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splatashahowlett · 2 months

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Birthday Blues

logan howlett x reader

logan hated cake.

well, he hated this cake. the one rogue had spent her entire afternoon baking for your birthday. of course you would have wanted a cake portraying henry cavill out of anyone. even if it was horrifying to admit, logan came to the conclusion -after staring at the cake for twenty minutes- that what he felt may be, somewhat, probably, eventually, potentially close to what you call jealousy.

not because it wasn't his face on the cake, solely thinking about it sent him into a spiral of absurdity. but more because you weren't interested in him in the slightest, and that somehow upset him a little bit. he would live through it though. logan doesn't need anyone and the more people stay away from him the better. so no, he wasn't about to make a move or confess his feelings to you cause you couldn't even call those feelings... logan had never felt this foolish in a long time.

you were turning 28. you almost couldn't believe it. life hasn't been kind to you (read cruel and atrocious) and you were in peace with the fact that you weren't going to make it past 25. so celebrating your birthday, one more time, felt exhilarating. you weren't supposed to be alive still, so it felt like bonus time. and you wanted to make the most of it. "making the most of it" currently meant dancing on a table with your best friend, ororo. not caring if it could break under your sophisticated dance moves, if people love you or if you really did turn off the stove earlier.

in this moment, you couldn't care less. you felt truly happy.

and hot. you felt hot.

not in a "I feel cute" way -well, also in a "I feel cute" way- but burning hot.

you tried to scream over the music, telling ororo you were going outside. she clearly didn't hear you but you needed fresh air so you quickly gave up.

once you were outside you seated yourself on the stairs of the school. you ears were ringing and body sweating. you tried to enjoy the delicate breeze grazing over your cheeks but for some reason you couldn't relax. after a quick glance behind you, you figured your life long crush watching you might be the reason why.

"you startled me" you yelped, a hand flying to your chest.

"sorry kid" he answered, walking over to you. he sat down next to you, careful to leave lot of space between you two. you hated when he called you that. you didn't take it personally because he called everyone that but each time it felt like a sting in your heart reminding you that nothing will ever happen between the two of you, that it was impossible. you both stayed silent, not knowing what to say and how to say it.

"you looked like you were having fun back there" he said, lighting a cigar. you smiled and turned your head to look at him. you were leaving the school soon and this "ahead of time nostalgia" pushed you to do something stupid; you suddenly wanted to find out if there could be something between you. alcohol could also be a factor. so you kept your gaze on him, heart beating at an expeditious and maybe even unhealthy rate.

"I was" you nodded, "were you having fun?" you added.

"s'not really my thing" he sighed, not annoyed but more disappointed.

"having fun?" you joked, still looking at him, he glanced at you with a smile on his face. you were effortlessly soothing to him. you were his own personification of serenity.

"no, dancing and all..." he replied, still smiling.

you looked down, your smile slowly fading. "I'm gonna miss this. our nighttime conversations" you complained. logan's stare was still on you, his eyebrows furrowed.

"you're leaving?" he asked, urgently. you only nodded, saying it out loud would be heart-wrenching. you both fell silent again. you didn't know what to do, should you tell him you've been in love with him since you first saw him? should you tell him you hate him so leaving would be easier? should you stay? a thousands thoughts were rushing through your mind for what felt like an hour but really was only a long minute. this shattering turmoil was interrupted by logan standing up.

"teach me." he said, while holding out a hand. you looked up, confused.

"teach you what?" you said, though still taking his hand and following him on the grass.

"to dance, I want to learn to have fun. I want to have something left from you once you're gone" he said, straight into your eyes and you felt your breath stuck in your throat. so you took a step and captured his other hand in your free one.

"I'm no professional logan" you bantered.

"but you're more than passionate about it, it's all that matters" he answered, in all sincerity while you started guiding his steps into a slow dance. his hand was on your waist, keeping you close to his body.

"were you watching me?" you asked, feeling bold enough to flirt.

"how could I not? you seem to catch my attention in every room you walk in" he admitted, not showing how scared he was at the moment.

"why didn't you say anything sooner? why didn't you say anything when we had time?" you whimpered, on the edge of tears.

logan stopped dancing and pulled you to him. silently apologizing.

"my heart is so full of you I can hardly call it my own" you muttered, in a desperate attempt to fix whatever was to be fixed. logan closed his eyes, jubilating at your confession which also broke his heart considering you both acknowledged your feelings for each other once it was too late. "kiss me" he heard.

so he did, he did kiss you. he kissed you like it was the last thing he would ever do, because it was in a way. he knew he couldn't keep you from leaving, so he let you have a part of him with you: his heart, along with a promise of seeing each other again.

#logan howlett fluff #wolverine x reader #logan howlett x reader #hugh jackman #deadpool and wolverine #xmen fanfiction

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julianavido · 5 months

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Nighttime Baking

#illustration #ilustracion #artists on tumblr #illustrators on tumblr #art #ilustración #illustrator #editorial #editorial illustration

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noddaduck · 5 months

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D20 really taught me that ttrpg characters should be made with the player in mind, you don’t just have to make a role and try to play it.

Ally with their crazy blue blockers and “nighttime ecstasy” and Lou saying he’d love a pair of those blue blockers was just so Pete and Kingston, and that’s because they made characters they were comfortable with playing, characters they could still be themselves as.

If PiB was making a dnd character for a fantasy Highschool game, he could easily make Gorgug Thistlesprig cause that would set up so many comedy opportunities. Zac “yeah I killed em” Oyama (hope I spelled that right) plays himbos not because he doesn’t want to be mean, but because “sit down” to a massive purple worm just hits so much harder out of the kid who got bullied on his first day of school. And also maybe cause he wants to be soft sometimes I don’t know don’t at me.

Siobhan makes nerds and old characters and mind reading aliens so she can be the smartest one in the room because she is and we should all say it.

Emily makes magical/supernatural punks so she can fuck with Brennan/the system/the world/death itself.

All of Murph’s characters are so confused/stressed/wired so he can yell and solve puzzles and if you gave him Druidic powers he could absolutely figure out how to feed and care for the entire homeless population of New York.

Lou just can’t not have a title, he is the Boy of Destiny, the Vox Populi, the King of Candia, the Maximum Legend. The man has known the struggles minorities face and his ball is absolutely rolling up, it is never coming back down.

Ally Beardsley has made characters with the absolute best development and evolution baked in because of course they did. Mother Goose, the only exception, the calm in every storm of the horror that was Neverafter, as well as the body guard in Mice and Murdered who’s name I don’t remember, the stability and perseverance that comes from truly finding and carving out who you are.

Brennan would make the best parent ever, his self insert was never the eagle guy it was Sklonda and Bill Seacaster and Arthur Aguefort and the Thistlesprigs and Bud Cubby and Jawbone and-

#dimension 20 #fantasy high junior year #fantasy high #fhjy #dimension 20 adventuring party

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konigsblog · 1 year

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loving simon is hard, it's difficult, yet always worth it.

simon would refuse physical touch in the relationship, till he found himself struggling at nighttime out on deployment without your touch.

simon would refuse to bake and eat with you, till he found himself wishing he could eat with you across the table, letting you talk his ears off instead of the eerie silence in his barracks.

simon would refuse your help when he was struggling with mental health, till he found himself holding back tears when he stared at himself in the mirror, realising how fucked up he really was, and how desperately he craved your affectionate words.

simon would refuse to stay longer in bed in the mornings, that he had things to do, till he found himself choking on his own blood, another bullet lodged into his chest as crimson seeped through his uniform, wishing he'd cuddled you just a little longer.

simon riley, who wouldn't dare let you know his feelings, who now wished he could tell you how much you meant to him, how he loved you so dearly, feeling himself slip into a haze he was familar with, bit knowing he wouldn't wake up.

simon riley, who wouldn't be able to marry you, or tell you his vows as he panted and gasped for air, the life you'd given him, running through his grasp as he succumbed to the fate many soliders like him were given. clutching his heart, the heart you warmed, simon riley.

#angst again? 🤫#simon ghost riley #ghost cod #orla speaks #ghost headcanon #ghost simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #reader x ghost #ghost mw2 #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you

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goldenlikedayl1ght · 1 year

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dress - m. murdock

a/n: i am not proud of this in the way that i will not be claiming it when i am judged by god. warnings: SMUT like real sex!!! dom!matt, p in v smut, matt has a thing for talking in bed, MATT BEING A TEASE!!! many nicknames, pining, praise with slight degradation, fluff here and there, tipsy reader and matt, i'm sure i'm missing one or two word count: 3.3k summary: ten months of yearning wears you and matt down to desperation. pairing: matt murdock x fem!reader now playing: dress - taylor swift "say my name and everything just stops/i dont want you like a best friend/only bought this dress so you could take it off."

Foggy is so mad at him.

You’re a good employee, a great employee even! You’re dedicated to your job, and you bake in your free time, so you bring in all sorts of treats—Homemade bagels, donuts, cookies—His favorite are your cinnamon chai sugar cookies you make.

You’re intelligent, well-spoken, and good at explaining the issues that you run into. And you’re funny, Foggy would argue, you have incredible timing and wit. You always buy a round at Josies. You are an amazing employee and friend, and Foggy adores you.

So why, pray tell, must Matt feel the need to have you?

He won’t say it out loud, not to Karen, not to Maggie, not to Foggy, and certainly not you. But he’s entranced by you. He loves the sound of your voice as you explain things, he loves that your heart always skips a beat whenever you’re about to deliver a one liner that will crack everyone else up, he loves that when you bake, you always make things all naturally out of desire to make the best dessert you possibly can. But most of all?

He loves that your heart rate picks up whenever he enters the room.

You, on the other hand, are pretty much fascinated by Matt Murdock. You love the sound of his laughter, you love his hands, you love his charm, you love that you can see a chain around his neck when the day dwindles and he loosens his tie, and Jesus H Christ, you love that baritone.

So, it’s safe to say you’ve both been smitten since the first day you met each other.

Yet, you spend ten months cruelly dancing around your attraction for each other.

He’s hesitant to want you in any context, he’s your boss, he’s fucking Daredevil!

By then you know—Mostly accidentally on purpose. All his usual people are out of town or busy, so when he gets stabbed, he has nowhere else to go. He winds up climbing into your window, scaring the ever-living shit out of you. It’s not how he wanted to tell you about his alter ego, but he knows he can trust you.

