#it's a telltale sign of what he thinks of a weakness that needs to be hidden in his position

[whoisthatmovinginthedark]

Everyone who draws gy without the monocle, I appreciate your efforts

[cockaiine]

‘ Earned it ’ ft. r.sukuna

haunted by jujutsu sorcerers, you come to Sukuna for help. after begging to work under him, he agrees. what could the King of Curses possibly have in store for you..?

ɞ⁺ contains: heian era!sukuna x curse user! fem!reader, afab!reader, four arms sukuna, degradation, praise, cussing, riding, choking, hair pulling, mean sukuna, mentions of killing, mentions of blood, making out, unprotected sex, creampie, suggestion of overstim

ɞ⁺ w.c: 3.6k

ɞ⁺ note: thank you to my favorite @sttoru for beta reading! this took forever. hope you enjoy!

“Couldn’t you just kill her?”

What?

Standing before you is a man that embodies terror—a tremendous body and another pair of arms to make him even more distinct. The name Ryomen Sukuna is a chilling one, so many stories embellished around it. Hearts tremble with fear of each fable. You have heard of all his atrocities, cruelties sorcerers were subject to. But, as you stand in his presence, you begin to realize that these tales barely scratch the surface of his menace.

Adults employed his name to compel sleep, a whispered threat to coax children into slumber. You were no exception, truly. But you were always fierce, a soul unafraid. 

Right. That’s what got you into the mess you’re in right now.

“I’m sorry, my lord. But if that’s your wish, then I shall go ahead and-”

“No-! Wait… please,” you surprise even yourself, words spill forth at their own accord. Your throat grows dry at the way both of them turn to look at you. struggling to maintain composure, you implore, “Please, just one chance. I promise I can make myself useful. I’d do anything. Anything.”

An amused chuckle thunders in Sukuna’s chest. It’s a cruel sound, imposing fear upon your senses. “And.. what exactly makes you think a meek sorcerer like you could be of any use to me?”

He’s almost offended by the notion. Sukuna is in need of no one. Especially not you; a sorcerer that came begging for his help. How ridiculous.

“I-I’m a first grade!” you exclaim, “I can do so many things, I-”

“Shut it.” The nearly-amused expression has been dropped, a somber tone to replace that. Your eyes widen immediately, a telltale sign of the terror you feel. “You are a weak sorcerer. You are nothing. Do you have any argument to make?”

“No, my lord,” your eyes meet the floor in a hard glare, cursing your misfortune. 

You came to Uraume with hope, recalling a past acquaintance. You had not anticipated the drastic change in her. Standing against jujutsu sorcerers was no wise choice. You found yourself haunted down with no other choice.

Perhaps finding a protector would help—someone whom all sorcerers fear, compelled by their dread to leave you unharmed. None other than the King of Curses himself. If you devoted yourself to his service, showing unmatched loyalty, maybe then he’d protect you.

If only life is so forgiving.

You believed Uraume could help. You convinced yourself that alignment with Sukuna's subordinate could forge a safer path for protection. For safety. Yet, the last outcome you could have predicted was a suggestion for your execution.

“Good,” is his sole utterance. Uraume stands a few feet away, silent unless addressed. 

Even with your eyes cast down, you can feel Sukuna’s eyes surveying you, the weight of four eyes is not an easy one. His gaze is empty, one of menace. You do not appear weak, though relative to him you certainly are. However, he trusts Uraume's judgment, convinced there must be a valid reason for your presence.

“I’ll…  think about it,” You hear. Your head lifts abruptly, disbelief mingling with hope at the prospect of succor etched on your face. A sigh escapes you, looking at his hard features. Despite your awareness that Sukuna's motives lack benevolence or goodwill, you grasp at any opportunity presented.

“Thank you,” your knees buckle beneath you. Tears of relief flood your eyes as you continue. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“You can flee now,” he replies curtly. You weren’t expecting much more anyway. “Uraume, lead her out.”

The curse user complies, leading you from the chambers of the King of Curses. Reaching the exit, you extend a hand toward Uraume before she returns inside.

“Th-thank you…” You muster.

“I’m not the one you’re to thank,” Her gaze is hard as ice,  empty as one’s could be. You were hoping for some warmth, a semblance of assurance in a world so cruel. But who were you kidding; you held no significance to Uraume, who had long forsaken her humanity to serve solely the King of Curses. “Lord Sukuna has the highest authority over your life right now. Don’t screw your chances.”

The door slams in your visage before you can reply. You swallow. Uncertainty begins to bubble into you. What if he changes his mind? What if this was some kind of ruse? 

But it wasn’t, and not too long later you find yourself in Sukuna’s chambers. You hear he’s beaten yet another jujutsu sorcerer, this one remarkable. It’s a surprise to no one. You hope you’re not next.

You’re even given a room to yourself, one you barely leave unless for food. The concept of running into Sukuna terrifies you. 

A loud knock comes from the sliding door, making you flinch. You hasten to it, crouching before the wooden barrier. Your palms lay flat against the surface as you slide it open with ease. Uraume towers above you, her gaze fixed.

“Lord Sukuna requires your immediate attendance,” she tells you.

“I-I’ll be right there,” your breath falters, looking up at the white-haired woman. Uraume stands still. You realize she’s only waiting for you to gather yourself and accompany her. 

You’re quick to oblige, standing up and trying your best to dispel the embarrassing fear displayed over your features. With swift movement, you grab your kosode’s belt and wrap it tightly around your middle. You stand before Uraume, who looks you up and down before simply turning around and walking, expecting you to keep up. 

Anxiety plagues you, your mind racing with all the possibilities of what reason Sukuna would summon you. You’re so preoccupied that you don’t realize Uraume's route isn’t the same one you took to his chamber last time.

Sooner than you anticipate, Uraume takes an abrupt halt by a door. You nearly collide face-first with the finely painted wood. Recoiling, your eyes study the door. Patterns adorn the wood, carved carefully by the hands of a professional. 

The detail on the door captivates you, it makes you wonder if Sukuna has truly observed it even once in his life. Your appreciation of it is short-lived, as Uraume calls you and pulls you out of thought.

“Pay attention or face expulsion,” she hisses before knocking at the door.

A grunted “You may enter,” resonates from inside. The curse user beside you immediately falls to her knees, and you follow path. Her hands lift to the door, which weighs more than yours, and she opens it with a fluid gesture.

“She has arrived, my lord.”

“Very well,” Sukuna utters. Emboldened, you look up, and the sight you’re met with makes your face heat up. There he sits, expression unyielding and gaze inscrutable, his torso is bare—save for the black marks that adorn his chiseled body. On any other day, you would have stopped to admire the sight, but today your eyes go back to staring at your bent knees. “Come in.”

Uraume knows she’s not the one intended, while you know that you are. With great force, you’re capable of pushing yourself up and walking toward the man sitting on the floor.

The door shuts as soon as you step foot into the room, making you flinch. “W-How can I help you, my Lord?”

Quietly, Sukuna hums in thought. His scrutiny of you, trailing to your feet and then meeting your eyes once more, kindles a patent tension within. There’s a sick, twisted desire within you—a desire for the man who would kill you without second thought.

“You said you can do many things, have you not?” He raises a single eyebrow. 

“Indeed, my lord,” You muster. The chamber you stand in is spacious, slowly realizing that you are within his personal quarters—a place few may enter, as you understand it.

“Let’s test that out, shall we?” he says with a sinister smirk. “Do you know how to relieve muscle tension?”

“Certainly, my lord. Do you need any assistance with that?” You speak a little more than necessary. But he doesn’t mind too much. Your vocal cords make a soothing voice anyway. 

“I’d like to see what you're capable of,” he states, malice evident in his tone, prompting you to brace for the potential consequences.

He gestures for you to approach the curtained futon, elevated on what appears to be several stacks of wood. It feels peculiar to see him prone on his stomach, but it affords you an unmatched view of his well-defined back—truly a sight to see.

Whether he trusts you or deems you harmless remains uncertain. Common sense suggests the latter, though you prefer to believe the former to spare yourself from embarrassment.

A small bottle sits beside his bed, a bottle of fine oil. With refined movement, you pick it up, spilling a fair amount on your hand before spreading it gently over his back.

You work silently, kneading hardened flesh. His unique anatomy intrigues you, especially navigating around two sets of arms. Your fingers continue to glide between the muscles, working your way into easing any knots.

Once your fingers reach his neck, a low grunt leaves his lips. You’re surprised… But even more so, the feeling lingering deep within you is becoming harder and harder to ignore. Your thighs squeeze against each other in hopes of relieving some of the heat that’s itching at your core. 

With every stroke of your skilled fingertips, the tension threaded in his muscles ease, all the while the tension between the two of you grows unbearably palpable. 

After a few moments, you grow hot. you pause and slightly loosen the belt of your kosode to cool down. The movement doesn’t go unnoticed by Sukuna, who peeks upwards subtly. He has no shame, raising his head further and looking you up and down. The loosened kosode exposes cleavage, and Sukunua overtly stares.

He pushes himself up, sitting on the bed. Shadows of his frame dance against the curtains surrounding his bed, the room dimly lit by candles. Posture straight, an expression of attendance on your face, you keep your eyes on him and await what he has to say. 

You’re dangerous, Sukuna realizes. You’re not going to make this easy on him. His self-restraint is wearing thin.

“Sit,” He beckons you with a large hand. Albeit hesitant, you oblige and sit on the lifted futon in an awkward position.

There is no denying the way his gaze makes you feel. There’s a sense of vulnerability, and a sense of excitement. You choose to remain silent, waiting patiently for his next move. 

Slowly, he leans his head in your way. Your eyes immediately flit away, heat rising into your face.

“Heh,” He smirks widely, leaning away. “You’re quite amusing, you know that?”

You grow embarrassed, displeased by the way he’s talking. You’re about to comment but ultimately choose to stop yourself from saying something that could get you in trouble.

Sukuna leans forward again, this time a little further from you. The hand he places on the bed for balance dips the fabric down. “Look at me when I address you, human.”

It’s humiliating how he talks to you. For some inexplicable reason, it arouses you all the same. You’re quick to oblige. Sukuna can feel his cock harden in his pants at the way you bat your lashes his way. He knew there was something so enticing about you the moment he saw you walking behind Uraume, even more now under the dim lights and in the revealing silk. He wants a piece of you.

Cancel that. He wants all of you.

“You have a pleasing appearance,” He tells you, eyes instinctively falling to your lips. “A fine figure too. Why don’t you put that to good use, hm?”

“What would you suggest, my lord?” You rouse. “I’m at your service.”

Sukunas face draws closer to yours once more. A single hand rises to your face, cradling your cheeks between his thumb and forefinger. “Interesting… You’re not dumb, are you?”

There’s a clear implication behind his words; take the hint, or don’t. You take a leap of faith, diminishing the space between your faces and pressing your lips firmly against his.

The hand that once held your face now rests on your neck, holding you in place. His tongue swipes against your lower lip, prompting you to give him entrance. He keeps his eyes open, watching over you with amusement you fail to see as your eyes are shut close.

Your mouth is warm and inviting, compelling him to savor every bit of the fiber inside. But he’s interrupted by you pulling away for air.

“Fucking brat,” he curses, pulling you back in before you can gasp another much-needed breath. His palm falls from your neck and skims the skin of your shoulder. In contrast to his typical demeanor, Sukuna’s movement is agonizingly slow as he pushes the cloth off your skin. Little by little, until your torso is exposed to the biting chill of the air, shivers cascade along your spine, eliciting goosebumps across your flesh.

Adrenaline rushes through your veins. Your heart throbs as your hands find his neck, the other on his shoulder. Closer. Your tongues dance, and the taste of you is addicting. Closer. His hands run over your bare skin, feeling up your curves. Closer. Nothing seems to be close enough. You need to be one with him.

Once content, Sukuna pulls away. The smirk on his face is enough reminder you’ve got nothing on him. “You’re weak.”

“‘M not,” you retort stubbornly, struggling to regain your breath. “You caught me off guard.”

“Yeah, right,” Sukuna’s hands fall to your hips. You would have never foreseen a scenario where you contest his words. Not without your head cut off before you completely utter your words. But this brazen attitude of yours is exciting to Sukuna, who can feel the pre staining his pants, cock now painfully hard. Just from kissing.

He maneuvers you with ease, leaning comfortably against the wall before placing you over his middle. You gasp once moved, eyes wide in surprise. You give no signs of struggle, though, so Sukuna continues.

Starting with the loosened belt, then the silk kosode. You’re bare under, left exposed to four eyes’ devouring gaze.

“Heh,” is what he says, feeling your wetness against his abdomen. “Is the wanted criminal so needy already? How sweet.” 

“I’m quite sure you share the desire, my lord,” you whisper, drawing a chuckle from him. You bend forward until your face hovers tantalizingly close to his ear.“Do you not want a taste of me, my lord? I can show you what no woman has ever done.”

While the title ‘my lord’ has come from many to him, it rolls off your tongue differently. You’re so confident in your skills, and he has a feeling you’re not lying.

“I very much doubt that,” he lies, causing you to pucker your lower lip in disdain. You’re set on proving him wrong, prepared to showcase the extent of your capabilities.

Lifting your weight from his form, you turn around and give him your back. He stares down at you, an amorous grin adorning his face. Delicately, you trace your fingers over the prominent bulge in his pants. There is no mistaking the grunt that escapes him at the contact. The bulge largens. The tension grows. You swallow quietly.

“May I?” You whisper, barely audible.

“By all means,” he responds, his smirk persisting despite the furrow in his brow. Tender fingers slip beneath the waistband of his pale trousers, gradually coaxing them downward.  

The sight makes you stop in your tracks; his cock springs to life, a lengthy shaft you’re not so sure you can take. The thought of going back on your words fleets momentarily across your mind, but you refrain. There’s svelteness to the way your fingers graze this tip, tinted with an angry pink. You spread the warm pre-cum over it for lubrication, softly pumping your hands over his shaft.

Surprise intensifies in you when it grows larger, making your insides churn. Your fingers continue their work, eliciting louder sounds from him.

You’re fascinated by it, a beautiful length framed by trimmed pubes. It starts with a color marginally darker than his skin, gradually merging into the angry pink hue that tints his tip. You can’t not stare.

You turn back around, looking at the man sitting before you. The King of Curses with all his mind with a troubled expression, his resolve long worn off.

“You’re taking too long,” He threatens. “Get on it already, woman.”

No less is expected from the King of Curses; he’s straightforward as one could be. A yelp escapes your lips when his hands land a firm grip on your hips, forcefully lifting you up.

