in them. “Never done this before, let’s try it.” There’s not much liquor left in the bottle, most of it drained down Josh’s throat. With his thumb, he covers almost all of the opening of the bottle, leaving just enough space for liquid to flow through in a thin, direct stream. Getting on his knees, he edges towards you, tilting the bottle at a forty-five degree angle just above your belly button. When the drink finally hits your skin, a shutter racks your body, causing an array of goosebumps to appear all over.

 “Cold?” He says after a satisfied chuckle. “I’ll warm you up, mama.” Craning his neck down, his tongue glides along the smoothness of your skin, lapping at the liquid that has managed to drip in a long line down the curve of your side, one down your belly just before the dip of your pussy, and another that trickles down just before your breast bone. “Got a little messy, didn’t it?” 

“Mmhmm,” you respond in agreement. As your belly rises and falls with your breath, Josh continues to draw small circles about your skin before finally dragging the flat of his tongue upon your belly, sucking and slurping the bitter liquor out of the curve of your belly button.You close your eyes, mapping out his movement when they suddenly spring back open from the sting of Josh’s teeth nipping into your skin.

“Relax mama.” You moan softly as he peppers your skin with angry splotches. “I want you to remember this.” His lips encircle one of your nipples, and you find your fingers knitting themselves through his frizzy curls. Rising slightly from you, he starts, “Mm, you acted so hurt, so pissed, yet you tremble with need under my touch. His index finger draws circles into the softness of your skin. “What would you like me to do to you, hmm?” 

Finally given permission to talk, you reach for his hands, pulling them to your sides. “I need you to fuck me like you own me–make me your fucktoy that you use however you want or need. Bend me to your will.” You say the words in a low, gravely tone, not a trace of insecurity or hesitation. 

“Is that really what you want? Me to fuck you raw?” His eyes glint with deviant fascination, his fingertips digging into your hips. “I may not be the tallest man in the world, but I can guarantee that I will fuck you like I am.” Your nipples spring fully erect in response to his words. 

“Then why are you hesitating?” You snip with a flat expression, taking a free hand to draw shapes upon your chest as you wait for him to finally take everything from you. He is silent for a moment before snatching you up by the chin. 

“Keep talking shit and I'll show you the other things I can do with that mouth of yours.” His eyes are deep with concentration and you can see the growing erection in his pants just out of the corner of your eye. He is getting off on roughing you up.

His hands move to your hips again, throwing you towards one end of the couch so that he can join you. Quickly, he frees himself out of the jumpsuit, letting the clothing fall to the floor in a heap. He is not wearing underwear, which makes you chuckle. You didn’t mean to make it obvious, but he heard it. He strikes you firmly against the breasts before barking, “I know you’re not laughing at me. You’re not that fucking stupid.”

He is well-plied with alcohol, and though you hadn’t ever fucked this Josh, every fiber of your being wants him to tear you apart, make you cry, call you any and every degrading name that he can come up with; the best part is that you knew that he will do it. 

“Just for that, you don’t get my tongue. Sucks for you, because I know just how to use it on your sopping cunt.” Getting on the couch, he works with your legs, moving them to the side, only to constantly struggle with the position that you end up in each time. The angles are horrendous, and there is not enough room for him to be able to work. “Fuck,” you hear him grunt through gritted teeth, frustration painted all over his face. “Guess the floor will have to work, won’t it?” 

You are surprised with the tenderness he shows while lifting you, his hands wrapping around you with ease, coming to place you gently on the floor. Though  you’re sure he didn’t intend for it to leak through his drunken exterior, Josh’s true personality glimmers upon his touch, betraying the character ever-so-slightly. 

The thought is pulled away when he spreads your legs wide with his knees and guiding his cock into your entrance, fucking into you with no preparation, no foreplay, and no guilt. “I told you no tongue. What did you expect, hmm?” He pauses for a moment before slamming into you again. “You’re really tight for a whore,” He says with a low, gravely tone. You whimper as he fucks you, feeling bombared by arousal. His words would have usually cut you down, but tonight all they do is push you further into ecstasy. 

“Do anything to me, Josh. Anything. Degrade me.” You break his rule, speaking out of turn, but you can’t bring yourself to care. You keep your eyes on him as he leans over you, letting his hands catch himself as they palm the floor at either side of your body. “Fuck.” He says before throwing a hand down in between your thighs, rubbing at your swollen clit. “You really do like this, don’t you? When I call you my little cum slut? My cock whore? Has a nice ring to it.” The flat of his fingertips sweet erratically upon your clit, filling the room with absurd, sloppy noise. Your back arches reflexively against the overwhelming action. 

”How are you gonna feel when there’s dried cum stains all over this filthy floor from what I do to you? Everytime we come back to perform, I’ll think of you.” Your eyes screw shut, and you find yourself struggling to remember to breathe. “What’s on your mind mama? What are you thinking about?”

“I–I would have let you fuck me in front–of the entire arena had you asked.” He fucks you even harder in response, removing his hand from you to scrounge for your hips, pulling them up off of the floor and onto his thighs, resuming his previous pace.

“Maybe next time. You’re a freak for wanting people to watch us fuck like animals.” You can’t help but chuckle. “Let them watch. I’m the one winning, anyway.” To your surprise, Josh doesn’t punish you, instead, he leans over you, sinking into your lips. “You are magically fucking wicked.” His arms wrap around you, pulling you off of the floor in a sitting position. “I want you to bounce on my cock. Show me you’re worth more than tits and ass.” He mutters the words sloppily, letting his lips, tongue and teeth drag down the long line from your collarbone and down between your breasts to your belly. Your skin glows from the contact with his teeth, leaving you burning. Wrapping your legs around his back, you use the gained leverage to bounce up and down, the new angle sending a shock of pleasure through your body. 

“Fucking Christ,” You whimper, tossing the looseness of your hair behind your back, pulling your arms around Josh’s neck. You busy your fingers at the nape of his neck, pulling and straightening out the sweaty curls. This new position allows for deeper penetration at different angles, each one adding to the overwhelming sensation growing in your core. You can hear the grunts and whimpers that he is trying so hard to conceal. “I can hear you, baby. Let it out. I know I make you weak.” He bucks wildly into you, his fingertips stabbing into you. Opening your eyes, you can see that his face is twisted with exertion, his curls glistening with sweat. “Fuck! Josh, right there–harder–” You yelp, throwing your hands to his shoulders. “Oh my god!” The words escape your lips at high volume, and you weren't prepared for his hand to slap at your mouth to keep you from talking. “If they hear us–I'll either be arrested, or–” You reach for his hand, wrenching it from your mouth. “I don’t fucking care. I said to fuck me like you own me. So shut up and do it.”

You can see his Adam's apple rise and fall as he swallows, considering your words. “Just know that I won’t be gentle.” His head dips into the crook of your neck, and suddenly you feel something warm dripping down your skin. It takes you a moment to realize that he spit on you, only to lap it back up in a long line, ending just before the curve of your jaw. “Own you? I can do that. Turn around and get on your knees. Head down, ass up.” You crawl off of him and assume the position, waiting patiently for him as your ass wags in the air. He rises, watching you shift position, busying himself by stroking his cock. When you are settled and waiting,  you feel his hands rub along the roundness of your ass. “So beautiful at every fucking angle, especially this one.” 

He plummets into you completely with the first thrust, and you can hear the groans escaping his throat as he withdraws his cock again, stopping just before revealing his pink tip. He teases you with a moment of nothingness before falling into you again, causing your body to shake from the momentum and impact. 

“Josh, fuck-oh my–fuck,” you growl, feeling your elbows grind into the scatchy carpet. 

“Ass higher.” He smacks the flat of his hand hard against your ass, enthused when it jiggles in response from the strike. You do your best to appease him, lowering your chest closer to the floor, and arching your back in a defined curve upward. Suddenly, searing white pain fills your senses. Josh has pulled your head back by your hair, his fist knotted into the shaft of your hair. For a moment, you consider the safeword that he had selected, but the pleasure is far too immense for you to attempt to stop. Choked gurgles escape your throat as he fucks you so roughly. You can feel your pussy throbbing and can assume that it is dripping in the most obscene display. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” He releases your hair in order to focus on his orgasm, and you do your best to make the moment count, throwing your ass back against his cock.

 “I can take–all of you,” you release in a strangled tone. He continues to pummel you, gravity forcing your body to slam against the floor. Against your cheek, you feel the texture of the floor rubbing your face raw. “I’m yours. Take it all. Steal it,” you moaned, withdrawing completely from any desire to test his dominance. 

“Not before I make you cum. I might be an asshole, but I’m not evil.” His hand retreats from your ass, looping down once more to your pussy, rubbing furiously at your clit, stopping and starting at random intervals. Your body convulses against his touch, and the only thing you can do is push yourself against him, needing so badly for him to take you to your limit. “I know you’re close, Mama. I’m saving mine so we can fall apart together. You just have to let go.” 

You aren’t far behind him, feeling your core exploding against his shaft. His fingers do not relent or slow. Quite the opposite, he increases the pace and frenzy of his hands. “Let. Go.” He orders in a brusk tone, but you were already long gone for him to worry any longer. 

 “Oh my fucking G–” You manage to get out before crumpling from the orgasm.

“No! Stay there,” Josh reprimands, fucking into you repeatedly as you struggle to find your footing. His body collapses into yours with a slew of expletives, his hips slapping forcefully against you, sending you almost toppling over. He holds you in this precarious position for as long as he can, savoring every second of pleasure. Finally, he wraps his arms around you, pulling out and pulling you up at once to embrace you.

 “I’m sorry…it went a little too far this time.” He murmured softly in your ear. The funny thing is, you would have let him tear you apart again and again if he fucked you just like this every single time. You turn your body to face him, looking him directly in the eye. 

“I never asked you to take it easy on me. I said to fuck me like you own me–no need to apologize for doing your job.” Reaching up for his chin with your fingertips, you pull him down to you. “I always have something up my sleeve, Josh. I’ve got you wrapped around my finger, just like you’ve got me wrapped around your cock. “And the ‘glory’ of the first time? I think you’ve outdone yourself.” You kiss him deeply, softening the moment. 

“Thank the fireball, mama. Oh, and lots and lots of jealousy.” His smile spreads across your lips, the beauty of his features melting you so much that you don’t care to argue, instead, you reach an arm behind him and smack his bare ass as hard as you can. 

“Next time–I’ll have you on the floor, ass up. You call me wicked? You’ve seen nothing yet.”

***

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[sukirichi]

sweet lies [03.final]

His lies were way too sweet – and you were too addicted to make him stop.

cw. toxic! megumi, SEXY TOXIC MEGUMI 🥵, toxic college settings, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasm, orgasm denial, explicit smut, car sex, biting, scratching, sukuna is a sex god, MEGUMI WITH A LIP RING, slight angst

note. FINALLY FINISHED THIS SERIES AAAAHHH I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKED THIS I HAD A LOT OF FUN WITH THIS SERIES TYSM FOR EVERYTHING! lotsa lub lub for each and everyone of you! anyways let me just say...sweet lies sukuna can politely rail me.

series masterlist | 01 | 02 | 03

It’s…a different story when you have to move back and forth between your newly made acquaintance slash fuck buddy, Sukuna, to your actual fuck buddy and crush, Megumi.

Sukuna’s polite enough to not meddle into your business as he’s promised, which you’re extremely thankful for, but you should’ve known the bubble of happiness would pop the moment you stepped out of your apartment. You’ve left your phone unattended and on silent, earbuds always placed inside to ignore Megumi’s calls.

It’s funny, actually, that he’s never replied much to you before other than occasional dick pic and ‘you awake baby?’ but ever since you’ve been…pre-occupied, suddenly you’re on top of his contacts.

You grumble at the vibration of your phone, Megumi’s name flashing on the screen. Back then, you would’ve soared and jumped to pick up the call, voice sultry and toes pointed at the ceiling as you try to keep in your giggles. Now, you’re dreading it, glaring at his annoyingly handsome contact icon that used to make your heart skip a beat. You’re studying in the library and have been doing a terrific job at avoiding him so far, and today won’t be any different.

With a sigh, you completely flip your phone upside down and turn back to your book. You’re on the second line of the paragraph when you feel large, warm hands caress the back of your neck, tilting you upwards to meet his curious – and certainly annoyed – blue eyes.

“Babe,” Megumi drawls out, minty breath fanning your cheeks.

He looks absolutely stunning today, plain and casual yet so handsome in just a black hoodie and sweatpants, his dark hair slicked back to reveal his forehead. For a guy who sure pounded into your skill he had no interest in you that went beyond sexual, he sure did know you well enough, the slight tugging of his lips a sign he could easily read through you. It makes you huff away from him, scooting – trying is the keyword – away from his touch. Megumi’s persistence leads him into you placing you right above his lap and cages you between his arms, chin on your shoulder and his breath floating over your ear.

You can’t help but squirm in embarrassment. Half of the students in the campus library have turned to look at you, and Megumi merely smiles at the attention, audacious enough to kiss the shell of your ear.

Fuck him, fuck him, fuck him! In reality, you really do want to fuck him.

“Why have you been ghosting me?”

