#so maybe i'll drunk write more often

[talesofesther]

until one of us caves

Rolan x Reader

Summary: After fighting Lorroakan, you decide to stay with Rolan.

A/N: I know that like maybe three people are gonna read this but I couldn't care less. The more I learned about Rolan's story, the bigger of a soft spot I got, and this little thought wouldn't leave my head so I had to write this down. Nothing serious, just something I wish I could do in the game. Also, this story kinda drifted a little from the original plan about halfway through and started writing itself, so don't blame me if the quality is dubious lmao. Requests for him are open I guess, if anyone's interested.

Word count: 3k

Masterlist

The scent of smoke and ash hung in the air. Stones and mud, remains of the elementals, littered the floor of Ramazith's Tower; as well as a few burned books here and there, smashed furniture, and splatters of blood in the marble. It would take a while to get the place back to the glory it could hold, but you figured it was doable.

The body of its previous master lay lifeless on the floor, spine broken, skin torn. You held no pity for him, only resentment.

From the corner of your eyes, you could spot a twitching tail and clenched fists, staring blankly at the body of his tormentor. He said nothing, merely huffed and walked away before you could think of saying anything, your gaze followed his steps.

The time between when you'd first set foot in Sorcerous Sundries and now had gone by in a haze. You had stopped dead in your tracks then, breath hitching as you caught sight of the countless bruises on Rolan's skin, and an overwhelming sense of protectiveness took over you. You'd walked up to him, the words "Who did this to you?" were stumbling past your lips before he even had the chance to utter the practiced greeting. Rolan had evaded the matter, as you'd expected, building ever higher walls around himself. And you'd surprised yourself with how restless the sight of him had made you feel.

"Soldier?" Karlach's hand on your shoulder pulled you back to the present, making you quickly turn your head back to her.

You blinked several times until your eyes regained their focus; "yeah?"

She gave you a halfhearted smile and you wondered just how much your turmoil showed on your face. "I was just asking if you're alright, and… where do we go from here." Her voice held kindness to it, as it usually did. More often than not Karlach was, surprisingly, a calming balm in your hectic days.

"Uh-" you hesitated. Perhaps you should already be used to being the one people turned to in search of guidance, leadership. But it was a title you'd never really asked for, was it?

"You guys should go ahead, dispose of him somewhere," you gestured to Lorroakan's lifeless form, "before anyone walks in on… all of this."

Karlach nodded along and then raised a brow at you. "And what of you?" She asked, yet there was a smirk on her lips that alluded to the fact that she already knew the answer.

"I'll hang back." Your cheeks warmed up, "I'll meet you guys at Elfsong later."

"Take your time, soldier," Karlach winked at you, then turned to hurl the dead Wizard's body over her shoulder. "Right let's go people, nothing left to see here."

"And how exactly do you intend to walk around the city with that?" Shadowheart asked exasperatedly, yet followed Karlach to the swirling portal nonetheless.

The tiefling shrugged, holding Lorroakan's body with one arm, "I don't know. If anyone asks we'll just say he's drunk or something."

"Are you out of your mind?"

"Oh, I want to see that."

Shadowheart and Astarion added simultaneously, one rolling her eyes and the other smiling brightly.

"Alright then, you think of some excuse for-"

You chuckled at the banter of your companions, their voices growing distant as they disappeared through the portal that would take them back to the bustle of Sorcerous Sundries.

With a deep breath in and a long exhale out, you turned around, gaze slowly roaming over the empty expanse of the luxurious tower; now so quiet, bordering on serene, save for the damage the battle left behind. Until you finally spotted the one you were looking for.

Rolan was tucked away in a shadowy corner, head bowed as he stacked a few fallen books on his hands and then beside each other on the shelves. His movements all stiff and slow, as if the books were much too heavy and it hurt to carry them.

The worry twirling in your stomach threatened to escape as you took careful steps towards him. Yet you still weren't sure how to approach him. The tower suddenly held a nearly intimate air. It was delicate, fragile. The lines between you and him had started to blur, you couldn't pinpoint when, but they did; and now, in the privacy of the high tower, you started to feel the weight of it.

You cleared your throat, but the tiefling didn't turn to look at you, though his shoulders relaxed ever so slightly. You wondered if he knew you'd stayed, or perhaps hoped you would.

"Rolan… would you like some help with organizing things a little? At least for the night?" You tried, unsure what else you could possibly say and biting back the urge to tell him that he looked like he needed a good night's rest. He wouldn't admit it, you knew; but the fight had taken a huge toll on his already bruised body. He looked utterly exhausted; shoulders slumped, tail laying limply on the floor, barely holding himself together.

He turned his head to glance at you, an unreadable expression on his face, and lips hovering with uncertainty for a moment. "No, I can manage…" Rolan's voice was quiet, his features softly highlighted by the last fading rays of sunshine coming through the tall windows. You could see the bruises on his cheek, jaw, and nose—some new, some old; darker shades blooming on his reddish skin.

"You can go," he turned away again.

"Are you… sure?" You took half a step forward, fidgeting with your own hands. You didn't feel like leaving him just yet.

"Yes. I'm sure." He finally faced you fully in a quick motion, eyebrows slightly furrowed, "I'm not a helpless child, I can at least take care of organizing this mess by myself, if nothing else."

You closed your eyes momentarily at his words, "That's- that's not what I meant, I know you can-"

"What is it you want then? That I thank you for saving my sorry ass? Again?" His tone held bite to it, anger even, yet you had a feeling that it wasn't directed at you, but at himself. With a huff, he threw aside the one book he still held in his hands, "Okay then, thank you, your heroic attitude of the day has been achieved." He gestured toward you, speaking as if he had been just another thing to check off your list.

The movement of his mouth had pried open a fresh cut he had on his lip. Rolan didn't seem to notice, but the small sliver of blood glinted in the low light. Your heart ached, but not for his words, they were mostly empty. It ached because you saw how much he was hurting. That defeated look lingered in his golden eyes, the same you'd seen at Last Light Inn when he had been incapable of rescuing his siblings. You wished you could tell him he was enough. You wished he would believe you.

You took in a steadying breath, holding onto your composure for both of your sakes. "It's not about being a hero, Rolan, it's about helping the people I care about."

Another scoff fell past his lips, he avoided your eyes, looking distantly out the window beside him; "What are you doing here then?"

You merely raised an eyebrow at him, features soft, allowing him to believe in whatever he wanted to believe.

His throat worked through a heavy gulp when he glanced at you again, tail swishing behind him as he took half a step back. "Sod off," the words came out heavy and unstable, "You came here because Lorroakan was after your Aasimar friend… Your job is done now, you can leave." He stormed past you then, quick steps taking him to the other side of the tower.

With a roll of your eyes, you followed after him, "I came here because I care about you, too." You tried to convey as much sincerity in your words as you could, staring intently at his back as he raised a fallen chair. You caught a glimpse of his tail, coiled tightly around his own leg. You wondered if he even realizes he's doing it, if it's some kind of self-soothing habit he's learned over the years.

His hair had been undone, too, falling freely over his shoulders and looking a tad longer than what you were used to. The look suited him—a touch of softness in his usually sharp appearance—in the back of your mind you promised yourself to tell him that someday.

Several beats of silence went by. With Rolan holding tightly onto the back of the wooden chair. You tended to be annoyingly insistent, the tiefling thought to himself. Ever since the first time he met you, you had a habit of refusing to give up on people. On him. Rolan tried to tell himself it didn't get to him, that the butterflies in his stomach, and the overwhelming relief your mere presence brought him meant absolutely nothing. Because of course, you wouldn't look twice at someone like him, would you?

It was ironically sad that his heart would choose you—the hero, his hero—of all people, to have a soft spot for. He could never measure up, not really, and he knew that; told himself that very fact over and over whenever his mind dared to hope with what-ifs.

"You don't mean that," his voice was small and he berated himself for allowing it to be. He closed his eyes tightly, knuckles growing white with his grip on the chair. "And I was fine," Rolan emphasized the words yet he didn't know anymore if he was trying to convince you or himself.

Silence engulfed the tower again. Deafening silence. One sharp claw tapped the back of the wooden chair, a fast rhythm, following the heartbeat thundering through his veins. With a defeated sigh, Rolan turned to face you. Still, he refused to meet your eyes, focusing instead on the fabric of your glove wrapped around your hand; he could see faint scars on your fingers, wondered how you got them.

"Were you, really?" You asked then, softly, near desperately; waiting with bated breath for him to just look at you.

Rolan was a little difficult to get to, had been since you first met him. Part of you rather enjoyed your harmless bickering every now and then. Behind the witty words, there had always been hidden smiles and bashful eyes, the hopeful glint of being in each other's presence, if briefly.

Alas, you weren't exactly entitled to pry or demand, much as you cared for him it wasn't your place, so you relented; "Tell me you're alright, truly alright, and I'll leave if that's what you want so bad."