You’re placed on his length without any warning, causing a loud cry to break out of you. Tears gather in your eyes at the sudden stretch. You feel him, all of him; thick and long and painful and good.

Drawing a sharp breath, you attempt to adjust to the stretch.

“Can’t take it?” His smirk taunts you. “Pathetic.” 

“I-I can,” you steady yourself with two palms against the curves of his abs. “Let me get- ah–!”

Your moan synchronizes with the groan he emits, his hands maintaining a firm grasp on your ass cheeks as he lifts you upwards for friction before abruptly slamming you back down. The way your gummy walls wrap tight around him nearly makes him dizzy. Sukuna is almost sure this pussy was made for him and only him.

“Fuck–” he grunts, head thrown back as you move steadily. His hand grabs your waist for guidance as you huff and puff, trying not to be too loud but it’s so hard when he hits all the right places. Your heart thrums in your chest, body shaking at the euphoria that’s clouding your senses.

There’s rhythm to the sounds of breathing, creating a symphony of pleasure as you roll your hips, pace fastening every second. Sukuna’s hand is light against your hip, a thumb extending to rub your clit in a gentle manner, drawing circles over the soft bud.

“Oh– M’lord– I’m..” words bleed into moans you can no longer contain. Every thrust hits deeper, and every movement makes you squeeze tighter around his cock. Your eyes roll back, and Sukuna swears he could get off to your expression alone. 

When a cold grip meets the writ of one of his lower arms, Sukuna’s eyes flee your face in curiosity. His hand is heavier than you expect. You softly raise his palm, desperately leaving it at your neck.

He chuckles. He loves the desperation in your eyes, the way your hips thrust sloppily, the way you claw at his chest for a symbol of control as you try your best to stay true to your words. Warm digits wrap around your neck and squeeze it lightly. 

“C’mere,” he breathes, pulling you by your neck. Your lips clash into his with a gasp. God, you’re intoxicating him. Teeth tug at your bottom lip despite your mouth being agape. The moan that escapes you is happily drank down by him.

Humidity clouds the place, shiny sweat dripping down your neck. You’re in too much ecstasy to think anyway.

Sukuna sucks at your bottom lip, his hand moving from your neck to cradle the back of your head then tug at your hair.

You’re magic, the sight of you inebriating him utterly. You’re a trigger, back arched towards him in desperation. All to feel more. How greedy. You’re deadly, bouncing on him like that’s what you were made for, resolve renewing to keep up for as long as you could.

“Fuck- attagirl,” his eyes shut, dopamine rises, and all he can do is feel. “Good- shit– yeah, yeah–”

“‘M close-” your moan is pitched, walls tightening around him. “Ah– I’m– ‘m so close-”

Your entire body shakes, legs trembling and nearly giving out. A harsh slap lands across the skin on your ass, his fingers kneading the flesh before landing another slap against it. You can still feel the heat of his palm even as he moves it to hold your face harshly. “Don’t be fucking weak. H-shit–”

It turns you on, he realizes. To be treated like a ragdoll and pushed around. 

“Like that huh?” another spank. “Like being hit? Tch, wh-what a fucking brat”

“Yes–!” You gasp, movement accelerating over him, drawing half of him out just to enroll him in your warmth again. He can sense your orgasm approaching, walls dangerously tight around him. His tip hits your good spot, and you go at it and at it again, moaning loudly as your nails bruise his chest.

A string of curses escapes his lips, neck stretched as your head inches closer, pressing a kiss to the skin. He groans louder, moving you faster on his dick as your pace wasn’t enough.

“Hah– I– I’m gonna– Sukuna-sama I—”

Your mouth falls open, and breath fast. You see stars, cumming all over him. The fiber of your insides pulses around him, surrounding his cock with your essence. 

Nails dig into your flesh, and Sukuna’s body tenses. A desperate whine escapes you when you feel the white ropes spilling inside you. Your movement persists, set on milking every last drop he has to offer.

His chest rises and falls, a palm coming to cover his face while another pair sits on your hips. You attempt to move, trying to pull yourself off his cock. But his hands pull you back down with potent. You’ve grown sensitive, so his action draws a loud whine from you.

“Where to?” He sneers at you. “You’re not done yet, are you? ‘This all you can do?”

It’s an obvious challenge. Despite the fatigue you’re starting to feel, you’re not one to back down from challenges. Least of all ones pronounced by him.

[mondaymelon]

₊˚ෆ 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐄… | xiao, childe, scaramouche x gn!reader

⤷ art by @/Deltanpopo on twitter ! ❀

[ A coy thing, you are, daring to lie to them about your wellbeing. ]

— "I'm alright."

A scoff leaves XIAO's lips at your swift words, his mouth curling into a sneer, one absent of a smirk. His arms crossed over his chest, dark shadows cast over his eyes. "Come again?"

His glare was intense - dangerous, its malice not directed towards you, but instead to whatever had made you like... this. You could shield your form from his piercing gaze all you wanted. It'd do nothing to deter him. The knowledge he held of your character, the way your voice gave the slightest tremor, and the way your eyes slipped from his own... he let out a noise of annoyance.

"As I said, Xiao. I'm fine."

You were't a good liar. At least, from his knowing view. Unacceptable. His lashes fluttered as his eyes narrowed. Was he not reliable enough for the truth? Why was it that you'd refuse his assistance while you were clearly suffering?

"No." His voice was decisive, cold, but not in the manner of harsh, unforgiving ice, but the morning frost that bloomed on the dewy stalks of riverside reeds. "You aren't."

He felt your gaze pause at his lips, yet did not rise to meet his own. Your own mouth quivered, just the slightest, and you downcast eyes that glistened flicked their attention to the ground. "Xiao, I..."

You voice trails off. There's no need to say more. For you stood, enveloped in the adeptus' rare embrace, his pale skin cool, yet sparking an unquenchable warmth within your chest.

"If you aren't okay, that's okay. I'll just have to hold you in my arms, until you are." ₊˚ෆ

— "I'm alright."

A laugh escapes CHILDE's parted lips, a rather empty sound that resounded in your silence. It continues for a couple brief moments. "Ah, you're kidding, right?" He breaks into a smile that fades at the lack of your response. "Right?"

"Why would I be kidding?" You sighed, trying to sound as exasperated as possible. "I'm serious, Childe. I said I was fine." His gaze bore into you, to the point where you could feel your body smolder under his eyes. You shouldn't look at him now. Pursing your lips, you strengthened your resolve, but a moment of weakness upon hearing his shallow laughter was all it took to glance upwards. To meet his gaze.

A grave mistake, you had just unwittingly committed.

Before you could turn your head away, Childe's hand's caught you, one of them grabbing onto your chin and forcing your head to stay in place. "Say," his voice was low, quiet. A telltale sign of the anger that simmered underneath. "When did you get the notion that you'd be allowed to lie to me, and then get away with it scot-free, huh?"

The moment he had met your fleeting gaze, eyes locked onto yours, your verdict had been decided. Guilty. "Childe, it wasn't that I..."

"Oh, is it something you can't tell me, then?" His voice was softer now, but not in a threatening way, eyes melting with concern. Yes as much as he'd love to get at whatever - or whoever had made you so upset, he had a higher task of importance as of now. And that was to comfort the person before him, tentative under his touch. He slowly released his hold on your chin, instead giving your hair a ruffle that caused your locks to fly in disarray. "If so, then I won't push you anymore."

"I've... I've just had a really long day and-"

Your words lost their sound as instead, warmth replaced the quiet. Childe held you in his arms, delicately, like you were made of porcelain, and the slightest touch would shatter you. For someone as brash as him, to now stay silent, letting you let out all the world's concerns in his embrace...

"I won't say anything, alright? Just let it all out, and I'll listen." ₊˚ෆ

— "I'm alright."

At first, SCARAMOUCHE almost looks offended at your words. His brows are furrowed, and his eyes are drawn into a scowl. "What, care to repeat that? It's funny how you think you're fooling anyone."

It takes a moment to find your voice again, with how intense his eyes stare into you - indigo, flashing with electro power. Mesmerizing, dangerous, lethal if you drew too close. It didn't matter you supposed, you had already been in his reach for far longer than you cared to admit, and you had yet to be burnt away. "...I'm alright, nothing happened."

This time, your answer drew a startling laugh that bubbled from deep within him, a carnal yet almost melodious sound that flowed like water and blazed like flames. "Ah, that's funny. You've been hanging around the other Fatui, haven't you?" His gaze narrowed in distaste. "Disgusting, all of them. And from the likes of it, you've been picking up some nasty habits as well. Speaking nothing but the truth to me should be a given, yet you're saying such things without the slightest guilty conscience... I couldn't help but laugh!"

Guilty conscience my ass. Of course it took something out of you to lie to your.. lover. Yes, despite it all, Scaramouche was the one you were joined hands with - even in the male didn't act like it. Or perhaps he did, in a world of his own masked away in a guise behind a guise. His spark just drew you closer.

"Scara, you wouldn't understand...!" Don't get aggravated, keep your voice composed, steady. "It's... it's something personal, alright? I just.. I just don't want to talk about it right now. Give me time, please."

Please? His maniacal expression dimmed as he paused, just a brief moment. He hadn't hurt you, had he? No, you knew him well, well enough to know that that was just the person he was, didn't you? "...So it was like that?" He tried to hide his apologetic expression with a hand over the lower half of his face, but his eyes glistened regardless.

"Ah, just forget about it. If you're hurting, then... Come here, all right? I'll humor you, just for tonight." ₊˚ෆ

(a/n) okay okay so. i. im gonna try and post a fic every day this week. spoiler alert: its fucking exam week BUTBUT BUT im so close to a follower goal ive been wanting to reach and itd be so silly if we could hit it before new years!! that's why im gonna be listening to burnout playlists while typing away like my life depends on it.// wish me luck on my exams ahah. theyre tommorrow.

໒꒱ || ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ (open! send an ask or a comment ♡) : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis, @swivy123, @scara-is-my-wife, @lupicalbestwolf, @justyoureader

-> teehee what if yall left a message on my christmas tree 😶😶😶

[tojirights]

tags: 18+ SMUT, MDNI, drug use, unprotected sex, creampie, choking, casual hookup

toji had been your dealer consistently for quite a while now, and you were well aware of his reputation. you always did your best to not go visit him alone, knowing damn well you'd let him persuade you into falling into bed with him.

but you were insanely bored and had the weekend off so you were in need of some more bud. unfortunately, everyone and their mother seemed to be busy so you suck it up and plan to meet with toji alone. when you pull up to his door, which you also knew was a bad idea, he opens the door with a smirk. “hey sweet thing.” he speaks, already making you feel weak in the knees. “by yourself tonight?” toji raises an eyebrow, seeing just you and your purse. with a sigh, you nod. "yeah everyone bailed on me this weekend. just me, some takeout and shitty movies." you say with a small laugh.

the way toji's eyes scan your body makes a pit form in your stomach. he clicks his tongue and shakes his head. "mh, can't let that happen. come in, why dontcha?" he steps aside, gesturing for you to enter. you hesistate, pulling your lip between your teeth. "i uhh... i shouldn't. not really looking to end up on the news tonight." you tease, watching as toji's eyes falter before he laughs. "i like you, kid. c'mon, i got some bud rolled and ready. on me tonight."

free weed? now you may be dumb but you're not an idiot.

against your better judgement, you accept his invite in. his place was... cleaner than expected... but the smell of the freshly ground weed hit your nose immediately and you let yourself relax. what's the worst that could happen, huh? toji wouldn't kill you or anything, right?

right?

sitting down on his rather comfortable couch, you look at the rolling tray with three blunts ready to be smoked. "as my guest, you have first dibs." toji says, placing himself next to you on the cushion. there's enough space where you aren't feeling suffocated by his presence, but you're fully aware of his body heat.

with a shaky hand, you make your choice and make no hesitation to spark up. your nerves start to settle after a few minutes, smoke flowing around you after your first hit. toji watches diligently, a smirk growing on his face as he watches your muscles stop tensing. "good shit huh?" he asks, taking his first hit. you sit back with your eyes closed, taking in the effects.

you supress a cough as the second hit burns your throat, and that shit hurt but you won't let toji think you can't take a hit so you do your best to suck up the pain. "fuck." you cough, unable to hold it and toji just chuckles. you didn't even see him light up the other joint, but he's already somehow burned through more than you. as the pain resides, you're overwhelmed with the euphoric feeling that you've come to rely on.

toji's still respecting your space, but it somehow feels like the room has shrunk and all you can think about is how close his knee is to yours. your body heat starts to spike, a telltale sign of arousal starting to burn in your gut and you beg it not to show. you're no stranger to bud putting you in the mood, but now is not the time.

"holdin' up alright doll?" toji hums, breaking you from your trance. "h-hm? oh yeah." you fumble your words as you turn to face him. your brain chemisty must be fucked, because the moment your eyes meet his, your self restraint all but snaps. "fuck... toji, i-i..." you sound like an idiot, and your cheeks burn with embarrassment. you try to hide it with an awkward laugh, but it gets lost in your throat when toji's hand rests on your cheek and captures your lips in his.

you would like to say you pulled away and slapped him right across the face, but you instead immediately crawl into his lap. strong hands wrap around your waist to grip the fat of your ass, earning a groan from toji. "y'been dreamin' of this, haven't you baby girl?" toji uses his grip to basically force you to grind on his quickly hardening cock, making you whimper against his lips.

'never fuck your dealer'

your number one rule is quickly disappearing as your hands desperately tug at the hem of toji's shirt, the sudden need to see him unclothed, taking over your senses. he does the same to you, removing your top and expertly unhooking your bra from behind your back. "you clean?" toji pants between kisses, lifting his hips so he can free his cock. you nod, doing the same just a little clumsier. "and on the pill." your response almost makes toji laugh, but he can't help but to find those simple little words so sexy.

there wasn't much more hesitation after you both cleared eachother, your leggings barely making it off your ankles before you feel the head of toji's cock slipping into your needy pussy. you brace for the push in, knowing damn well that toji's cock is bigger than any you've taken in the past. you whine with every hard inch of cock that spreads you open, hearing the squelching sound your pussy only makes after months of not getting fucked properly.