“I wasn’t ghosting you, Megumi, it’s called being busy. You ever tried doing homework?”

“You’re so mean to me today,” he pouts, but that pout soon brightens into a smile when you scowl at him. Megumi, albeit never really paying attention to you, your facial expressions have registered as second nature to him now. It doesn’t take much before you soften under his hold, still as mushy as ever, and the nasty fucker basks in it proudly. “There’s a party tonight at Okkotsu’s house, said his parents were away in Greece or some rich family shit. Wanna come and get wasted with me?”

“I don’t know, Megs, I have an essay to finish…”

“Come on, it’s just one night. It won’t hurt,” he shrugs and sways you to side to side, causing your heart to sway side to side in giddiness. It’s this – moments like this – that really fools you into believing Megumi likes you. And that sweet lie only turns sweeter from his words that drip like honey, “Plus, I’ve missed you. Can’t think straight when we’ve been apart for too long, baby.”

You pretend to think about it.

That slight falter in a split second brings about a waver in Megumi’s confident you didn’t think would be possible. Not that you can blame him; you never did have to think about it whenever he invites you to fuck around with him. In fact, you say yes a lot faster than he can ask you something, but something’s been changing you lately – or rather someone.

In the end though, you’ll circle up right where you belong.

Relishing in the rarity of having Megumi coddle you with kisses and affection, his perfume still as boyish and vanilla that deluded you into his faux aura of a sweet boy, you melt one more time. Hopefully, it would transition into a one last time before Megumi’s completely wrapped you around his finger.

“Fine. I’m leaving if it’s too noisy though.”

“Awesome,” Megumi chirps, pulling you in for a long, solid kiss. It takes you back by surprise that you end up wide-eyed above him, stiff hands on his shoulders as you feel him smile through the kiss. Then, just as you’re about to kiss him back with the same passion, Megumi separates himself from you and squeezes your ass. “Promise we’ll have fun, babe. I’ll even bring extra condoms.”

You’re not surprised he left afterwards.

But are you hurt? Most definitely so.

Fuck Fushiguro Megumi.

You were going to leave him, block him, ignore him, avoid him, and carve him out of your heart for good. It’s what you deserve – to be freed from such a toxic guy like him. His pretty face shouldn’t be an excuse for you stick around any longer. That party…well, it would be your last one, you’re never going back!

Still, it’s not that easy to let go. Years of following him around with puppy eyes and spreading your legs open for him like it’s the most natural thing to do isn’t just going to disappear in a day.

It’s for closure, you lie to yourself. That’s all it is – you just need closure. So for one last time, you’ll fuck around with Megumi, then you’d leave him. For good this time.

And yet – your mind still races back to him. His throaty, boyish laughter and the stupid way his eyes crinkle into half moons, his large hands slapping his knees when you tell him a really silly joke. Okay, he didn’t really laugh that much because he’s already passed out in the times you crack jokes after sex, but the few times he did, though? It’s magical, beautiful, phenomenal.

He’s so awful yet so irresistibly charming it’s a huge tug of war between your rational mind and foolish heart.

You couldn’t focus anymore in the library. If you wanted to pass your exams, you need to be somewhere that won’t remind you of him, in a place where a stronger aroma would conceal his lingering scent. The best option was to hang around in a local café closer to your apartment than on campus, and you’ve completely ditched your usual get up to just opting for lookinglike a complete shut in – bags under eyes, heart torn over a stupid boy, the usual Iced Vanilla Latte with the condensation sticking to the wooden table and soft lofi music playing in the background – it’s just the perfect atmosphere for you to wallow in self-pity.

And wallow in self-pity you did, your cheeks squished against the pale furniture while you sighed for what seems like the hundredth time that day. At the back of your head, Megumi is still giving you one of those slow, long kisses reserved for only when he’s half-sleepy, your heart doing insane back flips as you reminisced whatever moments you once had.

You’re so lost in your own train of thought you fail to hear the scraping of a chair, followed by a heavy body plopping across you. “Well, this is kind of gloomy…”

At the sound of that awfully familiar, deep voice, you sit up straight in a frenzy. Sukuna smirks at your reaction as he loudly sips from his matcha latte – which you would’ve never thought he likes – and sits back at his chair, legs crossed against one another. Unlike Megumi, he doesn’t seem to pose any other malicious intent, so you bury your head in your arms, wishing for the ground to just open up and eat you already.

“I’m sleep deprived and haven’t eaten anything except Red Bull and coffee,” you try to explain, “I look horrible.”

“Don’t say that. You’re gorgeous all the time.”

From under your arms, you scowl at nowhere in particular, ignoring the heat rushing from the back of your neck. Sukuna didn’t seem to be flirting with you, and one peek at him swirling his straw inside his cup proves your theories.

However, the offhanded compliment falls so naturally from his lips it takes you a back, and not in a good way. Defensively, you cross your arms against your chest. You knock your toes against Sukuna’s knees under the knees to get his attention, the taller man peering at you under his lashes, tongue innocently swirling around his straw.

I fucking hate men! – is what you want to say, but something different comes out. “Why are you even here? Aren’t you asleep in the morning because of work?”

“It’s my day off,” he sets his cup down, placing his chin on both of his palms. Sukuna’s gaze travels from your face down to the abandoned papers before you, a scowl immediately making its way to his face.  “Got too bored to cook so I came here for a light snack. As for you…ew, are you doing essays? I hated that shit in college.”

“Yeah, I hate it too,” you numbly agree, “Can barely function right now.”

Sukuna’s eyes lit up the moment you nearly fall on the table again, his palm quick to caress your cheek. If he can feel the intense heat of your skin from the sudden gesture, he makes no comment about it. Instead, Sukuna hauls you from your seat, nodding to your bag and papers before he rushes you out the door.

When Sukuna said he could make you feel better, the last thing you thought of was going to the nearby park. Now, you find yourself sitting comfortably with him, aggressively licking on the vanilla ice cream he’d gotten you from an ice cream man that passed by. It’s a great way to kill the time – or just to enjoy the day despite the rough start – because the sunlight feels warm on your skin, the trees above you shading you from extra shade.

Next to you, Sukuna is surveying his ice cream with the least interest, his brows furrowed as he notes, “Your crush is toxic. I suggest you cut ties with him and get it all over with.”

In part of making you feel better, Sukuna’s subtly given you clues you could tell him whatever’s going on in your mind. It makes you wonder if maybe you’ve been that obvious that even Sukuna could read you, but you’re thankful that he understood, because you really did want to rant about it. Your friends are just a one call away, but they’re not any better. They’ll keep claiming ‘Megumi just needs time’ because they know it’s what you want to hear to make yourself feel better. Though, every once in a while, you needed to talk to someone who could actually slap the harsh reality at your face, and who else would be more suitable than a mature adult like Sukuna?

Looking at him now, the contrast between your roommate and your crush is immense. Where Megumi is all bark and no bite, all needy and never giving, Sukuna’s silent and compliant, an extremely good listener with the patience of a monk.

“It’s not that easy.”

“Yeah it is. Just block his number and avoid him. He’ll get the answer soon enough.”

“You don’t understand,” you groan in defeat. Sukuna faces you with worry written all over his face, seemingly tender in comparison to the tattoos marking his skin. Sometimes, it’s so easy to forget he’s actually a lot more decent than Fushiguro fucking Megumi, but you end up slipping anyway, turning to the sky just as tears prick at your eyes. “I…I love him, okay? I’ve always been in love with him even though I know I’m just someone who warms his bed. I know that much and yet…I can’t seem to let him go.”

Sukuna is silent for a full minute. You thought he’ll offer you some adult wisdom only people like him would now, but Sukuna simply snorts, happily licking at his ice cream as if you didn’t just break down in front of him. “Shit’s tough then.”

“You’re great at comforting, you know that?”

“Oh, I wasn’t comforting you,” he smiles and pats your knee, “Come on, let’s go home. I know just how to take your mind off things.”

With the way he’s caressing your thigh and his voice turned an octave lower, you chastise yourself for feeling aroused when you wanted to cry just seconds ago. But his fingers are inching closer and closer to your inner thigh, and he’s warm and strong – so fucking nice too that perhaps fucking him wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

But like always, Sukuna never fails to surprise you.

You expected he’d take you right to his room the moment you’ve crossed the door, but Sukuna dashes for the TV before carrying a huge blanket and heaps of pillow. You watch there, stunned. He makes quick work of fluffing the pillows before grabbing your wrist and pulling you above him the same way Megumi did a while ago.

The only difference? Your heart doesn’t skip a beat. You’re not intoxicated by his scent. You’re not trying to squirm away from him nor do you feel like a silly little schoolgirl who’s fallen in love at first sight.

Where Megumi is deceivingly charming, Sukuna is more like a strong pillar to lean on, which you do exactly. Your head rests on his shoulder, both of your legs tangled under the blankets he’s covered you with. He’s blinking as Tangled plays on the TV, the faint sensation of his fingers playing with yours comforting and way too comfortable. It should feel weird to hang out with a guy like this without him wanting to shove his dick deep inside you minutes later (your movie marathons with Megumi never really finish as previously planned) but with Sukuna?

It feels natural. It feels great. It feels like home.

You’re gaping at him long before you realize it, one of your hands absentmindedly playing with the strings of his hoodie. Sukuna hums along to I Have A Dream with a small smile on his face, one that forms into a playful glare as he catches you staring at him. “Don’t look at me like that. Disney is a classic.”

You fight back a smile. “Wasn’t complaining,” burying yourself deeper into his warm embrace, you’re lulled into an early slumber with Sukuna’s humming combined with the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

His plan worked efficiently – for a moment, you forget your heart was aching to begin with.

After screaming internally for a good hour and a half, you arrive at the party anyway. The stench of weed, alcohol, and sex hanging thickly in the air is more than familiar to you by now. You ignore the catcalls you receive as you make your way to Megumi and fuck, he just had to look even sexier tonight.

He’s ditched his e-boy getup with a plain white shirt, black ripped skinny jeans, a Converse, and that black leather jacket he always refused to wear. Megumi really woke up and chose violence today, the minimalistic silver chain around his neck only adding to his appeal. You should’ve run away then – he literally screams trouble – but you’ve never been one to shy from that. Truth be told, you’re only pulled in harder, swaying your hips side to side as you sashay to where he’s laughing along with his friends.

Clearing your throat to get his attention, Megumi finally lays his eyes on you.

You’re glad you took the extra time to dress in your best outfit today – a lace orange mini dress that accentuates your cleavage just enough for a tease, paired with black combat boots and a white purse slung from your shoulder. Pride pumps through your veins when Megumi steps away from his friends, his hands encircling around your waist almost possessively. He smirks through your hair, those addicting lips trailing lower and lower down to your neck until, “You smell like another man.”

Now that you weren’t expecting. He doesn’t seem to be mad, perhaps a little jealous judging by how he’s grinding his crotch to your abdomen and tugs you closer, but this is Megumi in the question. He never gets jealous, so you flatten your palms onto his chest, eyes daring and red lips upturned into a smirk as you ask, “Why do you care?”

Megumi raises a brow – which really shouldn’t have been such a sexy thing – at your spunk. Normally, you’re too sweet and submissive to him, never would’ve even dared to dress something as revealing like this, but maybe you’re tired of being sweet.

Maybe this time, you wanted to match Megumi’s spice, fight fire with fire.

Megumi chuckles above your lips and swipes a thumb over your lower lip, humming when the coating doesn’t stain his fingers. He’s mentioned before he hates washing the lipstick off his dick, and the fact you remember that has him groaning at your ear. Unsurprisingly, Megumi’s already hard. He nibbles at the shell of your ear, possessive hands brushing over your collarbone as a silent promise of what he’ll be doing to you tonight.

“Like I said, this pussy is mine.”

You should say no. It’s evident in the darkness of his eyes he’s daring you to say no, but it’s too much. The cramped space that diminishes space until it becomes a myth, his hands rubbing circles at your hip, the glint of his new lip ring under the disco lights and anything, everything about Fushiguro Megumi just makes you feel so weak you can’t say no.

Satisfied with your silence, Megumi sweeps you upstairs. There’s already a round of Truth or Dare going on with a bunch of drunk and half-high college students, the lights red and the aroma of weed thick in the air.

It bothers you so you stick close to Megumi, nose stuck at the collar of his leather jacket. He’s not satisfied with just you sitting next to him; Megumi is territorial. He makes sure you’re comfy and using his lap like a throne, clasping both your hands in your lap while he boredly stares at his friends. Okkotsu Yuta, the host who used to be super shy in his freshman year but became one of the most sought after guys in his junior year, sits across from you in the circle. He’s already giggling in his drunken state while Nobara Kugisaki makes the mistake of choosing dare, flinging her bra straight at a very enthusiastic Yuuji.

They spin the bottle and it lands straight at you. Megumi hums in anticipation at the crook of your neck, his little sounds mixed with his heated touches sending fire straight down your core. It’s inebriating to have him this close, but you need to keep a straight head if you want to survive.