Rolan hesitated for a heartbeat, and then two, and three. Any words he might want to say were stuck in his throat, tangled in between feelings that confused the hells out of him. How could he ever tell you that he's not alright? That he hasn't been for a long time?

How could he tell you that he doesn't want you to leave, ever?

There was a distant stinging behind his eyes and he hated himself for it, for being so needy and vulnerable. He hated how his palms were sweaty and his heart threatened to break free of his ribcage with the speed it was beating. He hated how his knees seemed on the brink of collapsing with his weight. He hated how he suddenly felt all the bruises in his body hurting so badly, as if only now he allowed himself to feel the pain they inflicted. He hated-

A soft touch on his lower lip halted Rolan's spiraling thoughts abruptly, and his breath. With the sleeve of your robe, movement as light as a feather, you cleaned a sliver of blood that had escaped the fresh cut there. Rolan shuddered under your touch, for like a breath of fresh air after nearly drowning to death, that was all he could feel.

Pointy teeth dug into the inside of his cheek, holding back what would only be a flood of embarrassment for him if he allowed his pestering emotions to spill. His throat closed up tight, vision growing hazy until you were nothing but a blur in front of him.

There was something about the way you touched him oh so tenderly that got his walls tumbling down as if they were paper under the rain. Your hand lingered, refusing to part from him. Your fingers trailed a hesitant path to his cheek, mapping the bruises underneath- no, mapping his skin, him.

And he could crumble. Rolan felt himself falling, falling, falling.

When was the last time he felt a kind touch? one that didn't hurt or sting or threatened? He couldn't recall.

"I do mean it, I care about you, Rolan." You promised him, and only him. Whispered words dripping with affection.

The front of your boots hit his shoes as you took a final step closer. Rolan brought one hand up, his fingers closing around your wrist with urgency. Yet his hold was gentle, pressing into the veins there and feeling your pulse running beneath his fingertips. He held you there, all but begging you to stay. Words were difficult, complicated, and messy; hopefully his soul could tell you what he couldn't.

With your heart in your mouth, you mumbled; "it's okay. It's over." You're not sure if he heard or felt the words, but Rolan dipped his head forward until his forehead bumped yours.

Suddenly close wasn't close enough. You wanted to kiss away his tears, his bruises, his pain; promise him that everything would be alright now even if your own life was a sea of uncertainty.

"Why?" It fell past his lips. Such a genuine question uttered with such a small voice that it hurt you like a dagger to the heart.

"Why do these things happen to me?" Rolan's voice cracked and stumbled, his eyebrows briefly furrowed in a mix of anger and sorrow. "I-" he breathed in deep and unsteady, bright eyes welling with unshed tears that shone brightly under the soft candlelights on the walls.

You gulped back your own heartache, struggling to keep to yourself how soft he made you feel. You slowly raised your other hand to push fallen strands of hair behind his ear.

"I hoped it had a purpose," he admitted then, quiet as breath. His lower lip quivered before he spoke again, closing his eyes and leaning timidly towards your touch. "That it was a test, and he would- he would eventually stop. That I just needed to endure a while longer."

A choked sob stumbled past his lips and you felt the first of his tears landing on your thumb. Rolan shook his head, a self-deprecating scoff falling past his lips; "that I deserved it."

"Stop," you said before you could think, finally taking your hand away from his cheek, only to bury it into his hair instead. With the encouragement you knew he needed, you pulled him to you.

Rolan fell forward with no restraints, no hesitations, only a weary soul looking for solace. He buried his head between your neck and shoulder, both arms coming around your waist and squeezing tightly, to the point of his claws nearly ripping your robe.

You held him back with the same desperation, one hand tangling in between his hair and cradling his head to you. Your lips brushed the nape of his neck in a silent confession of adoration.

The fabric of your robe grew damp as silent tears fell past Rolan's defenses, his body shaking in your hold, releasing months if not years of bottled-up emotions.

With a kiss to his warm skin, embers of the fire he ignited in your heart broke free; "You could never deserve what he did to you. You're so very special, Rolan. To Cal, To Lia…" You told him, slow and tender, twirling strands of his hair between your fingers, and a small smile stretched your lips when you felt him relaxing against you. "… To me." It was nothing but a whisper, blown into the wind only for him to hear.

Rolan's breath stumbled, you felt it in the way he gripped you tighter—if that was even possible—and heard it in the soft gasp beside your ear.

"Please don't-" His voice broke in the middle, all husky and wobbly from his tears. "Don't say… that. If you don't mean-" he hesitated, fresh tears cascading freely down his cheeks, beyond any foolish attempt to be held back; they dripped down the bridge of his nose and soaked the fabric of your robe, making him curl into you all the more to hide his embarrassment from the outside world.

"Please," it was so quiet as he pleaded. For what, he wasn't entirely sure anymore. Maybe he just knew he couldn't take losing anything else.

You pulled back and Rolan felt his heart stumbling and cracking in his chest. But you were quick to mend it back together, with both hands coming up to hold his cheeks again, your thumbs brushing away the wetness there, near reverently.

"I promise," you whispered, gaze drifting ever so slightly downward before focusing back on his bright eyes. You were bold enough to lean in until the tip of your nose touched his, and as you did so you felt something coiling around your leg. You smiled; "I promise."

Rolan gulped, his mouth parting as he barely held himself back from closing the gap between you. Goosebumps littered his whole body when his upper lip accidentally brushed yours.

He pulled away but refused to loosen his grip on your waist. "I don't want you to leave," he said it so quietly, offering you his bleeding heart with a shaking hand.

Gentle fingers brushed away the messy strands of hair clinging to his forehead. When Rolan looked up, there was a loving smile on your lips, it was the first time he saw it and he already knew he'd kill to see it again.

You leaned closer, and with a kiss between his brows, you said; "then I'll stay."

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment. <3

You do not have permission to repost, copy, or translate my works on any platforms (even with credit), please respect.

Rolan’s taglist: @milkiane@v1ci0us

[hey-august]

i was supposed to go to sleep, but here we are...

WC: ~700

Warnings: NSFW, mdni, buggy x f!reader, fingering, multiple orgasms, "good girl," bit of misuse of devil fruit powers bc it just makes things easier to imagine

"Shhh..." Buggy hushed you before flipping a page.

Your teeth clamped harder on your lip, biting back the sounds that he deemed "too distracting." When you offered to help the captain with his paperwork, this wasn't what you meant.

---

Buggy quickly lost steam when it came to bureaucratic drudgery. Anything he could delegate was passed off. Work that had to be done by him was also passed off. This worked until it didn't. Until the crew learned about his deadlines and his ploys.

Suddenly, everyone was busy. There were emergencies that needed immediate help. Excuses were said in between breaths.

"Excuse me, Captain, someone's stuck in the rigging." "Richie broke a claw and I need to check on him." "I broke my hand and have to go to the infirmary." "I have to get past you and do something else, sorry!"

Maybe no one said the last one, but that's what they all boiled down to.

And that's how Buggy ended up laying in bed, boots on, suffering through a packet that was actually important and couldn't get lost at sea.

You could nearly see the pirate's life fading away when you stepped into the room. His spirit was being replaced by unnecessary acronyms, legalese, and superfluous writing. With each word his eyes skimmed over, a sparkle died.

It was pitiful. And adorable, but you wouldn't tell him that.

You offered to help, figuring Buggy would be more than happy to hand you the papers, accidentally give you a paper cut, and wander off to get drunk.

Instead, he patted the spot next to him. You sat down, sinking into the divot he created, and leaned against his body. Buggy put an arm around your shoulder and pulled you closer.

You peered at the paper, ready to assist, when you realized Buggy had a different plan. A hand slithered it's way under your clothes and was finding a nesting place under your panties.

Buggy's fingers explored the area cautiously, chasing away the sensitivity and luring out arousal. He circled your bundle of nerves, avoiding contact and admiring from a distance. Buggy's warmth dipped lower, teasing you with how he almost touched the areas he usually attacks with passion and hunger.

"I thought you wanted h-help?"

"You are helping, now keep quiet so I can focus."

He kissed your forehead just as his fingertips collided with your clit. You gasped as the sweet electricity shot through your body and curled your toes.

Buggy stopped moving.

"I really do need to focus."

"I'll- I'll be quiet."

The movement started again and you sunk into your own body with a sigh.

Buggy knew how to play your body like an instrument. When to press harder and when to pull back. When you wanted small movements and when you needed something grander. When to keep tempo and follow the pattern, and when to create his own music.

The trembles in your body increased until the silent crescendos that left you twitching and panting. But with still more work to do, Buggy kept you underhand.

At first, you could pick out the shapes he traced. Numbers and figures to tally. Long digits that carried on longer than you did. Short numbers that brought about aftershocks of pleasure. Then the letters and words. At least, they were probably words. You couldn't hold onto them long enough to decipher the messages.