"fuckin' hell kid..." toji groans as his cock forces its way in, all the way until your ass hits his thighs. you're shaking as you try to accommodate not only the length, but the girth of toji's cock. reaching behind you, you grab the last joint off the table and light up, taking as big of an inhale as you can. before you can exhale, toji's grabbing your jaw and pulling your face to his so that you have no choice but to blow the smoke right into his mouth.

you pause now, sitting in toji's lap with his cock pressing snugly against your cervix. it's almost too much, your head spinning as the weed takes over your senses once more. toji takes the still lit joint and takes his own hit before doing the same and blowing it down your throat this time.

and when toji senses your hesitation to keep moving on his cock, he doesn't waste another moment in reaching around to grab a handful of ass, slowly bouncing you up and down on his shaft. "w-wait toji-" you gasp, hands on his chest to brace yourself but toji only gives you a second to breathe before he's lifting you higher and fucking up into you with a harsh pace.

"see? y'didn't need me to wait, sweetheart." toji coos, his grip tightening to keep you lifted so his cock meets no resistance. "your pussy was made for taking cock." he grunts, taking the still burning joint from your hands to blow more smoke in your face. your thighs shake as you keep yourself balanced, each deep stroke of his cock has you seeing stars as intoxication takes over. every nerve in your body screams with pleasure as toji fucks into you relentlessly.

"o-oh fuck toji." you whine, eyes screwed shut as the coil in your gut threatens to snap at any moment. toji's quick to flip your position, flinging you onto your back as he now looms on top of you. "wanna feel y'cum on my cock." he breathes in your ear, hitching one of your legs up around his waist. "s-so close." you mewl, back arching off the leather couch as toji's cock hits you just right. your cunt clenches around his length, waves of pleasure just about to crash over you and-

your eyes widen as toji's hand wraps around your throat, just enough pressure to make your head dizzier than it already was. "ooh yes that's a pretty baby." toji moans, hips stuttering as his own orgasm quickly approaches. you gasp for air as toji's hand tightens just a bit, and that's enough to push you over the edge. your legs spasm as you cunt squeezes toji's cock. wave after wave crashes into you, and toji doesn't relent his brutal pace.

if anything, he quickens his thrusts. "good fuckin' girl." he sighs, letting your pussy milk the cum from his balls. as toji cums, you feel it fill you from within, so much that it starts to leak down his length and onto the couch as he pulls out. you try your best to hold it in, not make a mess on his furniture, but his seed slides right down your inner thigh and mixes with your own juices to make quite a mess.

"o-oh god i'm so sorry-" you're immediately embarrassed and try to pull your panties back on to stop it from leaking but toji pulls you onto his lap and reaches for the end of the blunt. you whine as you feel the sticky seed leaking onto toji's pants. "sorry?" he cocks a brow, hands finding their way back to your ass again. "the only thing you should be sorry for is that now i need to keep givin' you free weed." he says with a chuckle. "i keep good pussy well taken care of." he whispers in your ear, earning a shudder that runs down your spine.

fuck...

never sleep with your deal. unless maybe he's hot.

[andrastepls]

UNTIL DAWN.

synop: reader (callsign lark) and ghost chat over comms one rainy evening. maybe in the same universe as A/SMR ?

warnings: noooone ?

i have once again not proofread shit

The sound of rain pelting down on her makeshift tent was all encompassing, loud — and cold.

Under other circumstances, she would’ve loved the sound. The pitter patter of the droplets may well have lulled her to sleep, but not tonight. Camped out atop a roof adjacent to enemy territory, huddled up underneath a pair of wooden pallets and garbage bags that she’d propped up against the side of the wall, a thermal blanket held up to her nose in an attempt to retain some warmth — this was anything but comforting.

Maybe that was why her eyes kept flicking to her comm. Knowing a familiar voice was just on the other end of a radio wave. He, Ghost, never turned his off. Especially not while she was out on her own, “Manners,” was his response when asked why.

“Lt?” she begins, her voice a breadth above a whisper, “You awake? Over.”

There’s a lull of silence. Not even the static there to keep her company when she lifted her finger from the button.

“Copy, Lark. How you holdin’ up? Over.” came the slight grogginess of his voice, a telltale sign that he had been nearly asleep, if not outright unconscious.

She pauses before answering; namely, what was she going to say? She woke him, it had to be a better reason than being cold and lonely. He was probably cold and lonely too. If he even got lonely. He didn’t seem the type for it. In the two years she had known him, if there was anything she could figure, it was that Lieutenant Riley was someone who enjoyed his alone time.

“Lark?” his voice sounds again with a crackle of static, sounding more awake.

“Here, sir.” she replies, “Just . . . needed to hear a familiar voice. Sorry to wake you. Over.” and she expects that to be the end of it. It was silly of her to bother him over something so mundane. It was weak, and overstepping and —-

“Cold as hell tonight.” he says, dropping formalities. Her chest feels tight. Guilty.

“. . yeah.”

“Y’ got enough thermals up there?”

“For tonight, if it doesn’t flood up here.”

And she swears, she swears, she hears the end of a snorted-laugh when he answers, “The roof innit gonna flood, kid.”

Fighting a smile, she hides herself further into the silver blanket, ducking her head inside and curling her legs up closer, “You’re gonna feel real silly saying that when you need a boat to evac me in the morning.”

"Sure we got a little floaty around here somewhere, if it comes to that." he replies, taking on the tone of a man who thought himself to be hilarious -- having been on the receiving end of his jokes in the past, well . . .

"One with duckies on it, I hope."

"Mm. Nah. Little fish." the Lt. says, his smirk evident in his voice. A smirk she had never seen, but had grown quite accustomed to hearing.

"Nemo?" Lark grins, pulling her sleeves further up to cover her hands in the interim between their comments.

"High standards there, huh?"

"You have no idea, Lt. Nemo or bust."

"I'll see what I can do." he chuckles a bit, and she tries to picture him being up there with her. He was intimidating, no doubt about that, but he brought a certain comfort with him. A sense of safety, even. Must have come with the territory of doing what they did.

You either had each others back, or you all died. That, or get hunted down. Bleak, unless you sucked it up and worked together.

"Fallin' asleep, kid?" Simon's voice comes through again in a crackle of static.

"Nah -- don't think I'm gonna get much sleep tonight." still, she fights back a yawn. It wasn't a matter of not wanting to sleep, because she wanted to. Badly. Getting back to base couldn't come soon enough.

There’s a moment of silence, and she wonders if he had fallen asleep himself. She couldn’t even blame him. Freezing rain, creeping up on 3 A.M. Dawn isn’t all that far off, she told herself, just power through a few more hours.

“Can stay on with ya,” he suddenly says, clearing his throat a little, “Should at least try to get a few winks.”

“That your way of telling me to shut up, Lt?” Lark asks, not bothering to try and hide the sleepy smile evident in her reply.

“Maybe.”

“Brutal.”

“Do I gotta make it an order?”

“Maybe.”

He laughs. Laughs. It makes her chest tighten so unfairly; worse, when she realizes she would do damn near anything to hear that again.

“Get some shuteye, Lark. That’s an order.”

“Mm.” She hums, pulling her thermal over her head, listening to the rain continue to pitter-patter on her makeshift shelter, “See you in the morning, Lt.”

“Jus’ a couple hours.”

“ . . just a couple hours.” she mutters back, tucking her walkie underneath her chin as she settled back in. Forcing her eyes shut as he says a muffled ‘Goodnight’ into the comm.

A/N: i’ve had an idea like this for months, and when i read this, i couldn’t stop myself B) . . . might continue this ? idk

[james-is-here]

Hybrid Chan, who use to belong to your parents, when you take him to go run in the open and you just stay on the dirt "Parking Lot", more of a dirt patch, and he looks at you worriedly with a head tilt.

"I am not following you. Go run." You both care and don't care about hybrids. You see them as humans and you see them as animals. Chan Whines and snaps his jaw at you with a small huff of what you think is a bark. "No." He trots up to you, gently taking your sleeve between his teeth and pulling. "Would you stop!" You snap and pull your arm away from him and he whimpers. "Just go on your stupid run before I leave you here." You wouldn't actually, you can't do that to your mom. You were only doing this for her since she's in the hospital and it's been a few days since he was able to run more than the backyard.

Chan whimpers, sniffing you hand when it falls back to your side before looking up at you with his sad wolf eyes then turning and running further out in the field.

You huff, sitting on the broken, dirty parking block that lines the start of the field as you watch him run around, stopping to smell the ground then returning back to running around. You pull out your phone after half an hour of watching the wolf when it rang.

"Ln Mn?" "Yes, this is him." "Hi, Mn, this is Josie, your mother's nurse." "O-Oh, Is everything okay?" "I'm sorry, Mn..." "W-What..." You didn't want to ask, you knew what she was going to say next, you just didn't want to hear it. "Um, She's gone, Dear. I'm really sorry. She coded and we tried everything possible but...She's gone..." You could hear that she was trying to hold back tears, She's been looking after your mother for years now. "No...No, Josie, p-please..." You were in denial, you knew that. "I'm really sorry, Mn...Um, your brother is on his way to her home and I'm gonna meet him there to discuss the next course of action. Will you be there?"

You were silent, staring at Chan who was standing a couple feet away from you, panting before he closes his mouth and tilts his head in the cute way you've secretly grew to find adorable. "I-I'm w-with her...M-My hybrid, at the moment I..." A choked sobs escapes you and before your eyes squeeze shut and your tears fall you see Chan immediately take off towards you. "Okay, Mn. Take your time, yeah? Your brother can probably handle everything so just...take care of yourself and Chan, yeah?" You let out a weak noise before she says goodbye and hangs up.

You sob, dropping your arm and your phone as you curl in on yourself. Chan whimpers and paws at your shoe before you hear the telltale sign that he's shifting. "Mnie?" You lift your arms, hands on your face as you crying into your palms. "Sh-She's gone, Ch-Chan...M-Mom, is g-go-" A heavy sob stops you from saying it again as you drop your hands.

Chan was sitting on his knees, arms folding onto each other on his thighs in front of his stomach, leaning forward to look at you with that precious head tilt, his left ear atop his head folding over and the right falling to it's natural shape. "Channie..." You reach for him and he immediately moves to lay his head on your lap so you can play with his hair and ears. Chan is ecstatic, trying to stop his tail from wagging cause you haven't asked to pet him or doing it willingly in years, not since you were younger.

You brush your hands through his hair before patting his head. "I-I need..." He sits up, waiting for you to finish. "I-I'm sorry that I-I haven't b-been th-the nicest to you as I got older." "It's okay." "Can...Can you hold me? L-Like mom use to have you do when I was a kid?" "Yeah- I-I mean yes, yes I can." A small smile graces you lips when you notice his excitement.

You move your legs over his, curling into him as he wraps his arms around you and buries his face in your shoulder. You hold back a small laugh when you can hear his tail brushing the dirt around behind him.

"So where will I go? I-I understand if you...leave me somewhere..." His tail stops and he seems to unknowingly hold you tighter, not wanting to hear you give him up. "You'll stay with me..." "Really?" "Yeah. I'm not gonna give you up. My mom found you and raised you. I know I wasn't the nicest to you as I grew older...but I'm gonna change."

You lean back slightly to look up at the hybrid. "Are you okay with staying with me?" "I am! I definitely am I just never got to ask your mom something." "What is it?" "Well...Her neighbors dog hybrid is being abused...He's always outside and I tend to jump the fence to lay with him and keep him warm...Can we take him in as well?" "Uh...sure. We could report the neighbors too. What's his name?" "Seungmin. He's an adorable retriever hybrid, he even told me he has a wild fox friend that comes to visit him in his backyard." "That's sweet. Only this puppy though, yeah? Mom said she was gonna give me the house and there's not a lot of room."

You lay back on his shoulder and look out to the field. "Yeah...Just Seungmin."

Five months later, you managed to be looking after Chan, Seungmin, his fox friend Jeongin, your old co-workers Ferret Hyunjin, the neighborhood stray cat Felix and his Squirrel friend Jisung, a bunny named Minho that Chan found on his run, and a stray "scary" Pitbull hybrid named Changbin who was the cutest sweetheart you've taken in once he learned that you really were nice and weren't gonna hurt him.

[whumpsoda]

Fixed part 2

Fixed Part 1 Fixed Part 3  A lot of people liked the first one so I really wanted to continue it a bit!!!

———————————————————————

Villain was at his house.

Villain, his sworn enemy, was in Hero’s house. 

What was worse, was the fact that he appeared ecstatic to be there. Villain was in a kneeling position, the same he had been in at Superhero’s home, a wide smile plastered across his face. He peered eagerly at Hero.

Villain had only gotten on two feet once Hero had rushed out of Superhero’s home, desperate to escape, and It had been evident from the look of awe on Villains face that he wasn’t let outside much, if at all. His sickly pale skin was a telltale sign of that fact.

The entire car ride was silent, Hero fixated on his thoughts, and Villain with his cheek pressed to the window.

Hero now leaned against the cluttered countertop, trying to gather his thoughts. Villain sat right at his feet, eyes piercing into him, which did not help. 

“Sir?” Hero stiffened.

“Yeah, man?” Hero kept his eyes fixed on the wall.

“What are, um, what work do you require of me?” 

In confusion, Hero shifted his gaze to the other man. “Work?” He questioned.

“Yes, sir,” Villain maintained a genuine smile. “Work. That’s what I’m trained for, helping you! Superhero sir helped me so much, so I can help you now.” 

“Oh, uh, no Villain, I’m not like Superhero, I promise.” Hero crouched down, placing a gentle hand to Villain’s shoulder. “You’re okay now. You’re not with him anymore, he can’t hurt you, ‘kay? You don’t need to pretend anymore.”

Unlike Hero expected, Villain did not relax, nor did he begin acting like Villain. Instead, his brows furrowed, and his face fell to a state of confusion and worry. “I- sir, I’m not pretending, I promise! I really, really wanna serve you, please!” Villain was practically begging, his strained smile sending shivers down Hero’s spine.

Hero sighed, slipping his hands over his face. He stood up again, leaning his back against the counter. “Look, I know… you’ve gone through something, shitty, but it’s all fine now! I’m letting you go, Villain. So you can be evil and stuff again, okay?” His eyes met with Villains, and the look of terror on Villain’s face did nothing to ease his nerves. 

“Y’know, I think I’m just gonna call Assistant, your friend, y’know? Maybe she can help you-”

“No! No, sir, no!” Villain was yelling, his weak hands frantically clinging to Hero’s ankles. He pressed his forehead to the cold tile floor. “Please, I’m a good boy, I promise! I’m not evil anymore, an’ I’m not bad! I promise sir, I wanna be a good boy for you, please!”

Hero stared down, mouth agape and wideyed. 

“Please don’t send me back, with- with the villains. I’m not evil anymore, Superhero helped me! I’m made to serve you now, sir, I can’t go back. This is my purpose.”

Hero stared back, slack jawed, as Villain gazed up with pleading eyes. For a moment, neither made a sound.