And you hate the site of blood and gore, so you struggle to patch him up that night. And it makes your heart ache, all the ways he hurts from his nighttime hobby. And he decides right then and there that he can’t have you, not now. Not knowing how much you would—and really, will—worry about him.

So, he buries his want in other people that have no real meaning to him. He even goes on a second date with some of them. One of them even comes to visit him in the office to have lunch.

It makes you jealous to the point where you need to take a walk to dwindle your desire to go back into the office and beg on your hands and knees for her to leave so you can have him. What happens instead is that you go get a pumpkin chai latte and take it back to the office, sitting and keeping to yourself, even when the girl comes out of his office giggling as he stands in the doorway as she leaves.

He smells the pumpkin from his office, and it drives him wild. Just from how quietly you dwell in your jealousy, as you mask it with your favorite fall flavors.

He breaks up with the girl the next day.

• • •

And a week later, he gets his official invitation to Marci and Foggy’s wedding—A big to do, full of family, friends and coworkers that make it a real party. Matt will be Foggy’s best man. You and Karen aren’t in the wedding party, as you were good friends with both the bride and groom, but Karen wanted to make sure at least one of them was focused on the firm, and you hated to be the center of attention. So, you shared your love from a few aisles back.

You had gone shopping with Marci for your dress, Karen too. You enjoyed spending time with them—While you had made friends with them easily, prior friends had never really come easy to you.

It was nice to be wanted.

But they had insisted on you trying to find different dresses that made you look amazing. And for the most part, the dresses made you sort of uncomfortable. They revealed too much or revealed too little.

And then you came across this red satin dress. It hugs your curves in all the right way, and it makes you look good. It makes you feel good. You have these perfect black heels to wear with them, and then Karen says it.

“You know, Matt kind of has a thing about textures. He loves silk and satin.” Your face burns. Of course, he does. Why wouldn’t he? He can hear people's heartbeats, tell when they’re lying, why wouldn’t he be keen on nice textures?

“Karen Page, are you insisting I should by this dress to impress a man?” You laugh just to escape your nerves.

“No! But it can’t hurt! It’s not like he’s bringing a date—” She turns to Marci. “He’s not bringing a date, right?” she asks quickly. It makes her laugh.

“No, Murdock RVSP’ed for one.” You look at yourself in the mirror again, thinking it over. And over. And over. Then you turn to your friends again, and nod.

“Alright. Alright, I’ll get it.” You grin, “And y’know.. Karen’s right, It can’t make the situation any worse.”

“You know what you need now? Good lingerie for after—” Your face is red again at your friend’s comment.

“Shut up, Marci!” You whine, heading back to the dressing room to get changed.

• • •

Matt is sitting with Foggy and his brothers, enjoying a glass of scotch before the ceremony when someone knocks on the door.

And somehow, he’s not shocked to hear your nervous heartbeat when the door opens.

“Hey Fog, Karen said you had scissors—Can I borrow ‘em quick? There’s a tag on this dress I forgot to take off and it’s impossible to reach—”

“Yes, Absolutely, and you know who would be great at helping you? Matt. An incredible knack for… Cutting things.” It’s a poor attempt to get the two of you alone, yet Foggy hands you the scissors and pushes you and Matt outside the room.

“My rooms only two doors down.” He explains, taking your hand in his and leading you there.

After finding out about his super senses, it became clear that he was more than capable of finding his way through places he’s stayed, and that he’s privy to a lot more information than people would give him credit for.

So here you are. In Matt Murdock’s hotel room. A tag itching at your back, with you unable to grab it.

“I’m just gonna—” He awkwardly reaches to the top of your dress, and you just move the hair from your neck and try to ease his anxiety.

“Just go for it, Matt. I don’t care, it’s just annoying.” You promise. And he does.

He folds the top of your dress the best he can and its only enough for the scissors to almost grab the tag without him sticking his hand down your dress. He hesitates for a second before exhaling deeply.

Then, he leans down towards your back, and scrunches the material enough so that he can reach the tag and bites the tag off.

You can feel his other hand on your hip. His hot breath on your back. He hears your heart jump as your breath becomes shaky. He wonders how bad it would be for him to skip the wedding and take you right here, in this room.

He plucks the tag from his teeth and smooths out your dress, as you let go of your hair. He feels this raw need for you.

And you feel it too. Yet he pulls away, taking a step back from you.

“We should get to the ceremony.” he said, trying to catch his breath. He yearns for you, in a way that anyone else would laugh at. It’s the type of yearning you read about in Jane Austen novels. That is the level that Matt longs to touch you. It’s desperation.

“Yeah...” You say softly, trying to recover from what just happened. You drop him back off at Foggy’s suite and head back to the hall, hoping to find Karen and put the moment behind you. And that’s just what happens. You watch the ceremony, and it’s gorgeous. You’re thrilled for Marci and Foggy, and it elates you that they put together such a beautiful ceremony.

And yet, you can’t take your eyes off Matt and how good he looks. He stands tall, and he really does look good. It makes it kind of hard to focus. It makes it really hard to focus. And you think about this all the way through their first dance song, through dinner, through cake and through all the cheesy wedding traditions Foggy insisted on.

You have a few drinks but eventually it all becomes too much, and you take a minute outside of the hall and into the cold air. And you’re thinking about Matt.

“You’re gonna catch a cold out here.”

Speak of the devil.

You turn back to him and smile.

“I’ve been thinking about you.” You say, and he hums. It’s the alcohol in both of your systems, it’s why neither of you run when you say it.

“Same goes for you, sweetheart.” He takes off his coat and wraps it around your shoulders. You note the silky texture of the inside of the jacket. It pushes you further.

“Why do we insist on playing this game? Why do we watch each other go after people who we don’t want when all we want is each other?”

He takes a moment to answer. Because in truth, he’s sure he could tell you why, he could discuss all of the horrible things that have happened to him, and you could share the same sort of stories about your own life. You could sit there and dissect past traumas for hours.

But that’s not really what you’re asking.

“I don’t know...” He says softly. His hands find themselves on your hips, and he rubs small circles into the fabric. “Satin?” You hum, melting at his touch. “Words, pretty girl. You know I like hearing your voice.”

“Satin.” You confirm, your breath catching.

“There she is...” He hums, and leans in. You feel his breath against your lip, and you take it upon yourself to close the gap between the two of you.

It’s soft, full of this hesitation because despite all the flirting, you’re still unsure of yourself. He quickly eases these fears as his hands move and you find his arms wrapped around your torso. He deepens the kiss, and you both lean into it. It becomes more desperate after that.

Your hands find their way to his hair, and you fiddle with the ends, unwilling to break the kiss, even if it means air. He breaks the kiss for a second, only to come back to your lips with more passion, biting your bottom lip, before slipping his tongue into your mouth, taking the more aggressive approach.

And you can’t take it anymore. You need him. You pull away from him, pant softly before kissing his jaw gently.

“Take me to your room.” You request. He obliges.

You find yourself taking off your heels as soon as you get in, your feet aching as you walk further into the room. The context is much different than it was this afternoon—And it makes you nervous.

Matt comes up from behind you and places his hands on your arms, rubbing them gently, before kissing your shoulder.

“You don’t have to be nervous. I’ll be gentle with you...” He says softly. You hum before he continues, “Or do you... want me to be rough with you?” he asks teasingly, landing a quick bite onto your shoulder. You make a noise of surprise and turn to him.

“You’re a tease, has anyone ever told you that?”

“Once or twice.” He begins to loosen his tie, eventually forcing it off and then starting to unbutton his shirt. You begin to help him with this task, eventually getting it all the way unbuttoned. Then you gently push him back against the bed and he laughs, falling onto it.

He thinks it’s cute. Until you sit above him, your dress hiking a bit. You lean down to kiss him as his hands find their way to the back of your thighs, and begin to move up and down, just being the tease, he is.

You whine into the kiss, and it just makes him chuckle further, before flipping the pair of you over, then planting a kiss on your neck.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart? Needy from just a few kisses?” He slips off his shirt as he continues to kiss you. One hand remains on your thigh, travelling up your thigh, eventually finding your panties.

“Mhm...” You hum, your hands wrapping around his neck again to play with his hair.

“Talk to me, sweet girl...” he says softly before he continues his assault on your neck.

“Matt…” You hum. “You know, I only—” Then his fingers find your clit and begin rubbing gentle circles, just teasing you with his fingers. It turns him from tease to cruel. You let out a moan, and he only tuts in disappointment.

“Keep talking or you won’t get anything from me.” He tells you, before continuing to tease you. His fingers begin to work on your folds. You try your best to focus. He takes off your panties and throws them on the ground somewhere.

“Only bought this dress for you... Thought you might like it...” You gasp again as he slips a finger into you, “Fuck—Thought it would make you do something about it.” In fairness, it got the reaction you had only hoped for in your wildest dreams. It makes him chuckle against your skin.

“Only got this pretty little dress for me to touch you like this?” He adds another finger and starts to move. When you don’t answer, too busy getting lost in his fingers, he bites your shoulder again. “Answer me, sweetheart.”

“Yes! God, yes…” You respond. He hums in approval, continuing to curl his fingers inside of you. It only takes a few minutes before you can feel yourself near the edge of an orgasm. “Matt… Baby, please...”

“C’mon, sweet girl... I’ve got you, let go...” And it’s enough to make you, cumming all over his fingers. He lets you ride out your high, out of breath. He kisses your neck again before bringing his fingers up to his lips, tasting your juices. “Sweet girl, still.” He smirks. Your heart skips a beat. He chuckles. Then he continues, “Did so good for me, sweetheart... Wanna keep going?” He asks.

“Yes, please... Wanna feel you inside me...” you confess.

“You want me to fill you up and stretch you out, pretty girl?” You should know better by now, but you just hum in response, gaining another bite to your shoulder. “Try again.”

“Yes... I want you so badly, Matt, please... I’ve been dreaming about it for months now,” You confess, “Need you...” He seems satisfied by this, and moves back, helping you sit up.

“Well then, we’ll need to get this pretty dress off you.” He says, his fingers working to take off his belt. Your fingers run over his chest. It’s all he can do not to rip the dress off, but he knows how much it means to you and how much it could’ve cost. So, instead, he slips the dress off you and feels you shiver against him. Still so nervous. He tosses the dress in the general direction of his suitcase, so it doesn’t sit on the floor. He leans in and starts pressing kisses to your chest, his hands reaching up to your bra and unclasping it. He throws it with much less care than the dress.