Buggy drew climax after climax from you body. You could feel how slick you were, a puddle collecting under your body. Every so often he'd pull out the hand and one of you would lick his wet fingers so he could turn a page.

"How much more?"

Buggy rifled through the packet.

"Three more, then it's done." He glanced at you. What a beautiful mess, covered in sweat and chest heaving. "You're doing such a good job for your captain. You deserve a reward for being such a good girl, huh?"

You nodded eagerly. A reward sounded nice.

"Keep being good for three more pages and I'll give you a nice big reward."

You nodded again and let your eyes close as Buggy picked up where he left off. A big, hard reward. That's what you wanted.

[heavencanbeaprisontoo]

Hello! May I request a headcanon for how Tommy Shelby would pine/crush over a reader maybe one who has rejected him in the past because she worked for him or because she wants to keep their relationship as friends/professional! (Since you’re writing you can make the scenario as to why she said no whatever you like) but truly i’d just love to see a headcanon on him falling in love and longing for someone who he can’t have so easily :)

Imagine Rejecting: Thomas Shelby

Tommy x fem!reader

Trope: Right person, wrong time. Warnings: Angst, pining, toxic romantic tendencies, infidelity.

You worked under him as Lizzie's replacement as his secretary, you saw his books and you knew the red on his suit collar wasn't always lipstick. You went with him almost everywhere, memorized his schedule, and completed small tasks that often caused him headaches. Long hours in the office stopped feeling so lonely. And that's where the trouble started.

When he found himself growing fond of you, he tried to fight it. He really did. But feelings grow over time and before he knew it, he started to see you as a partner. At first, he told himself that you reminded him of Grace. It was easier to tell himself that he was projecting her image onto you. However, there came a point where he couldn't lie to himself anymore.

His eyes would follow you as you left a room. His head would turn upon hearing your voice. The smell of your perfume was enough to give him pause at times. When he was at home, he would sometimes go into his office to call you from your desk in Birmingham. Just to have a conversation, even if it was to go over a detail for a meeting he "forgot."

Tommy confessed his feelings to you one late night at the Midland Hotel. You sat with him at the hotel bar, not a soul around except for the two of you and half a bottle of whiskey. Maybe is was the whiskey that did it, but he took your hand and said: "I've been trying to think of what to do about you. The things that you make me want to feel, make me want to do. It shouldn't be this way, but it is. I want you."

You slowly took your hand from him, and stood. The look in your eyes was enough to make him sober. Quietly, you gave your reply, "I'm going to call for two cars to take us home. I'll see you Monday morning, Mr. Shelby."

Thomas Shelby is not unused to rejection. It hasn't bothered him in years. With you, however, it's different. You aren't a political rival, a gang leader, or a position he's being blocked from obtaining. You are a person. A woman who has denied him access to your heart.

That is very, very different.

Not to mention a blow to his ego. Tommy knows he's attractive, and he knows that most of the women he interacts with are more than a little interested in him. Ladies from poor families see a man that can provide. Ladies from wealthy families see a man of danger that can make them feel alive. You didn't seem to fall into either category. You didn't seem to need him the way most people did.

He wouldn't discuss that night at the Midland with you for several months. When it finally did get addressed, you seemed surprised. Had you assumed he was drunk? It hardly mattered. You tried to turn him down, again "We can't, Tommy."

"Of course we can."

You scoffed, "We shouldn't. You have a wife and two children, and I am merely your employee."

Tommy got closer to you, his eyes caught between staring at your rosy painted lips and the look in your eyes. His fingertips gazed your wrist. It would be so easy to just kiss you. To take you into his arms and just hold you. Did you truly not want him? As he stared you down, the answer was found in the tears that welled in your eyes. No, you were just as sick in the heart as he was.

"Lizzie understands. Or marriage is a partnership, nothing more. We can be as we like, she wants nothing to do with it," Tommy takes your chin in between his thumb and index finger. "Tell me you don't want me, and I'll leave you alone. Tell me that."

Tears stained by your dark mascara roll down your cheeks, a shudder runs through you. "Tommy," you sigh "that's precisely why I'll never give in. I can't live my life as your whore. It's almost as cruel as being your wife."

He let you go. You took two steps back, then left him there. As the door to his office slammed shut, Tommy almost chased after you. But, he didn't. Because you were right.

[glossdebut]

Take a Bite Ch. 3

✧ PAIRING: yoongi x fem!reader

✧ SUMMARY: Your fledgling career as a music journalist is finally going in some kind of direction that must be on the path to success. Your coworkers like you enough to invite you out on Fridays, your boss is starting to think you’re competent enough to let you score a few bylines, and you're finally getting the hang of InDesign. All of your hard work, late nights, and complete lack of a social life are starting to pay off... Even if it all came at the expense of the longest relationship of your life. Fine. You've accepted the fact that romance isn't for you, under any circumstances. You won't risk your career for anybody. Not even Min Yoongi.

✧ TAGS: slow burn, eventual smut, eventual romance, producer yoongi, music journalist reader, neighbors to friends to lovers? you'll see, reader is bad at feelings, reader is post-break up

✧ WARNINGS: yoongi being RICH. also... remember that eventual smut? well it's kind of here! if you wanna skip, stop reading at [Maybe you should fix that.] and then continue at [After another moment, you roll over onto your stomach...]

✧ WORDCOUNT: 3.5k

✧ STATUS: ongoing

✧ AUTHOR'S NOTE: hi i normally post on wednesdays but we're about to get a HURRICANE where i'm at so i'm posting early lmfao. rating goes up in this chapter whoops! not sure when chapter 4 will be posted but i'll keep you guys updated. thank you all so much for the engagement i've been receiving on this fic!!! it's my first one ever and i never expected to get so many readers so quickly <3 you guys are keeping me writing so please feel free to send me feedback if you like this chapter. i'd love to read it if i have power over the next few days LOL

Chapter 3: I Wanna Fold Clothes For You

So, you and Yoongi are friends.

Of course, seeing him three times within twenty four hours was a fluke, and over the next six days you don’t see him once, not even in passing in your shared hallway. You’re not privy to his work hours, but you know based on what little he’s told you that working as a producer demands more than the normal nine to five, as does your job.

Still, there’s something about coming home every night and knowing that you have a friend right down the hall, if you need one. You haven’t had that in a long time, and you feel so much lighter now that you do have it. 

There is, of course, an upside to not being able to see Yoongi often. Given that you’ve only just met him, you don’t have his appearance committed to memory quite yet, and mercifully, you’re beginning to forget why you were so viscerally attracted to him in the first place. 

You reason that it must’ve been the alcohol. You were getting drunk when you met him, stupidly drunk when you discovered that you’re neighbors, hungover when you shared a tangerine, and drinking from a bottomless glass of wine (courtesy of Seokjin) when you drooled over his hands for a solid ten minutes. You have yet to interact with Yoongi clear-headed and lucid. Not to mention you’re just a little bit… pent up, recently. Drunk and horny Y/N had the wheel. That has to be it. Nobody is that hot. You’re sure of that. Men ain’t special!

So you go through your week business as usual, but with a slight spring in your step, and it’s lovely. You even venture way further away from the office for your lunch hour on Friday than you normally would to go to a restaurant you’ve been dying to try. You’re usually so tied to the office that the furthest you tend to go is the convenience store down the street for the instant stuff.

And then, since the universe demands correction (or overcorrection where you’re concerned), all of the floaty goodness comes to a screeching halt when you get in your car to head back to the office. Your car which, in the past hour you’ve been blissfully stuffing your face with tteokbokki, has decided it has done its job and is ready to retire.

It just straight up won’t start.

Sitting in the parking lot of the restaurant, you go into crisis management mode.

You’re thankfully not completely clueless where cars are concerned. It comes with the territory of owning a beater. You keep up with your oil changes, you don’t leave the lights on when you get home late. You replaced your battery semi-recently, so that shouldn’t be it. Unfortunately, you don’t have much time to troubleshoot. You need to get back to work. Okay… Damage control, then.

The most obvious solution is to call one of your coworkers to come and rescue you, but your coworkers are just as notorious for being tethered within a one mile radius of the office as you are, so that would more than likely end up being a waste of time. You could find the nearest bus stop, but who knows how long public transportation could take right now? Too unpredictable. You could call your boss and tell him that you’re not going to be back to the office anytime soon (or at all today) and get your car towed and repaired. But then you would suddenly have a reputation of being unreliable, because god forbid you have a human moment. That’s straight up not an option. You’ve been doing so good this week.

You’re sure there are other options. But isn’t this what friends are for?

He answers on the fifth ring, but he answers.

“Y/N?” 

“Yoongi.” You feel your shoulders slump in relief. You try your best not to sound as panicked as you feel. “Are you busy?”

“Um. I’m at the studio,” he says, confusion in his voice. “But I have a minute. Is everything okay?” Confusion and concern? That’s nice.