“Villain, let's get you to bed.” Hero pushed his weight back onto his feet, standing up straight. Hero leaned down slightly, stretching out an open hand to his nemesis.

“But- sir- what about work?” 

“No work, Villain. It’s ten at night, and you look exhausted. I need you to sleep.”

“So I can work super hard tomorrow?” The words made Hero stiffen.

“Yeah, dude, whatever. Just… go to bed now, ‘kay?” Villain timidly curled his fingers over hero's, pulling himself onto shaky legs.

The two carefully made their way to Hero’s bedroom, which was not exactly what one would call clean. Clothes, papers, and unrecognizable items littered the floor, making it increasingly hard for the two to navigate the room without stepping on anything. When they made their way to the at least nice looking bed, Hero gestured to it.

“You… want me to sleep in a bed? In you’re bed?” Villain hung his head low, greasy strands of hair falling in front of his eyes.

“Yeah, sorry, I guess I need to order a bed for you tonight.” Hero chuckled slightly.

“I, um, I sleep on the floor sir.” 

“Villain. Bed, now please.” Upon the command, Villain carefully stepped to the bed, next to Hero, and fixed his eyes on the pristine sheets. He knew it would be so wrong. He should be cleaning, not sleeping, let alone in Hero’s bed.

Hero pressed a tender hand to Villain’s back, steadily shifting him onto the mattress. Villain sat down rigidly, his hands folded tightly in his lap.

“C’mon, lie down.” Hero coaxed. Begrudgingly, Villain placed his back against the blankets under him. Hero leaned to the floor, grabbing a large, fluffy blanket and placing it over Villain’s body. It enveloped his small frame, making it so he was almost completely unnoticeable underneath.

The warmth and comfortability of the blanket felt foreign to him. Drowsiness began to seep into his brain, taking a hold on him. As much as he needed to fight it, part of him didn’t want to. Hero was rubbing his shoulder, sweet, circular motions. “Just sleep now. I have to leave for a bit, but I’ll be back as soon as I can. Goodnight Villain.”

Hero received only a tired hum of recognition in response. As he walked out of the dark room, he watched as Villain snuggled deeper into the soft bed.

…

Hero held his fist to the door, hesitantly knocking his knuckles against it. He had no idea if anyone would answer. He wouldn’t have blamed them if they didn’t. They definitely didn’t know that he knew where they lived, and they definitely would not take kindly to that fact.

Especially since he not only knew where they lived, but he showed up to their place of residence. In the middle of the night. Unannounced.

Yet, moments later, the door opened, but only a sliver. “What are you doing here?” Hero felt his throat run momentarily dry.

“I-I need your help.”

“And why the hell would that be? I’m not coming out so you and your Hero friends can capture me, just like Villain.” A strike of guilt struck through the hero's body. 

“I’m not going to arrest you.”

“Then there's no reason for you to be here, and I’m sure there's no possible reason you could ever need my help. So leave.” Hero watched as they went to shut the door.

“It’s about Villain!” The door opened a smidge more, allowing a faint outline of the figure to become visible.

“What?” Hero swallowed.

“I need your help. For Villain.”

[ma1dmer]

Star Wars - Darth Maul NSFW

edgy bitches unite

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex): he doesn't feel like he needs aftercare and wouldn't even know where to start with you, but he'll let you lay your head on his lap as he strokes your hair till you fall asleep.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s): i think he is a sucker for marking you up, so he tends to kind of obsess over different parts of you body, anywhere he can sink his teeth in, anywhere he’ll see a bruise or hickey bloom.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person): did someone order a facial, he'll finish on you and swipe his cum with his thumb to shove between your lips, ordering you to clean up your mess. he gets impatient after he cums however, be prepared for him to literally force an orgasm out of you if you havent finished by the time he has.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs): loves hates sex, loves when you fight with him, argue with him in any way, he wants you to get rough with him as much as he gets rough with you, slap him and pull him to you, sink your teeth in him and he is in love, he gets restless easily, he needs this release.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?): definitely has experience, he knows what he is doing and through some rough trial and error he finds exactly what makes you tick

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual): he likes folding you and specifically holding you in positions that are slightly uncomfortable, pushes your legs a bit too far apart or presses your knees against your chest, wants to hear you whine for him or watch you take it for him, fight or submit.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc): more serious, will growl about finding him funny or something if you laugh, his smirk sharp almost challenging you

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.): much like the rest of him he is hairless even before he had his bottom half forcibly removed by our dear obi-wan kenobi

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…): not particularly good with the romantic side of things, but he does pull out some surprisingly sweet nicknames in the middle of it all, he coos them to you in almost sweet mockery, but he does mean them, sometimes

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon): wants you to watch him, he strokes himself languidly almost lazily as he looks at you, head cocked to the side, the only telltale sign that he is focused on you the fire behind his eyes

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks): spitting, choking, cock warming etc

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do): anywhere and everywhere, he has no shame and makes a point of showing it to everyone so no one gets any funny ideas about you.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs): not much he can't be talked into at least once

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going): an argument, peace was never an option, he doesn’t want someone emotionally weak next to him, even though he wants you to submit to him he still enjoys the fire in you, he is always the most horny after you two argue

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc): likes receiving and giving equally, not necessarily out of the goodness of his heart, in both cases its to show how he owns and knows your body, its about dominating you

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.): fast and rough, he takes you as if he has a point to make

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.): doesn't feel particularly for or against them, he doesn't like to be rushed but he won't deny you or himself

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.): he can be talked into trying just about anything with the right wording and putting him in the right mindset, sweet talk him, plead for him, paint a pretty image of what you want of him and sure who is he to say no

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…): he has a lot of stamina from all the training he has and even if he doesn't he for sure isn't backing away from you until you are trembling

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?): he’s fine with you using them, but he wants to be the one that personally handpicks the toys for you

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease): likes to get to the point quickly, teasing him doesn't work, he will have you bent over in front of everyone if you push him too far

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make): loud and he doesn't care who hears him, he grows quiet only when it's to encourage you to get louder

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice): i can really see him being into cock warming, either sitting on his lap all pretty and patient, or on your knees with your head leaned on his thigh and his cock in your mouth

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words): knot? knot! and dare i say, he could be pierced , who knows, those tattoos definitely go all the way there though

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?): once he sets his mind on something he is really focused until he gets it done, this translates to his sex life as well, once he gets that one thought of you, in any way, even just a glimpse of something like a memory of your previous encounters, he has set his mind to it and will make sure to visit you the second he has the chance

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards): it takes him a while and he never quite sleeps peacefully but he at least tries to not bother you and wake you up once you are out

[comfortless]

He definitely has a complex about being considered middle aged. Me personally, I see him as one of those guys that tell you they're a couple of years younger than they actually are, in the beginning, cause be feels too old for someone younger and (in his mind) 'cooler' than him.

I feel like joining the army at such a young age must've made him feel like an adult way too soon, and maybe back then he must've felt superior like 'All the people my age only care about love and having fun, I'm way too mature for those silly things'. (Could be a copping mechanism to deal with the fact that he wasn't getting love anyway, and wasn't included in all the fun his peers were having. Rejecting those things altogether are a way to take back control and make himself feel better, he's too busy becoming a real man anyway). But now that he's older he does feel like he missed out on things, and regrets not being a silly teenager when it was acceptable and expected at that age.

He makes me think of that one Yves Olade quote that goes like "I thought so many things & never said a single one aloud. I choked on such longing I couldn’t spit out. Yes, desire is so different when God bore you hungry. I could have devoured anything and still have been starving." When you get no love from your parents is one thing (still hurts) but when you get cast out in other social circles also, it makes you feel bitter like nothing else on this earth. It creates this feeling that you're the one that it's being inadequate for even daring to want connections to other people and you begin to resent people and yourself for wanting to be around them. There's this shame that settles on top of your chest when you want love but you feel like that's the cause of all your suffering in the first place, like you're doing it to yourself. This reminds me of another quote : "in front of my mother and my sisters, i pretend love is cheap and vulgar. i act like it's a sin- i pretend that love is for women on a dark path. but at night i dream of a love so heavy it makes my spine throb- i dream up a lover who makes love like he is separating salt from water." (Salma Deera, "salt"). I feel like this might apply to younger Konig, when convinced himself that love is for weak man to protect his poor heart. But now that he's older and has the money, the position and the body of a real man he needs to get a taste (just a small one, just once) of what he had missed out on in his youth. He finally feels deserving enough to attempt to have real intimacy with someone, not just quick hookups that leave him more hungry.

FEEL FREE TO NOT ANSWER THIS I'm just in a silly mood and had to psychoanalyse my babygirl real quick. Also, sorry for my English =))

how could i possibly just leave this in my inbox, anon?! this is all so correct…

thank god he wears that hood, because even on the field the sun isn’t hitting him too much - (he thinks) he can pass for early thirties. not that any lady who takes an interest in him is really considering his age much anyway, it’s always the shy “how tall did you say you were, again?”s or “what is your real name?”s that are telltale signs of interest. they ogle his build, the accomplishments he will prattle on about given the chance, the haunted look in his eyes and the strange lilt to his voice, the scars and lines only make him look cooler. if only that wasn’t such a rare treat.

he’s just in his head about things always. he missed out on the sweet, awkward dates: the mutual rush of adrenaline from holding someone’s hand for the first time, sneaky pecks in the schoolyard, passing notes and calling throughout the night. he never got to experience having his parents drop him off at the theater to take some girl from class out or… hell, even getting to go with a friend who wasn’t gossiping behind his back. König’s never gotten to live like any other, normal person, he’s been denied that since being birthed into a world that did not want him as much as he did not want it.

so, of course he’s bitter. he’s horribly bitter even now when things have finally started to fall into place for him. he’s got a stature even Adonis would be nervous around, a savings account so stocked he isn’t even sure what to do with the money, an impressive title, his own place, a car, and some of the soldiers even consider him a friend. he gets invited out every now and then, doesn’t mind downing jäger and listening to his men talk about their current affairs: what women they’re seeing, or how their children are, where they plan to go on leave. he takes to living vicariously through them. he even finds it fit to lie, pulls up a picture of some random woman every now and then to boast about how he made her come undone on his bed last leave with a stupid laugh. the truth is that no, last leave he bought a nice fleshlight, took a thirteen hour depression nap, maybe went on a long hike and had a film marathon on his own.

having a woman show him any interest immediately activates some self-destructive behavior: he’ll hound her (screw double texting, it’s moreso in the dozens. little “miss you”s and stupid accusations he immediately wishes he hadn’t sent), either withdraw into himself if he even feels slightly abandoned or become even more intense and clingy. no one’s ever loved him, not properly, so how is he supposed to know how? if his own parents hated him, then who is going to have the patience and understanding to teach him? his approaches are almost childish, the way he goes from boyish and giddy to closed off and pitiful. /: and the self-loathing only amplifies during these times, because my god he should be more disciplined than this by now. all that being said, i do think he would settle and be as well-behaved as a neglected bull could be if he feels his affection is being reciprocated. he just needs time (and a good therapist).

squealing at the poetry and how much thought you’ve put into this message. <3

Yves Olade is sooo good to quote from for him! i think that “You can have my heart if you have the stomach to take it. Kiss me hard enough to invert me.” suits him just as well, especially when it comes to the trepidation and fear amidst the sparks of him finally, truly having someone be selfless and loving with him.

König in love is a very special topic to me!! there are so many different ways this rabid dog could take to handling it and by and by he always seems to choose the most aggressive / uncanny approach, held back by a leash that no one’s ever thought to untie, constantly growling and leaping at anything that gets too close just to simmer down to whimpering and begging the second he’s pet just once!!

[ofallthingsnasty]

my birthday gift? can i- can i really ask for something i want? well… can i move upstairs, kento? i-i promise i’ll behave… please… i feel so scared here everytime you go to work… (for nanamin since you said you write for jjk! hehe)

tags: yandere, past kidnapping, telltale signs of stockholm (uh oh)

The hand loosening his tie stills. 

His brows furrow, then his shoulder slacks. You know the gesture, Nanami is thinking about what to say. 

Strained eyes find yours, searching your face - for what, you don’t know. Is it too much to ask for? The flowers had been nice this morning, as far as twisted birthday wishes from the man who has kept you in his home for months go, but you getting a shred of human decency back seems more thoughtful than an elegant bouquet full of your favorites. You know by now that there is no way out of this situation and it would be nice to make your life more bearable. Access to a proper kitchen. A couch. Maybe you could watch TV?

A sigh. It's not born from annoyance (it never is, annoyance isn't something he seems to feel when it comes to you and you pray it stays that way) but resignation, from a heavy burden only he bears.

He’s taking too long to answer, you realize and a tiny spark of worry flits through your gut.

There is nothing to fear, you tell yourself.

He can be reasonable, pragmatic. Not manipulated but guided towards a more favorable outcome if your needs and wants are sensible, humble. 

Nanami isn't cruel. Somewhere in his mind, it all makes sense - and for the most part, you think you can follow him, can come to the same conclusions, to the most logical outcome. 

Maybe you’re finally going stir-crazy enough that you’d call your abductor reasonable. 

But he still knows something you don’t. This strange, silent man who comes home to you, clothes finely speckled with blood more often than not, lives in a different world from yours. Where someone leaves the house in a proper suit and a pinched face only to return late, with grip of steel on your shoulders and the smell of physical exertion on their clothes. Where it seems sane to kidnap someone unassuming like you and put them in a basement for safekeeping. 

There is something going on beyond your scope - you’d be stupid not to sense it by now, but you are starting to think that he’d rather die than tell you. 

“It’s not a matter of good behavior”, he finally says and his voice is guarded, cool. “It’s a matter of safety.” Safety. You’ve had this conversation many times, you think, this is just a different version of it. 

His rejection leaves your eyes hot - you feel like a scolded child being denied one too many treats. Maybe you’re just greedy. Trying your luck on an already excellent day. 

“But I’m scared-”, you push out quickly and let the words hang in the air, because they are true.

How many times have you thought about how long the water would last you down here if he ever bit off more than he could chew and never came home again (and you’re sure the day will come, you know it will), if anyone would ever go looking for you because you doubt a single person is aware of your presence. 

He pinches the bridge of his nose before you can spiral further, but the damage is done.

“I am aware”, he says, exhausted. “And I understand-”

The tears that finally spill from your eyes interrupt him.

He looks at you for a moment as you try to straighten yourself back out, ashamed of your hot temper cooking over and leaving you to show weakness in front of the one man you shouldn't.