Fighting the arousal pooling at your stomach, you offer a flat smile. “Truth.” As expected, the crowd isn’t pleased. They holler, “Booooo,” with their hands cupped around their mouths, the others snickering at you, though you’re quite satisfied with the safety of your choice. You could be crazy with Megumi, but being crazy around others isn’t something you’re comfortable with.

Thankfully, Yuta shushes the crowd dramatically with a threat he’ll kick them out with his infamous Katana that’s been passed down by an ancestor. Once everyone’s calmed down, Yuta smirks at you, eyes wiggling as he asks, “Who’s the best dick you ever had?”

You don’t think twice about it. Someone else’s face pops up for a split second, but it’s so natural, so obvious that you would say – “Megumi.”

“Speak louder, baby, they won’t hear.”

“It’s you,” you suddenly grow shy at the attention, whatnot with Megumi shamelessly trailing hot kisses down your neck now for everyone to see. He’s shameless as he rocks you back and forth on his thigh, all the while keeping eye contact with the other guys whose eyes are zeroed in on the swell of your breasts that are an inch away from popping out from your dress. It’s the best time to submit, the perfect time to give him what he wants, and his expert hands prompt his name out of you with a single suck at your neck.

“Fushiguro Megumi.”

“Damn, Megumi, you’ve trained your bitch well.”

“’Course I did. My dick does all the disciplining,” Megumi cups your jaw to tilt your face at him, cooing at you as you flush embarrassed from everyone’s snickering. “Aw, don’t pout baby, it’s all just harmless jokes. You know I treat you like a goddess when we’re alone.”

��Yo, man, get a fucking room!”

Megumi ignores Yuuji’s comments and makes an offhanded comment the latter is just jealous because he hasn’t had his dick wet in days, ensuing a close dog fight between the guys. Maki has to step in and kick the strawberry haired boy back to his seat, scolding her cousin to back down. Meanwhile, you cling to Megumi like a scaredy-cat, head empty with nothing but the way he’s never hold you this close and proudly before.

Just one last time.

“Megs, your turn.”

“Dare.”

Yuuji slaps his palm over Yuta who usually gives the dares. The older guy rolls his eyes but lets it slide, knowing that Yuuji could also let loose with his dares. Megumi isn’t afraid though, he stays docile around you, leaving little nibbles at your ear and even squeezing your boobs at one point. You know he’ll never back down from Yuuji’s dares, even as his eyes darken with mischief. Now, Yuuji is a nice guy, but something doesn’t quite feel right with the way he’s staring Megumi down.

“I dare you to kiss the hottest girl in the room.”

Megumi freezes.

Time must’ve stopped because everyone is chanting, “KISS, KISS, KISS!” but he makes no move. You stay there, staring up at him wide eyed with your arms looped around his neck. Your heart is beating a mile a minute in your chest the moment Megumi’s eyes gaze down to your lips, smirking as he leans closer, leans down lower, and you close your eyes, waiting for the salacious kiss that would sear at the back of your mind. But it never comes and a gust of wind flies by through you, and before you know it, Megumi’s leaned over your shoulder, his hand cupping the cheek of this girl named Alicia who you’ve heard about from your friends before that she’s Megumi’s current pick.

Alicia was never supposed to kiss him back. Your friends told you, they promised you she wasn’t the type of person to fall for the likes of Megumi, and yet she’s smiling through the kiss. You’re still in Megumi’s lap but your vision is of the audience, their jaws dropped and Yuuji slapping Yuta’s thighs. “Oh, shit! That’s gotta hurt!”

You don’t think twice.

You push yourself off Megumi and run out the room, the sounds of their chaotic laughter mocking you to no end. You know – you fucking know – you’d never quite belong in Megumi’s circle. Everyone knows you’re just another one of his bed warmers, and they also know how much you’re hopelessly in love with him, begging, hoping that one day he might return your affections.

It makes perfect sense with each step you take further from the room. This has to be staged, intentional, because there’s no way Yuuji would’ve said that if he didn’t already have an idea maybe Alicia reciprocated Megumi’s feelings.

But what about your feelings?

Does no one really care? Were you really reduced to just another body count?

Your chest squeezed uncomfortably as you pushed past the crowd, ignoring everyone’s protests from how rough you were. You don’t stop until you’ve locked yourself inside a restroom, tears freely falling down your face. With trembling hands, you fall back to the floor, dialing the only person you could trust right now.

He picks up not three rings later, voice still gruff and laced with sleep. “Hello?”

“S-Sukuna,” you whimper, pathetically wiping your tears away with the back of your hand. “I’m – can you please pick me up?”

From the other line, you can hear Sukuna shuffling for something in the background. Keys dangle and he locks the door, the sounds of his rushed footsteps so relieving to your senses. “Where are you? What’s wrong? Did someone force themselves on you?”

“No, I just…I want to go home.”

“Text me the address. I’ll be there soon.”

You text him the address and end the call. From the outside, the bass is thumping so hard it makes your head pound. You’re already feeling dizzy from crying so much, hands clutched around your chest because it hurts so much.

Stupid Megumi, fucking stupid Megumi – but aren’t you the stupider one? You’re the one who chose to keep being with him despite the warning signs. You’ve heard what everyone said about him, his reputation as a fuckboy isn’t exactly a secret, but you hoped, you sincerely hoped you could at least be good enough. But you’re not not good enough – Megumi just simply doesn’t deserve you. You deserve better and he needs to go to hell, so then why does it hurt so much the more you picture how he’s humiliated you like that?

Your dress is beyond soaked from how much you’ve cried. At this point, you just feel achingly numb. The pounding in your head is matched by the soft knocks rapping against the door, and thinking it’s Megumi or one of his lackeys, you wrap your arms around your knees.

“GO AWAY!”

“Sweetheart, it’s me. Open up, let’s get you home,” It’s Sukuna. Scrambling for the door, you push it open and jump into his arms without a second thought. Sukuna effortlestly catches you, and the dam you thought had dried up in you breaks again. He stiffens as you cry on his shoulder, fists balled around his shirt in a vice-like grip. “Who the fuck made you cry? Is it him again?” he growls, “I seriously want to knock the living daylights out of him.”

“Don’t start a ruckus, Sukuna.”

“I won’t, I promise,” he visibly softens at your state. Sukuna rubs your back soothingly and lets you cry like that, shielding your vulnerable state with his arm. He moves you to hide your face in his chest and kisses the crown of your head, so gentle and unbelievably tender. “I don’t pick on someone weaker than me. That’s bullying.”

You don’t utter another word as he leads you out of the house. He mutters under his breath on how kids are so wild these days and he really can’t imagine he was once like that. Sukuna’s car is parked on the curb, and you rush for it, eager to go home until he stops you. He wraps his jacket around your shoulders to offer you some modesty and you offer him a weak smile, allowing him to embrace you from the sides to guide you.

“Hey!” Megumi calls out, “Hey, what are you doing with her? Let her go,” his footsteps echo behind you just as you clench your eyes shit, “I said let her go!”

“Don’t punch the kid, don’t punch the kid, don’t punch the kid,” Sukuna mutters to himself like a mantra.

“Yo, steroid guy, you deaf or what? I said let my girl go—” Megumi falls on his ass. He stares up at whoever punched him, eyes wide at Sukuna’s arm raised, but his eyes are on you. “Ow! You fucking bitch, you broke my nose!”

“Shit,” Sukuna laughs beside you as you wince at the soreness of your knuckle. “That was hot.” Somehow, you find the ability to smile. You’ve always wanted to top Megumi, but seeing him below you like this, weak and clutching his broken nose while whining about it like a little bitch, it feels a lot more satisfying.

You want to scream at him, to release all the profanities that have manifested your anger throughout the years. But Megumi crawls back with something unreadable in his eyes, the edges of his lips tinted red with a smack of lipstick, probably from Alicia.

The sight has you scoffing. Maybe you don’t have anything to worry about after all – Megumi hates lipstick stains with a passion. If he ever gets with her, they won’t last long enough.

That fact is enough for you to flip your hair over your shoulder, glaring at Megumi one last time before dragging Sukuna down by the collar. His laughter ceases the moment your lips collide, your hands teasing around his neck to brush at his undercut. Sukuna moans through the kiss, the way he’s explicitly grabbing the flesh of your ass a sign he’s aware what kind of game you’re playing. You make a mental note to apologize for this later, but for now, you’ll shamelessly savor his tongue and the minty aftertaste, grabbing at his large frame that picks you up with no ease.

You leave Megumi gaping at the lawn after that, your finger middle raised right before Sukuna speeds off.

Fuck, that has never felt so good. This feeling…it bursts through you. There’s this certain satisfaction in finally having the power at your fingertips this time around, and you you’re your wicked smile through your hair, too absorbed in your own feelings that you don’t register Sukuna’s worried tone at first.

“So…do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” He doesn’t pry afterwards, just shoots you a curious look. Just moments ago, you were crying and feeling like you’re on the verge of breaking down, but this adrenaline rushing through absolutely cannot fuck around anymore. The image of Megumi realizing he’s lost you is so exhilarating, and you twist your torso to face your roommate, grinning at his handsome features. He looks so delicious like this, black button up shirt left open at the top, his veiny, muscular arms driving one hand on the steering wheel and the other gently caressing your thigh. You suck in a deep breath, licking your lips as you purr, “Hey, Sukuna.”

“Yes?”

“Pull over.”

“Wait, why? We’re so close at home.”

“Pull over, I’m done,” you insist with a glare, although the animosity isn’t directed at him. Sukuna keeps his eyes on the road before he spares you a glance, smirking at how you’re already unclasping your bra from your seat.

“Oh, I see how it is. You’re going to use me as a stress reliever.”

At his words, your arms still behind you. You glance up at him with wide, worried eyes that immediately reach out for his hands in assurance. “N-No, I didn’t mean—”

“It’s okay, sweetheart. Usually, sex is a lot crazier when the other is angry. Use me as you will – I don’t really care,” he licks his lips and suddenly slams on the brakes under an empty parking lot, already flipping something in the engine. You’re taken aback as Sukuna discards his shirt in a second, his large arms carrying your frame to the backseat with him. Sukuna spreads your legs as he helps you get rid of your dress but it’s too tight that you just give up, leaving the material bunched under your boobs instead. Sukuna’s eyes darken at the lack of material under your dress, his fierce gaze shooting up to yours as he massages your inner thighs, his breath labored.

“What position do you want?”

“Fu-fuck, I don’t know, just fuck me,” you whine, spreading your legs farther to make space for him. He’s a tall guy with long limbs that he shrinks even with his fancy car, but he doesn’t seem bothered by it. Sukuna seems a lot more focused in fucking you in that moment because he’s unhooking his belt, diving down for one more kiss that is a lot heated and rushed than the previous one for show.

“I want to get rid of his face from my mind, I fucking hate him so much,” you can’t help but bite down on Sukuna’s lip, hard enough that it draws blood. Sukuna groans into your mouth, the sound so utterly deep and sexy you drip down on his seats even more.

“You’ll still go back to him after this?”

“No…it would be stupid if I did,” you roll your eyes.

“Good girl,” Sukuna praises as his lips leave a wet trail from your jaw down to the valley of your breasts. His smile is quickly replaced with a sinister grin, one of his hands cupping your breasts at the same time his teeth dart out to playfully nip at your breasts. He really shouldn’t look so enticing under you like this, and you’re so caught by his devilishness you fail to realize he’s already rummaging through your purse. “But I think lover boy still doesn’t get the message. We’re gonna have to punch it through his dumb skull.”

He hands you your phone, Megumi’s contact right before you.

“Sukuna, what’re you doing?”

“Call him,” Sukuna moves up to fish a condom out of his wallet and slides it to his already throbbing cock, chuckling at the way your eyes widen at his girth as if you hadn’t taken him before. “Call him and let him hear how I fuck you better, sweetheart. Boys like him won’t get the message unless you tell them directly.”

His hands clutch the backseat until his knuckles turn white, aligning himself with your entrance. You’re wet enough that he slides in easily and you moan loudly at the intrusion, pretty little gasps a sign of your pleasure. Helplessly, you grip at his bicep while your legs shake from how tense you are, the tantalizing movement of his hips pulling breathless moans from you. “And what better way than to take what’s his, right? What did he call this? His pretty pussy?” Sukuna scoffs, “Fuck that, stupid little boys can’t even fuck you right, don’t you think, sweetheart?”

“Ngh, Sukuna, that f-feels good, right there!”

“Right here?” he teases with a stroke of his cock that brushes against your tight walls. Sukuna’s face contort into pleasure when your tight pussy sucks him in, falling forward just to rasp in your ear. “Call him. Then, I’ll fuck you however you want me to.”

You don’t know how you’re able to swipe on Megumi, but he picks up in the speed of light like never before. Sukuna mouths loudspeaker and you follow his commands, Megumi’s voice booming through the sex-filled air of the car. “Where the fuck did you go? The party wasn’t over yet and you’re hanging out with some beefy, tattoed guy? It’s your roommate, isn’t it?” Megumi curses at someone before continuing, the aggravation evident in his tone. “He’s such a fucking creep, I swear if he lays his hands on you again I’ll—”

“You’ll do what, kid?” Sukuna challenges, “Oh and mind you, she’s the one who asked me to fuck her. As her concerned roommate and the more mature adult, I believe it’s my duty to listen to her complaints and make her feel better, especially when she keeps whining she’s not being fucked good.”