“Everything’s fine!” you blurt out. “Okay, maybe not. My car won’t start! I don’t know why, but it won’t, and I need to get back to work, but you’re at work, too! I don’t even know where you work, but I doubt it’s anywhere near where I am, and even if it is, I don’t want to tear you away from anything important—”

“Y/N.”

“—I know you said you had a minute, but I really don’t want to fuck up your flow. That’s a term, right? You’re a producer, you… flow. Anyway, I just don’t really know anyone here and I didn’t know who to call, and if I don’t get back to work soon my boss is going to kill me—”

“Y/N,” he says, more firmly. Your mouth snaps shut. “Where are you?”

“In my car,” you say dumbly, frazzled.

Yoongi sighs. “Send me your location.”

“For what?”

“I’m gonna send a car to come get you and drive you to your office,” he says, and he sounds just the slightest bit exasperated about needing to explain that to you.

Send a car? What the fuck? You have so many questions, such as: how fucking loaded is the guy who lives two doors down from you in your very shitty apartment building? What label does he even work for? How famous of a producer is he to be able to send a car to you? But your immediate instinct to turn down his help wins out over asking any of them.

“What? Yoongi, no, that’s too much,” you complain. “Don’t do that. I just freaked out a little bit, I can–”

“Y/N,” he interrupts. If you’re not mistaken, it sounds a bit like he’s trying not to laugh at you. Fucker. “Location.”

So you send him your location. What other option do you have?

“You’re not far,” Yoongi says once he receives your text. A few moments pass, and then: “Car will be there in ten.”

“Thank you,” you say. You feel nauseous, like maybe you’re going to cry, but there’s also a good amount of relief there, too. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“No need,” he says. “I’d come get you myself, but I really can’t get away right now.”

“Still, there’s a comically large bottle of an alcohol of your choosing in your future. Seriously, thank you.”

His responding laugh is enough to settle your stomach just a little. “Seriously, you don’t need to pay me back…” A pause. “But for the record, I like whiskey.”

You wrinkle your nose even though he can’t see it. “Gross.”

“Don’t be a hater.”

“As long as you don’t make me drink it with you, I’ll keep my comments to myself,” you say, finding yourself smiling.

“Oh, you think I share?” Yoongi teases back. He sighs again. “I really have to go.”

“Go, go,” you say. “Thanks for saving me. Even if it’s by proxy.”

“You can always call me if you need shit like this,” he says. You can tell that he means it. “I’m glad you called me. Means I’m doing something right.”

“You are,” you say, your voice soft. Your cheeks feel warm. Probably because you’re sitting in a dead car. “Thanks.”

Yoongi hums in response. “Text me when you get back to the office safe, okay?”

“I will. Bye, Yoongi.”

And that’s that.

★ ★ ★

True to your word, you text Yoongi when the stupidly luxurious car he ordered for you drops you off at your office, only ten minutes later than you’re due back from your lunch break. You’re able to slip in without anyone noticing that you’re late at all, which is great. Crisis partially averted.

He sends back a thumbs up emoji, and then decides to drop the bomb that he intends to pay for your car to be towed.

[1:21] You: YOONGI NO

[1:21] You: you can’t do that!!!!

[1:24] Yoongi: 100% I can and will as soon as I get ten minutes to make a phone call to sort it out.

The audacity of this man.

[1:25] You: seriously i cannot ask you to do that

[1:25] You: i was just going to take the bus back to the restaurant after work and deal with it from there. i’m actively researching towing companies and repair places on company time as we speak

[1:30] Yoongi: You’re not asking me. You’ve got enough to worry about. Let me take care of it. I know the places.

[1:31] You: still, i can’t let you spend money like that on me. i don’t even wanna think about what that car cost you

[1:31] Yoongi: If it helps you sleep at night you can pay me back on your own time. You definitely don’t have to though.

[1:32] Yoongi: That reminds me. You can use that car until yours is taken care of if you need to. I’ll send you the driver’s contact. Don’t take the bus.

You feel like you’re going insane.

[1:33] You: do you have a grammy or something? what do you DO to be able to afford shit like this? why do you live in our building? are you a drug dealer?

[1:37] Yoongi: :]

Of course, he gives you no clues about what exactly he does, but after a bit more back-and-forth, you finally give in and let Yoongi handle everything under the condition that you’re going to pay him back. He doesn’t seem all that worried about it, which infuriates you just a little.

You go through the rest of your day like normal, if not a tad twitchy. Come quitting time, you take advantage of having a driver at your disposal and have him stop a liquor store on your way home.

As you take the elevator up to your floor, comically large whiskey bottle (as promised) in tow, you text Yoongi and ask if he’s home yet. At his responding ‘No, why?’ you cackle to yourself and pocket your phone. The elevator doors slide open. You were hoping that would be the case. 

You clocked out at a semi-normal time tonight, a gift to yourself to cope with the stress of the day, and so you take great pleasure in setting the bottle down on Yoongi’s very tasteful cat doormat, flipping it off right back on your way into your own apartment.

You silently pray to whatever god may be listening that the whiskey isn’t swiped by someone before Yoongi gets home. Your cat, Pepper, is blinking at you lazily on the kitchen counter, and you give her a triumphant little scratch on the head before padding to your bedroom to deal with your laundry.

Your move, Min Yoongi.

★ ★ ★

“Do I need to be jealous?”

You take advantage of getting off work early to call your best friend Rina for the first time in what feels like forever. She’s in Paris this month, debuting a play that she’s been working on tirelessly about aliens and drug addiction. You’ve read the script six times over. It’s both campy and gut wrenching all at once, and you’ve cried every time. You picture her with her very chic haircut, sipping from a flute of champagne. The thought of her being jealous of any part of your life is laughable. 

“What do you have to be jealous of, exactly?” you snort, holding your phone between your ear and shoulder as you toss your laundry basket upside down on your bed unceremoniously. Your clothes are covered in a perma-layer of Pepper hair, and you think it’s lucky that Pepper is a black cat and most of your clothes are black. Very enviable.

“Of Yoongi, dipshit,” she coos through the phone. “You’re replacing me.”

“Sure,” you say, like she’s making total sense. You’re lying on top of your laundry now instead of folding it. You put her on speakerphone and rest your phone on your chest. “I’m throwing away ten years of being your best friend for a guy that I met a week ago. I’m glad you figured it out, honestly, because I was dreading telling you. I was going to wait until your matinée, but you don’t seem too broken up about it.”

“Of course. You have to do what’s right for you, I’ve always told you that,” she deadpans back, and you groan. You don’t want to hear it. “No, I just mean… It’s good. That you’re meeting people.”

“We’re neighbors,” you say, flopping over onto your front to rub at your temples. Rina is resting on a pile of your underwear now. “We talk about work. My work, not his, because he thinks it’s funny to act like he’s too cool to tell me about his job. He’s helping me with my car. We’re… neighborly.”

“And you want to fuck him,” she says. Maybe calling Rina was a bad idea. Debriefing over text would have sufficed.

“I don’t want to fuck him,” you say, indignant. “We’re friends. He’s nice. I can have a guy friend.”

“Of course you can,” Rina says, like you’re dumb for even thinking she would imply otherwise. “And you can be friends with him all you want. But you also want to fuck him.”

You groan in protest but she speaks over it.

“Baby, you can pretend, but I know how you talk about people you want to have sex with, even if you don’t say it outright,” she continues. “He may just be feeding you and helping you and talking to you about the weather, but I know you, and I know the whole time he’s talking you’re just agonizing over how he might fuck you if you let him.”

“That’s not fair,” you mumble, letting your face drop into your laundry. It smells good. Small comforts.

“Are you going to let him?”

“No,” you whine, muffled by the cotton. “I don’t need that. There are always strings. I hate strings.”

“You said he’s a super straightforward, honest guy, right?” Rina asks.

“Brutally so,” you grumble.

“So. Maybe he’d be cool with a lack of strings. You won’t know unless you ask, baby.”

You want to tell her that’s easy for her to say, but you don’t want to fight with her when you know you won’t hear from her like this again for a while. 

Rina has never compromised for anything. She decided in both of your sophomore year of college, after flirting with both performance and directing, that she wanted to be a playwright, and that was that. 

She wrote and wrote and wrote, and after you graduated together, her career blossomed almost instantly because she worked goddamn hard for it. She got opportunities to travel and work with theatre companies around the world, and she took them without giving it a second thought because she knew it was what she wanted. And she’s had a consistent, loyal boyfriend nearly the whole time. He doesn’t always travel with her, but he supports her in everything she does. They’re excruciatingly healthy about it. 

When your long-term college boyfriend dumped you unceremoniously two months into your first reporter gig because he felt he came second to your career, Rina was there for you. But you resented her a little bit. There was no way she could understand any of it. 

Still, as much as you hate to admit it, she has a point. You could just ask Yoongi if he wants to fool around without it being a thing, and you know he’d give you a straight answer. You’re even pretty confident he wouldn’t make it weird if his answer was no. That’s not the problem. It never is.