His brow softens ever so slightly as he watches you, every crease caused by his work smoothed over with tenderness for your miserable state. It's humiliating.

"I understand your predicament. And I'll see what can be done."

You nod. Through the tears and the burning air in your nose, you nod. 

You know he means it. It's a promise when he says it like that - not a promise for you to finally get out of the dingy basement, but a promise to figure something out.

How much of your wish will come true will be up to his estimation but you allow yourself to feel a tiny glimmer of hope - and allow him to tuck you under his heavy arms as he unbottons his shirt ever so slightly, ending the conversation with the tiny gesture.

Yes, you’re definitely losing it to consider this exchange at least a partial success.

[acourtofidiots]

Kinktober Day 1: Breeding & Creampie [Rhysand]

DAY ONE LETS GO!!!! Honestly, I've been super super behind on writing for Kinktober and this is probably going to be the longest piece I'm going to write. Between work, and my ADHD meds on backorder, my attention has been GONE every time I try and sit down to write, so hopefully I can at least get a few things going on my days off so I don't have to scramble together and fall behind on prompts.

warnings: breeding kink, creampie, dirty talk, inappropriate use of daemati powers (idk the word for this lol)

Kinktober masterlist | askbox | main masterlist

18+ ONLY

“Cauldron, you looked absolutely ravishing tonight, my love,” Rhysand purrs, teasing the tip of his cock along your drenched folds. You whined, wiggling your hips back to get some friction, but your mate tuts, holding you still with a hand on your hip. 

“Patience, my dear Y/N.” You can practically hear the smirk in his voice, the damn male knowing how weak his teasing made you.

“Rhys,” you whined, voice catching in your throat when he started to tap his cock against your clit. “Please!”

“Please, what?” Your mind was spinning, and it took your energy to respond to him. 

“P-please, I need your cock so badly. ‘M so empty it hurts!” And with that, he slides into you, one glorious inch at a time, moaning at your slick walls clenching. 

The world is holding its breath, anxiously awaiting for the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court to make their move, show Pyrthian the power they have over their court. Your hands clench at the quilt, nails digging in to restrain yourself from wiggling your hips. 

“Oh, my darling,” Rhysand breathes as he places feather-light kisses up your spine before gently biting the crook where your neck and shoulder meet. “I cannot wait to fuck a child into you, have you practically dripping at the end of the night with my seed.” 

You clenched at his filthy words and could feel his claws tap at your mental shield. You let it down briefly, only to be shown what he was thinking: You, your arms holding a small bundle of joy as Rhysand chases another child around the House of Wind. Your heart swelled at the sight of your mate scooping the child up with a laugh and placing a kiss on their head. The two turn towards you, and Rhysand takes your child’s small hand in your direction. 

You groan at the sight as your mate retreats from your mind, hips slowly thrusting in and out of you. “Rhysie, please. I need your cum. I need to cum on your cock.” You could practically feel yourself start to shake the longer he kept his leisurely pace. It would be a matter of moments before you grew frustrated and would take matters into your own hands. 

Teeth grazed your neck, the dragging of his cock against your sensitive walls was driving you more and more out of your mind, and you didn’t know how much longer you could take. “Hold on tight, darling.” 

You practically exploded when his pace increased tenfold, the lewd sounds of skin slapping against skin and groans filled the air, and you were thankful to have a place of your own. You wouldn’t hear the last of Cassian’s teasing if he walked in. 

You could feel the telltale signs of your orgasm, your hands digging into the blankets beneath you, walls clenching around your mate’s cock that was hitting the right spot over and over again. But it all came crashing down the moment you felt Rhysand bring his fingers down to swipe over your clit once before rubbing it in harsh circles. 

“Come, Y/N. I want you to come for me. Let me fill you up,” Rhys groans, and you let out a particularly loud moan at his words. “Let me put a baby in you.” The world comes crashing down around you, waves of pleasure flying through your veins as you come undone. Your mind was racing, unable to comprehend your mate reaching his own peak and shooting his load deep inside you. 

The room was silent for a moment. Only your collective pants filled the air as you both took time to come down from your highs. Placing a kiss on your bare shoulder, your mate pulls back, and you whimper as his cock slips from your sore pussy. 

“Shh, it’s ok, my darling.” You hear him coo behind you before you feel calloused hands grip your cheeks and pull them apart, watching a mixture of your releases slowly drip down your thighs. He sucks in a breath before slowly inserting two fingers back into you, making sure to press as deep as he could. 

“Can’t let anything escape,” Rhys purrs, and you shiver. 

[sanctum-of-ramshackle]

🦈Rocking The Boat🩸

[Synopsis]: Azul offered MC/Yuu to perform a gif at the Monstro Lounge and let them choose what kind of performance they would do. Except he didn’t console with them as the Octo-schemer learned too late.

[Gender Neutral Reader]

[WARNING]: Foul language in the song and best advise to lower your volume when listening to the song.

[A/N]: This is one of my favorite songs from Ice Nine Kills when I first listened to their album, “The Silver Scream.” I highly recommend to lower your volume settings since the song can be loud in some parts and wouldn’t want to damage your ears.

[Ice Nine Kills - Rocking The Boat (ft. Jeremy Schwartz)]

[Monstro Lounge]

MC/Yuu: Are you sure you want me to perform?

Azul: Of course! You must have songs from your world many never heard of until now. It should bring more customers in.

MC/Yuu: Alright, but fair warning: it can get loud. Best to give a disclaimer if there’s anyone who may be sensitive to hearing and flashing lights. We also need a heads-up to any Mer-shark people who are present during the show.

Azul: Why would you need to add that?

MC/Yuu: You’ll see.

[8:30 p.m.]

Jade: Evening everyone. Tonight will be a grand show starring The Prefect from the Ramshackle Dorm. Before we start the special night, there will be warnings of high volumes and flashy light effects. We may also warn Mer-Shark civilians of the show.

Mer-Shark People in the audience: Why would they warn us?

Jade: They informed me it is a song about a great white shark that kills people.

Mer-Shark People: Oooh yeah.

Jade: Now, let the show begin.

[The lights dimmed and smoke effects cover the stage. Then reveals MC/Yuu, with a microphone in hand and inhales…]

MC/Yuu:

SHARK!!!!

Coast guard, this is the Orca. Do you read me?

Four and a half miles due east of Amity Island

This is an official distress call, over

We all know a place

That appears so sublime

But if you dive a little deeper

You'll hit the real bottom line

The head of the town is out there flashing his teeth

A telltale sign about to surface

That there's a monster lurking underneath

They're thrashing around but found

They can't contain the leak

'Cause I've got a fish to fry

That's feeding on the weak

So cast a line for every life they took

It's time to set the-

Lilia, as the supporting lines: Hook!

We're all just floating in a shallow grave

Lilia: Buoyed by the blood of the masses

They'd rather sell out that instead of save

We're all so starving that we've taken the bait

Lilia: You think we would've learned from the past

That the predator will soon become-

Lilia: The prey!

We all know a place

Where the calm flees at night (night, night)

And safe is just a shadow

So we swim towards the light

If this voyage of valor

Put us on deck for death

We'll compare scars with each other

Until our very last breath

Lilia: Yeah!

They're thrashing around but found

They can't contain the leak

'Cause I've got a fish to fry

That's feeding on the weak

So reel it in with every trick in the book

It's time to set the-

Lilia: Hook!

We're all just floating in a shallow grave

Lilia: Buoyed by the blood of the masses

They'd rather sell out that instead of save

We're all so starving that we've taken the bait

Lilia: You think we would've learned from the past

That the predator will soon become-

Lilia: The prey!

Coastguard, this is the Orca again

We need you out here now

The boat is under attack, it's a great white, over

Roger that, ETA fifteen minutes, over

In fifteen minutes we'll be fucking shark bait

Last chance to make amends

Lilia: So try to stay afloat

With sharks like you among us

Lilia: We'll need a bigger boat

Sold us down the river

Lilia: So the rich could stay rich

But now you've been caught

Lilia: So smile…

You son of a bitch

Sinking with the burning embers

Should be any sign of doubt

That this tale will be remembered

And the tide will forever flush them out

We're all just floating in a shallow grave

Lilia: Buoyed by the blood of the masses

They'd rather sell out that instead of save

We're all so starving that we've taken the bait

Lilia: You think we would've learned from the past

That the predator will soon become-

Lilia: The prey!

[After the song was finished, the audience applauded and whistled.]

[After the show]

Azul: Prefect, that was…

Floyd: AWESOME! Shrimpy surprised everyone tonight.

MC/Yuu: Thanks, but you can compliment Lilia for his vocals.. It wasn't easy screaming the parts and had to practice. It woke the Ghosts up because they thought a Banshee came by.

Azul: The song came from your world and based on a killer shark.

MC/Yuu: Yeah, from Steven Spielberg's movie "Jaws". I still get excited to watch parts where Bruce gets his victims in the water.

Azul: You scare me sometimes, Prefect. You really do.

✨[Reblogs helps creators and creates for more content]💫

[hockeynoses]

Served Just the Way You Like - R/oy x Jam/ie snz fic

Summary: Jamie is sick on game day but thinks he can still play. Roy refuses to let him, but he finds a way he can still be useful – infecting the opposing team with his cold.

Rating: PG-13 (as far as non-snz stuff goes). 4.5k.

Warnings: MESS! Some D/s elements. Malicious contagion via snzing on food. (The results of said contagion are implied, not shown.) If this sounds like too much for you, turn back now! I cannot stress enough how the main part of this fic is just Jamie snzing on the opposing team's catering setup.

Notes: I never thought I'd reach the point where I was comfortable not only writing something like this, but sharing it. So I hope you all enjoy! It took me three months on and off to finish this. And this goes without saying, but I would never condone something like this IRL, and in fact, I would hate it!

The title is a lyric from Table for Two by Joe. What a throwback!

-

Jamie drives to the club, excited to finally see Roy after a long five days apart. Roy had taken his sister and Phoebe for a long weekend in Germany – a trip to indulge Phoebe’s niche cultural obsessions and because Ruth and Roy are such workaholics that they’d both promised to push each other to go on vacation every so often.

The trip had been planned before Roy and Jamie were even a thing, and Jamie couldn’t go anyway - he had a photoshoot for a brand deal that weekend. It ended up being for the best – Jamie started coming down with something the day Roy left. It’s developed into a real bitch of a head cold – they’d had to put extra makeup on his face for the photoshoot so he didn’t look like he was dying, and he’d been constantly asking for tea to soothe his burning throat.

Missing Roy was a fierce ache that lingered all weekend. He selfishly wanted nothing more than for him to be back home so he could take care of Jamie. But Jamie was trying to be an adult, and that meant he wasn’t allowed to be clingy or call his boyfriend to whine at him while he was enjoying his vacation.

They had only exchanged a few texts over the weekend, Roy sending him pictures when he could. His flight had gotten in late last night, so Roy had gone straight to his own place, barely having time to unpack before he fell asleep.

Jamie had an early night as well, his body aching and exhausted. Still feverish, he’d had a night of fitful sleep, dreading the game the next day.

Now that Roy’s a coach, he has to get to the club earlier on game days, and Jamie usually sleeps in, going about his usual game day routine, heading to the club in the early afternoon.

At last, Jamie rounds the corner and sees the locker room doors, his small waist pack weighing more heavily on him due to how wrung out he’s feeling, though the added weight could be from the packet of tissues and some cough drops he’d stashed into one of the pouches. He’s dreading the game today, but is determined to suck it up and play. It’s his job as a professional athlete, and he doesn’t want to let the team down. He’s pretty sure he’s played through worse.

A whisper of a memory floats through his foggy brain – his dad’s voice, calling him a fuckin’ pansy for complaining of a fever before a game. He’d only been a teenager, but he’d quickly learned to hide any sign of weakness around his father, and by association, around the team.

At least he’ll get to see Roy after such a long weekend away. It’s still fairly early in their relationship and he knows Roy doesn’t mind, but Jamie still feels the need to dial back his neediness sometimes. He knows he can be a lot, and he doesn’t want to scare Roy off by being too much at once. He’s been dying for Roy to come back and take care of him, but they’ve never been in this situation before, and he isn’t sure how Roy will react. Maybe all the bedside manner in the Kent gene pool had gone to his sister.

Before he enters the room, a telltale prickle creeps through his sinuses and he stops in his tracks, bringing a hand up to pinch his nose as a painful stifle tries to force its way out. “ha-kxxSH!” His exhale is a relieved sigh. There’s a good chance that no one heard that. But pinching his nose has turned it an even deeper shade of red, one he can’t do much to hide. And denying himself the release of a sneeze has his sinuses feeling like they’re packed with cement and buzzing unpleasantly.

Once he’s certain there are no more sneezes about to creep up on him, he steels himself and heads into the locker room, greeted by the sound of teammates chatting.

He sets his stuff down on the bench by his locker, turns, and immediately he locks eyes with Roy, who’s been keeping an eye out for him from his desk. If Jamie wasn’t fluent in Roy by now, he would’ve missed the slight quirk of his lips and the way his eyes brighten at the sight of Jamie. It makes Jamie feel properly warm in a way he hasn’t felt in days – a gooey, happy feeling that floods outward from the center of him.

Roy moves first, coming out of his office to greet him. Even though they’re out to the team, a one-armed hug and clap on the back is all they usually allow themselves at work.

“Welcombe back,” Jamie says, voice genuine, as he clings a little longer than mere colleagues would. He can’t help himself; it’s been a shit weekend and he’s allowed this one comfort. He wants nothing more than to sink into Roy’s arms and bury his face in the warmth of his neck. It takes all he has to fight the urge.

“Thanks,” Roy says, rubbing his hand across Jamie’s shoulders before pulling back.

Jamie drinks in the sight of him. “Looks like you godt sombe sudn, Grandad.” He gives him his most charming smile, jealous of the sun that got to kiss Roy’s skin all weekend.

Roy rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “Yeah, it was hot as fuck, and Phoebe had us running all over on all sorts of adventures.”

“Looks good odn you,” Jamie says, voice low. The intensity in Roy’s eyes is telling. He’s been missing Jamie just as much, and can’t wait to get his hands on him later tonight.

“You look…” Roy pauses, truly taking him in, “a bit tired, actually.”

“Oi!” Jamie protests, his throat burning with the effort. He whacks Roy’s shoulder with the back of his hand, indignant. “Thad’s dnot a dnice thing to say.”

“I’m saying it as a concerned coach!” Roy argues. “Did you sleep okay last night?”

Before he can answer, Jamie has no choice but to snuffle up some congestion, his runny nose finally getting the best of him. He wipes it with his palm, rubbing the tip of his nose in circles to stave off a developing itch.