“Sukuna!” You whine and slap his arm, but you’re smiling, the pleasure and satisfaction of slapping Megumi this harshly making you feel greater than ever.

“Are you sleeping with her?” Megumi sounds like he’s losing his shit, and you sincerely hope he does. “Gosh, Y/N, how low can you be? I thought you were my girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend? Since when?” you attempt to scream, but Sukuna’s gripped your thighs and pulls your lower body closer to his cock in time to meet his thrusts. Your body slides off the seat and you’re left screaming Sukuna’s name, the latter wearing a shit-eating grin at the way you’re creaming around him. Somehow, your attention reverts back to Megumi’s whining. “You’re a fucking dick, Megumi, I honestly hope you choke on your small dick!” you shout and end the call, slapping your hand on your face as you throw your phone away. “I hated saying that.”

“Because you still like him or…?”

“No, because he was actually a good fuck and his dick is huge,” you say through pants. Sukuna must’ve hated how you’re talking about Megumi’s dick when he’s literally rearranging your insides, and Sukuna grabs your leg, manhandling you into the position he likes. You’re immediately on your knees with your back flat to his chest, your arms locked between your bodies as Sukuna takes you from behind. Your head falls back to his shoulders where Sukuna leaves messy open-mouthed kisses to your sweaty skin. “I fucking hate him. He’s such an asshole.”

“Hmm, well don’t spend too much energy thinking about him anymore,” Sukuna snarls at your skin, releasing your hands just to rub at your swollen clit. “Just let loose and let me take care of you. I’ll fuck you so hard you won’t even remember meeting him.”

The honest side of you wants to moan, the familiar tightening of your abdomen appearing already. He’s hitting all your sensitive spots that you can barely think, only feel, but you also feel so powerful and enraged that you cup Sukuna’s cheek, narrowing your eyes at him. You hit his thrusts by pushing back against his cock that causes him to slide in deeper, the large man groaning deep within his chest.

“You sure about that?”

“Oh, hundred percent confident, baby.”

“Let’s see what you got then,” you teased him. Pretending you’re not seconds away from coming is an even bigger challenge than leaving Megumi, but for the sake of riling up Sukuna, you would do it.

“You’re challenging me?”

“If I don’t cum at least twice, then that’s going to be a damn shame.”

“Twice? That’s not even the minimum,” he shakes his head tauntingly at you, increasing his pace until the sounds of his balls smacking your ass and both your groans are filling the dead silent night. It’s so lewd and dirty that your tongue lols out from the pleasure, eyes shut tight because you’re close, so fucking close! “You’re going to lose your fucking mind,” Sukuna said as a final warning.

You didn’t think too much of it until he pulls out of you seconds before you came. The crestfallen look written all over your face makes him laugh, but Sukuna only turns your body and goes down on his knees, hitching your legs over his shoulders. Your chest falls up and down as he dives down to your sopping, abused cunt, hands threading through his hair before he rudely flicks it away. “No. Hands to yourself. You’re not allowed to touch me,” he hissed, but his roughness is softened only by a little bit when you whimper so sweetly for him. “Don’t pout, sweetheart, you’ll get your chance when we get home. For now, since you’d so rudely woke me up and left me without inviting me for dinner, I’m starving.”

Sukuna dips between your thighs, tongue poking out to take the first taste of your juices. Your reaction is instantaneous and gratifying; head thrown back, nails dug into the seats, legs quivering and falling open wider to welcome the warm, wet muscle that licks flat from your entrance up to your clit.

“Fuuckk, Sukuna, slow down, ngh—”

“He ever ate you out this way?”

“No, I don’t know, I don’t know.”

“Can you take it, sweetheart? Should I stop?” You know he’s teasing you, the sniggers muffled from your pussy lips are still heard but you can’t fight back, not when your legs turn to jelly at his ministrations.

“Keep going, fuck, please, I will slap you if you don’t make me cum tonight,” you threaten, and Sukuna smartly responds by sucking your clit into his mouth. He rolls it between his teeth, careful enough not to hurt you while plunging two fingers deep inside you, curling it into a come-hither motion that stretches you pleasurably. “Too, oh, shit!”

“You can’t even talk properly,” he chuckles, and the vibrations that come afterwards shatter your entire world. “And this is just my tongue. Feels too good?”

“Yes, yes, too good!” you cry out, “Sukuna, em coming!”

Your orgasm has no build-up whatsoever. You lay there panting with a silent scream as your nails scratch against his seats, toes curled as it comes down into you in one, hard slap. Sukuna hums as he licks up the arousal trailing down your pussy to not make even more of a mess. “Already? I haven’t even started yet,” he sighs sarcastically, “Don’t think I’m done with you. I did say you’d lose your mind, right?”

Sukuna has now joined you on the seats, flipping you to the side where he hooks one leg under his arm, your other leg extended to your side that remains flushed at the seats, his thighs squishing yours. It’s utterly challenging to move in this position and you’re completely at his mercy, the sight of his tall, dominating figure above you forcing you back into a submissive space. He doesn’t give you much time to recover before his cock is pushing past your pussy once more, bottoming out in one, swift thrust.

“’Kuna, too sensitive, mhhm—”

“You’ll take it,” he breathes out while peppering kisses at your ankle, “Come on, you’re a good girl, yeah? Give me one more.”

“Su-kuna, it’s too much!”

“Just one more.” Sukuna elicits moans from you the harder he thrusts, leaning forward until you’re crying out from the stretch of all the muscles in your body. He’s being nice today by letting you cum more than twice in the exchange of holding back his, because he’s absolutely throbbing inside you. He picks up a rougher pace from where he left off, saying your name through gritted teeth as you tighten around him. You’re squealing and whimpering from behind your fists, overly sensitive still from your previous orgasm.

His hips roll in such a mind-numbing manner before Sukuna rams into you utterly deep, your bodies flushed so close you can feel the heat pulsing from his skin. Sukuna tenses above you before he brings you to your orgasm, with him following not long afterwards.

Sukuna pulls out with a groan and ties his condom in a knot, discarding it above his clothes. Upon hearing your soft sighs, he immediately rushes your side and pats your cheek to wake you up. “Hey, look at me,” he commands, though his voice is gentle and soft. “You good?”

“Yeah,” you breathe out through fluttering lashes, “Yeah, I’m just tired,” extending your arms to him, you wrap your legs around his waist to bring him close. “Come here. Want cuddles.”

Sukuna gives in to your request for a few minutes and stays wrapped up with you. It’s perfect to be in this state, to be held so close and not just touched, the intimacy of it all bringing about unfamiliar warmth that only ever makes itself present when he’s here. “As much as I want to stay like this, we’re sweaty and sticky,” Sukuna murmurs through your hair, his hands roaming all over your skin. There’s no other sexual meaning behind it even as his rough palms graze past your mound. His touches are more like him exploring your body out of curiosity, out of the desire to just have you this close. You’re unsure what to feel about it and your mind is uncannily clear after an orgasm, but Sukuna’s already sitting up with you above him before you could ponder about it any longer. “Let me take you home first, then we’ll cuddle. What do you think?”

“Oh fuck,” you cut him off upon seeing the flashing of your screen. “It’s Megumi. Fifteen missed calls.”

“Lover boy is crazy,” Sukuna snickered behind you.

“Good thing I’m crazier,” you shut your phone off and throw it to the passenger’s seat, beaming up at Sukuna and giving him the puppy eyes from behind your shoulder. “Can we get milkshakes on the way?”

“I think you got enough milk.”

“Sukuna!”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” he raises his hands in surrender. You pout until you feel something hard and wet poking your bottoms, and Sukuna smirks, gesturing to his erection that you haven’t noticed. “You do know that I’m still hard, right? I’ll fuck you again when we get home.”

“You could’ve just let me suck you off.”

“Nah,” he refuses, “I want to feel you come around me,” Sukuna cockily winks at you, and your mouth falls open, gasping in disbelief at how vulgar he could be. He steals a quick kiss then as he tugs his pants up, the sight of him rolling his sleeves back up to his elbows thoroughly…compelling that you’re left salivating at the ripples of his muscles. “I’ll just wait ‘til we get home. Right now, I need to treat someone like a princess and get her some food.”

“You should stop saying that,” you blurt out defensively, “Sweet lies won’t get you anywhere.”

“I wasn’t lying about anything. I meant every word I said.”

The tension thickens in an instant. Sukuna looks at you warily – or perhaps worriedly? – before he situates himself back in the driver’s seat, starting the car right after you’ve fixed your appearance. Considering it’s already late, he’s struggling to find any restaurant or diners open to appease your cravings, though he doesn’t complain about it.

You fiddle with your hands on your lap, unable to find a proper explanation to his behavior. “Sukuna…” you start off nervously, refusing to look him in the eye. “Do you uhm…do you like me?”

“What kind of question is that, sweetheart?”

“I meant…maybe you just like me for my body, you know?”

“Oh, don’t worry about me, sweetheart,” he tilts his head towards you, “I’m too old for drama and playing with people’s feelings. Like I said, the cards are all in your hands now. If you want us to just have casual sex, I don’t mind, but if you also want to be, uhm…” Sukuna awkwardly rubs at the back of his head with a clear of his throat, the tables turned because now he’s the one who can’t meet your gaze. “…something more, then I won’t refuse that either. I’m up to whatever you want to do.”

“And if I said that…maybe I’m considering getting to know you better?”

“Then maybe I would happily say yes.”

You smile at how easily he lightens up the mood, feeling a smile already playing on your lips as you giggle. “Just a maybe?”

“Just shut up and kiss me,” he groans, averting his eyes from the road (it’s empty anyway) to get a quick peck. You whack his arm and his laugh only grows louder; he knows you’re not really angry, because he kisses really good and you like it a lot more than you’ll admit.

“I’ll be a hundred times of a better boyfriend than what you’d expect.”

“You’re really confident, huh?”

“Oh, I’m confident I can treat you well,” he nods proudly, head tipping back to the backseat. “I did just let you ruin my leather exterior and let you walk away while I have a raging boner. Do you have any idea how much self restraint a man has to have to let that happen?”

“Probably an immaculate one. Megumi would never let me go unless he’s came.”

“Yeah, well, fuck that guy,” Sukuna doesn’t even bother to try and hide his hatred for your former crush, and you’re smiling like a lovesick fool on the seat. “You’re with me now. So, since I want to spoil you, how many milkshakes do you want?”

Back then, you were always too addicted to lies that seemed so sweet that you couldn’t be able to stop. But now that you’ve met Sukuna, perhaps the blissful truth is a lot sweeter, and it’s a much healthier addiction you’ll take any day.

taglist: @thesimpsclub @uwubby-1 @expectoscamander @your-consulting-fangirl @dora-the-grownup @cosmotoic @charlie-xo @kittaliapenn @sukunas-cult-leader @flowersgirl02 @cloudsinthecosmos @90s-belladonna @averysheart-raleighsdick @generousstudentpsychic-bat @kat-su-ki @issamomma @sklycan​ @ggsmashgg​ @dora-the-grownup​ @ninefuckingoneone​ @ambiguous-something​ 

[charliecoxisdaredevil]

Secrets, Secrets Are No Fun (Chapter 1)

Matthew Murdock x Reader [✨Series] 18+

(minors do not interact w/ explicitly sexual chapters. But if you do, remember fanfic is a safe but fictional space. Always put your safety first in real life, use protection and communicate. It's my goal to always emulate safe and healthy sexual encounters in my writings.)

Series Themes: fluff, enemies to lovers (very flirty enemies), found family trope, age gap *but not craazy ya know?*, smuuuuty smut smut, angst, canonical injuries (realistic, but nothing graphically described), NWH SPOILERS!!

Chapter Themes: best friend!peter vibes, peter gets to be happy because i said so, cocky mf matt murdock, ?alcohol?, ?Italians?, flirty mf matt murdock, sexual themes (no smut)

Description: Murdock & Nelson were looking for a PA, and you were so sure it would be the best job in the world that you practically begged your best friend Peter to put in a good word for you... Until you realized pleasing the Devil would be hard work.

Excerpt: "Being friends with Peter Parker has its own special quirks. Its' ups and downs. Its' Star Wars marathons and near death experiences. I love Peter and I wouldn’t trade our friendship for anything. Even after all the peril and drama and stupidity of being best friends with a 25 year old boy, nothing has ever made me lose love for our friendship…

But if Matthew Murdock throws one more goddamn file on my desk right at 6pm, before waltzing out of the office; Peter is a dead man."

Chapter 1:

Peter Parker is a dead man.

He’s the one who got me this job. The one who sent me to this hell.

Did I beg for him to get me this job? Okay, yes yes- BUT as my friend he should’ve known that this fucker was going to drive me crazy. Where is that goddamn “spidey-sense” when you actually need it?

And I ask Peter exactly that when I’m across the table from him, sipping on a strong drink after working away three hours of my life for free.

“Well that’s a thing right there you should bring up,” Peter points his beer in my direction across the table.

I pin him with a deserved incredulous look, “What thing?!”