“The problem isn’t whether or not I think he’d be cool with it,” you mumble. “The problem is if he is cool with it, and then the strings come anyway. The friendship is nice. I’m attracted to him, yeah, fine. But I can ignore it if it means I get to be his friend.”

Theres a long pause on the line, and then Rina sighs.

“Your life would be a lot easier if you could do one night stands,” she says.

Don’t you know it. 

“Yeah.”

“I’ve gotta go, okay? Text me. Keep me updated on life.” You read between the lines. On Yoongi, she means. “I love you.”

“Mmmhh,” you mumble back, still burying your face into your laundry. 

When the line disconnects, you feel considerably more twitchy and irritable than you did before talking to Rina.

So, you’re attracted to Yoongi. Or you were, when you were drunk and he was all… hot and considerate. That doesn’t mean you have to act on it! You’re not going to act on it. You’re just pent up, that’s all. It’s been a long time since you’ve had an orgasm, self-inflicted or otherwise, and you can’t think straight.

Maybe you should fix that.

It’s clear you’re giving up on laundry for the night, so you shove the mountain of clothes back into the basket on the floor, sighing as you lay back on your bed.

You feel only slightly ridiculous as you shimmy your sleep shorts down your thighs, your hands sliding up your shirt to cup your breasts, squeezing slightly. Warming yourself up.

You quickly decide to get to the point, though. You’re struggling to immerse yourself in the fantasy that usually does the trick, too wound up and embarrassed (as if it’s not you in here by yourself, as usual) at groping yourself.

Despite the embarrassment, it becomes abundantly clear that you didn’t really need to warm yourself up anyway. Your fingers slide through your folds with ease, drenched like you’ve been that way all fucking day, unbeknownst to you, and a surprised moan falls from your lips. Fuck.

Closing your eyes, you circle two fingers around your clit experimentally, making your hips jerk up under you, sensitive. You do it again, a little firmer, starting a slow rhythm that makes you squirm against your mattress, your bottom lip rolling between your teeth.

It feels good. It usually does—you’ve always been able to make quick work of an orgasm to rid yourself of any lingering jitters before bed. But it feels really good right now, your pussy extra sensitive tonight, and you can’t figure out why. There’s nothing new about what you’re doing.

Rina’s words worm their way into your brain uninvited—the whole time he’s talking you’re just agonizing over how he might fuck you if you let him—and you’re too turned on to stop that train of thought, flashes of capable hands and pink tongue (tonguetechnologytonguetechnologytonguetechnology) filling your mind, and you’re moaning softly despite yourself as you rub your clit a little faster.

You continue to make soft noises of pleasure, your tongue darting out to wet your lips, dry from panting as the barrage of Yoongi-related thoughts keep coming, bringing you closer and closer to your release. 

Dark, dark eyes looking down at you. A delicate chain dangling above your face. You whimper, your fingers sliding down from your clit to sink into your pussy, curling up to rub at your inner walls. A thick cock sliding into you, filling you so deliciously.

You pump your fingers fast and desperate as you get closer and closer to that sweet edge. You wonder what Yoongi would sound like if he was the one fucking into you right now. Would he moan in your ear in that gravelly voice of his? He’s a man of few words. Would he be like that in bed, too? Would he call you sweet names? Not so sweet? Which ones?

Your walls flutter around your fingers, your hips stuttering up off the mattress as your orgasm crashes over you and you gasp out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

You stare up at the ceiling for a minute panting. The high of your release buzzes pleasantly through your body before it starts ebbing away, but the thoughts of Yoongi pervade. Well, fuck.

After another moment, you roll over onto your stomach to grab a towel from your laundry basket and wipe off your fingers, tossing it on the floor. You grab your phone, only to be greeted by a notification from the subject of your masturbation fantasy himself. He sent it about ten minutes ago.

When you tap it open, you’re greeted with a photo (!!!) of Yoongi holding your gift next to his head, the hand wrapped around the neck of the whiskey bottle almost dwarfed by its sheer size. A testament to the ridiculousness of it, because you’re well aware of how long Yoongi’s fingers are. There’s a lazy smirk on his face, and a mole that you’re just now noticing on his right cheek.

[8:23] Yoongi: Cute. 

Yep. Yep. Cool.

You swipe out, tapping on Rina’s contact.

[8:35] You: okay. i want to fuck him. 

[8:35] Rina: 🥂🥳🎉

Shit.

✧ shoot me a reply or an ask if you enjoyed this chapter! feedback is always appreciated <3 join my taglist if you want to be tagged in future chapters!

@dollfaceksj @jajabro

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[smoochhyuka]

omg can you do soobin nsfw alphabet? im in love with your taehyun work

AHHHHHH!! Thank you so much!! My first commissions, I am so excited I immediately started writing because I took the time to write rn anyway lol. I definitely plan on writing an NSFW alphabet for the other three as well, in the future, but I have three Riize drafts and one Tyun draft rn TT. Feel free to request the next member for the alphabet, or other stuff (prompts, MTL, etc...) for Riize and Tubatu, and I'll get to it as soon as I am able to!

Soobin NSFW alphabet

Baby baby baby baby boy

-> Yeonjun Beomgyu Taehyun Hueningkai

○o。content warnings! NSFW, fem!reader, mention of hair pulling, oral m! and f! receiving, lingerie, edging, perv!Soobin, sex toys, mention of anal (m! and f! receiving), mention of marriage, pussy hair, mention of bondage, very brief mention of derogatory language, edited for spelling

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Immediately asleep, knocks out like a light bulb. He barely manages to pull out and climb off of you, and he's done for. The issue is that you couldn't clean up, either, because he pulls you into a tight hug you can't escape from. More often than not, is condom falls off in the middle of the night because he left it on.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

For himself, he really likes his hair, he thinks fluffy and a little longer hair compliments him so much. Another perk is how obsessed you are with it. The way you sometimes braid his hair while cuddling, how you ruffle it when you call him cute, the way you pull it when he eats you out...

The Soobie Boobie Toobie agenda strikes hard. He loves your boobs, doesn't matter if they're small or big, or if they may sag a little, he doesn't care, as long as you're pushing them up in a cute lace bra every time he takes you out for dinner, for him to look at. <3

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

His cum is very watery, almost completely transparent. He comes kinda... discretely? You never notice he is about to cum unless he tells you. Except for a little leg shake, his composure doesn't change, his breathing doesn't pick up, his pace doesn't increase, his groans don't get louder... He just busts, and you're left there, surprised, cum on your titties...

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He watched too many dirty animes and watched a few too many thirst traps during 2020 unfortunately... nothing turns him on more than the thought of you in a maid dress, bringing him tea and biscuits and sucking him off under the table, addressing him as Soobin-sama. Will take this dirty secret to his grave!!! (or you just go get drunk with him and ask him about his dirty secrets, will spill anything, guaranteed)

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

No because maybe unpopular opinion but I think he had a girlfriend or two before you. It was never very serious, though, it was just a hormonal teen relationship to get away with fooling around a little bit. Therefore, there are a lot of things he hasn't tried yet.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He likes every position in which he can see a.) your tits and b.) your face. Missionary and cowgirl are the two top ones, doggy in front of a mirror is also fine and dandy.

G = Goofy (are they more serious at the moment? Are they humorous? etc.)

He tends to be on the more serious side, letting his hot guy persona show. If you're someone who cracks jokes, he will laugh at them, but don't expect any comments in return. He might tease you in a way that could potentially make you laugh, but it's not intentionally a joke. He tends to get more emotional, telling you sweet things or confessing his deeper feelings to you.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Tends to not care about shaving. He just lets it grow until it's too much for his liking, then he would shave it off completely in one go so he can, again, not care for a few weeks. After a few months of dating he will ask you, very shyly and very embarrassed, how you like it and will adapt from then on.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

In all honesty, I don't see him to be intentionally romantic. He's not someone who lights candles or prepares a bubble bath every time you guys do it. He is unintentionally romantic, though, as already mentioned he turns quite sappy, being romantic in the way he talks to you or handles you. Always asks for consent when trying something new, checking up on you if you get quiet. <3

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

LOVES masturbating together, you two just sit in your bed, fully nude and watch the other. It feels so dirty to him, so intimate in a way regular sex just doesn't feel like. It's also a great way to edge as foreplay, the feeling of sinking into your drenching, sensitive pussy after half an hour of this is as close to entering heaven as it could possibly get.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

I think Soobin is kind of a closeted perv, he'd be into any sort of sex toy, be it for you or for him. If it's late at night, he's barely awake, but you're begging to have sex with him, he won't shy away from using a womanizer on you. The following is husband!Soobin territory right now, but he'd definitely enjoy having a vibrating plug up his ass while fucking you, or being tied up and being edged with a vibrator.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

It's not that he necessarily has an exhibitionism kink, or a specific preference for a place that is not the confinements of your bedroom, it's just that he doesn't care a lot? If he wants it, and you want it, and you're somewhere else, it's not going to stop him really.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Likes it if you're being bold with him. You can either ask him straight up (doesn't need to be phrased sexily, a simple "Let's fuck" is enough to grind his gears) or just walk around in something sexy or just fully nude, he'll follow you like a puppy. Just in general, gets horny when you're horny, and if you're not in the mood, he loses his motivation as well.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

As already mentioned, he won't want to do it if you don't want to, he is not the type to try to change your mind or try to get you horny.