“Yeah, bmate, got plendy of sleeb.” The forcefully chipper statement is immediately followed by a shaky inhale, and he snaps his hand up just in time to stifle a telling, “ha-kxxxgt!” into his fist.

“Tartt, if you’re sick-” Roy studies him with a stern look.

“I’b nodt sigck,” he says, betrayed by a marshy sniffle. “Idt’s allergies.”

“You’re not allergic to anything.”

Right, Jamie thinks, as a coach, he’d have had a look at all the players’ medical files.

“People can develop allergies as adults.” His croaky voice turns petulant, aware that he’s fighting a losing battle.

Roy stares at him, knowing that Jamie will give in to the need to break the silence and eventually say something incriminating. He doesn’t have to wait long before Jamie’s nose does it for him. It starts to twitch, his eyelids fluttering closed before he’s forced to cup his hands over his face and curl forward with a massive- “heh… heh’eehhRRRSSHOO!” It coats his palms in enough spray and spit that he has to wipe them on his pants. Jamie looks up sheepishly, embarrassed at having his cover blown so quickly.

“It sounds to me like you’ve caught a hell of a cold.”

“I’b fine.” The corners of Jamie’s mouth pull down in a frustrated pout.

“Where did you even pick this up?”

“I don’t know, bman.” Jamie tries and fails to keep the tired whine out of his voice. A cool hand presses to his forehead and he sighs at the feeling.

“Jesus, you’re burning up.” Roy says. The concern in his voice floods pleasantly through Jamie, always grateful for Roy’s attention. “You can’t play like this.” At that, Jamie snaps back to attention.

“The fucgk I cadn’t! Me legs work jusdt fiiiihh hih’AEESSHH’IUE!” Into his hands again, followed by an irritated cough that’s just starting to move into his chest. A few heads turn their way, and the guys nearest to him take a step back in unison.

“Jamie, you’re clearly not well enough to play. And as your coach, that’s my call to make.” Roy says firmly, voice deep with authority. He places a placating hand on his shoulder. “It would be irresponsible of me to let you play right now.”

Jamie’s gaze cuts downward, feeling like an unruly child being scolded. He drags the back of his hand under his nose and gives a thick sniffle, still fighting against his runny nose.

“Christ, you even look contagious. Do you want to get the whole team sick? You should have told me sooner.”

“You were on vacatiodn! I didn’t wadnt to mbake a big deal oudt of idt.” His dad’s comments filter through his head again, and he decides he’s not going to have that conversation in the middle of a crowded locker room.

“You still could have told Ted or Beard. Or texted me this morning. I wouldn’t have been mad, Jamie.”

“I’b sor- ehh…hih’TTSSHOO!” The inner elbow of his very expensive hoodie gets a generous spritzing.

“Hmm? What was that?” Roy asks with raised eyebrows.

“I said I’b – ggsh’IISHIEW! SNF. I’b sorry!” He has to wipe his nose on his sleeve before he can show his face again. It seems like each day of this horrid cold has brought with it increasingly messy sneezes, with no end in sight.

“Good boy,” Roy offers, a dash of condescension mixed in with his genuine tone. It affects Jamie all the same, warming him down to his toes. He should be embarrassed, but he’s too worn down to care. He almost sways with the relief of it - or maybe that’s the fever he hasn’t managed to shake. Roy drapes an arm across his shoulders, holding him in place.

“Let’s get you out of here. God knows we don’t need a fucking virus taking down the entire team at this point in the season, with the league table being as it is.”

A spark of an idea lights up Roy’s face at that, and he pauses, considering. Once again taking in Jamie’s sorry state – his cheeks ruddy with fever, his glassy eyes, and his poor raw nose. So clearly full of cold and extremely contagious. Having made up his mind, Roy gestures to Ted and Beard that he’s taking Jamie home, and that he’ll be back in time for the match. Business taken care of, he turns back to Jamie.

“Follow me,” Roy says as he manhandles him out of the room and down the hallway. Jamie has to muffle a few sneezes into the collar of his hoodie along the way, Roy holding him steady through each one. He’s so out of it that it takes him a while to realize they’re not taking the usual route out of the stadium.

“Where we goin’?” he asks, groggily wiping at the clear mess seeping out of one nostril.

“Just trust me. And try not to draw too much attention to yourself,” Roy says, as though that’s something that comes naturally to Jamie.

Roy uses his employee badge to get them into a door deep within the maze of the staff-only areas of the stadium. Opening it slowly, he scans the room to make sure it’s empty before pulling Jamie inside.

“Whadt are we doin’ ‘ere?” Jamie asks, blinking hazily. They’re in the lounge area for the visiting team; he recognizes it from when he played here with City. It’s outfitted with a full kitchen, dining tables, couches, TVs – the works.

It should still be about 30 minutes before the opposing team arrives, but the room has already been prepared for them. The fridge is stocked; silverware, plates, and glasses are all arranged on one end of the long counter, and the catering team has set out trays of food on beds of ice to keep them cool. There’s a tray of sushi, a gorgeous charcuterie board, a large bowl of salad, and some cold cuts for sandwiches, among other hot dishes being kept warm by small heaters under their covered metal trays.

“I have an idea,” Roy says with an evil glint in his eye. Jamie recognizes that look from training and knows well enough to be very, very afraid.

“…What?”

“You’re gonna contaminate their food and get all these fuckers sick, like the plague rat you are.” Roy shares an intense, secretive grin with Jamie, clearly proud of himself.

A shocked grimace pulls at Jamie’s features.

“Roy, that’s sigck. We cadn’t…” His breath scissors in and out. “We c-cadn’t do that! Hih…ha-ESSSHH’uh!”

“Of course we can.” Roy’s strong fingers give Jamie’s shoulder a shake, caught up in the excitement of his plan. “Think of the standings, mate! If a bunch of their best players are out the next couple of weeks, their numbers are gonna tank and we’ll move up a couple spots!”

Jamie stares at him in awe. “You really - hah…ha’XXGSH’uu! You really are a sadist.” Roy pins him with a knowing look. A flush prickles across Jamie’s cheeks and neck, and there’s a tug of heat in his core. Roy follows his lead, crowding into his space. He thrusts his fingers into Jamie’s thick hair.

“Well, you’re the one who showed up for a game that you’re obviously too sick to play, and you risked getting the rest of the team sick, so now I’m the one making the decisions.” He pulls Jamie closer to him, tugging gently on his hair. The words are growled softly against his cheek like a secret. “Which means I get to use you however I want, and you’re gonna let me.”

Jamie chokes on a moan, breath catching in his throat. Roy pulls back, his eyes flashing dark.

“Yeah?” Roy asks, giving him an out if he needs it. They’ve been together long enough that they can read each other clearly. Even though they might have their communication issues outside the bedroom, sex and its related power dynamics have always been something that they’re really, really good at.

“Yeah,” comes Jamie’s answering rasp. His eyes are needy, reverent. He can trust Roy. Roy will take care of him. And he gets to be useful. He can still help the team win, even in this twisted roundabout way that Roy’s found.

He’s afforded the soft brushing of Roy’s fingers against his cheek before he’s abruptly caught by the elbow and firmly escorted towards the long counter with trays of food on it.

“Right then,” Roy surveys the room, creating a plan of attack. “We should probably hit all the cold stuff first… not bother with the hot trays since they’re probably warm enough to burn off the germs… or something. Right?”

“Fugk iihh- hep’TIISSHuh!” Jamie sneezes down into his cupped hands, held inches away from his face. “Ugh. Fugk if I know.” He glances at his moist palms before swiping them dry on his pants.

Roy rolls his eyes. “Don’t waste all those sneezes before we even start.”

“Sorry, Jesus.” Jamie’s brows furrow in a little pout as he wipes his damp, squishy nose on the side of his hand.

Roy, anxious to get started and with an eye on the clock, grabs Jamie’s arm with gentle authority and steers his body towards the tray on the end of the counter. It looks like a lovely house salad, Jamie thinks absently, staring down at it. When he glances back at Roy, the other man is watching him expectantly.

“Alright, go for it.”

“I cadn’t just… do it odn commband!”

“Now’s not the time for performance anxiety, Tartt.”

“Ha-ha. You’re bloody hilari-hihh!” He sucks in a sharp inhale as the fuzzy sensation in his nose starts up again. “ihh...hih…ha’iigg’SHH’IUE!” On instinct, he turns his head down, bringing his elbow up in an aborted attempt to cover. About half the sneeze escapes and mists the salad below, the rest of it ends up on the sleeve of his hoodie.

“Christ’s sake, the whole point is to not cover!” Shifting behind him, Roy gathers Jamie’s arms together behind him before clamping a large hand over both wrists. Heat thrums through Jamie’s veins, his awareness narrowing to the squeezing pressure of Roy’s hands. He fights the urge to squirm.

“Try again.” The husky command rings low in his ear. It vibrates through him, sending shivers across his skin.

His cheeks tinge pink to match his chapped nose, which is currently running freely onto his upper lip. His hand jerks in Roy’s grip, his brain on autopilot trying to get him to clean himself up. He settles for a desperate sniff, scrunching his nose up in an unsuccessful attempt. He’s so congested he can barely get any air through.

It sets off a new round of tingling, so itchy and persistent that he shakes his head to try and dispel it. His chest expands as his breath stutters and his brain goes pleasantly fuzzy. “heh…ha’EESHHH’OO! Ha’ITTCHH’uh!” The full-bodied sneezes burst from him, showering the salad with a hearty amount of mist. He blinks woozily, catching his breath as they watch it settle.

“Good job,” Roy says, and Jamie’s shoulders melt. He lets Roy shuffle them a step or two over so they’re standing in front of the tray of sushi.

“This next.” Roy taps the tray before moving out of the way.

“Give be a binute, Jesus,” Jamie whines, twin trails of mess clinging to his cupid’s bow. Roy surprises him by blowing a breath of cool air across his nose, and it turns out that, yeah, he really is that ridiculously sensitive right now. “Fu-uhhh-ck…” Jamie fights against it for a moment before remembering their purpose. His nose is stuffed so full right now, he just knows it’s going to be a fucking mess.

Tears spring to his eyes as his nostrils flare, the plaguing itch too intense to control. “Eh…hih…” His chest swells with a gasp before the air is blasted from his lungs – “AEEEISHH’IEW! Huh…Ha’AEEESHUH!” as he barks two huge, wet, cold-laden sneezes down over the waiting food.

It takes him a minute to come back to himself, his breath sounding heavy in his own ears. Roy presses bodily into him, rubbing a reassuring hand across his shoulders.

“Impressive,” he offers, generous with his praise. It only adds to the floaty feeling shimmering through Jamie’s body.

“Christ, look at you. Such a mess.” Roy says, velvety and raw.

Jamie’s face grows hot, humiliatingly conscious of Roy’s scrutiny. He’s sure his face is a disaster. Can feel the remnants of spit and spray all the way past his curved, parted lips down to his chin. He must look like a walking biohazard.

“Roy…” Jamie gives a waterlogged snuffle. “Cadn I have a tissue?”

Roy seems to enjoy Jamie’s struggle to recapture his composure.

“No.” Roy’s fingers clamp over his chin. He brushes a kiss to Jamie’s temple. The gruffness of his voice shoots straight to Jamie’s cock when he says, “I’ll clean you up when we’re done. Right now, I want you messy.”

A soft whine escapes him. “Roy…”

“Such a pretty boy.” Roy’s hand comes down over the back of his neck possessively. “I can’t help but want to see you looking like a right fucking mess sometimes.” His words slink down Jamie’s spine and pool low in his gut.

As Roy moves them further down the line, Jamie’s nose surprises him with a sudden, “hih’EGGSSH’iew!” that mostly ends up glistening on the stainless-steel counter.

“Use your aim, you Muppet. Or do you need me to do everything?” Roy asks with no real heat behind it.

His fingers thread back into Jamie’s frosted tips and he tugs, firmly pulling Jamie’s head back and positioning him right where he wants him - directly over the painstakingly arranged charcuterie board. It really is gorgeous - If Jamie wasn’t feeling so poorly, he’d want to dig in. He braces his arms on the table, his hands finally free of Roy’s hold. Apparently Roy had decided he was trustworthy enough to have his arms back.

“S-sorr-ehh…ha-eh’kkgh’ISHHOO!” The sneeze rockets through him. His muscles tense as he curls forward with the force of it, dousing the food below with a heavy amount of viscous, virulent spray. He moans, catching his breath. That one nearly tore his throat raw. He sags into Roy’s solid form, the achy torment of the past few days starting to catch up with him.

“I almost feel bad for these poor fucks.” Roy says, his arm a firm, comforting presence around Jamie’s waist. “There’s no way they’re not gonna catch this.”

“Mmm,” Jamie hums in response. Resting his fever-warm forehead against Roy’s neck, he sniffs up some of the gunk in his nose, the miserable, squelching sound of it echoing through the room. The bottom half of his face is still in a right state, but he isn’t about to wipe it on Roy’s shirt. He’s being good, and Roy promised he would clean him up after they’re done.

“I bet these fuckers’ll be so smug when they hear our star striker isn’t playing tonight.” Roy smirks. “But they’re gonna find out the hard way that you’re still our secret weapon.” A hand squeezes Jamie’s bicep and gives him an encouraging shake.

Jamie pulls back, his exhausted eyes smiling at Roy, basking in the praise that helps him find his second wind. Roy’s grin is wicked, confident in the success of his plan.

“Ugh, I dodn’t feel good,” Jamie says as he continues to lean on Roy for support.

“Good. Probably means you’re more contagious.” Then he softens. “Just a couple more and we’ll get you out of here.”

Jamie groans but lets himself be pulled along to the next tray made up of various cold cuts and sliced cheeses for sandwiches.

“Get this,” Roy directs, arranging Jamie until he’s directly in front of it. He hardly has to work at all to get another tickle started up. Taking a couple deep sniffs is enough to irritate the sludge that’s packed in his sinuses, begging to be released. His vision goes blurry as the itch builds and builds. His wet nostrils flare as his mouth falls open, his hitching breaths finally reaching a peak. “iihhh- hih’GGKSSHH’IUE!” He’s thrown forward with it, covering the food in an unrestrained torrent, the mist and spit visible as it settles. The dish takes it all.

“Guh…” Jamie leans back, tilting his head back to stop his sinuses from draining down onto the food. The bottom half of his face is a glossy mess. Roy snakes a hand into his hair again and pulls so his throat is exposed.