He keeps kissing down your torso as he lays you back on the bed, your hands going again to his hair.

“How come it’s fair that I’m fully naked, and you still have pants on?” You ask. It makes him laugh, and he stands straight again.

“Fair enough,” he says, taking them off. And then goes his boxers. Before you can stare at him, he’s on top of you again, kissing you deeply. You can feel his cock resting against your fold and it makes you moan into the kiss. He pulls away for just a second before asking, “Is this, okay? You’ll stop me if it’s too much?”

“Yeah, I’ll tell you.” You respond. He smiles at your words.

“Perfect. Perfect, pretty girl...” He hums as he begins to kiss your shoulders and the top of your chest, before slipping inside of you. You let out a moan, and he groans as well, taking a few minutes to take all of you in. It feels amazing. He begins to move inside of you as he brings you in for another kiss. When he pulls away, he’s talking, “Been thinking about this for... Fuck, so long...” He groans. “Been dreaming of this perfect pussy and how good it would feel around me…” He says, and it elicits a shaky moan from you.

“Faster, please...” You request, and he obliges, picking up the pace. You’ve been thinking about this for a long time too. You never imagined he’d be so controlling about the whole thing. It works you up almost as much as how vocal he is.

He leaves bites and marks down your chest as he pulls you closer to him, knowing he won’t last much longer. He feels you tighten around him and makes another demand, “Tell me how badly you want to cum, and I’ll let you.” He says this before planting a rather contrasting soft kiss to your ear.

“Please... Please, Matt, Fuck... I need to cum all over your cock... Wanna feel so good, baby...” You moan, your fingers pulling on his hair. It excites you when he moans. “And I want you to cum inside me... Fill me up, Baby, please...” You beg. He’s happy with it for now, but he knows he’ll want to hear more another time.

“C’mon, sweet girl. Cum for me…” He pants, and it’s all you need before you let yourself come undone around his cock. He continues thrusting for a few minutes, letting you ride out your high, before cumming himself, and you moan at the feeling. He lays against you for a few minutes, trying to recover, and it’s then that you notice he’s shaking.

“Are you okay?” You ask softly, brushing his hair out of his face. He looks at you with those gorgeous brown eyes. He laughs at your question.

“I’m great... You’re just... amazing...” he says honestly, kissing your shoulder one more time. “Perfect, pretty girl...” He praises. “My perfect girl...” It makes you shudder. He stays like this for a moment more before kissing you softly. Then, he sits up and goes to get a towel to clean the both of you up. And then, he’s back in bed with you. He pulls you close as you both recover from what just happened.

“I wasn’t lying,” You start, “I’ve been thinking about you for months. You’re all I’ve wanted for so long...” You confess. He kisses your head and pulls you closer.

“Me too... I was too much of an idiot to tell you though. Almost let you get away.”

“You got me.” You affirm. He hums and begins to rub all too familiar circles into your hips with his thumbs.

“And now I just want you more.”

The feeling is mutual.

#matt murdock x you #matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock smut #matt murdock being hot #matthew murdock #daredevil fanfiction #daredevil #daredevil fic #first smut #yearning #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock fanfic

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demonvibez · 1 year

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A Midnight Encounter - Part 2

Characters: [Asmodeus / Beelzebub / Belphegor / Diavolo] x F! Reader Word Count: 5.1k+ Rating: Teen [Suggestive Themes] Tags: suggestive/sexual themes, making out, light petting/groping, chest play, reader = she/her pronouns, each demon has a lil backstory, possessive demons A/N: Thanks for all of the love on part one! Part two is just a tad more suggestive than part one, due to a couple of the demons involved. Hope you enjoy! ♡

[Part Two of Two - Read Part One Here]

It was late at night in the House of Lamentation, and you had just finished preparing yourself for bed. You had finished your homework for the day, as well as your nighttime routine, and it was time for you to settle down. Just as you sit down on the edge of your bed, you start thinking about how it would be nice to have a quick little snack before you turn in to sleep for the night. Picking up your DDD from the nightstand, you check the time to see just how late it was. You decide that it was probably late enough for everyone to be asleep, and it was safe to venture out into the house alone with what you are wearing - a skimpy spaghetti strap tank top and tiny shorts that leave little to the imagination. You push yourself up off the bed and cross the room, making your way towards the door. Leaving your bedroom door open, you make your way towards the kitchen next door . . .

Asmodeus is on the way back from an extremely exhausting day with Solomon, having run errands all across the Devildom with him. He pours himself through the front door with a dramatic flair, a loud pouty whine and a sigh escaping his lips before he tosses his jacket onto the coat rack and makes his way towards the kitchen. He knows that what he needs to end such a draining day is to just relax and sink into his night time routine before settling down to get his beauty sleep. As he saunters across the hallway, he pulls his DDD out of his front pocket, opening it up and haphazardly scrolling through it while he mindlessly walks to the kitchen. He just needs to pop by real quick to get a little potion to add to his face mask for the night - he deserves it after the filthy mess that Solomon dragged him through today! How rude of him~!

Solomon had originally invited Asmo out under the guise of going to a "social club" up in the human realm. The pair had originally asked if you wanted to go along with them, to hang out and get some fresh sun on your skin, but you had prior arrangements to bake and have tea with the Angels over at Purgatory Hall. Unfortunately for Asmo you had to decline - and he really wishes you hadn't! Without you there, it was just awful! Turns out it was no social club at all! Asmo was tricked into going to that stuffy Sorcerer's Society where he had to listen to Sol talk to some crusty old men for several hours. After that, the group of sorcerers dragged poor Asmo out to a remote village, where they spent half of their evening hiking around a mountain in search of a hippogryph they wanted him to use his powers to charm. It was absolutely horrible! No place for someone like the Avatar of Lust to be showing his pretty face~!

All in all, it had been a very exhausting day for Asmodeus. He would normally do his quick routine after experiencing a day like today, but he thought tonight he definitely deserves an extra little treat~! Little did he know that once he reaches the kitchen doorway, however, that a different type of treat would be waiting before him. He almost doesn't notice you standing there at first, his attention deep within his own Devilgram feed, but seeing your gentle form gracefully searching around the kitchen in the middle of the night makes him do a double take. His sunset colored eyes begin to sparkle pink with lust as they take in every inch of you, every subtle little curve accentuated by your adorable little pajamas that he would love to see you wearing more often. He watches as you take a pack of Hell Sauce Flavored Instant Noodles from the top of one of the cupboards, your tiny little cotton shorts riding up just so slightly that the curve of your cheeks peek out from beneath them - just enough to toy with his mind.

Asmodeus can't help but to wonder to himself if you know exactly what you're doing to him - if you know how easily you can charm beings from all three realms as if you are the Avatar of Lust, and not him. How you don't even need magic to make Lust itself weak for you, just merely existing near him is enough to make him go feral. Do you even know how much he thinks about you? How he is just utterly obsessed with you? Can he really even be called self-centered if his mind is only filled with you? Asmo never knew he could feel like this - that he could not only have such powerfully passionate feelings for another person, but that he would also see his sin in an entirely new light. Just as he is seeing you in an entirely new light. Don't you know how gorgeous you look right now? The way the light from the fire on the stove illuminates your flawless face, cascading down each of your perfect curves and making your natural beauty glow in the middle of the kitchen. He can't help but to drink you in with his eyes, memorizing every inch of your body left exposed by your little outfit. Oh how he wishes you would dress like this for him more often. You look so good when you show off your body like this, he has about a hundred outfits he'll give you if you want. He'd love to dress you up in them, right before slowly stripping them off of you, worshipping you every step of the way...

Eyes glowing pink and mind full of lust, Asmodeus glides over to you and pulls you into his embrace right as you notice his presence, before you are even able to speak.

"Well, isn't it nice seeing you here, muffin," he says as he squeezes you, leaning down to press light little kisses into your neck. "I would have come home sooner if I knew such a delicious little snack was awaiting me in the kitchen," he whispers as he kisses his way up to your ear, his hands gently teasing and caressing your body as you turn into putty under Asmo's touch. One of his hands snakes it's way up the front of your shirt as the other holds you firmly in place against him, a soft moan escaping your lips as he gently plays with your breasts, his plush lips nibbling on your ear. Your eyes flutter shut, your mind eager to let go and let the sensations take you over, when Asmo suddenly pulls away. You let out a small whine and turn around to face him. He grabs you by the hips and chuckles.

"You're too adorable when you pout," he says as his lips finally caress yours, the kiss light at first but building in passion and intensity as the lust continues to build between the two of you. Suddenly Asmo realizes that he has no idea when your tongue entered his mouth - he is just so consumed with you, he didn't even notice. Your hands begin to roam up and down his body, small moans escaping from the both of you. Asmo can't help but to wrap his arms around you and pull you in tighter, pressing his hips into yours as he grabs your ass. There is so much lust built up between the two of you, he can't even tell which of you it belongs to anymore. You run your hands through his strawberry blonde hair, noticing his demon form when your fingers graze one of his horns, and the whimper you elicit from him along with it. You slowly start to stroke it, massaging as you kiss him, low moans rumbling from his throat with each stroke. The pace of your kisses slow down until you finally pull away.

"Aren't you just the most precious little human ever," he said, pulling you up to carry you, your legs instinctually wrapping around his waist as you frantically grab at securing your hold around his neck and tugging his hair a little. He lets out a light giggle. Everyone always forgets how strong he is!

"Don't worry, honey. I've got you. We can finish up this little party in my room~♡" he says in a sultry tone, carrying you out of the kitchen and up to his room.

Of course Beelzebub, the Avatar of Gluttony, would never miss one of his infamous midnight snack raids. Tonight, however, Beelzebub is feeling the effects of his sin a bit harder - he had a particularly rough fangol practice that day, so he feels even more ravenous than he normally does. He usually enjoys his days playing fangol, the extreme workouts coupled with intense competition making it so Beelzebub can really let loose and blow off some steam. Today's practice, though, was no normal scrimmage match. Instead, a few of his teammates had decided to play a prank on the school's rival team, resulting in them being disqualified from District Championships. Of course, the coaches were nothing less than infuriated. Before practice even started, the entirety of RAD had been called to assembly and lectured by their Head Coach on proper student conduct - with a half hour interlude from Lucifer about respect. After that, the coaches took the entire team out to the Colosseum to run laps around it. When the laps were done, they had to do endless drills, and Beelzebub wasn't even given a snack break for any of this. He didn't even partake in the prank! He was out at Madame Scream's with you trying the newest flavor of Blood Macarons! But here he was, doing tackle drills until he drops, without a single little bag of Spicy Newt Chips.