He anxiously hunches over the table and makes twitchy movements with his hands as he tries to articulate a defense, even though we both know this really isn’t his fault.

It’s that fucker Murdock’s.

“The- the working overtime for free thing! You should talk to him and Mr. Nelson about at least getting some kind of compensation. Or- or you know I could talk to them for you! I mean it’s only fair since I got you into this whole mess.”

Poor Peter looks at me with guilty eyes and a very wrinkled forehead, so I reign in my urge to unjustly take my anger out on one of my only friends who did an incredibly big favor for me.

It was my idea to explore non-vigilante career options and it was my suggestion that working for the least corrupt legal group in town would not only keep me fed and give me skills other than crime fighting. Working for attorneys is a great way to keep your finger on the pulse of crime.

I smile kindly and put a hand over Peter’s reassuringly, “I’m sorry Pete, this isn’t your fault. You didn’t get me into anything. You did me a huge favor, and you shouldn’t have to solve my problems for me.”

He squeezes my hand in understanding, “Yeah I know… I just can’t help it sometimes. You’re like a sister to me, and I mean I owe so much to Mr. Murdock but- but I mean I can’t believe the type of crap he’s putting you through! He’s always been such a nice guy!”

And I can’t even be mad with Peter’s disbelief that Matthew Murdock could be anything but a godsend. The man saved Peter and Happy from twenty five to life in a federal prison, he’s locked up some of the most despicable people to ever have the audacity to roam the Earth and he does it for next to nothing.

Hell, I thought the man was an angel after everything I’d heard. It’s when we met that I finally saw him for the devil he was.

We sit in contemplative silence for a while, Peter’s still in disbelief while I stew in my annoyance.

“Well, if anything you should tell them to at least wait around for you if they’re gonna make you stay till after dark. It’s not safe for you to be walking home alone so late at night,” Peter looks me over with a paternally furrowed brow and a shake of his head as he takes another swig of his beer.

This pulls an amused smirk and a breathy laugh out of me, “Pete… I think Spider-Girl can handle walking ten blocks by herself. And if she can’t, maybe she should look into a different profession.”

Peter frenetically looks around the bar, like someone in this dive is able to hear me over Måneskin blasting through the ratty speakers or is even slightly interested in a conversation between two worn out, poor but professional looking 20 somethings.

“Would you please take the secret identity thing more seriously,” he manically whispers at me.

I take a long sip of my gin and tonic, “How am I not taking it seriously? C’mon Peter no one can hear us because the music is slowly turning everyone deaf, and I haven’t told anyone else but you!”

“First off, you didn’t tell me. I found out because you thought it was low-key to crawl up the basement walls when the laundry room flooded,” I roll my eyes in annoyance, once again, because he will never let that story go.

“And second, I’m just saying you need to be more careful. This… identity doesn’t affect just you. It affects everyone you love-”

I cut him off to bitterly say, “Well ya know Pete that’s not a very long list, and I’m not too worried about the one person on it because he can also climb walls.”

We sit in silence by my doing for the second time tonight, but this time I don’t budge and stubbornly stare back at him.

Peter’s eyes soften and he’s the first to break the silence this time, “All I’m saying… is that one of these days the wrong person will hear you and it’s going to screw up your life. Forever.”

That look of past tragedy in his eyes makes me drop mine to my fidgeting hands cradled in my lap.

“Believe me. I know.”

I look back up at him in shame from being so insensitive, “I’m sorry Peter… I’ll be more careful. I promise.”

We share a look of truce, “It’s okay… Look. On the bright side, if everything had never happened to me I wouldn't have found you! And I got MJ back,” he smiles and blushes at the thought of her, “and Ned back and everything worked out for me in the end.”

He tiredly sighs, “I just- I just don’t want you to have to work anything out.”

Nodding my head in appreciation and agreement, I take my glass and clink it lightly against his, “Good speech Dad. Aren’t I great practice for when you and MJ have wonderful, mischievous spider-babies?”

Peter spits up some of his beer, “Alright. You’re done. You’re done.”

We both break out in laughs, “God, I’m so sorry for being such a pain tonight. Tomorrow morning I promise I’m gonna go straight to Foggy and Karen and… ugh, Murdock and demand my very much earned overtime.”

A proud smile stretches across Peter’s face and he reaches across the table to clink our glasses again, “Now that I’ll cheers to!”

“Why do the spider-babies not deserve cheers?”

“Oh my god, ENOUGH with the spider-babies!”

~ ~ ~

Waking up in my cramped, frigid apartment the next morning, I have renewed purpose.

I’m not going to let Murdock push me around any longer. I’m going to walk in there, march right up to Foggy and demand fair treatment. He’s a logical and just boss, I’m sure he’ll see my side no problem…

But, if I’ve learned anything from Foggy, bribery with free coffee and pastries to warm the palette is never a bad move.

It’s freezing out today, so I shimmy into my favorite wool pencil skirt. And while squeezing into my nicest turtleneck, I’m reminded of the aching bruise I earned during last night's crime fighting session that takes up most of the real estate on the right side of my back.

What a great reminder to look where I’m swinging next time in case the city decides to plant another new lamp post.

After lots of wincing and groaning, I have successfully dressed myself for the day. I throw on a coat, grab my bag and bumble out of the raggedy apartment building towards my second home, Anton’s Coffee Shop on the corner of 10th Ave and West 42nd Street.

Anton’s is this teeny coffee “shop” that’s more like a broom closet, but it’s the best espresso you can get in fifty blocks and the owner, Tony, always treats me to a free biscotti. Being within a reasonable walking distance to this place is one of the only benefits of moving into Hell's Kitchen when Peter officially moved in with MJ last month.

“Stellina! Come sta?!,” Tony is furiously wiping down the countertop but his sweet face pops up to greet me.

Tony’s a tall, thin man with dark tanned skin, sparkling green eyes and a wonderfully white beard. He’s one of the longest friendships I’ve ever had, and he is absolutely insane.

I take my gloves off and root around in my bag for my wallet, “Morning Tony! I’m good, how’re you?”

But he merely tsk’s me, “Stellina! In Italiano! Per favore!” Tony starts to make my usual coffee order while accosting me.

“Spiacente, spiacente umm… Buongiorno Tony,” he looks up and eagerly nods in encouragement, “Io sono buono e… come sta?”

Tony’s recently started teaching me Italian because I wanted to learn and also because he wants to set me up with a “friend’s son’s cousin’s step-brother.”

He smiles and finishes making my oat milk latte, which he relentlessly bullies me for because “This is not latte?! This is water?!”, but he continues to make the drink for me every morning regardless.

“Very good Stellina! I will make an Italiana out of you someday, eh?” He pops two biscotti in a paper bag and hands me my coffee.

I take the goodies gladly, “Someday, Tony. Now I’ll need three more coffees today if you can, per favore, make another one of my regulars, two double shot lattes and throw in a few more biscotti.”

He gasps comically at me while he gathers more cups, “Dio! Has my stellina made friends?”

I laugh at his dramatics, “No, no these are for my bosses. I need to bribe two of them with your magic caffè so they’ll convince the other to stop being such an ass.”

Tony nods in understanding as he flits around behind the espresso machine, pulling levers like a madman, “Ah and the third coffee,” he holds up a cup and points to it, “this is for the ass?”

“Yeah unfortunately I can’t leave him out. It’ll just give him another reason to make my life, come si dice… hell?”

He’s frothing the milk for Matt’s drink, “Inferno.”

“Inferno,” I say matter of factly as he rings me up and I place the coffees in a cardboard tray.

Tony hums, “Well, nipote, if anyone is making your life un Inferno then they will be hearing from me.” He hands me my change along with my extra biscottis and I smile gratefully at his conviction.

“Thank you Tony,” I tuck the change into his tip jar, “Next time I’ll let you spit in his coffee.”

~ ~ ~

By the time I get to the office I’m still five minutes early, and I’m hoping Murdock has pulled his usual arrogant stunt of strolling in late so I can plead my case to Foggy and Karen alone first.

Before going inside I stand in front of the frosted door, giving myself a firm pep talk. You deserve this. You deserve respect. You’re going to wipe that unfortunately handsome smirk right off of Murdock’s face.

Balancing the tray in one hand I open the door with the other and the smile is wiped right off of my face as I see Matthew lounging front and center. He’s leaned back onto Karen’s desk in his usual well tailored suit that stretches over his broad thighs, and If I didn’t know any better I’d say he was staring right at me with that stupid fucking smirk, like he knew I was about to walk in.

But thankfully he can’t because someone drawing up fate’s design knew this man would cause too much trouble if he had all his senses.

“Ah the chosen one! She brings us sustenance,” Foggy emerges from the kitchenette to my right and rubs his hands together, “What’d we do to deserve such free tastiness?”

I pop one of the double shots out of the container and hand him the biscotti bag. “Well… I just,” I see Murdock is still phantomly staring through me, still wearing that godforsaken smirk and my conviction crumbles.

“I just thought… it would be a nice pick me up on such a cold day.”

Foggy hmm’s and nods his head as he devours Tony’s legendary almond biscotti and takes the rest of the bag into his office.

As he leaves Karen flies out of the conference room and into the waiting area, “Ooh not shit coffee, thank god!” I pull the other double shot out of my container before handing it over to her, “There’s also some almond biscotti, but you might want to get in there before Foggy inhales them.”

She gasps and scurries into Foggy's office all the while shouting that he’d better save some for her or he’ll have to start killing the spiders in his office himself.

And just like that, suddenly I’m alone. With the asshole.

“So,” here we go, “I see you take after Foggy with the subtle bribery approach,” Matt shoots over his shoulder as he walks through the doorway into his office before settling into his desk chair.

And just like that, I am in Inferno.

I choose to ignore his comment and walk towards the arrogant son of a bitch. I go around to set the third coffee on the desk next to his hand, “Here’s your coffee. It’s a double shot oat milk latte.” He furrows his brow in confusion since he’s never made me be a lackey for his coffee and therefore, has never told me his preference for oat milk. It’s one of the few pieces of my dignity I have left.

“I saw you added an oat milk carton to the fridge,” which is not entirely untrue, but I can’t tell him the real source of my information. That I saw him buy said oat milk at the same bodega Spider-Girl had promised the owner, Señor Flores, she'd watch over while his teenage nephew worked the night shift.

Matthew tilts his head up and a gust of heat from the air vents consumes me in his fresh scent before his hand suddenly yet tenderly grips my wrist. He’s smiling up at me, it almost seems genuine. Grateful.

The thing that makes this man all the more infuriating is how fucking handsome he is.

It’s despicable.

“Don’t I get a cookie too?,” he smiles up at me as his thumb brushes against the inside of my wrist.

My heartbeat picks up and I want to say I’m glad he can’t see the instant flush of my cheeks at his touch, but his smile still seems to grow deeper.

I try to regain my composure and take back control, “That depends. Do you think you’ve earned a cookie?”

He chuckles darkly and leans in, grasping my wrist a bit tighter, “What? Don’t you think I’ve been a good boy?”

Well, if he didn’t know my heart was racing before he can definitely feel it flying off the handle now with his firm grip on my pulse.

My mouth goes dry but my lips are wet, and my present arousal is eerily followed by a subtle flare in Matt’s nostrils and a stuttered rise of his chest. His mouth parts and his tongue interrupts heavy breaths by darting out to wet his flushed lips.

“Matty, stop torturing the office angel and come help me with these opening remarks please!”

Foggy’s distant call from behind his closed office door snaps both of us back to reality and I begin to lean away from him, but Matt still doesn’t release my wrist.

He simply waits, and I finally give in as I wrap one of my biscotti in a napkin and place it on his desk.

“Thank you,” he smiles up at me again but doesn’t move for the biscotti. “It smells so good,” but still doesn’t release me, “I know it tastes even better.”

My eyes widen in disbelief and I lightly gasp at what I think I’m hearing or possibly imagining, but Foggy covers the involuntary sound with another yell for Matt’s assistance.

Matt turns his head towards the door and shouts back, “Coming,” before turning back to face me, “Would you be an angel and transcribe these affidavits for me?”

I stare back at him pulling myself together. But before I can respond he purses his lips, like the most perfect red rose, and rumbles out a husked, “Please?”

My mouth gapes a bit as I try to blink myself back to reality, I nod dumbly before shaking my head like an idiot, “Um, yes! Sorry, yes.”

He releases me finally, and I’m grateful to be able to breathe again. Then he hands me a stack of papers, plucks the coffee from its spot and struts towards Foggy’s office.

Did he just call me an angel? No sorry, was he flirt- No, no way… no way…

I look down at the uneaten biscotti, then back up at Matt’s retreating figure.

No, I’m sorry, did Matthew Motherfucker Murdock just say “please”? To me?

- - -

Let me know if y'all want to be ?tagged? in this series for updates I guess?? I've never uploaded works to tumblr before, so please give me grace. this is a learning experience.

[thearvariblues]

Sing Me a Song

“You Geralt of Rivia’s bard?”

Jaskier looks up from his notepad and grins at the man who’s just sat at the opposite side of the table.