"You look wrecked...” Roy says, and a needy sound escapes Jamie’s throat. “Love it when you look a wreck for me."

“Roy,” he breathes out.

“I leave for four days and look what a mess you’ve become.” Roy’s teasing voice burns hot in the shell of his ear. “Next time you’re gonna tell me when you’re feeling poorly. Doesn’t matter if I’m clear across the world.”

“Yeah… Yeah, ‘course I will.”

“Promise?”

“Prombise.”

There’s a pause, and Jamie’s eyes search Roy’s face, his throat tight.

“Idt was five days,” he says.

“What?”

“You said you were godne for four days. Idt was five.”

Roy stares at him for a moment, his expression softening. “Counting down the days, were you?” He chuckles, a deep sound that reverberates through Jamie. “Fuck… Love it when you get all needy.”

And really, Jamie can’t help but go all melty at that.

“You gonna let me take care of you when we get home?”

“Uh huh,” he breathes through his mouth.

“There’s a good boy. I’ll handle everything; have you feelin’ better in no time.”

Jamie makes a little sound and curls into Roy for a hug. He feels Roy reach his arms around Jamie’s waist and squeeze him tight.

“Vacation was nice, but I missed your constant yammering in my ear,” Roy says into Jamie’s hair. Jamie laughs weakly – a wet thing that turns into a cough.

“Come on, just one more, then we’ll get you home.” Roy turns them to the tray of silverware laid out at the end of the table. “Finish ‘em off.” He brushes the hair from Jamie’s forehead as he takes in his clearly contagious mess of a face.

Jamie leans forward, willing to do anything Roy says at this point. He can feel a monster of a sneeze building, and tries to sniff through his clogged sinuses to help it along. Nostrils twitching, he rubs the tip of his nose in circles, his hand coming away wet with snot. Fuck, it’s going to feel so good to just get this crud out. “hah… Cobme ond… ihh… huh’IGG’SSHHAH! Hih’ZZSHHHUUHH’UE!” The sneezes shudder through him as he sprays the silverware with all the filth that has built up in his head. Roy holds him steady with an arm around him as they watch it settle, their mission accomplished.

“Good job, babe.” Roy gives his middle a squeeze, looking nearby at the basket of sandwich buns. “I should shove your face in one of these, but I’ll be nice and let you have a tissue. Since you’ve been so good for me.”

Jamie sags into him and groans – in relief, pleasure, exhaustion – he isn’t sure which.

“Oh, you’re so out of it.” Amusement shines in Roy’s eyes, along with a quiet sort of love. “Here, let me.” He grabs a napkin from the pile on the table and gives the bottom of Jamie’s face a cursory wipe before cupping it around his nose. “Blow.”

Jamie obeys, blearily filling the tissue with the muck leftover in his sinuses. It seems to never end. After several blows, he finishes, not quite gasping for breath. He still can’t breathe through his nose, but he feels about a hundred times better than he did a moment ago.

“You may be a mess,” Roy grunts at him, his lip curling up into a smirk. “But you’re my fucking mess.” He kisses Jamie’s forehead and pockets the soggy napkin. Despite the aches in his body, Jamie feels like he’s floating. He’s so gone on Roy, it would almost be pathetic if he wasn’t sure that Roy was equally as obsessed with him.

“Take mbe hombe?” Jamie asks, hand skimming down Roy’s arm to toy with his fingers. Roy threads them together.

“Of course, love. Let’s go,” he says before pulling Jamie along, leading the way as they make their escape into the echoing halls of the club.

[bumpkinspice0]

Recovery Time: Chapter 6

Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

No use of y/n

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 4.2k

Summary: You throw Joel a Birthday party... and end the night with a dance

Warnings: Angst soothed away by fluff, verbal fight, Past trauma, Joel has big feelings and some dirty thoughts, mutual pining

Series Masterlist

Previous - Next

AO3

_______________

Chapter 6: Happy Birthday Joel Miller

It’d been 3 days since he let his birthday date slip and you’d been plotting ever since.

You stand nervously in the kitchen just waiting for him to come back home— and you feel like a fucking idiot. The sun had set. He went out to check the traps 45 minutes ago. You’d turned on the generator less than 30 minutes ago and pulled his birthday cake, a bastardized version of apple crisp, out of the oven 20 minutes ago. Now you’re just… standing there. Staring at the door. Like a fucking idiot. 

You’re nervous for absolutely no reason other than this was a surprise. You’d been nervous just thinking about it all day. Your nerves were apparently so obvious that he asked if you were alright a handful of times. You weren’t too good a lying but you managed to get him off your sent. You want it to be perfect, but you don’t even know what that means. This wasn’t really a traditional party. Hell, this wasn’t even a party. It was a night to take a load off. To relax. To forget about… everything. An illusion really. A chance to pretend that everything was okay.

This was Joel’s night, his first since he got here. Whatever he wanted. A ‘thank you for tumbling into my life, I think we’re friends now’ party. 

But maybe this was stupid after all. Childish and dumb. You should quit while you're ahead. Turn off the generator and say you just made some apple crisp for shits and giggles. You should—

Your heart nearly leaps through your throat when the door opens. Gus rushes in first, slowly followed by Joel. He looks… confused. Reasonable reaction.

“What’s… what’s this?” He asks slowly, glancing around at the random strung Christmas lights crisscrossing the ceiling. He’d surely seen the ones strung across the yard too, “You turned on the generator?”

“I did.” You answer with a small smile.

He slowly paces around the living room, blanketed in golden rainbow light.

“For?”

“Your belated birthday,” You raise your hands and give some weak spirit fingers, “Surprise.”

He pauses, facing away from you. You see his shoulders tense, the rest of him almost frozen in place. The telltale sign he was uncomfortable. Oh no. You immediately feel like you need to explain yourself. The words come pouring out of you at lightspeed before you give him a chance to say anything.

“I-I know a lot of people don’t feel like there isn’t anything to celebrate anymore, I did too, but you deserve it. Everyone deserves something. I know it’s not much but I made… Well, it’s not a cake but it’s like apple crisp and you can have the stereo playing as long as you want. The TV too. We don’t have the best movie selection but you can pick whatever you want tonight. I even brought up a bottle of wine. I know it’s not—”

“Stop,” His gravel voice cuts through your stammering in an instant. “Just… stop it.”

Suddenly the air feels heavy. You’d done something. You’ve offended him somehow.

“I– I’m sorry. Did I—”

“I told you,” He turns around, an anger in his eyes you hadn't seen before. Or… maybe it was pain? You instantly feel small. “I fucking told you to forget it.”

You’ve overstepped. Massively overstepped. You fucked up. Oh god, you fucked up.

“I just wanted to—I know you—”

“You don’t know anything.” He spits, taking a step closer. You reflexively take a step back. You know he’d never hurt you, but fuck he was terrifying, “You don’t know a goddamn thing about me. Stop actin’ like you do.”

His voice booms, threatening to shake the log cabin walls. Even Gus cowers behind you. He’s scary. He’s absolutely terrifying. The silence that lingers is somehow even louder than his outrage. You don’t want to say anything else. You don’t think you could if you tried.

Even if you could speak, it wouldn’t matter anyway. He turns to leave almost immediately, slamming the door behind him. 

You fucked up.

________________

Joel stumbles in the dark out past the property, the glow of lights fading in the distance. 

He wants to scream. He wants to find something and kill it. He wants to cut a hole in his head so all the memories can come pouring out and he’ll never have to feel them again. He wants to be numb. He wants to be free of this, even though he knows he never could be.

Her face is still crystal clear in his mind, just like it was every day. That sweet smile. Big curly hair. Those bright eyes you could never say no to– Sarah. His beautiful, perfect daughter. The only person he’s certain he’d ever truly loved. The one who deserved to live. He wants to purge every memory of her but never let them go simultaneously. How could you just forget the best thing that ever happened to you? He tried to. For years he tried.

No parent should ever have to bury their child. The pain never stopped. The bottomless pit he could never dig himself out of. It’s like it happened yesterday. And tonight you brought it all boiling to the surface. Things he fought so hard for years to keep buried ten feet deep.

Fuck you. Fuck you for doing this to him. 

A frustrated roar rips from his throat as his fist makes contact with the closest tree. The pain is instant and only serves as a distraction for a few fleeting seconds. Still, it’s more welcome than the boiling cauldron of other emotions brewing. 

Anger. Betrayal. Sadness. 

Guilt seems to blanket over all of them now that the initial rage is fading. The look on your face while he screamed at you is something that’ll be tattooed on his mind forever.  You didn’t deserve this, him and all the fucked up baggage he came with. You’d been nothing but kind since you dragged him here and tonight he spat in your face.

You were like her in a way— Like Sarah. Stubborn and too damn smart for your own good. A compassionate soul that wanted to share it with others. Someone who always had a positive outlook on life. What did you blurt in the middle of your stammering? 

Everyone deserves something.

If only you knew how wrong that was when it came to him. Joel deserved the early grave he dug for himself, but you came along and pulled him out of it— and this is how he repays you?

You didn’t know. There’s no way you could have— and yet that still doesn’t seem to ebb away any of the anger still simmering just under the surface. ‘Is that all I am anymore?’ Joel thinks. ‘An angry old man?’ He didn’t want it, all this hate. He wanted to be better for you.

You don’t know a goddamn thing about me. That’s what he spat at you— but whose fault was that? You tried. You tried so hard for him to let you in, and he always shut the door in your face.

You saw him like a bird with a broken wing, fallen from its nest. Something innocent that needed help that only your skillful hands could deliver. If only you knew what he really was. 

He wanted to protect you from himself in a way. If you knew everything he’d done, everything that made his brother run from him, you'd never look at him like you do. He’s caught your passing glances a few times, those beautiful eyes peering around the corner— studying him like a bug. But if you knew him, really knew him… You’d probably never want to see him again. Just like Tommy. 

Maybe he’s really just protecting himself in the end. That’s what he’s good at. 

It felt good to be desired. Not for his skills or connections, but just as a man. That faint swell of masculine pride and desire pumps in his chest, he’d almost forgotten what it felt like. You did that to him.

You wanted him. 

He wanted you back. Badly. 

You both spend your entire days together, yet when he goes to bed at night you’re still all he can see when he closes his eyes. He’s not sure when it happened. Daydreams of you he’s ashamed of. Would you be like how he imagines? What would you taste like? How would his name sound lustfully drooled out of your mouth? 

He’s found relief by his own hand one too many times just thinking about it, but he somehow just knows his imagination will never compare. 

And he’ll never find out.

He can’t. He can’t stay here. Someone like him was a cancer in your home. He knew that. He knew it.

And even so, the prospect of leaving you here alone was getting harder and harder to imagine. 

A sharp ruff from behind pulls him from his thoughts. He turns to see Gus standing, all four paws planted and squared for a fight. Joel worries for a moment he’ll have to fight this damn dog off but he doesn’t make a move. If Gus wanted a fight he would have pounced on him when his back was turned. No, the dog wanted his attention. 

Gus sits, huffing an annoyed grunt as he does so. Somehow the message in the animal's movements rings clear. 

Our girl’s upset because of you. Get back there. Get back there and fix this.

Joel groans, sliding down to the ground against the tree he just assaulted. “I really fucked up, didn’t I?” he asks the dog, sighing into his hands. The dog huffs again and cocks his head. ‘Intuitive little thing,’ Joel thinks.

Part of him just wants to stay here. Sleep out in the freezing cold and come back in the morning and pretend nothing ever happened. An unlikely scenario since he knows for a fact you’d come hunt him down eventually and scold him for staying out in the cold so long. It begs the question though, could you both just ignore this? Forget about it and move on. Probably, but he doesn’t want to.

You deserve an apology. You deserved something from him, even if he couldn’t tell you why. He can’t tell you about Sarah. Fuck, he can’t tell anyone about Sarah. He doesn’t owe you an explanation but maybe he could fix the night. Give something back, just say thank you, anything. 

Just as long as you wouldn’t completely hate him, he’d be happy.

Lilly comes wandering up and takes a defensive seat next to Gus and it’s the final kick in the ass he needs.

With your little family sitting in front of him, waiting for him to get off his ass and make things right, he slowly raises back to his feet. 

He sighs, leaning against the tree. He’s not as tired as he used to be a few weeks ago. He can bear some weight on his leg again. You did that. You put him back together again. You fixed him. He can fix one night. 

“Time to be a man, Miller.”

____________________

The tears came so suddenly. It’s embarrassing, which only makes you cry harder. You sit there in the kitchen corner weeping into your hands like a teen girl on prom night that got stood up. Yeah, embarrassing.

You must look particularly pathetic because even Gus didn’t stick around to comfort you.

Why did this bother you so much? You’d been called every name in the book working as an apocalypse medic. You’d seen death countless times, you’d told families they’d never see their loved one again, you’d been through absolute hell at the hands of others, so why did a few harsh words from Joel stab so deep?

Because it was him. Because you wanted something from him. It wasn’t quite rejections… but it was close.

Part of you wanted to scream at him too, find out what his fucking problem is. You offer him home comforts and he does this? Childish. The other part of you thinks he’s right. He told you to forget it and you went ahead anyway, thinking it would all be fine.

 He was right. You didn’t know anything about him. Almost nothing. He wouldn’t let you in. 

But why should he? Why should anyone? He didn’t owe you his life story or undying loyalty because you did what any rational good person should do. Yes, you saved his life, but something like that isn’t weighed in favors and secrets. It doesn’t require repayment.

Joel didn’t owe you anything.

So why did you really try to throw this little party? For you. For selfish, arrogant reasons. You were looking for something to make you feel human again and this was the best option. Everything in your life had to be justified. There can’t be enjoyment just for enjoyment's sake. Everything had to be done for a reason— and tonight he was that reason. Joel Miller was making you feel human again.

When the second realization about his birthday hits you, the pit in your stomach drops even deeper. 

You knew the date seemed so familiar, probably because you wanted to forget it. Everyone did. September 26th, the day the world ended. Joel’s birthday was on fucking outbreak day. Of course he’d want to forget whatever horrors he’d seen that day. Every year a constant reminder. What a horrible coincidence to carry with you. Terrible luck of the draw. 

Still, in the absolute mess you find yourself in, you’re still angry. You’re angry at him. Frustrated he’d talk to you that way. React so callously and scold you like a child for trying to do something kind. Suddenly, it feels like you’re back at square one with him. You want to scream at him, you want apologize profusely— you just want to cry.

You’re not sure how long you sit on the kitchen floor but eventually the tears stop— and then the door opens.

You pop up from the floor, wiping your cheeks one last time with your sleeve as if that would even hide your red puffy eyes.