There are barely any no-gos with him, a perv like him will try most things if you're into them (he might even discover new kinks through you). It needs to be something seriously disgusting or illegal to be an instant no.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Prefers receiving by a tinie tiny bit, mainly because he can see your face and boobs while you give him head.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He is fairly rough, fast and deep thrusts are the standard with him, especially at the beginning of your relationship. If you prefer it slower, you can tell him and he will adapt. It's just that he's excited, you feel so good, he can't help himself. <3 Even if you don't mention anything, he will get more slow and sensual overtime, especially as his feeling for you deepen.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

no.1 fan, the quickie invented itself for him, actually. Tied to what I mentioned during L, if you're both in the mood you'll do it, regardless of location OR your time limit. He's not afraid to be a little bit late to something to be able to pound into your pussy, so be it! Long sex is usually reserved for after dates or special situations, like an anniversary or if one of you is going through a tough time.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Definitely a risk-taker, tied to my very personal perv!Soobin agenda. The worst thing that can happen is a moment of embarrassment and if the sex was good he'd gladly pay that price. The only thing he won't risk though is your relationship, e.g. he won't have a threesome with someone you are close to, or someone he knows has a crush on you. Or something that could hurt you physically (not talking about little bruises, an injury that could drive a wedge between you and him).

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Doesn't have a lot of stamina! If he cums once, it's usually light out with this guy. Sometimes you can squeeze a second one out of him if you're determined, but that's it. He always makes sure that you cum lots, and that you have a good time before he does, because he knows he has bad stamina.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Already mentioned this during K, but yeah, you own every toy in the book. If a new one is currently trending or even completely new on the market, he'll get it ASAP. Of course, you have your favorites that earned their spot in your nightstand, but the rest aren't necessarily collecting dust either.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

A little bit of a tease, might use some lightly derogatory language if you're into that, or denies you an orgasm (or two) but he's not mean in bed, he loves you too much and wants you both to enjoy it. (Besides, he prefers it if you tease him...)

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Groaner! Grunter! Might even whine if you do it right, or if you have been edging for a while. He very rarely moans (aka only with a toy up his ass), therefore he isn't very loud. This beneficial since you fuck in the weirdest places.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Has a thing for pussy hair and thinks it's cute if you shave it in specific patterns or styles. His favorite was the heart you deliberately shaved for Valentine's Day. He also has a certain admiration for a full bush.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Big. Monstrous. Humungus. I have a more detailed explanation here. Lots of foreskin and small balls in comparison.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Fairly high, but he easily adapts to you. He isn't going to pass away if you go a week or two without it, but prefers to do it regularily and tends to miss it easily.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

immediately, snorring like zzzzz. He won't let you leave either, if you need to pee, hold it in!

[bugs1nmybrain]

Fruity Drinks: L x Reader - Drunk Sex (Minors Don't Interact)

Writer's Notes: Can you tell that I'm running out of ideas? First Shigaraki's stoned smut and now L's drunk smut. I don't encourage substance use!! It's just funny to write about with my favorite characters.

Warnings: VERY ooc L, silly L, fem reader, alcohol use, drunk sex (L and reader are both drunk), the reader is described as a young adult, oral sex (m and f receiving), 69, no penetrative sex, comedy smut sorta, lame and cheesy but kind of fluff ending

How L ended up agreeing to this little arrangement was beyond him. It wasn't that he had never consumed alcohol before. There were a few times when he'd buy a sweet drink from a nice restaurant when he went out. Drinking enough to get drunk, though? L couldn't recall ever doing that. He hated the idea of his judgement and self-control being impaired.

However, he had recently solved a very internationally significant case. You insisted that he and you should celebrate. L didn't really understand the point, he solved cases left and right all the time. He had so many under his belt that it didn't necessarily add to his notoriety anymore. In actuality, though, you simply wanted a night where you and L felt like two typical young adults, wanting to have some fun and loosen up. His solving his latest case was merely an excuse, a poor one in L's opinion.

So you and him sat in one of his more cozy rooms at his house. The room was big and decorated nicely. You questioned if L had chosen the interior design or if it was how the room was before he purchased the house. Or maybe a product of Watari's doing? Themes of white and gold rained prominent throughout the room, which added to the novelty. In front of you and L were many drinks, accompanied by juices and soda that you thought would make the drinks more tolerable. L expressed to you that he could hardly bear the taste of alcohol, so you made sure to accommodate him with some easier options.

"So, it must feel nice to have gotten that case out of the way," you comment.

A part of L was agitated by that question, perceiving it as petty small talk. "Yes, it is. Admittedly, every time I solve a case, I feel disappointed knowing there's no more to uncover from said case; that the war has been won. The satisfaction from my victory is more to compensate for it, though. I'll just have to go searching for another, now."

"Mhm. Did you have any ideas on what drinks you were interested in?" you asked.

"Hard to say. Something sweet, for sure."

"No need to over-explain yourself. I'm sure it'll be perfectly fine."

You chuckle at his very obvious statement, "I could've guessed that. I heard that vodka cranberries were sweet, so I chose stuff for that, if it's alright. I will warn you that I am not someone who mixes drinks often. I kind of don't even know what I am doing, but I tried coming prepared."

So you continued to pour L a drink, mixing vodka and cranberry juice like an amateur bartender. You also made yourself one, hoping that the matching drinks would provide some nice bonding between the two of you. When you were done, you handed your lover his drink and he held the glass with his pointer and thumb, eyeballing it for a moment.

"This would have been nice with some cherries," he comments.

"I'll remember that for next time," you chuckle, taking a sip from your drink.

L began drinking his beverage as well, furrowing his brows at the sting of the alcohol in his throat. You eyeball him, finding his face of discomfort adorable.

"Are you alright?" you ask.

"Yes, love. It's not as bad as I thought. I think the cranberry juice dilutes the taste of the alcohol, but there's still a burning sensation."

"Makes sense."

"Why exactly are we doing this again?"

"To have fun. Loosen up a little."

"Ah, I see. You know that I'm not one to do this sort of thing. Especially not anything that would impair my reasoning abilities."

"I know. Is it okay? We can stop if you'd like."

"I didn't mean that, exactly. Honestly, I'm a little curious to what you are like while intoxicated. Is that strange of me to say?" he questions, giving you an engaged expression.

"That's true, though. Perhaps I should indulge your curiosity. You deserve the privilege for being such an outstanding girlfriend, " he eyes you with a neutral expression.

You blush and laugh a bit, "No. I don't mind that."

Honestly, L being nosy was something that was a surprising turn on often.

"I actually wanted to see how you'd be, honestly. I've never seen you drunk or high or anything like that and I was curious on how your behavior would shift."

"You're the perfect psychologist."

You chuckle abruptly in response.

You laugh at his compliments, feeling a sense of comfort in knowing his admiration for you. L continues to drink his vodka cran, watching you as you drink yours as well.

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

About an hour rolls by and you and L are absolutely hammered. This was a surprise for sure. L had never submitted to this kind of lack of cognitive control, and you had surely never seen this side of him.

The two of you hadn't simply sat there and drank. You had turned on some crime documentary and sat side by side, with your form leaning onto his shoulder. L seemed to really be enjoying his drinks, as he downed one after the other. It was actually very concerning. In truth, he just really liked the taste of them and you two hadn't gotten snacks.

It seemed that L could hold his liquor quite well, and he did when he was simply watching TV. Until now. You sat as the documentary began to give the viewers options as to who they thought the suspect was in the series of murders. L went from dead quiet to deeply and prominently vocal, so much so that it startled you.

"It's him. How..? A seven year old could guess who the murderer is...that one-uh-guy."

Your eyes shot wide open and you tried your hardest to hold in a laugh.

"I'm shutting this off," L announces, clumsily reaching for the remote. He grips it sluggishly and flicks the tv off, slouching back onto the couch. He still sat in his typical position but with his head titled to the side, looking as though he was about to fall over.

You hadn't exactly processed your own intoxication up to this point. It was terribly difficult not to hold back your laughter, and ultimately, you failed. You let out the most uncensored laugh, and L shot his face your way with his finger pressed to his lip.

"What's funny?"

"You. You're cute."

"Oooooh. Yes, you tell me that very often."

"I'm sorry."

"Oh no need..my love. You're, quite "cute" yourself. Did you know that?"