It is far past dinner time when his coaches dismiss his team. Beel makes his way home and through the front door of the House, dropping his duffle bag right inside the door before starting his shuffle towards the kitchen. With each step forward, Beel can't help but to fantasize about Shadow Goose Burgers and Deep-Fried Devil Zebra, his mouth starting to water as his stomach rumbles abnormally loudly. He finally arrives in the kitchen, crossing over towards the fridge, ripping the door open with urgency and pulling out the first item he sees. He doesn't care if the food is marked for a later date, whether it's leftovers or ingredients for a recipe - Beel was starving and he was gonna consume every little bit of food in sight. He doesn't usually like to indulge in his sin like this, always feeling immense guilt after his binges are over, but today he feels he deserves it. He restrained himself all day, put up with his coaches' punishments, and didn't fly into a rampage a single time. He earned this midnight binge in his eyes, and he really didn't care if it meant he would have to pay to replace the entire kitchen tomorrow. Hell, even if Lucifer strings him up, it will be worth it if he can satisfy some of this unrelenting hunger.

A few minutes later, you make your way to the kitchen, pausing in the doorway to see Beelzebub standing in the glow of the refrigerator. The door is ajar as he pulls various food items out, opening them up and tossing them into his mouth without a care in the Devildom. You can't help but to crack a tiny smile as you watch him, finding the sight of him eating an entire Eclipse Mince Pie in one bite too adorable. Anyone else would be mad, seeing as that was supposed to be tomorrow evening's dinner, but you just love seeing that warm smile on the Avatar of Gluttony's face. Beelzebub pulls a Devil Crush Mango Parfait out of the fridge, tearing off the cling wrap and turning up the glass to pour its contents into his mouth, the parfait dribbling down his lips and chin in the process.

You can't help but to let out a small giggle, which causes Beel to stop what he's doing and finally turn to look at you, his eyes widening slightly and his hand losing grip of the parfait when he sees how you're dressed. The sound of glass shattering fills the room and a blush creeps over Beel's face at the realization of the lost dessert. Suddenly, another realization dawns on him - he's not hungry for food anymore. He wipes his face on the back of his jacket sleeve before slamming the refrigerator door shut with one hand, stepping over the shattered parfait to walk over to you. He stops in front of you, his large frame towering above as he looks down at you with his violet eyes and rosy cheeks. Your name escapes his lips in a low, grizzly tone, causing your heart rate to speed up just a little. "You really look beautiful tonight," he says, always being honest with what he thinks and feels about you. His eyes scan you up and down once more before the blush on his cheeks deepen, creeping down onto his neck.

His arms reach out and wrap around you, pulling you closer to his body. The look you give him when you look up at him, along with your tiny little hands resting on his chest, are all he needs to give in to his desire and lean down to kiss you. The feel of your body against his, the taste of your lips on his tongue, Beel can't help but to think he's in the Celestial Realm all over again. Your lips are sweeter than Celestial Chocolate and he feels himself getting more and more addicted to the taste with each kiss. The Avatar of Gluttony often talks with his mouth full, and just like when he eats, he can't help but to sing your praises as he pours his love for you into every kiss.

"Mmm...ou're so am-zngly 'ewiciousss," he says, refusing to break contact with your lips.

You giggle against his lips, your hands roaming his chest and abs before snaking their way around the back of his neck and up through his fiery orange hair. You can still taste the hints of mango on his tongue when it brushes past your lips to meet yours, and you swear Devil Crush Mango tastes better this way. His hold on you tightens slightly, causing your feet to lift off the ground in his embrace, his kisses as sloppy and ravenous as he previously was for food. After a few more moments, you finally pull away, breathing heavily with a smile on your face. As you catch your breath, Beelzebub looks at you with those adorable puppy dog eyes of his.

"I think I'm hungry for you right now...can we continue this in your room? Please?" And before you can finish nodding and telling him your affirmative, Beel is picking you up and carrying you to your room. He doesn't even care about the state of the kitchen or the broken parfait on the floor - he can deal with his brothers yelling tomorrow if he gets to feast on you now.

Belphegor had slept through dinner, hidden away in a crevice of the House of Lamentation where none of his brothers could find him, his DDD on ‘Do Not Disturb.’ He had a particularly annoying day today, and he just wanted to snooze it away peacefully and without interruption.

It all started this morning when Lucifer was nagging him at breakfast - the eldest was complaining about the state of the attic, ranting about how the Avatar of Sloth needed to keep it clean if he intended on keeping it as a second room for himself. Then his brothers started arguing over the idea that Belphie has a 'second room' - Asmodeus wanting to expand his closet, Leviathan needing new shelves for all of his various collections, they kept rambling on and on as Belphie tried falling back asleep for a few more minutes, only to be awakened by the shattering of a plate thrown by Satan. He knew it was going to be a long day at that moment.

It was only made worse by the fact that Mammon was being extra greedy with you all day, and Belphie felt like he has barely gotten to see you at all. Every time he would approach you and try to talk to you, even if it was something for class, Mammon would find a way to butt in and steal you. It really pisses Belphegor off thinking about how his brothers always steal you away from him. When he made his pact with you, he meant every single word of what he said. He wants to be closer to you than anyone, and it upsets him when his idiot brothers get in his way of accomplishing that. He'd do anything to constantly bask in the warm sunlight of your attention and affection. He wants nothing more than to just have you all to himself - to steal you away to the attic and lock you both in there, napping away the world and living a beautiful life together in the dream realm.

But of course, he can't do that. You would never be happy just sleeping your life away. And as much as he tried to get your attention today, apparently it just wasn't in the stars for him. His brothers were always going to be in your life, occupying your time and stealing you away from him. Especially Mammon. Which usually, he doesn't generally mind his brothers much. But when it comes to you, everything is different. You're their precious human. The human that made him see the entire world differently. The human that had extinguished the fire of hatred that had been burning inside of him for thousands of years. You mean the world to him - his human, his first love, his starlight, his everything. And when he gets denied access to you - especially from his scummy older brother that he swears still doesn't trust him with you - he can't help but shake the feeling of emptiness inside of him.

The Avatar of Sloth doesn't like it when he can't get his way. He wants what he wants, and what he wants is you, and he wants you now. But...sadly, he can't have you now. Because, of course, Stupid Mammon has you roped into helping him with one of his side gigs for the afternoon, and he has no clue what time you'll be back. Sulking off up the stairs with is favorite cow pillow under one arm, Belphie went to go slumber in one of his best kept secret hiding places. He dozes off to the dream realm to see you in his memories, hopeful of seeing the real you when he wakes up.

Hours pass, and Belphegor awakens from his prolonged nap. He pulls his DDD out of his jacket pocket to look at the time, seeing how late it is before putting it back - definitely past dinner time. His stomach grumbles, and he pauses for a moment to observe it, trying to figure out if the feeling is from himself or his twin. His stomach rumbles louder, this time with a certain empty pain, and he decides he must be the one that is hungry. He climbs out of his hiding spot and decides he might as well hit up the kitchen to see if his twin has left him anything. As he makes he way down the hall, pillow in his hold once again, he can't help but to reminisce over the dream he had while he was asleep - it was a memory of the two of you cuddling under the stars on his (and his twin's) birthday. He'll never forget the way you looked under the light of the Devildom moons that night. He wouldn't trade that memory for anything.

Belphie makes quick work of making his way downstairs, turning the corner and making his way straight to the kitchen. 'Maybe I should go see if she's home after I eat' he thought to himself, 'sneak into her bed and cuddle if she's asleep.' He approaches the door, seeing the light cascading from the door frame, assuming his twin is awake and feeling the same pangs of hunger as he is. Right before he walks into the room, he stops himself, his violet eyes widening as he sees you. Instead of approaching you immediately, he slinks back into the shadows, deciding to observe you from afar for a few moments.

He takes in every inch of you with his eyes as you prepare yourself a bowl of Cinnamon Hell Flakes, the memory burning into his mind at the rare sight of you wearing such skimpy little pajamas. He's never seen you like this before. Sure, he's slept in your bed hundreds of times, but you're usually in baggy pajamas or you're wearing your day clothes, caught up in his midday naps. He's never seen you wear anything so tantalizing. The way your tank top hugs your breasts, the way your shorts shape your ass and expose your thighs, tempting him to want to see more...

Do you even know how much of a tease you're being? You don't, do you? Before you can take a single bite of your cereal, he drops his pillow down and sneaks up behind you, wrapping both his arms and tail around you. He buries his face in your shoulder and starts to pepper your skin with kisses, nipping little bites here and there, not wanting to bite down too hard but being sure to leave tiny little marks. The more he breathes in your scent, the more he just wants to possess you. His kisses get a little bit rougher, more frantic as his lips trail their way up your neck. You can't help but to want to give in to Belphegor's touch, dropping your spoon onto the counter as your eyes flutter closed. A soft moan escapes your lips as his hands slide up the front of your shirt, your breath hitching as he nibbles your earlobe and whispers your name.

"I've been wanting you all day, but you've been busy entertaining my idiot brothers," he said. Suddenly, you feel his tail slide up and around your waist as his hand pulls your chin to look up at him. "You're gonna make it up to me right," he said in a low tone, his lips finally crashing onto yours, his kisses needy, passionate and intense. You match his intensity, pouring just as much passion into the kiss, both of you letting out little moans and wanting more. You break the kiss, turning around in his hold.

"Let's go the the attic," you suggest as you wrap your arms around his neck. Belphegor will be making sure the two of you didn't actually get any sleep for a while tonight.