“Technically, I used to be,” the bard says, taking a sip of his ale. “We had a tiny misunderstanding last year. I’m sure he’s gonna be fine, though, I’m just giving him some time to cool down and wallow in self-pity.”

Jaskier frowns, because his brain has finally caught up with his mouth and informs him that even though the man who asked the question is very pretty (and he is – a bit short, but lean and clearly very agile, brown-skinned, with dark, wavy hair and stunningly unnatural green eyes), he also has got two big, scary swords strapped to his back, way too many scars and has, in fact, only one green eye, the other being covered by an eye patch, presumably missing.

And then there’s the Cat school medallion on his chest.

As Geralt would say… fuck.

“Unless you’re here to kidnap me and torture me to lure him into a trap. If that’s the case, I’ve never met a Geralt of Rivia in my life. Also, if you harm a hair on my head, he will hunt you down and kill you, very slowly and painfully. Just a heads up,” Jaskier smiles, utterly failing to sound at least a little bit threatening.

“Thanks for the warning,” the Witcher laughs. “But I actually need you to write me a song.”

“Sorry, I’m afraid this bard already has a Witcher to praise,” Jaskier protests, shaking his head firmly.

“Ugh. Who says I want praise?” the man says, making a face. “I just can’t seem to find a friend of mine, so I need to make him find me.”

“With a song? Do I look like a fucking pied piper?” Jaskier smirks.

“A little, yeah.”

“Fair enough. What’s in it for me?”

“What do you think is going to happen once Geralt hears that his bard has found himself a new muse?” the Witcher grins.

“Oh,” Jaskier says, chuckling. “Oh, but that’s good.”

“Are you in, then?”

“Absolutely. And, uhm… What did you say your name was?”

“By the gods, where are my manners?” the Witcher laughs. “I’m Aiden.”

*

Geralt places two tankards of ale on the table and sits down with a grunt.

“Don’t tell me you’re getting old, Wolf,” his brother Lambert smirks and promptly pulls one of the tankards closer. “Because that almost sounded like Vesemir when he’s trying to get up from his chair.”

“You’re so fucking funny,” Geralt murmurs.

“I know, right?” Lambert grins, tucking a strand of curly red hair behind his ear. “So, how’s life on the Path without your beloved bard?”

“Not my bard.”

“So pretty fucking terrible, eh?” Lambert chuckles.

“Fuck off, Lambert.”

“You’re being very nice and friendly today, you know?”

“I bought you a drink. So shut up and… drink.”

Lambert shrugs and for once does what he’s told. Within a few seconds, half of the tankard’s content vanishes.

“If it’s any consolation, life without my Cat is also pretty fucking unbearable,” he says then.

“Hm.”

“Oh, really, Geralt? You’re using your famous hm against me? Me, your brother?!”

Geralt groans.

“By the gods… Why can’t I just run into Eskel for once? Why does it always have to be you?”

“You’re just lucky, I guess.”

“Lucky. Yeah.”

Lambert rolls his eyes and focuses on his ale again – until the local bard grabs his lute and starts playing a slow, romantic ballad. Lambert growls.

“Fuck, I hate that song!”

“Why?” Geralt blinks, because he’s never heard the song before, and to be perfectly honest, it doesn’t really sound that bad.

“A brown-skinned woman with dark hair who’s seemingly killed, then comes back to life already plotting her revenge, only to find out that her lover’s already avenged her? Always reminds me of Aiden.”

“Aiden wasn’t exactly… A woman, was he?”

“He also hasn’t come back to life, as far as I know,” Lambert mutters.

“Who wrote it?” Geralt frowns, listening carefully. “It sounds like Jaskier’s work.”

“Some Master Dandelion. Never heard of him, but it seems he’s very popular now.”

“Hmmm…”

“Oh, not again!” Lambert groans.

“It just… It really does sound like Jaskier’s song.”

“You just fucking miss the bard, Geralt, that’s all.”

“No. No, I actually think…”

“That might be exactly the problem,” Lambert says and places his empty tankard back on the table. “The second round’s on me.”

*

“Seems like your plan’s not working as intended,” Jaskier comments. He’s spent weeks traveling with Aiden, and they still haven’t even heard about another Witcher trying to find them.

“I’m aware,” Aiden mutters, chewing his dinner without even noticing its taste – which is, honestly, probably for the best. “Could you be, like… less subtle?”

Jaskier shrugs.

“I suppose.”

“Fine,” Aiden nods. “Do it.”

*

“It’s a man now,” Geralt frowns, listening to the song he’s heard countless times already. “That’s new.”

“Looks like Master Dandelion might like to, uhm, dual wield,” Lambert snorts.

“It still sounds like Jaskier’s work.”

“Does Jaskier like to dual wield?”

“Hmm,” Geralt says dreamily.

“All the more reason to apologize, then, eh?”

“Oh, shut up, Lambert…”

*

“Still not working!” Aiden groans. He’s been waiting for three months for his Wolf to find him, and to no avail.

“I could, you know… Try something more obvious,” Jaskier offers.

“Please.”

*

“It’s a cat now,” Geralt blinks. “Dark-skinned, dark-haired… cat.”

Lambert sighs.

“Yeah, I hate those fucking metaphors.”

*

“I’m starting to think I should have just… kept trying to find him,” Aiden sighs, staring out of the tavern’s window.

Jaskier, cheeks still flushed from his performance, downs his ale and shakes his head.

“Don’t give up hope just yet,” he says. “I’ve already made a few changes to the song.”

“Oh, have you?” Aiden smirks. “Does it now say Lambert, I’m alive you moron, stop hiding and fucking find me?”

“Well, not yet… But almost.”

“Great. I can’t wait to hear it.”

*

Lambert is staring at yet another local bard singing the fucking ballad. He doesn’t even blink. Geralt is getting a little worried that his brother’s brain might have actually exploded.

“It says a Cat Witcher now,” he says, hoping it would get a reaction out of Lambert.

The redhead finally blinks. That’s probably good.

“A Cat Witcher who comes back to life only to find out his Wolf lover has already avenged him,” Geralt adds.

Lambert blinks again.

“And you know, I’m almost sure that this Master Dandelion is just Jaskier’s new alias.”

“I’m gonna fucking kill him,” Lambert mutters when the song finally comes to its end.

“Which one of them?” Geralt smirks.

“Both of them!” Lambert growls. “I swear to gods, if I find out your stupid bard stole my Cat…”

“Excuse me, madam,” Geralt says to the innkeeper who’s just brought them their dinner. “Where did your bard learn this song?”

“That sappy ballad?” the innkeeper frowns. “From this Master Dandelion himself. He passed through the town last week with a Witcher.”

“And Master Dandelion…”

“You know the bard that calls himself Jaskier? It’s him with a fancy hat on,” she smirks.

“About this Witcher,” Lambert growls. “Does he look like in the song?”

“Pretty much, yeah. Kind of small for a Witcher, and almost too pretty, you know, but we had a little griffin problem and he slayed that beast like it was nothing, so…”

“I’m so gonna kill them both,” Lambert murmurs while Geralt has to try very hard not to chuckle.

“Would you happen to know where were they heading?” he asks.

“I would,” the woman says and looks at the Witcher expectantly.

“I see,” Geralt sighs. “You have another monster problem, don’t you?”

“Well. It turns out the griffin probably had a mate…”

“Of course it fucking did,” Geralt nods and picks up his fork. He simply refuses to deal with this with an empty stomach…

*

Jaskier critically eyes the clothes he’s picked for tonight’s performance.

“What do you think, Aiden?” he asks his companion. “Isn’t the purple a bit too much? It’s a small town, after all. Wouldn’t the steel blue look better?”

“I don’t know, I like the red one best,” Aiden shrugs from his spot on the bed.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Reminds you of Lambert’s hair,” Jaskier says, rolling his eyes. “Melitele’s tits, I wish he’d find us already, because this is getting really–”

As if on cue, the door of the room slams open and a big, red-haired man walks in.

“You fucking bitch!” he yells when he sees Aiden.

The dark-haired Witcher beams and gets to his feet.

“Lambs!”

“Oh. Okay. That was fast,” Jaskier nods.

Lambert growls and grabs Aiden by the collar.

“Asshole!” he hisses. “I fucking mourned you!”

“Oh, honey, that’s so sweet,” Aiden smiles.

Lambert pushes him against the wall, so hard that Aiden grunts.

“I cried for you!”

“In my defense, it wasn’t exactly my fault,” Aiden smiles.

Jaskier inches towards the door.

“I guess I’ll just… leave you two to it.”

Needless to say, Lambert ignores him completely.

“I fucking avenged you!”

“Yes, that was very kind of you,” Aiden grins, utterly unaffected by Lambert’s angry face so close to his own. “You saved me a lot of trouble.”

Lambert groans, buries his face in Aiden’s shoulder and sighs deeply.

“You fucker,” he mutters.

“Yeah, I missed you too, puppy,” Aiden smiles, wrapping his arms around Lambert.

Jaskier, who’s already standing in the doorway, places his hand on his heart and takes a deep breath.

“Oh,” he whispers. “I shall write the most beautiful ballad about this… Ow!”

He’s unceremoniously dragged out of the room and this time it’s his turned to be slammed against the wall by a big, angry Witcher – but this one is white-haired and dressed all in black.

“Geralt!” Jaskier exclaims, his face brightening up.

“You won’t write a fucking thing,” Geralt growls.

“Is that so? May I ask why, dear heart?”

“Because you’re mine. My bard. And if I ever find out you’re writing about another Witcher again–”

“Then what?” Jaskier asks, cocking his head. “But before you answer, I’d like to remind you that I am not yours anymore, as you have made it quite clear on the mountain that you are not interested in having me as a companion–”

Jaskier is effectively shut up by Geralt’s lips pressing against his with determination that makes it absolutely clear that Geralt hasn’t merely lost his balance and happened to be falling in Jaskier’s general direction.

“Mine,” he growls.

“Well,” Jaskier sighs, slipping his fingers into Geralt’s hair. “When you put it like that… Fuck the mountain, I suppose.”

“Fuck the mountain,” Geralt agrees. “But I’m sorry. For what I said.”

“Apology very much accepted,” Jaskier laughs. “I’d ask you to fuck me, but I’m afraid my room is currently… occupied.”

Lambert’s loud moan only confirms Jaskier’s statement.

“Hm,” Geralt hums. “Do you think this tavern has a bath? I think I still have some griffin blood in my hair from last week.”

“Oh,” Jaskier purrs. “Oh, yes. And I’m sure I could get some chamomile oil…”

They hear another moan, this time Aiden’s.

“What are we waiting for, then?” Geralt grins and grabs Jaskier’s hand. “Come on, bard. We have some catching up to do…”

[father-time-and-baby-new-year]

alphabet boy II

SYNOPSIS: college AU. Armin, your brilliant tutor, invites you over to his house for some studying. Naturally, you're nervous and he seems to be giving you a reason to be.

PAIRING: SCUMBAG!Tutor Armin x FEM!Reader

WARNINGS: half edited, noncon/dubcon, fingering, non-penetrative sexual content. gaslighting, manipulating,

A/N: really need the motivation to write again and I've been slacking on my multi-parters so here's a somewhat highly anticipated one. Armin fuckers, this is for you. non-Armin fuckers, I hope this converts you

WORD COUNT: 2.0k

II. I.

“You’re not paying attention.”

You feel his voice right by the shell of your ear, and the proximity nearly makes you reel back in surprise but you manage to catch yourself.

“S-sorry” You apologize, wishing you didn’t stutter.

The thing is you’re just really out of your element. This is the first time you’ve been to Armin’s house for personal tutoring, and it was hard to focus on the material when his presence was so distracting.

It wasn’t like you were fantasizing about him or anything [well…]-you always tried to banish those thoughts as soon as it came. But still, being alone with an attractive boy with a disarming charm was causing some jitters. You felt like a shy middle schooler, on edge and jittery.

The last tutoring session in the library when he [basically] called you stupid plagued your mind. The memory of him feeling up your thighs lived in your head rent-free.

“Let’s take a break.” He sighs. Your heart drops at the noise of disappointment but you suppose it’s what you deserve.

You push your laptop lightly aside on the table, the bleak light straining your eyes, and ask for the bathroom. You just wanted to freshen up and be alone for a few seconds. The bathroom is meticulously clean, something even you knew was unexpected for a boy. You looked at yourself through the spotless mirror, scrutinizing every flaw.

You sigh, fiddling with your dress collar. Why you had tried dressing pretty for a boy so out of your league, he may as well be in Mars--you didn’t know.

When you return, there is a tall glass of lemonade waiting for you.

“Thought you might be thirsty.”

It’s a simple gesture that makes you blush so you thank him earnestly. Like the gentleman he is, he assures you it’s no problem. Not wanting to prolong the awkward silence, you compliment his apartment, “This is a really nice place. So much light and space.”

You’re babbling but he engages you regardless, and you two are mindlessly discussing the benefits of living at off-campus housing over dorming. His words are pleasant but there’s a sinking feeling within you as you notice he’s bored. Or maybe distracted was a better word.

“So, do you have a boyfriend? Or anyone you’re seeing?”

You nearly choke at the question uttered through a buttery voice.

“Oh um, not really.”