Your flustered face beams a glow, both from the alcohol and your embarrassment. You continue to chuckle for way too many seconds. You sat rigidly in response, thighs pressed together and hands on top of them.

"You..."L begins. You could tell that him never being drunk before contributed to his very apparent intoxication.

"You're so pretty. Your hair,,, and your eyes...you're..how did I manage to end up with such a beautiful lady?? You're so gorgeous, Y/N."

He was plastered. This was hilarious. You thought he was lying but when you looked at him and saw his cheeks flushed and eyes heavy, along with his finger teasing his lips, you could tell he was genuine. He was cute, so much so that you couldn't control more flustered laughter escaping your lips.

"Am I funny?" L asked. You couldn't tell if he was insulted or not. You hoped that it wasn't the case, as your laughter was far from out of a malicious nature.

"Yeah. I think you're the funniest person I know. You make me laugh without even meaning to, like all the time."

"Hmm...you like me that much? Do I have really have that affect on you?"

Even though you were very drunk, you could hear the tone of his voice become rather flirtatious, though uncoordinated.

"I've noticed, Y/N. You're rather addicted to my attention. And when you look at me, your face lights up. Your body tenses. Your speech becomes stammered. I'm not referring to the alcohol, nuh uh. You love me."

"Yes, of course, I love you. Why wouldn't I?"

You felt hurt a little, so you held your head down. It made you upset, because yes, he was a rather sneaky and occasionally manipulative partner. He wasn't harsh or anything, or trying to corrupt you, at least you thought. But he would try and pry out information and reactions from you, and get you to say things that would help him understand your tricks and own manipulation tactics.

"Because I am a treacherous, inhumane liar. Who's to say..I'm not lying right now? About how pretty you are, hm?"

L is always a thousand steps ahead of you, easily picking up on your suspicions of the genuineness in his compliments.

"Lovee...don't frown. I didn't meaan that. I actually, have proof. That you're pretty."

"Huh?"

"Yes. Do you want to see the evidence?????"

The drunkenness of yourself and his slurred speech confused you and so you cocked an eyebrow and let out another, "Huh?"

"Come here..Sit right here, next to me."

So you complied. You scooched directly next to L. He reaches to cup your shoulder and presses you close to him. He takes your hand carefully and sets it down over his crotch. Your heart jumps at the touch of his stabbing bulge, straining against his jeans.

"You see, do you see my point?"

You could feel his point, for sure. An unexpected moan escapes your lips, and you can feel yourself become wet instantly from the knowledge of his attraction to you. It didn't help that you loved his cock, either. You feel incredibly embarrassed at the noise you made uncontrollably, and bury your face into your hands.

"No, don't do that, my love." He takes your hand and sets it on his bulge again. "I want you. Would you be willing to indulge me? In your beauty?"

"Mmmmm...yea. Yea, I'd..like that a lot," Your verbal communication has gone out the window and you are unable to manage your composure at all. "Y-yes..yes please..."

"You're so cute," without much warning, L crawls on top of you, fumbling as he does so. He hovers over you and looks you in the eyes for a moment as his hair falls downward. With lustful, lidded eyes he makes his way to kiss the nape of your neck. Even intoxicated, he manages to maintain his romantic and calculated movements, even if they are a little sloppy.

"Mmm!"

"That's it..."

L's desperate need for stimulation encourages him to grind his clothed cock on your thigh for relief. He groans as he kisses your neck, lightly nipping at it. Your gasps cause him to twitch in his pants and he yearns out in painful arousal.

"Mmm, you're soooo pretty. Can I see your breasts? They're so nice. I want to see them."

It was a little humorous when L would talk about your body. He hardly used slang terms, such as tits. His use of clinical language was cute, though awkward. You nod with an eager, "mhm."

It took him a bit to remove your shirt and unhook your bra. Surprising for him, L is usually so good at coordinated actions. Once you were exposed for him, he merely stared at you for many seconds, cock pulsing at the sight of you.

"Oh my goodness," he comments, making you embarrassed.

You can feel your face flush and grow hotter and hotter, as well as your cunt. You couldn't help it when you began squirming your thighs together in arousal, and L let out a sigh at the impact of your movements against his erection. His penis was painfully sensitive, perhaps caused by blood flow from the alcohol.

You gripped his pants, pulling the hem to release his member so you could touch him. You tuck your hand under his waistband and wrap your fingers gently around him. He sighed heavily as you stroked him clumsily. His hips rocked himself into your hand, basking in how good it felt.

"Are you,, do you feel good?" you ask with a slurred tone.

"You have no idea."

He continues nipping at your neck. His hands were relentless, searching for any part of your body to squish or tease.

"Are you turned on?" L asks with a tone of voice that makes him almost sound guilty. He knew full well he was losing control of his gravitation toward you and perhaps wasn't being the most romantic or courteous.

"How about you look for evidence?"

"Hmm.."

L did just that, hand slipped into your pants to feel your pussy. When he discovered you had a hot, wet secretion that drenched you, he slowly plunged two fingers inside out you. You whimper in tension, but once he began rubbing your special spot, your body relaxed to his touch.

His fingers pulled out, making sure to rub your clitoris a bit. The lubricant from your pussy made his motions much more fluid. Fuck, even while he was hammered he was so precise. Sloppier than usual, but still knew exactly what they were doing.

"I...i want to taste you so badly right now," he yearns as he stops fingering you. He begins moving his way down to your crotch but you grip his hair before he can make it.

"I want to..to make you feel good, too. Let me do it to you."

"What? No. I want to bury my face in you, like right now. I don't have time for your mouth."

wow.

"I think people do like, 69? Right?"

"I'm not extremely educated in that department. But...that could be nice.."

You and L exchange a few more lusty kisses until he pushes you to lie on top of him. "You should turn the other way, right?"

Without a response you turned your body so that your ass was facing him. Your cunt hovered above him, to which he glanced at for a few moments. He cupped his hands around your ass and pulled you down so that your heat was pressed against his mouth.

You yelp quietly at the contact. You hadn't ever tried 69 and the position was rather vulnerable. However, the way L was devouring your cunt made it clear he wasn't bothered in the slightest.

He lied down with his legs crunched so that his knees were bent. You took his cock in your hand, giving it a few tender strokes and finally stuffing it in your mouth. L moaned against your pussy, enhancing the stimulation. He sucked on your clit vigorously while holding you in place.

L was interesting in that he adored eating you out. You felt bad as if you were a burden for wanting that kind of pleasure. He never objected, though. He had a pretty significant oral fixation, and running his tongue along your cunt was strangely soothing. Plus, the added bonus of the pride he felt when he made you cum was incredibly rewarding.

Blowing him was kind of difficult right now. Your mouth had a hard time coordinating, but you managed to bob your head along him. He must've been enjoying it by the muffles he made against your cunt. L's cock was a bit long, which made taking his whole length tricky. His hips jolted forward on impulse, gagging you a little.

"Shit! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to."

"It's..okay," you said in between kisses along his cock. L wanted to chuckle at how you were treating his length, but he was far too concentrated on making you cum. You were taking a little longer than usual, but it was alright. L simply thrust his fingers inside of you for a bit and rubbed your G-spot.

He could feel himself building slowly, and he wondered if he could make the two of you orgasm at the same time.

"Mmfm...you taste incredible," he comments. "You're so pretty down here, too."

L's praise always made your heart jolt a little. Sometimes you questioned his sincerity, but he seemed to want you to feel good about yourself for whatever reason. It still made you feel validated nonetheless.

You hummed on his dick in a pleasant response. L kept running his tongue along your clit in consistent motions, and you can start feeling your cunt quiver. L knows, recognizing the way your pussy twitched in his mouth. A smirk grazes his face as your cunt spasms in convulsions and you have to pop your head up for air as you mewl uncontrollably. L allows himself to let go as well as his cum spurts out onto your face while you gave him a mess as well.

You and L both were panting, absolutely overwhelmed by your sensations. An instant exhaustion washed over and you collapsed on top of him.

"Come here," L requests. You pull yourself to face him and L kisses you deeply, not caring about the swapping of genital fluids. "Tonight has been very pleasant, wouldn't you agree?"

"Hehe...I suppose. That felt very, very good."

"I thought so, perhaps we should do that more often."

"What about the drinking, should we do that more often?

"Honestly, I'm not the biggest fan. I feel very out of control of my inhibitions," he admits. Tonight was surely fun, though.

"That makes sense."

"I liked tonight though. And I'm happy I got to spend time with you."

"Me too," you fall on L's chest, and if he wasn't so drunk, he'd probably leave once you fell asleep. But he let himself drift along with you this time, enjoying your warmth. You were already sleeping, but he planted a kiss on your temple and allowed himself comfort in your love for him.