Lord Diavolo was over at the House of Lamentation late at night. Earlier Barbatos had rushed into his office with an abnormally large stack of paperwork, and an earful of complaints from the Nobles, so he went over to the House to recruit Lucifer’s help and start working on the pressing matter. The three of them had locked themselves away in Lucifer’s private study for the last few hours, toiling away with form after form, eager to reach a solution together that would please everyone. Diavolo can feel himself begin to go a bit stir crazy as time continues to pass like molasses - he needs a break, and he needs it now. Barbatos offers to stop and make the Young Master some of his favorite tea, but he politely declines his butler - Diavolo needs to stretch his legs and get some air. He reassures the other two that he will be fine, they can continue working - he is just going to take a quick stroll around the House and be right back.

Taking his leave from the secret study, Diavolo begins to wander around the halls of the House of Lamentation. He is usually here on business and doesn’t get to just hang out much, so it’s nice for him to be able to see more of the mansion at his own leisure. It’s a shame for him that everyone is asleep at this hour, for he would love to join in on your chaos with the brothers - but he’ll enjoy this rare moment all the same. Speaking of the House’s inhabitants, his mind couldn’t help but to wander to think only of you. As he mindlessly makes his way down the stairs, he can't help but to wonder how you’re faring in his realm. 'Are you happy here? Is there anything you need?' He hopes you know you can always come to him when you need something. Just say the word and he won't hesitate to give you anything you could possibly desire. 'Are you lonely? No...probably not. You have the brothers, after all...'

Diavolo rarely gets to see you alone. Thinking about this, he lets out a small annoyed huff as he reaches the bottom of the stairs, crossing his arms across his chest. It's not lost on him that almost every moment of your waking hours are occupied by one of the Seven Avatars of Sin. As much as he loves his best friend, and his 6 rowdy younger brothers, he couldn't help but to feel a small thorn of envy pierce at his heart when he thinks about the connection you have with the demon brothers. A connection he may never have with you, given the nature of the seven pacts you hold with them. It's as if that shiny, perfect soul you have is intertwined with theirs, and for political reasons, he may never be able to have that with you. You, the adorable human that stumbled into the Devildom and danced your way right to his heart without even trying. The one that charms beings from all three realms so effortlessly. The one that treats him like he can be normal and do "normie things" (as Leviathan calls it), instead of just treating him like some stuffy royal you are forced to associate with. He feels like you really see him, and every time he thinks about you his love for you grows. A twinge of insecurity sneaks into the back of his mind, for he has no idea how you truly feel about him. You're always so busy with the brothers, getting pulled into various shenanigans all across the Devildom with them, he feels like he never gets enough time with you. Sometimes he wishes you would just tell the brothers off and run away to his Castle so that he can make you fully his and pamper you. He wants so badly to make you his princess, he'll do almost anything.

Just as the thoughts were swirling around in the Young Prince's mind, he began to hear a clatter coming from down the hallway. Raising an eyebrow, Diavolo began to press forward, curious to see what the cause of the noise was. He pauses by your door, seeing it open and turning his head to look inside, quickly scanning to find it empty. He raises an eyebrow, finding it odd that you wouldn't be safely tucked in your bed at such a late hour. Continuing towards his original destination, he stops again in the doorway when he sees you, and in that moment the icy thorn of jealousy and loneliness in his chest starts to melt away into something warmer. Only in his fantasies has he seen you dressed in something like this. Fantasies of the two of you tangled in his silk sheets, sharing the most intimate moments of lust and love together before falling asleep in each other's arms. He had no idea when he left Lucifer's study to take a break that he would get so lucky as to run into you like this. He can't help the dark blush that dusts across his face, his golden eyes smoldering as he takes in your appearance. He unfolds his arms and holds them outwards to you, hoping you will hug him as he says your name.

"I didn't expect to see you up this late." You walk up to him and wrap your arms around him, immediately getting engulfed in one of his famous warm hugs. He's so much larger than you are, and the feeling of his arms wrapping around you and holding you close as your chest presses against his make you want to melt. His cologne smells so intoxicatingly good that you almost forgot he had said something to you.

"I wasn't expecting to see you here either, Dia," you finally reply to him, slightly flustered.

Diavolo's heart starts to beat faster at the sound of you calling him such a cute little nickname. He looks down at you with a fond smile, and he can't help but to seize the moment when he sees the look in your eyes, assuring him you may return some of his feelings. He leans down and finally presses his lips to yours, your eyes fluttering shut as you wrap your arms around his neck. You feel his large hands slide down your back, his hold on you growing possessive. Much to his surprise however, you nibble on his bottom lip before sliding your tongue across it, asking for entrance. You wanted to deepen the kiss, and of course he would always oblige you. As you feel his tongue massage yours, you can't help but to let out a little moan, causing Diavolo's resolve to weaken that much more. You hear a small growl rumble from his chest, his hands sliding down to cup your ass and pick you up, your legs instantly squeezing around his waist as your hands slide into that soft red hair of his. A few moments later and he breaks the kiss, setting you down on the kitchen island's counter while still keeping his hold on you.

"I want nothing more than to take you back to my Castle, take you to my room, and keep you in my bed forever," he says, his golden eyes blazing with lust and love for you. You lean in to crash your lips against his once again, murmuring 'yes' and 'lets go' in between kisses. He reaches down to his pocket and pulls out his DDD to call Barbatos and tell him to portal you all home - having you in his bed tonight is far more important than some boring paperwork, Nobles be damned.

· demonvibez ♡ 2023 · do not copy, repost or modify · · likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated! ♡ ·

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arcadegamesandsnowflakes · 2 years

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gif by @/smilestimz !

#nighttime baking

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1moreff-creator · 5 days

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DRDT Rulebreakers!

It has come to my attention that MonoTV seems to be lacking in its responsibilities as a killing game host, in particular regarding the punishment of vile, despicable rulebreakers. Apparently, it’s willing to let breaches of rules go if they’re, quote, “funny.” This is unacceptable.

So, since I was rewatching DRDT for other purposes anyways, I decided to make a list of every participant who’s broken a rule so far. You’d be surprised at how many there are, given there are only three rules they can break. “No violence against MonoTV”, “no sleeping outside the dorms during nighttime,” and “no significant property damage outside of murder.” And yet, all of them have been broken at least once. Here are all the instances of this happening.

Rule Number 5: “Nighttime” is from 10 pm to 8 am. During nighttime, sleeping outside of the dorms is prohibited.

Rulebreaker: Rose

To the surprise of no one, I imagine. If I’d given you three guesses as to who broke this one, your guesses should have been “Rose, Rose and Rose a third time.” Indeed, Ms Lacroix takes the dubious honor of being the first person to break a rule after the students were given their monopads. As in, she literally breaks the rule in the scene the rules are handed out, in CH1 EP2. Right after the nighttime announcement, she falls asleep while standing. For shame.

Thin Ice: Ace

(Ignore the numbers)

I mean. Top right does say nighttime, and he is in fact sleeping. I feel like we could forgive him for this one given the situation, but I suppose it’s up to the jury.

Rule Number 6: Violence towards MonoTV is prohibited.

Rulebreakers: Levi, Arei

Levi is the only person who actually got punished for breaking a rule, and that’s especially funny considering he is the only one who did it before the rules were actually presented to the students lol.

Arei, meanwhile, has no excuse. While strangling a robot that doesn’t require air to breathe is a generally unadvisable as a genuine method of inflicting harm, it’s still very much violence against MonoTV. I actually can see no reason why she wouldn’t be punished for this. I guess she must be the mastermind! /j

Thin Ice: Nico, Charles, J

Nico holding MonoTV by the tail wasn’t an inherently violent act, but it still could cause harm.

Charles, in a twist of fate, got jumped by MonoTV, which isn’t a violation in itself. However, if he fought back at all… it’s curtains. Unconfirmed, but possible violation, hence he’s on thin ice.

Finally, J didn’t actually attack MonoTV in a way that matters, but she basically attempted to murder it with her remote. Watch it, young lady.

Rule Number 7: Significant property damage is prohibited. This rule may be waived in the case of committing a murder.

Rulebreakers: Teruko, Xander, Whit

Teruko: Could anyone use this to commit a murder? The materials these things are made out of are really cheap. This hammer is plastic. Oops. I already broke it...

Whit: Jeez, you trip and faceplant into the wall once and [Charles] will never let you forget it.

Whit is the latest student to be confirmed a vile rulebreaker, and as you might expect, the reason this post exists. He admitted to face-planting on the computer lab wall, and MonoTV admitted it only let it slide because it was funny. This implies the rule was broken, meaning even small things like that count as “significant” property damage.

And with that, we can confirm Xander as a rulebreaker too. No surprise, he’s the Ultimate Rebel for a reason. He actually has multiple counts of breaking this rule, with the elevator doors, but the most straightforward case is the table he broke while arm-wrestling Ace.

Finally, we have Teruko, who has broken this rule in more situations than just one. I chose her breaking the plastic hammer provided to everyone (CH1 EP1) because it’s the most straightforward, but there’s also the icing gun which breaks in her hands when baking cake in CH1, possibly a plate later in the same scene, and probably more. See, this is why Xander was in the righ-

Thin Ice: Ace's Attacker/Nico

(Aka whoever actually broke the fan)

(I could get images without numbers. I'm not going to)

This one's an interesting grey area. The property damage rule can be waived "in the case of committing a murder," but what about attempted murder? Since the murder wasn't successful, should the person who broke the fan be punished for it? Up to interpretation.

———

And that’s as far as it goes (unless I missed something which I most likely did). So, while Ace, J, Charles, Nico, and maybe the Ace attacker (if they’re not just Nico) are all on thin ice, Rose, Levi, Arei, Teruko, Xander, and Whit, are all rulebreakers! And are hereby BANNED from the DAYCA-

Wrong fandom sorry.

These six are all rulebreakers, and are thus liable for execution and/or mastermind allegations. Do with this information what you will.

#drdt #drdt spoilers #danganronpa despair time #sillyposting #teruko tawaki #xander matthews #rose lacroix #whit young #levi fontana #arei nageishi

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lancermylove · 7 months

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Random Relationship HCs

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland

Pairing: Leona, Malleus, Azul, Riddle with gn!Reader

Warning: None

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You and Leona have late-night study sessions, cramming for exams at the last minute. Somehow, he knows everything without even studying. Meanwhile, he is a bad influence on you and watching you frantically studying with an amused smirk.

He loves napping with you, especially under the afternoon sun. The best part is that even if you fall asleep with him on public grounds, no one will bother you because they don't want to get on Leona's bad side.