He stands there in the open doorway, remorse painted on his pitiful face. Good.

“Darlin’... have you been—”

“I’m fine,” You spit, wiping your face in the most threatening way you can manage, “Here to yell at me more?”

“I’m not—” He cuts himself off, turning to close the door. Gus and Lilly scurry in before he does so. They immediately come to sit at your feet. Did they… go get him for you? Well, at least you know whose side they’re on now. Joel scratches at his neck, seemingly unable to make eye contact, “I don’t suppose I’m sorry is enough here.”

“It’s a start,” You cross your arms and lean back against the counter, letting out a heavy sigh of your own. You were angry, yes, but he’s allowed to be angry too. He made a boundary and you deliberately stepped over it thinking everything would be fine. He’s not the only one at fault, “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry too.”

His head instantly snaps in your direction, “You have nothing to be sorry for. I just—you— I didn’t expect— I’m sorry. There are things that I just don’t—”

He stammers and trips over his words but the message is clear. He’s trying. He’s really trying and that counts for something, however small. 

“You wanna… talk about it?” You extend an olive branch.

“No.” he bites out just a little too quickly. You see him immediately kick himself for how harshly it came out. There was more here than met the eye— you decide to drop it. If he doesn’t want to say, then it’s not your damn business. 

Again, You were both at fault here. You for sticking your nose where it didn’t need to be and him for just being an ass about it. You were both being children here. 

Time to grow up.

You start, “I’ll turn this all off. You don’t have to—”

“No,” He cuts you off abruptly, “It’d be a waste to— You went through the trouble I mean.”

You smile, “Would you still like to have a birthday party, Mr. Miller?”

“I–” he pressed his lips together, suppressing some more outrage, “Can we— let’s call it something else. Please.”

“Okay,” you nod quietly. Not a birthday party. That’s just fine. It’s still his party. You take down two glasses and pour some chokecherry wine. You push his glass closer. He’s hesitant at first but eventually comes to the counter. He takes his glass and you raise yours to his. “To an ongoing recovery.”

He huffs a small smile and tinks his glass to yours, “To not dyin’, I suppose.”

You can’t help but cringe when the simultaneously bitter and overly sweet liquid hits your tongue. You notice he does the same. You’d hoped a year of sitting dormant in the cellar would help the flavor calm down— apparently not.

“Wow, that’s... something,” He wheezes, swirling the remaining liquid in his glass.

“Yeah, it is. But like I said—” You exhale before downing the rest of your glass, “It gets the job done and I haven’t gone blind yet.”

You hold your resolve for a few seconds, feeling rather proud of yourself, before breaking into a coughing fit from the burning in your throat. 

“Jesus Christ, girl,” Joel pats your back in an attempt to comfort you, despite the smile plastered on his face. Well, at least he’s smiling, even if you look like an absolute moron right now. 

“Smoothest in the county,” You wheeze, wiping a stray tear from your eye. You feel the heat in your cheeks rising and you can’t help but laugh at yourself a little. He tries to hide it but he does the same.

“You really are something, Darlin’,” He grins, taking another, much smaller, sip from his glass.

 And just like that, the air between you two was breathable again.

“So,” Joel leans against the counter, arms crossed, “What do you usually do on nights like this?”

“Well, this is your party,” you lean next to him, “What would you like?”

He opens his mouth for a millisecond before closing it again. He turns away from you, eyes darting to the ground. What was he thinking about? What was he going to say?

“You said you have music?” He asks. You absolutely know that’s not what he was originally going to ask, but you still gesture to the far corner of the living room where the dusty stereo and cassette collection lay.

He strolls over, taking a cursory glance at the packed shelf. Art may have liked the isolation but he kept a good collection of music to keep him sane. One of the few things you think he loved just for the sake of it. So many things here had to have a purpose, a reason for existing in this well-maintained space. Something to aid in basic survival. Music probably did, in a way, have a purpose here. All anyone had to gain from it was joy. A memory. A feeling. Just another thing to make you feel human again.

Joel makes his selection and places it in the tape player with a defined click. You expect to hear Johnny Cash or something like what he’s been teaching himself to play for the last few weeks. Instead— he’s picked Elton John. Art had a ‘best of’ collection of his work. Admittedly one of your favorites in the tape collection.

The familiar slow, melodic piano rumbles through the ancient speakers. You recognize the song instantly. An unexpected choice but not unwelcome either. 

Don’t Let the Sun Go Down On Me

Joel stands with a small grunt and turns to face you, hand outstretched.

“Dance with me.”

Your brows immediately shoot up, “Dance with you?”

“This is my party, isn’t it?” he drawls, “You said we can do what I want. I want a dance.”

You say nothing, dragging your fingers across the counter before making your way towards him. Every hair on your body stands on end as you approach. He stands there waiting in the center of the living room, bathed in mismatched Christmas lights. 

You suppress a gasp when you take his hand and he pulls you into him, flush against his chest. Hesitantly your hand goes up to his shoulder while he lowers his to the small of your back. You swear the sensation of his massive hands on you sends sparks shooting down your legs. He starts to sway you both gently in rhythm.

“I don’t really know how to dance,” You admit.

“Me neither,” he responds, “Learned a little in high school, though.”

“How long ago was that?”

“Oh, back when stagecoaches were still new.” He scoffs, pulling you away for a slow and somewhat clumsy twirl, “To be fair it was just square dancin’.”

“Oh, well, this is prime square dancing music.” You attempt to joke, hiding your reddening face against his chest. He huffs a small laugh and rests his chin on your head. It’s more intimate but at least you don’t have to look him in the eye now. You just barely hear his heartbeat above it all. Strong and steady, a little faster than you expected. You try to lose yourself in music, hoping it will ease your new anxieties that boil over from just being this close to him.

I can't find, oh, the right romantic line

But see me once and see the way I feel

Don't discard me just because you think I mean you harm

But these cuts I have, oh, they need love to help them heal

Don't let the sun go down on me 

Although I search myself, it's always someone else I see

I'd just allow a fragment of your life– to wander free

The chorus is grand and beautiful, nothing that should be associated with Joel and your awkward side-to-side swaying. And yet… it seemed so right. The two of you were so small, and somehow the only thing that mattered in the world.

In your time living at the end of the world, you’ve found it’s not the acts of heroism and grand gestures that kept you going. It was the small things. A hello. A hug. Drinking the worst wine in the world and having an awkward dance with a practical stranger. A kiss. The small things.

And even though this was his night, you still got what you wanted— you felt human again.

“Happy… recovery, Joel.”

“Thank you, darlin’.”

___________________________

It was perfect. He didn’t want to admit it, but it was. He can’t recall the last time he’d listened to music for reasons beyond getting code from Frank. He can’t even recall the last movie he’d watched. No… No, that’s not true. It was ten years ago on his couch. Has it really been ten years? He does his best to push the memories aside and just enjoy the moment.

Yet here he was in almost the same exact place he was all those years ago when his life changed forever. The irony is not lost on him. And in a way he doesn’t quite understand, it felt… healing. Like he was facing something. Or maybe he’d finally laid some feelings to rest.

You lay there asleep, head resting on his shoulder while some western he’d never heard of played on the ancient little box TV in the background. You’d made a cake. You’d made popcorn, the whole nine yards. It was so domestic. A treat, you called these nights. 

You were right, he supposes. A chance to just pretend everything was okay. To live like normal people used to. A night to not worry about all the challenges tomorrow brought and fall asleep watching some boring movie you’d never heard of. The new American dream. 

A treat.

Even if it was all a fantasy, he’s happy you shared it with him. Just another thing he can never repay you for. 

What could he ever give you that could ever compare to what you’d given him? Himself— he could give you himself, maybe. In a way, his life was already yours. You’d saved it, after all. But if he gave it to you, would you want it? If he took off his mask and showed you the monster that was underneath would you run?

Yes, of course you would. 

Despite everything that happened here, good things didn’t happen to Joel Miller. He was a walking curse, plague and death following in his wake. If he stayed here, he’d drag you down to hell with him. It’s what always happens. 

He can’t let this continue. He can’t let his selfish desires win and take over. 

He had tonight with you, and that’d have to be enough.

[bonny-kookoo]

Could we get an intimate or rather steamy drabble of raccoon reader & JK? 👀

👀

Jungkook makes no secret of his infatuation with you. In fact, he proudly tells you how much he lives you- both emotionally, and physically.

He likes teasing you around a bit sometimes, likes to play a game where he pushes you to your limits in how long it will take you to reach out and demand his attention. Not his regular attention- his attention.

And right now, you definitely have it. Only the prospect of the world ending or maybe a swat team burting through his front door might be able to stop him from eating his fill.

It all started with him casually running his hand over your tail. Nothing he's not done before, and it's not particularly a weak spot for you- but when your moved your head on his lap, his hand had moved to play with your ears instead. And there's that particular thing he does, where he rubs the velvet of your soft ears between your fingers that's just..

You don't know if he knows, and in a way, you think you already know the answer.

Jungkook and you are no strangers to physical intimacy. Sex is very much a topic in your relationship, your heat never the only time when he's indulging in such activities with you. He's a young man in his prime, so it's no wonder he's seemingly always up for it in some way. He's also absolutely shameless with his body- uncaring if he walks around naked after a shower, casually flaunting his bare skin well aware of what the sight might do to you.

It made you more comfortable with your own self as well.

Right now his hand is gripping the edge of the bed that's facing the wall, uncaring of the way it slams into it continuisly with every thrust of his hips. He's more so interested in the way you squirm around and arch your back, telltale signs of your by now second orgasm approaching. He knows you, he knows your body. He's mastered the art of loving you perfectly, it seems.

So it's no surprise that you don't have to beg for anything; his hips automatically adjusting to what you need, free hand falling in between the both of you, grabbing onto the soft flesh of your chest before he leans down and steals your breath.

He's not come undone himself yet, and that's normal- he usually saves it up in a way, keeps himself on edge until he can't anymore. Simply because he knows;

The night is far from over.

[motleycrueobsessed]

Hey darling, I heard that you were back and I got so excited! I’m so sorry about your loss and my thoughts are with you ❤️

I was wondering if you could do like a smut with slash where the reader and slash are out and about and slash has been absentmindedly teasing the reader and when he finally realizes he helps her out a little. Thanks so much!

IM SO SORRY i didn’t see this post. I forgot i even posted the im back thing. I dont remember posting it. Anyway, first fic in a while.

Pairings: Slash x AFAB reader

Warnings: Teasing, Slash being clueless, Slash eats reader out, PnV, Public sex, fingering, edging, slash calls reader pretty a lot, no gender specific pronouns i think, reader gives slash a blowjob & slash calls himself daddy once or twice. thats all i think.

MDNI, 18+

Smut below the cut

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You & slash had gone out together. Just you and him. He had just got back from a tour that you couldn’t go on, and he hadn’t seen you in months.

He had been teasing you all day sub-consciously. Rubbing your inner thigh, giving you this grin that made your knees weak. He thought that grin was innocent, but it was NOT. The things he did to you were insane.

He walked you into the movie theatre, grinning happily with that same grin that made you weak. There was a movie you were desperate to see and he knew it. He took a turn and talked to the employee.

You tuned it out, letting your thoughts wander a bit.. thinking about all the things you wanted him to do tonight. How bad you needed him.

He led you to the house, the movie was in house 10. You guys walked along the long, quiet hallway. No children, few people. It was quiet, for now at-least. The seats that he had got were up high in the corner where teenagers came to make out and have sex.

By now, the movie was a quarter of the way over now and suddenly he was more cuddly. He must have smelled your pheromones or something but before you knew it, his hand was slipping under the waist of your pants.

“Slash?..” You whimpered.

“Yeah pretty?” He whispered back to you.

“What are you doing?..” He hummed, two of his digits slowly pushing into your heat. The little sounds you made were music to his ears. “You seemed like you needed a little help.. theres nobody else in this movie theatre.. and i figured neither of us wants a quickie in the bathroom..” he flashed me that grin thats been driving you insane all day.

His fingers pumped in and out of your heat quickly. Your back arched off the seat and you whined, feeling that knot about to break. You clenched around his digits, a telltale sign you were about to cum. He quickly pulled his fingers out of you, bringing them up to his mouth so he could lick them clean.

“Y’taste so good, pretty.” He mutters in your ear before getting out of his seat. He dropped to his knees in front of you and worked off your pants & panties. As soon as your glistening heat met his eyes, his mouth started watering. He dove in, making you moan quietly. His tongue flicked around your sensitive bud as his fingers went back to work.

You rambled incoherently. You could feel the knot about to snap again. “Oh.. oh, Slash! Im- im gonna cum..!” You weakly moaned. He groaned into your cunt which sent a warm shiver up your spine. “Go on pretty, cum for daddy.” He groaned into your heat. His words sent you into a spiral, as you gripped the armrests for dear life.

Your orgasm was beautiful. This was the first time in months you had came off of slash, instead of your fingers or a dildo you thought was about slashes size. And it felt so fucking good. It was so beautiful. You came all over his face and he licked it all up. He let out a low groan as he got up and sat back in his seat.

“Knees.” He commanded.

You obeyed and began to undo his lace up leather pants. As soon as you got them off, knowing he never wears underwear, you took his big cock into your mouth. You hollowed your cheeks and bobber your head. His hand was buried in your hair, guiding you. At one point, you stopped and let him fuck your throat.

He twitched in your throat and came down your throat. He groaned, pulling you onto his lap. He had already kind of prepared you so pushed in without prepping your hole. You whined at the feeling of being so full.

He made you bounce on his cock as you writhed. His hands on your hips and his words running through your head. You moaned loudly, squirming. “Mm- slash.. harder, please!” You whimpered.

“You want it harder baby?” He whispered. His thrusts got harder and you felt him twitch inside of you. He groaned loudly.

That knot that had been building up snapped and you whimpered as you came for the 2nd time tonight.

He soon made one final thrust into you, the head of his cock resting against your cervix. His warm seed leaked and painted your walls, dripping out of you slowly.

He held you close to him, hushing you softly.

“Did so good for me baby. So good.” He reassured in your ear quietly. He pulled out of you and helped you get your jeans up. “Why don’t you go to the bathroom and i’ll go get snacks from concession?..” he offered. Of course you said yes, how could you not?

He helped you up and led you to the bathroom, you cleaned up and went back to the movie. He was sitting in there with a bunch of snacks and that grin. You smiled, and went to him. He let you wear his leather jacket, holding you close while he fed you snacks.

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Woahhhh first fic in like a month and a half!!

Anyways, surprise im back. Sorry for dying.