“Not really?”

You made a mental note to answer in definitives. Armin seemed the type to snuff out anything he reasoned as half-truths.

“No. I uh, don’t have a boyfriend.” And then you clarified a pin-drop later, “And I’m not seeing anyone either.”

The blond hums a playful tune that’s vaguely nostalgic.

“Have you ever had a boyfriend?”

You don’t understand the point of this line of incessant questioning, and can’t calm your heart rate.

“I-um, I don’t-“

Taking one look at your serious face, eyes rimmed with worry and cheeks pink, he laughs. It’s a startling sound like bell chimes.

“Relax. I just wanted to know if you had any experience.”

The sentence flies out of your mouth before you can even ponder it: “What do you mean by experience?”

It’s not his fault if he can’t hide the feral grin that crosses his mouth right at that moment. You can’t discern his expression as you’re staring at anywhere but him, so you don’t notice the uncontained excitement that glimmers in cerulean eyes.

“Let’s move to the couch. You’ll be more comfortable there.”

You think about saying that you’re fine wherever you are and didn’t really feel like changing positions, but he’s already striding towards the couch. So you start packing up the materials, before a clear voice calls out to you, “It’s okay. You don’t have to bring all that. Just bring your flashcards.”

You hoped that wouldn’t mean he’d quiz you, but that’s exactly what he meant to do.

“Law of diminishing returns.”

“Wait! I know that one!” You brightly exclaimed, “ Uhh..it gives way to the catch-up effect which means poor countries tend to grow more rapidly and they’ll one day essentially catch up with wealthier economies.”

The blond ran his hand through his hair before sighing. You could feel your heart drop. You were sure you were right. Was your answer wrong enough to cause exasperation?

“Stick with the formal definition next time. I didn’t ask for the theory based on the law.”

You pouted, and Armin couldn’t help but relish in how eagerly you sought his approval, like a puppy performing tricks to appease their master.

“You should sit closer. Can you even see the word?”

You moved closer to him, knees knocking into each other. He looks down at the completed set.

“Well, you didn’t do as bad as I expected.” Ouch. But maybe he meant it as a compliment?

“But,” the corners of his mouth curled, “I’d say you’re still struggling.” Never mind.

“T-this is a new chapter though. I don’t think we’ve even gone over it in class.”

Blue eyes narrow, and you wonder if he’s going to give the well-meaning spiel about how staying ahead was the only way to keep up. That mantra may work for someone with high ambitions and an extremely good work ethic but you were no well-oiled machine. You had other classes too!

“Why are you so defensive?”

Your eyes widen in surprise at the question, spoken so softly and casually, you almost miss the disdained lilt.

“Oh uh-“

“Listen to me. I quizzed you so I’m able to assert your skill level. And your response to my assertion is that it’s something you haven’t gone over in class yet. Do those things relate to each other at all?”

Meekly, you shift your attention to the rug.

“Answer me.”

“N-no”, you squeaked.

“And what have I always told you? The only way to keep up is to-“

“Stay ahead.” You finished, “I’m sorry, I just-“

“Did I say you could interrupt me?”

You could feel the blood rushing to your ears, unsure when the atmosphere had shifted. Your heartbeat was beating rapidly and you could feel your body go warm.

He sighed, and placed a hand over over your folded ones, squeezing your palms.

“You know I’m just looking out for you right? It almost feels like you don’t care-“

“No!” You exclaim, “I-I do.” Heat pools into your cheeks once you realize your grave mistake, “I-I’m sorry for interrupting you.”

The blond smiles radiantly and it nearly melts away all of your worries…until he opens his mouth to deliver another damning remark.

“You know, with your looks…you don’t really even have to graduate. Maybe choose an easy major and then get some rich husband to take care of you.” There’s a distinct lack of humor in his tone as if he wholeheartedly believed every word he was saying.

Your eyebrows furrow in blatant confusion, and in the back of your mind, danger signs are flashing at the back of your head. Your thighs are growing warmer. Oh no, this could not be happening right now.

“That’s what most girls’ dreams are anyways.” He inspects his spotless nails, “You chose this class because Ackerman’s attractive right? That’s why his class has such a high drop rate…silly girls join, not understanding how harsh of a grader he is.”

You open your mouth to defend yourself but the next inflammatory remark he spews almost sends you to shock, “Though I bet, if you got on your knees for him, you’d be getting an A on those finals.” He laughs as if he was saying something particularly amusing, an undercurrent of spite coloring his words, “You wouldn’t even need me as your tutor.”

There are a million things on the tip of your tongue but no voice to speak them out. You want to ask him why he’s been so weirdly invasive, what his weird hang-up with professor Ackerman was, and of course, the casual sexism was really throwing you in a loop. Still, you have no doubt Armin could beat you to a bloody pulp several times over in a verbal lashing, and your mind was too fragile to deal with this.

You’ll sign up for a new tutor or better yet no tutor. You’ll get over your social anxiety and join a study group. You’ll go to all of Professor Ackerman’s office hours. Anything had to be better than this. You’re giving yourself this pep talk in your head but there’s no denying that your legs feel warm, and the self-improvement speech is withering away in your mind as it seeks to instead process how Armin fucking Arltert is touching you right now.

He pins you against the cushions, one hand locking both of your wrists. You’re shaking but your pupils are blown out wide.

He smirks, “There’s an excellent stress reliever for studying you know.”

You limp in his hold but the cocky attitude behind his words brings you back. You thrash under him, earning an annoyed growl from the blond.

“I’ve been so fucking patient with you, you know? Planning out your study guides, sharing my notes with you, proofreading homework, going over the mock exams—don’t you think I deserve a little compensation?”

“I-I’m sorry.”

He's right. He's right. Armin actually has done so much for you. Maybe it was too easy to take for granted because of how efficient he was, and how he acted like it was nothing. But right now, nothing really was everything.

He smiles. Yeah, this is who you were. Add just a little bit of pressure and you crumble. That flash of bravery from before was nothing but a petulant outburst from a child who didn’t know any better.

Armin coos, “Isn’t it a little embarrassing to be a virgin at your age?”

With unbridled precision, while he’s still holding your lower body down with the weight of his legs, he unbuckles his belt and ties it around your strained wrists. Red fills your face, and like always, you’re struggling to find the right words to respond. To say anything at all. Most of all, you can feel a wetness building at your core.

“I know the way you look at me, you know.” He kisses the dip of your neck, slender fingers splayed from under your shirt, “I know you’re into this.”

And because he is a scientist who must have evidence to back up his hypothesis, his hands find themselves under the waistband of your floral skirt that you foolishly wore, pushing the cure pastel underwear aside. You’re writhing in his grasp but maybe not as much as you should be, but it’s not your fault your movements are sluggish right?

“You have such a funny habit of not deleting your windows and keeping your bookmarks open.”

You freeze.

“This entire time I thought you were some prudish virgin even though you dress like a whore. Someone with who I had to be gentle. But all that fucking porn you read? Nasty. Is that why you need help in this class?” He punctuates slowly, "Because you're wasting your brain for something else?"

Immediately, you remember how you left your laptop on the table. You remember how many times he used your computer to double-check the notes, and you trustingly let him, forgetting that despite deleting your tabs, the hidden windows of steamy erotica were not yet erased out of their existence. Embarrassment violently paints your body.

He doesn’t wait or care for your response as he starts a vigorous assault on your clit with his slender finger, rubbing up and down in a vicious manner. The second finger prods at your entrance, feeling a tight cavern despite the amount of slick collected. Your eyes roll back in pleasure-is this what being with someone is like?

Stop. Get a hold of yourself. Why are you so fucking horny right now? It doesn’t matter what Armin said about you or how he called you out for the fiction you’ve read, because this is real life. But Christ, it’s Armin, the boy you’ve had a crush on since the moment he explained to you what a marginal abasement curve was. Stupidly handsome Armin with a gentle voice and too-blue oceanic eyes. Stupidly handsome Armin who coerced you into being under him.

You’re so fucking warm and tight, and Armin can’t wait to sink himself inside of you, can’t wait to humiliate you further. With nimble fingers he untied the ribbons of your dress like you were a Christmas present, groping your soft mounds and marking up your collarbone with teeth and tongue. Crystalline tears roll down the side of your face. You really shouldn’t be crying when you’re this wet.

“So fucking funny how you can’t look at me in the eye when we have a conversation but you read the filthiest fucking smut I’ve ever seen.”

taglist: @candy-hime

[wallflowerimagines]

Hi! I looove your posts! Thank you so much for sharing your writing!

I was wondering… could you maybe write about the Four Lords with a shy S/O that gets bold and defensive when someone insults the lords? or calls them names? And the Lord’s reaction to the S/O acting different? Dk if im explaining myself >.<

Again! Love your work! Have a great day!

We stan protective partners on this blog!!

Warnings: uh...insults? They're pretty over the top😅 Also swearing.

Alcina Dimitrescu

Honestly, Alcina is more than able to defend herself.

She's got a tongue like a viper, and the thickest skin imaginable. If you really want to hurt her feelings, you have to be someone whom she already respects to a certain degree, or she won't even be phased.

Still, when she leaves a room, there's always some idiot that thinks it's a smart idea to talk shit.

Maybe it's a maid, maybe it's a guest in the Castle, but either way you're not having it.

"God, you're annoying." There was a pause before they opened their mouth again, and you rolled your eyes. "No please, by all means, continue to share your lack of taste with the rest of us."

You disassemble this dumbass, starting small with comments about their personality (trying to keep it classy), but escalating the more they choose to double down on the comments.

Alcina comes back into the room to find you practically screaming at this asshole.

"Look, all you have accomplished here today is revealing that you are a fundamental disappointment on every possible level. My life is worse now that I've heard you open your mouth, you disrespectful, shit licking worm fucker."

Alcina is stunned. You do not give off "aggressive guard dog" vibes at all, yet here you are defending her tooth and nail. While she had seen brief moments of your inner strength and protective streak (mostly towards her daughters) she just...never thought you would do the same for her.

It's not because she doesn't trust you or love you! But nobody has ever done something like this for her before? Ever? She's never had anyone try to protect her--not physically, and not even verbally. She's been so independent for so long that it's... Strange to see you support her so openly.

She doesn't need you to do this for her, she doesn't even expect it, but you do it anyway for no other reason than the fact that you love her. You want people to give her the respect she deserves.

I'm going to be real here: Alcina has never been closer to swooning before in her life. You're overcoming your shyness because you believe in her so much-- it's not a gesture meant to be romantic, but Alcina can't help but see this as a massive statement of your commitment to her.

Seriously. This is such a massive thing for her that if proposals weren't already on her mind, she is mentally picking out a ring for you the minute this happens.

Then, of course, she glides into the room, kisses you until you're breathless and babbling, and smirks at the unfortunate peon who thought they could get away with insulting House Dimitrescu.

She's in such a good mood that she's considering going easy on the idiot. Maybe removing their tongue would be enough of a warning?

Donna Dimitrescu

You don't really know how it's possible but apparently some people don't like Donna Beneviento? Some people think she's scary and unpleasant????

Wild. Can't imagine what that's like.

The two of you are honestly the sweetest, most toothrottingly adorable couple-- blushing when you hold each other's hands, sneaking glances at each other across rooms, giving each other kisses and forgetting whatever was on your mind...

Honestly, anybody who's critical of your relationship with your girlfriend is just a hater. Fuckers can pound sand😤

Still, you are pretty shy, so it takes a lot for you to defend yourself if someone comments about you. It can take a lot of courage to stand up against rude remarks, and sometimes it's easier to walk away.

Defending Donna, on the other hand?

The minute someone even thinks about dismissing her, you are ready to throw hands.

"My lovely girlfriend already said no, meaning you're either deaf or too stupid to pick up on simple social cues," you purse your lips and give the rude and pushy Villager a patronizing once over. "You and your opinion are equally useless. Get the fuck away from us."

Donna blinks.

She... Was not expecting this??? At all?? You're so nice! You always tell her about your attempts to avoid confrontation! What's going on??? How did you get the guts to say what she's always wanted to say?

Meanwhile, Angie is LIVING.

The little doll chimes in to assist you with the verbal homicide, working as a tag team to absolutely murder this moron. She's half partner, half hype man, and is so excited to do this with you. Normally, she has to protect Donna all by herself, but she's relieved and reassured that you stepped in first.

'USELESS IS TOO NICE, THOUGH! THAT IMPLIES THEY AREN'T A POINTLESS, RANCID, LONELY FREAK. THEY LOOK LIKE THEY CRY WHEN THEY MASTURBATE.'

You high five Angie, still glaring daggers at the unfortunate villager.

The two of you continue to ream into the villager, while Donna hovers nearby.

As surprised as she is, she's also grateful. She's only really ever had Angie to help shield her from insults and disrespect (and occasionally inducing horrifying hallucinations that make people claw off their own skin), but having you in her corner makes her feel safe.

Not to get totally sappy, but you're like her knight in shining armor in a lot of ways. And the fact you two are so similar is really motivating-- She wants to one day be confident enough to return the favor. Until then, she's happy to watch her two favorite people have fun insulting some stranger ❤️

Salvatore Moreau

With you being so shy, Salvatore is surprised how often he takes the lead in your relationship.