If you are competitive, well, let the competition begin! He will compete with you in anything, but beware that he doesn't lose, and in case he loses, he doesn't take it well. Convincing him to be happy will take a lot of kisses and cuteness.

He takes you to explore the vast grounds of Savanaclaw. Sometimes, the two of you discover hidden spots that not even Leona knew existed.

If you are the type of person who can be with Leona but be worlds apart at the same time, you will find yourself sitting beside him or in the same room with a comfortable silence. Words are not needed for him to understand you.

Since he likes the silence of the nighttime, Malleus invites you on walks in the serenity of the moonlight. Neither of you say anything, hold hands, and take in the beauty of nature as the cool night breeze caresses your skin.

Malleus might be the future king of Briar Valley, but he treats you as an equal and values your opinions and decisions. It doesn't matter to him if you are royalty or not, and he will make sure everyone who attempts to look down on you knows that.

At every given moment, his eyes are on you. The prince wants to ensure you are happy and not hiding any sadness or pain from him. One of his goals in life is to keep you happy, and he intends to meet it no matter what.

If he thinks you are serious about the relationship, Malleus will envision his future with you. He may or may not say it out loud, depending on how comfortable you would be with the topic. However, he had already envisioned the two of you ruling Briar Valley together. And opening his eyes every morning to see your lovely face beside his. Just the thought makes his heart pound against his chest.

You and Riddle sometimes banter over the rules of Heartslaybul. What's wrong with drinking a certain type of tea after 8 pm? Who cares how many sugar cubes someone puts in their drink or if you put honey? Who cares what clothes are worn where? But Riddle disagrees with you, but it's more of a playful argument than a serious one. In the end, the two of you laugh and hug each other.

You two often study together. Not only do you help each other, but you also get to spend time with each other. Moreover, Riddle is good at explaining things in a simplistic manner, so he makes it easy for you to understand anything you have issues with.

Riddle has a habit of overworking and overstressing, so at times, you have to pull him into his room and force him to relax. He likes to put his head on your lap as you stroke his hair. Sometimes, he falls asleep when you do that.

If you have a sweet tooth, specifically for strawberry tarts, the two of you visit local bakeries together to try out different desserts or ask Trey to bake some for you if he has time.

When Azul has time, he takes you to the depths of the sea for underwater excursions. Who knows, maybe one of these days, you might find hidden treasures or secrets beneath the waves. Just don't ask him to show you his octopus form because he will most definitely say no.

Azul treasures the small moments that happen between you and him, be it you drinking something and a mustache forming on your upper lip or you laughing about something silly; he cherishes it all.

He likes it when you rely on him as it shows your trust in him. So, if you are struggling with anything and go to him, Azul will drop everything and help you. Depending on your mood, he may tease you.

After Mostro Lounge closes, Azul likes to have dinner with you. In the candlelight and glow of the ocean water, he enjoys asking you about your day and telling you about his day. It gives him a sense of a family vibe, like spouses having dinner with each other. He didn't say that out loud, and you didn't heard anything.

———————————————

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jolapeno · 6 months

Text

iv. a date missed is a date lost

joel miller x f!reader | chapter four of honey stained hands

chapter summary: when you don't make it back from patrol, joel doesn't think for a second about not going to find you.

wordcount: 4.8k warnings: typical canon-angst/grief. angst. canon-level violence (desc of injuries and blood, but nothing insane). reader is a bad ass. injury/comfort — and from Joel. joel calls reader honey (because she bakes). mentions of brief smut. this pair are together but won't admit it. joel is pissed and we love him for it. talks of readers grief (you lose someone from before but not many deets) an: for those who waited, thank you. to those who have just stumbled here: hello, you don't need to take off your shoes.

In time, daylight begins its gradual retreat, casting shorter shadows and making flashlights more of a necessity in the nighttime.

The blankets of white persist, marking winter’s icy caress across rooftops, the ground and anything else it can layer itself against.

At one point, fairy lights go up and then come back down. Briefly twinkling like scattered stars before eventually returning to their storage—time ticking on, days seeping into weeks, then months.

There comes a moment when the snow falls heavier, then thins, only to fall again in abundance, dousing the world as far as Joel's eyes can see.

But, the biggest change Joel notices, is that he begins to dream a lot less of you. No longer a distant fantasy but a tangible presence beside him, a reality woven into the fabric of his days.

He doesn’t need to think you up, you’re already there. Curled against him—facing him—hand under your cheek as you breathe in and out, soft and measured. Like this, you don't appear as a threat to the world, but he knows when awake what you’re capable of.

Just like he knows, deep down, this isn’t just neighbourly friends or nightcaps on the porch—or better yet, occasional sex to pass the time. Even if it all began as such.

It may have started as a carnal need, a teeth-sinking, nail-digging desperation. All akin to a time when he was a teenager, both of you waiting for the door to click shut behind Ellie—as she heads to a friend’s house—before he’s on you, pulling a giggle, a soft shriek of his name before you’re scraping and stripping him until he’s hardening in your hand, mouth or against your thigh.

Lately, it’s soft brushes of thumbs, mouth grazing over exposed skin and whimpers of his name; now, it’s a look—a quiet retreat, slow mornings and lazy nights. Your fingers find purpose on his cheek, eyes seeking his as he buries himself deep, making your mouth part in an O—just as he always does.

Too good for me, Miller. You’re too sweet for me, honey.

A joke. A tease that should be getting old, but isn’t.

Then, your things found themselves with his—or his with yours.

A jumper on his floor, his shirt hung on the handle of your bedroom; his guitar relocating as he does, sometimes against his bedroom wall, and sometimes against yours.

It became morning walks to the pen as he left for patrol and him meeting you at the gate, each time a little different. There are evenings of him arriving home to find you there, cooking—Ellie next to you, nodding, listening to instruction; then there are those where he sits in solitude, counting seconds until he thinks he can invite himself over.

There was even a progression to how the two of you left the bar, when things began to mean more. At first, you had just walked next to him. The next you brushed your fingers against his and the third he found you leaning into him, following him, not even pretending to go home and choosing to follow him inside his.

Truthfully, he’s not sure there’s a reason the two of you live in different houses—even if they’re side by side. Pretending there’s no concrete explanation, even if it lingers in the back of his mind. It rears its head when the night creaks in, rotting in a corner of his mind, a thought he should ponder over, pluck strings to until it makes sense—until he rationalises whether he can do it. Love, that is.

He’s ‘changed’, according to Tommy. Although, he’s not sure what that means. It’ll add to the pile, one he has to sort through but never does. Content with it, the things that weigh him down, deep down knowing he’s worthy of it—because his hands are stained even if they don’t appear as such.

Then, you’ll do something. Hand him a tin of shortbread, a smile—all wicked, and unwilling to be read—spreading and spreading. “It’s not a gift—it means nothing.”

“Whatever y’tell yourself.”

And then he’s confused all over again.

Whether it’s possible, whether he’s earned it—deserving of another chance. A twinge of pain when he remembers long hair against his neck in Boston, and the way her hands were as blotted as his.

You’re not her, but you’re smudged in your own way. Made of something entirely different, yet born from a similar pain he can see. You rose from the marshes, bones hardened thanks to the branches—grew strong from the soil and dirt. You’re one with nature in a way that made him wonder if the wind talked to you.

A thing he admires, the same way he does about a lot of things.

He supposes it would be easier, and simpler.

Not just loving you but having you here. You and your fire that warms all it touches, your kind disposition that you pretend not to have, but it rolls from you in plenty.

Less traipsing from home to home, less of him misplacing his things amongst your counters and sitting in your kitchen as you bake, only to take the treats with him next door, his fingers inside yours.

And, even if two of you are unwilling to put a name to the thing they are. We’re adults, Joel. We don’t need that, do we? It wouldn’t be terrible—a thing he rather likes. But, he likes it more that you don’t feel the need for it. Because in an ocean of complexity, you’re the thing that makes sense—the one thing he understands.

Doesn’t need to turn over much except what’re you thinking, what ticks behind your glazed eyes and whether the seconds you linger at the red toolbox are shortening or if he’s just becoming used to it—

“Joel, is that—oh my fuck…”

Your hands grasp at the VHS in his hand—fingers turning it over, that line appearing on your forehead that tells him you’re thinking, catching up to the actuality before it’s been told to you.

“Evenin’ to you too—”

“—What did you trade for this?”

Shrugging, he shoves his hand into his jeans—the ones that have grown tighter, barely able to fit the same hand that it used to, comfortably.

“Joel.”

Scratching the back of his neck, he sighs. “Y’think you wanna watch it with me?”

Licking your lips, you place it down on the counter, face blank, fucking unreadable. “What, like a date?”

Shrugging, he smiles. “Would that be terrible?”

“No, suppose it wouldn’t be.”

Nudging you, he likes how you paint him in a laugh. Something rich, warm.

“I’ve got patrol—but, can freshen up, come round after?” you suggest, hand on his chest. “You don’t sleep without me anyway.”

And he nods. Already mentally beginning to count down, watching you smile, ticking his jaw from side to side.

“I’d wipe that.”

“What?”

Licking your lips, you smirk. “The smile—people will think you’re soft.”

“No, they won’t.”

“Will if I begin spreading it.”

He just pinches you on the ass.

In the whole of his life, there have been only six times when Joel’s blood ran cold.

An expression he'd never understood until the first time it happened.

He had never expected the saying to mean a chill blasting down his spine. Or that sounds and scents would blur to nothing as his stomach twisted, just like he never anticipated the prickling sensation spreading across his skin like a thousand icy needles and rendering everything else inconsequential in comparison.

Tommy had been the first, all little, barely the same height as the kitchen counter. Nose bloody, swollen upper lip and a look on his face that made Joel want to snap arms and break skulls. He had settled for breaking the nose of the kid who had picked a fight with his baby brother.

The second was far worse—the first time Sarah first got ill. All little coughs, splutters—a temperature hotter than a stove, harsh cries and soft pleading whimpers that she couldn’t articulate or describe. A helplessness he hadn’t been able to explain or shake, not in the days after, or the weeks and months. In truth, Joel isn’t sure he ever slept quite the same.

The third was that night. When it dawned, when it hammered into him like a thousand needles and pierced every single part of who he was. When it broke him. Snapped him. Made him come apart and yet still exist—kneeling, the blood growing gummy and cold. Leaving her there, not taking his baby girl with him. A part of his heart, soul and reason left there in tall grass as he was forced to put one foot in front of the other.

The fourth had been when Tommy had left—when he’d realised it. When he saw the life he had and wondered what the fuck had happened. It bled horribly into the fifth. A dread as he saw the mark, the bite—the realisation she would be taken too: Tess. The new normal he’d made coming undone too, seams burst, emptiness spreading, rising and rising until he felt nothing but fire and ice simultaneously.

Ellie in that hospital had been the sixth. Joel hadn’t even known he could experience another. His heart was not made of iron like he tried to convince himself when he was younger. A tightness that didn’t resolve until he held her in his arms, till he kept her safe, until he blazed through the building ripping and tearing until her pulse was against his fingers.

He’d never expected to feel it a seventh.

Had thought his cards had all been dealt. A person could surely only have so many chances at having things to love, to care for—to have it all received back too.

There’s not a single sound when Tommy tells him. Informs him.

There’s just ringing. It douses everything else, his fingers rubbing against his thumb, his knees cracking before his head catches up to the fact he’s standing, fingers clenching and unclenching.

A fire rising, not smothered—not willing to be snuffed out by action and thinking. Not as he sees the words being said, confirmed.

Because deep down he’d known what was coming before they were muttered. Had felt them.

He’d been aware your plate was no longer warm, steam no longer rising, food all but congealing, cold—practically unedible. His eyes had been pinned to the clock on the wall, to the way the big hand nudged the smaller one on.

He hates that he hesitates.

That he remains, feet planted to the floorboards of his home. Eyes flicking to Ellie, to this person he swears to protect, to be there for, a second chance amongst a graveyard of mistakes—

“If you don’t go after her, I’ll never forgive you.”

Strong words. But then, she’s strong.

He’s seen it when she talks to you, all hushed whispers and confessed secrets. Sees it in her shoulders even when she curls into your side for a half-hug, your arm sliding around, head resting on the top of hers.

Because you mean something to Ellie too.

Which is why he can’t remain—shouldn’t. All unwilling to let anyone talk him into waiting, for a plan to be devised, to be drawn up and communicated.

Because you wouldn’t. There’d be nothing that’d keep you back, from going, from doing.

We’re doers, me and you, Miller. We don’t wait around for people to decide, we act.

Each step seems to echo that with his sorrow—with that knot inside of him. The corners of his eyes narrow as anger shakes through him, hammering and solidifying itself in some corner of him—weighing him down, making his boots dig more intently into the snow.

Because you were right—knuckles brushing over his cheek when the two of you shared a sliver of what happened to you that day. It had changed him, that birthday all those years ago. A brief glance at his watch, the one he still wears, never forgotten, never fixed. It compelled him to action, a force that surged within him, driving him forward, taking and taking until his knuckles burst through flesh—becoming it, a doer, a thing which took and survived.

Maybe that’s why this keeps happening.

Why good keeps being taken from him? It’s never thieved, never sneakily tugged from under his nose, but rather openly and brazenly taken. It’s this that forces his hands to clutch the reins tighter as the cool wind whips past him, tracing the tracks, envisioning the exact route you would have taken. Only coming to a stop when the snow becomes undisturbed, dismounting with a groan.

It makes a lump rise in his throat. One that doesn’t vanish when he begins tying the horse to a tree—patting her and stroking her. Because he’s too old for this. Too old for the caring, the chasing, the losing, and the fear. His palm against the animal, feeling the heartbeat inside, grounding him for just a moment.

But, even if he is, he’s not letting it, them or whatever take you.

Not as he pulls on gloves and tilts his neck until it cracks. Not as he thinks about the last time he was out here with you—a treat, you’d called it: we’ve swapped partners for the day. Don’t make me go alone, Miller. As if he ever would. A thing which earned him a different kind of gasp when your spine met a tree trunk, gloves fingers sliding through his hair, a laugh there on your lips—desperate to greet the air, if not for his lips smothering it away, silencing it.

He replays it.

Desperately wanting for nothing more than for that laugh, that smile—that snark and its bite. Joel wants bark under his nails and for it to be finding a home under yours too—a reminder, a badge of honour. He wants nature to attempt to cover up the sound of his skin slapping against yours; wants the wind to try and compete with the moans he extracts from your throat.

He wants.

Hand tightening around the gun, he swallows—vision whitening in the corner of his eyes as his jaw tightens.

A figurative storm cloud rising above him, grey and thundering, cracking as he hears you say don’t sleep without me anyway on repeat. Over and over. That smirk carved into him, scraped in with sheer gut and will.

Then, he replays Tommy. The words which are supposed to bring comfort, but just bring more rage. “She’s good, Joel” doesn’t bring you home, the same as “He’s good—one I know can pull his weight”, because is he as good as him? As good as you?

Is the man who is meant to have your back as much of a monster as him—as the two of you?

He learns in half a mile that he wasn’t. An answer left, presented—all lit up in scarlet. Neck snapped. Anger let loose on the man who had smiled at him around and about. Gone. Left to decompose and erode.

Joel wonders what it says about him that he feels nothing when he removes the weapons from the man’s belt. Taking what he can before leaving, and continuing on.

At each step, he hopes you’re as good as he thinks you are. Each breath heaved from Joel’s chest he hoped you were still beating, it hanging in the frigid air in front of him, a visible reminder of the feeling he had forgotten about—allowed himself to forget—fear.

How it isn't just about dread, but rather the erosion of faith—a corrosion of belief, leaving him almost gasping for air. There’s a curse there too, simmering on his tongue, desperate to be released and breathed into the oncoming night as he ties another thread around an extended branch. Doing so every so many steps, a guide, a trail for someone else to follow—just in case, forever just in fucking case.

His arm bumps into a tree he passes, one adorned with delicate frost, stood like a sentinel, like the rest around it. Its branches reach out in frozen pleas to the heavens above as snowflakes descend from his bump, a thing falling in a way not too dissimilar to the unrest inside of him, stirring and swirling and all but fucking churning.

Jaw gritted, he swallows. Readying himself to move, to force himself on when he sees it, spots it. The thing you’d once showed him all intentionally.

From the outside, the cabin looks like it usually does.

Worn, broken—far less a structure and more a ruin. But, he knows without opening the door it’s hiding things, concealing unfamiliars and protecting traitors. He can tell.

And it is when he steps inside. Just none of them are breathing.

A full house of horrors. A museum of a fight that hadn’t gone the way, the three he finds in the larger room, would have wanted. One slumped against the wall, a head wound seeping and congealing. The other two lie askew, limbs twisted in ways they shouldn't be. There's a quiet chaos to the scene, a silent testament to a struggle fought with everything at stake.

He checks them all the same, dispatching, covering his back—stepping carefully over loose floorboard and limbs, eyes scanning, all desperately seeking.

Deep down, he’s relieved at the sight of the fallen attackers. A grim confirmation you did not go down without a fight. But another part, one that has been growing with each passing second, is filled with dread, more so as he moves further into the cabin, each step heavier than the last.

The air is stale, tinged with the metallic scent of blood. A scent he's all too familiar with. Following, only to find the next room there’s nothing. Not a thing. Nothing but the door—the one you’d mumbled about being difficult to open—is banging in the breeze. A thud, over and over, like the cabin has a heartbeat that wishes to ring out, and out, and out.

That’s when he finds your note. The singular reason he can hold out hope you’re still alive. Chicken-scratch-proof into pages of a book, your knife stamped as a signature to the backdoor:

compromised, do not look fo—

Joel has never been much of a listener.

Not as he charges outside, not as he sweeps around the new ground with his weapon at the ready. He barely has to look far, before he spots something—a thing out of the ordinary in a clump out at the back.

You. Joel finds you.

You are all but surrounded by clumped white and cherry red, sprawled out on the ground, spots of dark beneath you—a gash on your forehead, blood smeared across your face. The contrast is so rich that it could almost be described as poetic. Somewhat romantic, he supposed. That’s if the poets lingered on the snowflakes hanging from your lashes, instead of the gash to your forehead and the swelling forming along your neck.

But you're breathing. Barely.

His teeth bite at the tips of his gloves, slapping fingers to your pulse, finding it, weak but there, before brushing his knuckles and finding cold skin making him hiss.

You’re smart. A reckoning, a feral monstrous thing that is hard to describe to someone who hasn’t seen you take down a soul twice your size.

Joel liked to tell himself he kept you around for that reason—the fire, the poison woven into your veins that injects into whoever is foolish enough to cross you. But Joel keeps you around for the person you accidentally show him—the one that makes him feel human, less of a beast and someone who has taken, taken, taken.

It’s your grit, your cunning nature, which is why it’s taken him so long to find you. His chest tightened when he was greeted by the scent of iron, all thick—collecting in rooms where you’d fought tooth and nail.

Now, he was standing in the cold piles carved by knees and elbows, your slumped frame, curled as close together—defeated, likely having been convinced you’d never be found before the cold tried to take you as its victim.

But, you’re no victim. No woman who wishes to repent for how you’ve survived or the things you’ve done to breathe easier.

It’s why Joel lifts you, pulls you close—face curling into his neck from the position you fall into, as he’s chilled to the bone by your cold.

“If y’can hear me, hold on.”

He adjusts, even as his back winces—something pinching, hurting, throbbing in the position he’s in on the snow. Hating his age about as much as he hates his bones.

That’s when he whispers your name. Does so like it’s a secret, a thing the forest and the things inside of it aren’t privileged to hear. A thing entrusted to him that he wishes no one else to hear or ever know.

“M’here.”

It’s a mumble. A murmur. The softness barely escapes through clenched, almost chattering teeth—but then your flashes flutter, coated in flakes that shimmy down to your cheek as you attempt to open them.

“Eyes on me—there you are.”

“Stop being c-cute.”

Grimacing, he watches you try to smile—weak, it barely reaching your cheeks, never mind your eyes. “Don’t think anyone's ever called me cute, honey.”’

“Never t-thought someone be storm-m-ing through a forest for me—first time for…”

Looking down, he sees your lashes fluttering, eyes struggling to stay open. Lips still parted around the next word that had yet to fall.

Tapping your cheek, he feels how cold you are. Even here. In nothing but warmth and safety. And he hates that he has to ignore how concerning that is. How hard it is to swallow that you are.