He's not normally all that outgoing, but you seem to bring out a side of him that's very protective. Whenever you have a bad day he wants to bundle you up and keep you safe from the world.

If he so much as holds your hand you start stuttering and avert your gaze. It creates a feedback loop where you both get flustered, but Moreau has never felt steadier. Despite your shyness, you make sure he knows how much you love him.

You're sweet as pie and twice as kind--Salvatore is the luckiest man in the world, nobody can convince him otherwise 💕💕

So it comes as a total shock that when a passing fisherman spits in your path and calls him a freak, your entire demeanor does a 180.

Your posture straightens and you look the villager dead in the eye, "I don't believe anyone asked your opinion."

Salvatore: 😳

This is not the time, and he totally knows it, but, uh, something about your tone??? Really does it for him???

While he's attempting to process why exactly he's starting to short circuit, you proceed to verbally shred this person to bits with clinical efficiency-- nothing is off limits.

They might try to defend themselves, but it's useless. You do not let up.

"Ugly? Monster? Bitch your teeth are throwing gang signs, don't throw stones from your shining glass house."

You insult their appearance, what they're holding, their smell-- you get so fucking mean that you might even make them cry.

Moreau is just lost right now, trying hard to figure out how exactly you were able to gain all of this confidence so quickly.

He's not upset! In fact he's very flattered! But, he also doesn't want you to get into a fight with some unimportant stranger. (After all, if they so much as throw a punch, they're straight up dead. Moreau is a patient man, but he's not that patient. You do not hurt his partner and live to tell the tale.)

He may a healer but...

Eventually he steps between you and the fisherman in an attempt to deescalate the situation, but you just kiss him on the cheek and step around him, determined to make your point.

Blushing hard, Moreau lets you do what you want. What can he say? Fish man likes himself a protective partner 💞

Karl Heisenberg

Magnet Man is not the most social guy to begin with, so any opportunities you have to stick up for him are already pretty slim.

He mostly knows you as the shy, sweet, easily flustered partner that lets out a cute squeak every time he sneaks up to hug you from behind.

Karl's honestly happy just to spend time with you all alone in the Factory. It's not the best or healthiest mindset, but he'd be perfectly content to only ever see you for the rest of his life. Spending time with anybody else feels like a boring waste in comparison.

But occasionally, you do head out into town with him. Heisenberg wants you to be safe so he doesn't do it often, but running errands with you is a weakness of his. It's domestic in a way that he's never experienced before.

He likes it ❤️

What he does not like is the shopkeeper starting to give their opinions on the quality of your relationship with him.

Most insults Karl will let slide because he doesn't particularly care. However if anyone makes a comment on how scared (shy) you look around him, how you must be being threatened into being with him, how poorly Lord Heisenberg is treating you...he won't stand for it.

But before his fingers can even twitch towards his hammer, you snap.

"You're clearly the blindest cocksucker I've ever met--so wipe the cum out of eyes and mind your own fucking business."

Karl does a double take.

He's heard you curse before, but quietly. The words coming out of your mouth are WILD right now, he has NEVER seen you so angry. You're defending him with the aggression of a wild animal, and it's simultaneously HILARIOUS, but for some reason he's also getting a warm fuzzy feeling in his chest?

He doesn't need you to protect him like this, but seeing you blatantly argue how much you love and cherish him in public reassures him in a way he didn't know he needed.

Still, hearing you call the shopkeeper "shit for brains" is the funniest thing that's happened in years.

Heisenberg starts laughing, and the more you shout at the idiot, the harder he laughs. Is it weird how hard he wants to kiss you right now?

Eventually, he just has to drag you away, cackling as you continue to shout insults at the unfortunate shopkeep. There's got to be an alley around here for some good old fashioned privacy 💕

[storiesforallfandoms]

how they react when you walk in covered in blood and carrying a gun ~ mcu

request?: no

warnings: swearing, mentions of guns and violence

masterlist (one, two)

*only using the og six plus bucky, wanda and loki because there’s way too many marvel characters rn; also based off of a tiktok by anniedvorak!*

BRUCE BANNER/HULK:

The last person you expected to see when you entered Thor’s room on Sakaar with the intentions of saving him was your boyfriend, Bruce. He had been lost for so long, you had let your heart let go of him. But there he was, stood with a cloth wrapped around his waist after having turned back from the Hulk.

You were tempted to walk back out. This wasn’t exactly how you wanted Bruce to see you - an alien gun in hand and blood splattered over your face and clothes. But it was too late, he was already looking at you with wide eyes.

“(Y/N),” he said, turning to approach you but stopping halfway. You weren’t sure if he had stopped because of the blood or because he was still technically naked. “What are you...what did you...?”

“I’m trying to save Thor,” you responded. “Listen, we don’t have much time. I can explain everything once all of us are off of this planet. Put some pants on, we’re getting out of here.”

~~~~~~

BUCKY BARNES/THE WINTER SOLDIER:

You walked in after a surprise run in with the Flag Smashers. Bucky already looked about ready to kill someone, but when you walked through the door of Zemo’s apartment, blood covering your face and your gun clutched tightly in your hand, his face turned red with anger.

“What the hell happened to you?” Sam asked.

“Flag Smashers,” you breathed in response.

“I’m gonna fucking kill them,” Bucky hissed, abandoning his drink on the counter and making his way to the door.

You put a hand up to stop him. “I think that ship has sailed. This isn’t all my blood.”

Bucky cupped your face in his hands, his face softening as he looked at you. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you insisted. “I just need a shower, and maybe a visit to a hospital or something. They hit me pretty hard, I think I have some bruised ribs or something.”

He kissed your forehead and took your gun from your still shaking hands. Once it was safely put aside, he brought you into the bathroom to help you bathe and to start dressing your wounds.

~~~~~~

CLINT BARTON/HAWEYE:

You were extremely lucky that Clint worked with someone like Natasha regularly, or else he would’ve been much more concerned when you arrived home from work covered in blood and still carrying you gun. He barley looked up from the TV as you walked through the door, immediately racing for your bedroom so you could shower and change.

“Hard day at work?” he called as you passed by.

“That last target they sent me after put up a hell of a fight,” you responded. “By the time I finally got him, I realized how late it was and rushed home immediately. I’m glad S.H.I.E.L.D issues those SUVs with the tinted windows or else I definitely would’ve been pulled over for suspicious activity.”

Clint chuckled and rose from his seat. He walked into your shared bedroom as you were pulling off you bloodstained clothes and throwing them into a pile to be tossed out eventually. His eyes raked over your body as you looked up at him.

“Red looks good on you,” he said, a teasing smirk pulling at his lips.

“That’s gross,” you teased. “You’re gross. Just for that, you can’t shower with me.”

He groaned as you walked into the bathroom and locked the door before he could follow you in. 

~~~~~~

LOKI:

The sly smirk on Loki’s face was enough to almost rid you of the annoyance you felt after what you just had to do. Almost.

You walked up to the panel that controlled his glass cage. You could’ve easily figured out how to deal with it, but instead you shot the control panel. Sparks flew from it before Loki’s prison sprung open.

“Seems like a bit of overkill,” he commented.

“Shut it,” you hissed. “You told me it was going to be easy to break you out. You failed to mention the entire team of guards that were watching this room, and, oh yeah, the team of super humans that were assembled to face you?!”

Loki walked free of his cage, taking a dramatic deep breath before smiling to himself. “Well, doesn’t seem like you had an issue with them, as I knew you wouldn’t.”

He approached you, arms out as if he were going to hug you and try to kiss you. You poked his stomach with the barrel of your gun, glaring up at him.

“Come one step closer and we see how much damage a mortal weapon can do to a God.”

Loki put his hands on your shoulders, keeping you a fair distance away to heed your warning. “I’m sorry for not giving you a proper warning. Thank you for freeing me, I do appreciate it.”

You allowed yourself to relax against his touch and smiled a little. “You’re welcome.”

“Now, let’s get out of here, shall we?”

“You’re doing all the work this time.”

~~~~~~

NATASHA ROMANOFF/BLACK WIDOW:

It probably wasn’t a good idea, but you didn’t know where else to go. Natasha had always warned you about the Red Room, and you were so stupid to not listen to her.

Now you were stood on her doorstep, covered in blood that wasn’t yours, your gun dangling from your hand as you wished to drop it but also too scared to let it go. It was what Natasha looked at first when she opened the door - the gun, then to your blood covered face.

“Put the gun down,” she said, her voice calmer than you expected.

You gratefully allowed her to take it from your hand as you felt tears starting to well in your eyes. She pulled you in for a hug, where you started to sob on her shoulder. She took a quick look around to make sure you weren’t followed before bringing you into her house.

“Go get cleaned up,” she told you. “We’ll figure out your next step together.”

~~~~~~

STEVE ROGERS/CAPTAIN AMERICA:

You showed up to Sam’s shortly after Steve had brought Natasha. You could barley keep yourself up, the fight had taken everything out of you. You were sure Sam was going to turn you away - you were a stranger showing up on his doorstep covered in blood with a gun in your hand. You were pleasantly shocked when he stepped aside and told you where to find Steve.

Poor Steve. He was already trying to help Natasha, who had been in the same situation as you just with a lot less blood. She was resting when you walked in, dazed and just wanting to also rest.

He was up in seconds, reaching out to wrap you in his arms despite the blood covering you.

“The Winter Soldier is one mean fucker,” you breathed, resting your head against Steve’s chest. “I think he finally got wore out and ran off. Unfortunately, I was wore out about an hour before he was, but I kept going.”

“You should’ve given up long ago, honey,” he said.

“I’m not a pussy,” you said with a slight laugh. “Although I am starting to succumb to the pain.”

He picked you up into his arms and carried you to the bathroom where he helped you to rinse the blood off of your body so you could finally rest.

~~~~~~

THOR:

It was a side of you that Thor had never seen before. He had lost you during the battle in Sokovia and was expecting the worst when he couldn’t get you over the coms. When you showed back up to jet, blood covering your tired looking face, he was overjoyed to see you were alright, but also a little shocked by your appearance.

“Those fuckers really thought they had me,” you said, a half laugh bubbling on your lips. “They were a little shocked when I got the upper hand on them. Even more shocked when I shot them dead.”

“I was worried for you, (Y/N),” Thor said, cupping your face in his hands as he approached you. “I truly thought they had taken you from me.”

You smirked up at him. “You really have no faith in me at all them, do you? Or you just underestimate me. I’m a little offended on both accounts, though.”

Thor smiled back at you. “Of course, I would never doubt you. Just a bit of fear is all.”

“When you two are done being gross,” came Tony’s voice from inside the jet, “we’d like to get back to the tower. I think (Y/N) needs a shower and a fresh change of clothes more than anything.”

~~~~~~

TONY STARK/IRON MAN:

“Miss (Y/L/N) incoming Mr. Stark.”

“Tell her to come back at another time, J.A.R.V.I.S, I’m busy right now.”

“I don’t think it can wait, sir.”

Tony looked up to see you walking through the door to his lab, your body trembling as you clutched the gun tightly in your hand. There was a splatter of blood over your shirt and some on your face. You looked up at him, looking like a helpless child.

He quickly walked over to you, his hand automatically reaching for the gun. You gladly let him take it, feeling like a weight had been lifted the moment the weapon was out of your hands.

“What happened?” he asked.

“I-I was attacked at-at home,” you stuttered. “I don’t know how they got in, I don’t know who they were. I walked into my house and was blindsided by these two men trying to attack me. I got the gun out of the hands of one of them and I...I...”

Your hands moved to mimic the action of shooting your attackers, but you couldn’t actually bring yourself to say you had done it. You didn’t want to admit to having shot anyone, even if it was in self defense.

Tony placed the gun aside and took you into his arms. You stopped fighting against the lump that had formed in your throat and began to sob into his chest. He ran a hand through your hair, calming you down.

“It’s okay,” he said, soothingly. “It’s alright. I got you now. I won’t let anyone else try to hurt you.”

~~~~~~

WANDA MAXIMOFF/SCARLETT WITCH:

You didn’t think of Tommy and Billy. You didn’t think about the perfect neighborhood Wanda had created. You didn’t even think about Vision, or the version of Vision she had created. Your only thoughts were getting to Wanda before Hayward and his people could.

She was horrified when she opened the door. Of course she was; you were stood at her doorstep, a ghost from the life she wanted to forget, holding a gun with blood splattered on your face.

“You have to get out of here,” you said before she could speak. “You have to break down that boarder and you need to get out of here now.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, her voice still in its sitcom mode. “Please leave before I call the police.”

You grabbed hold of her shoulders before she could walk away, startling her.

“Wanda, you have to listen to me. You know what’s happening here because you are controlling it all. I know that, everyone outside the Hex knows that. Including the S.W.O.R.D director Hayward, who is trying to break through your barrier right now to kill you. I know you don’t want to lose this perfect life you’ve made, but your are in real danger. You need to get out of here.”

It seemed like she was understanding. A hurt look passed over her face as she turned to look into the house where her perfect family was likely residing. She took a deep breath and turned back to you.

“Let’s go.”