“Don’t stop talkin’ to me now. Might like the silence.”

He feels you laugh. Vibrating against him. More a hiccup than a real laugh, but it’s something.

“I fought—”

“Know you did.”

Nodding, you swallow, cough spluttering in the back of your throat.

"Y' did... y' did real good," he assures, voice thick, chest aching at the sight of you—so strong, yet looking so small and vulnerable against him.

"Did... did I get them?"

Your words are slurred, consciousness fleeting—tiredness trying to sneak you away from him.

"All of 'em," he assures, his grip tightening around you, "Every last one."

He can't be sure if you hear him, your eyes fluttering shut once more.

But he keeps talking, filling the silence with a low, steady stream of words. Comforting nothings, promises of safety, of warmth, of a congealed meal and the VHS. Even as your grip on his hand slackens, your breaths become more shallow, more sporadic. Even when he feels a cold dread creep into his heart, he pushes it away, and focuses on you—on keeping you with him.

"Stay with me," he murmurs, adjusting you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as you groan against him when he lifts you with him, "Just a little walk, alright."

The snow crunches under his boots as he carries you back up the path he came, leaving a trail behind. Even in finding you, he knows victory tastes bitter on his tongue—a price too high to pay.

"Y'need t’make it, can’t watch that movie alone."

You snort. It is very much there, before it’s buried—engulfed under a whine of pain as you stand up fully.

Can’t. It’s one word, but it’s louder than all the others you’ve spoken, shared—and given. So, he wraps his arm securely around your waist, leading you, taking as much of your weight as he can.

Joel holds you, clutches you against him—a brief flowering of memories from doing something so similar for Ellie. A thought which brings fresh anger, a bitterness to his tongue. Holding tighter because of it, grips you closer—as though his life depends on it.

Because in a way, it does—a part of him acknowledging that now.

More so as you groan, as you plead to stop in harsh whispers as you grip him weakly, as your foot flops occasionally, legs tired, aching.

It’s not until he’s managed to bring you inside, do you murmur again. Nothing full, nothing understood until he’s removed his coat and wrapped you in it, helped lean you against a wall do you say anything more than a groan.

“Tired.”

Hands encased in his, Joel warms them, as the moon bleeds tendrils in through slats and the half-made window. “I know. C'mon, stay with me.”

Your eyes flutter open, glazed and barely focusing on him. "I'm...trying," you whisper, your voice barely audible.

"Good," he murmurs, stroking your hair back from your forehead. "That's all I need. Just...keep trying."

His head turns, looking through the window, seeing the placement of the moon, and wondering if it’ll be morning before someone comes—before someone follows and helps. Just mumbling about anything, joking it’s the most he’s talked, doing so in a voice that mocks your own, doing something, anything to try and keep you awake—keep you warm.

"I should've been there. I should've..."

He doesn't finish the sentence. Doesn't need to.

The regret, the guilt, it's all there in his voice, in his eyes. And you squeeze his hand feebly, your eyes fluttering open to meet his gaze. "Not...not your fault, Joel."

He nods, swallowing hard. "I know. I just...I wish I could've..."

“He made it. This place,” you begin, voice low, barely a breath.

Your eyes focused on some floorboard, not leaving, unwilling to lift to him, even as his head tilts.

“Came out all the time with that red f-fucking toolbox,” you continue, swallowing, wincing as you use your shoulder to itch your cheek.

“He was just a neighbour, a person I knew the first name of. Then he was a-all I had, a friend, then family—a b-brother. I’d… I’d never… and then he was just… gone. Survived all those years, survived all of that, only for s-sleep to take him as soon as we got here.”

Your eyes lift, haunted by sorrow, by exhaustion and something so much more.

And he has no words—not enough for this, none enough to make any of this make sense or feel better.

“I saw him. I—I know he’s gone, know it wasn’t real, but I just closed my eyes, just so I could see him again. And then…”

Your words trail off, a choked sob taking their place as you curl into yourself.

A sound so full of brokenness it makes something inside of him shatter a little, more so when Joel feels you pull your hands free, all rough and worn, clutching around yourself, at the material of his coat—gripping so tight it’s almost as if you’re trying to hold yourself together.

“You think he’d be mad that you saved me—that I’m g-glad you saved me?”

Swallowing, he cups your cheek with his palm. “I think if he’s anything like you, he’d be glad you fought.”

Nodding, you smile, the base of your palm wiping your tears as your lip wobbles. “Can y-you hold me?”

Nodding, he shuffles, and buries a groan in his throat as he manoeuvres a man his age shouldn’t, until he can, until he is. Having you as close as you’ll humanly fucking let him.

Which is how you’re found—a cavalry of those from Jackson, a mixture of surprise and relief etched into their faces when they land on the two of you.

When he suspects they land their eyes on you, and realise, like he did, that you’re the owner of the destruction in the room next to you all.

CHAPTER FIVE ->

AN: next chapter will be quicker i promise, but no strict deadline on when as posting / stepping back into this was a lot.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fic #pedrostories #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #the last of us fanfic #tlou fanfic

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toxic3mmy · 4 months

Note

consensual somnophilia with alex?

somnophilia: the urge or desire to have a sexual encounter with a sleeping person

prompt: alex fucks you while you’re asleep

warnings! smut! [consensual]

it was finally the weekend. your best friend alex had asked you to come over to hangout and you obliged.

“hey lexie, wanna smoke?” you asked, as he let you into his home

“you already know my answer to that” he rolled his eyes playfully

the two of you sat on his back porch and passed a joint to one another.

as you smoked, your eyes got heavier and the two of you delved into deeper conversations.

“what do you think about… like weird stuff in the bedroom? like with a partner?” he asked you

“what, like shit kinks and feet kinks? definitely not for me” you giggled and alex shook his head

“no, well kinda. like.. there’s this specific thing that i kinda find interesting. it’s like when two people have sex but one is asleep and of course it’s consensual, but i was just wondering what you thought about that”

“hmm.. well honestly, i think that’s pretty hot. with someone you trust, it could be a fun experience, y’know?”

“yeah… yeah definitely. hey, thanks for not being weirded out by me bringing this up. i’ve never really mentioned it to anyone but i trust you” he said, almost as if hinting at something

“of course alex, i trust you too. you’re my best friend and we can always talk about anything at all. and for the record,” you said, getting the confidence to move closer to alex and whisper lowly, “i’d let you fuck me in my sleep”

“w-what? man, you’re just baked” he said incredulously

“no, well yes i am but i mean it. and i’m not saying it because i’m not sober. i mean it.. you’re my best friend, my other half. and god damn are you attractive. you’re so fit that i have to constantly stop myself from staring at you 24/7” your mouth was now running on its own, spilling out secrets that you’ve kept from alex

“y/n… now you’re definitely busting my balls…” he laughed shaking his head

“i’m not, i’m being completely serious lexie. i’m really surprised you haven’t noticed”

“i… didn’t know you felt this way about me… is it a sexual attraction or?”

“the sexual attraction is definitely there, but it’s always been more than that. i like the way you do anything to make me laugh. and i see the things you do that show me you care for me. i’m kinda crazy about you, alex. i don’t wanna make things weird between us and i really do understand if you don’t feel the same—”

“n-no!” he yelped making you jump slightly as his voice got loud

“i mean… nothing could break us apart y/n. to be honest, i um… i think of you, too… in many ways” and that made you smile

you shoved him playfully, “look at us being all mushy”

“yeah” he laughed “but um y/n?”

“yeah?”

“did you mean what you said? about letting me do things while you were asleep? consensually, of course..”

“i did mean it, but why don’t we slow down there, cowboy. start at the beginning” you said, bringing his face closer to yours

you inhaled from the joint in your hand, pressed your lips to alex’s and breathed the smoke into his mouth

“fuck, that was hot” alex chuckled, tracing his fingers along your jaw, bringing you in for a real kiss

your lips moved together slowly. he tasted so sweet. you felt his tongue asking to be let in. you moved your tongue alongside his and slowly began to suck on his tongue. this elicited small whimpers from alex and it really turned you on.

you pulled away as you felt the nighttime breeze pick up

“let’s get inside, it’s cold”

the two of you set up snacks in front if the sofa as you binged movies together. you’d get distracted here and there with wandering hands and long makeout sessions.

eventually, the weed in your system took over and you felt yourself falling asleep. alex was way too invested in the movie to even realize you’d passed out. he looked over at you and smiled at how peaceful you looked. he laid you down and placed a warm blanket over you. for the next hour, his attention remained on the tv.

“mmm lexie..” he heard you sigh in your sleep

he turned to look at you and reached his hand out to brush your hair away from your face. you nuzzled your cheek into his touch while still asleep. alex couldn’t resist running his fingertips down your body.

his hand inched up your shirt, pinching your nipples lightly and enjoying the way you whined in your sleep. he pushed your shirt up and replaced his fingers with his mouth, sucking on your hard nipples.

he was hovering above you, careful not to put his body weight on you as he grinded his hips into yours.

he was panting softly and you were still asleep. he threw the couch cushions aside and laid behind you as if he were cuddling you. he took his pants and boxers off, pumping his hard cock in one hand. his other hand slipped your sweatpants down without waking you. he moved your panties aside and began to rub his tip between your wet lips.

he slowly began entering you, feeling how tight and wet your pussy was. he moved slowly behind you with his hands on your hips. you started to shift in your sleep and he slowed his pace even more. once you settled, he sped back up.

his thrusts woke you up and before you could even open your eyes to realize what was happening. you were already letting out strings of filthy moans.

“f-fuck…”

“you like that, sweetheart? waking up with my cock deep inside your tight little pussy?”

“yes alex…”

“yeah, say my name again baby, i love the way it sounds on your lips”

“oh a-alexis… please…”

“that’s right, just like that baby, keep saying my name”

“alex, im so close”

“you can let go, sweet girl. i want you to make a mess all over my cock”

and that’s exactly what you did. you came and your tight hole quivered around your best friend’s cock.

his thrusts stuttered as he reached his climax. he pulled out and you felt him leaking out of you.

“you… you should do that more often” you panted, clinging to alex

“id love to, y/n”

you laughed and curled up into him, enjoying the closeness

alex cleaned you up and held you for the rest of the night.

#alex quackity #alexis quackity #quackity #quackity x reader #quackity fanfic #quackity x y/n #quackity smut

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