[morning-star-joy]

and I'll never see you again if I can help it

a stranger's heart without a home Chapter 6

Pairing: rivals to friends with benefits Joel x F!Reader, Post-Outbreak

Chapter Summary: You and Joel fall into a temporary truce after your patrol. At Tommy's urging, you go out for drinks with the two brothers. When you and Joel find yourselves alone after, the tension between you continues to rise until it snaps again.

Chapter Warnings: Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI) Mutual Masturbation, Unprotected p in v sex, Drunk Sex, Dirty Talk, Brief Mention of Masturbation (f), References to Previous Smut, Language, Alcohol Use, the sexist asshole from Chapter 3 makes a reappearance & tries to sl*t shame Reader but gets put in his place by both Reader and Joel, Brief Bar Fight, Mild Description of a Shallow Cut/Injury Treatment

A/N: Translation: Qué mala eres = You're so bad (ty to my wife @cynibuns for helping with the translation ily here's your writing cred)! Also, Chapter 14 will be up on ao3 tomorrow! Most likely evening-ish PST when I get home from being out of town. Hope you’re all having a lovely weekend!

Wordcount: 10.4k

chapter 1 || chapter 5 || chapter 6 || masterlist

ao3 link

The severity of the tension between you and Joel lightened, if only slightly.

You wouldn’t say he treated you warmly now, but the harshness of the chill he regarded you with did lessen. Joel would greet you when he saw you now, either with a slight nod or your name spoken as an acknowledgement. You returned the niceties with your own, and even though they were simple, they lessened a burden you hadn’t realized you had felt since the man returned to town.

Tommy was happy about this perceived change in your relationship with his brother, to say the least. If you and Joel found yourself in the rare circumstance that you were seated next to each other for a meal and not biting each other’s heads off, it felt like Tommy would appear out of nowhere to slap you both on the back in barely contained glee.

“We gotta go out for drinks tonight,” he would say with a grin, to which Joel shook his head to himself and you laughed disbelievingly.

“Maybe when the kid is old enough to come with us,” you would remark cheekily, referring to the latest addition to the Miller family, knowing from how you remained Joel’s patrol partner that the bundle of joy still needed both parents around to help.

Those patrols with Joel weren’t as awkward as they were before, either. There wasn’t much more talking between you, but you fell into step with each other easier, taking out both Infected and the occasional bandits with less difficulty.

While it wasn’t the same as your familiar contest with Tommy, your traded banter with Eugene or your mentorship with Jesse, you found yourself actually coming to appreciate the steadfastness of Joel’s presence when he rode and fought beside you. When he wasn’t treating you with such extreme disdain, you could almost understand why Tommy was so fond of his brother.

Almost.

Joel still irritated you. He was just as gruff and rude as ever, even if he wasn’t as antagonistic towards you as before. If you would try and crack a joke, he would just stare at you until either you awkwardly coughed, or he just shook his head and looked away. If you would try and ask him questions, he would give you short, one-word answers that got you nowhere.

He still annoyed you. Especially when his hand would brush against yours as he handed you some rations. Or when he stood so close you could smell the earthy, heady scent that made your head spin. Or when you would feel him watching your ass as he boosted you up to an area you couldn’t reach, but looked away quickly whenever you glanced back at him to try and catch him in the act.

Joel was still a bastard, because he wouldn’t say anything about those moments. But later you would replay them in your mind, helpless to the memory it brought to the forefront of your mind, unable to suppress it any longer.

It was embarrassing, how often you had slipped your hand between your legs as you thought of Joel at night. In the back of your mind, you could almost remember the feeling of his fingers playing with you instead. You would try to relive how it had felt for those fingers to be rubbing your clit and thrusting in and out of you. You would visualize being bent over your own kitchen counter as he fucked you against it, moaning into your pillow as you made yourself cum again and again just from the memory of his touch.

That memory almost felt like a hallucination, the fact that you had actually had sex with the grizzled, stoic survivor seeming more like a fever dream than reality. At times you were certain you really had just dreamt it. But then you would remember the morning Joel had passed by you as you sat on your porch, drinking coffee from an engraved mug, and how fast he had looked away as his steps quickened past your picket fence.

Oh, so he does remember, you had realized as you hid a smirk behind another sip of your coffee, glad you had been sitting outside that morning to catch his reaction to you drinking from that mug.

It was infuriating, because that heat that simmered between the two of you was still there, even as you both tried your best to ignore it in the light of day. What you did with yourself at night with the memory of him, however, was your secret alone.

And that was fine. You were finally settling back into the calm that Jackson offered. Those hiccups Joel had thrown into your practiced routine were smoothing over with the strange, unspoken truce between the two of you.

But then that was also ruined, the night Tommy actually did manage to take you both out for those drinks.

Your discomfort at the situation was matched only by Joel’s as Tommy shoved whiskey filled glasses into his hand and then yours. You shot a glance at Joel from the corner of your eye, watching as the man lifted a shoulder in a resigned shrug before tossing back the shot, followed by Tommy and then you.

Tommy’s joy as he ordered another round was almost infectious, a smile tugging at your lips as you glanced over The Tipsy Bison to see it busier than it was most nights. Either the warmer weather was brightening everyone’s spirits, or they all just had the same spontaneous burst of energy that Tommy had when he showed up on your doorstep to drag you out with him. Joel had been standing behind him, looking more uncomfortable than you had ever seen him as he looked anywhere but at you while you stood in your doorway.

The second sign that your fever dream of him was real, and that he remembered it just as much as you did.

“So,” Tommy sighed after knocking back another shot, placing his cup down and grabbing the bottle of whiskey the bartender had left to make refills easier for the three of you. After refilling his glass, Tommy turned back to you and Joel with an easy grin. “I’ve heard good things about your patrols.”

Neither you nor Joel said anything as Tommy sipped from his glass, waiting for you to reply. Which you didn’t.

“Guess you don’t hate each other as much as you thought,” he teased, waiting to see if he could get a reaction out of either of you.

You merely shrugged, and Joel took another sip of his whiskey.

Tommy sighed, shaking his head as he picked up the bottle to refill your glass once you finished it off.

“Well you're both chatterboxes, aren’t you?” he muttered, shooting you both a bemused look, though it held a fondness to it. “Can’t imagine all the riveting conversations you must have on those patrols.”

You glanced at Joel as you sipped at your refilled drink. Neither of you had spoken about the heated argument and ugly words you had thrown at each other during your patrol to the ski lodge, or the panic attack that he had witnessed you having. 

The latter you figured he avoided mentioning out of some kind of understanding. You remembered seeing him stumble out of the bar last winter, how he had leaned against the frozen pillar for support. How you had approached him to put a hand on his shoulder, just as he had done to you, even as you both flinched away from being touched during your respective moments of anxiety.

But the argument, you weren’t sure why Joel never brought up again. He had made his opinion of you and your history with the Fireflies, his disdain for the tattoo on your skin, quite clear. Whenever you felt confused on how he had seemed to just let it go, you remembered that look he had given you when the storm had begun to clear outside; the realization you weren’t privy to passing over his face before he offered an olive branch in reaching out his hand to help you up, an unspoken peace offering you had accepted. You didn't know what had spurred him on to extend that unspoken understanding that had settled the disdain-fueled friction between you, but you figured maybe it was also the reason why he never brought up the argument again. 

Your name being spoken pulled you out of your internal monologue, and you turned your head to see Tommy looking at you, brows furrowed in puzzlement.

“Hm?” you hummed, about to take a sip from your drink before you realized it was empty.

Tommy reached out for the bottle again, whiskey pouring into your glass as his brow smoothed out and he smiled cheekily at you. A glint of mischief was in his eye, a flush from alcohol tinting his cheeks.

Oh, this was either going to be very good, or you weren’t going to like this at all.

“When are you finally gonna let me set you up with someone?”

You coughed, holding a fist up to cover your mouth as you nearly choked on your whiskey.

“Sorry?” you spluttered, baffled at the sudden topic change as Tommy’s smirk widened, and you felt a heavy gaze settle on you from your other side.

“Come on,” Tommy drawled, his voice playfully boisterous as he leaned back against the bar. “Having somebody is great! And I haven’t seen you with a beau since the moment I met you.”

A laugh escaped you, turning into a fit of disbelieving cackling spurred on from the whiskey as you shook your head at your friend.

“If Dina hasn’t gotten anywhere in that hopeless endeavor, neither are you,” you teased, your laughter doubling at the playful roll of his eyes.

“Qué mala eres." The Spanish rolled off his tongue in a sigh, the language slip a sign that the alcohol was going to his head, and you sighed as you threw back another shot. “You’re missing out, my friend.”

Your head shook, looking away from Tommy only when the weight of the stare on your back had become so heavy that you couldn’t ignore it anymore.

When you turned back to Joel, though, his eyes had already moved away, scanning the crowd in the bar as he sipped silently at the whiskey glass in his large hand.

You blamed it on the effect of the alcohol as you observed how the lights of the bar seemed to brighten the brown hue of Joel’s eyes, making them appear a lighter color than how dark they usually looked. Despite your better judgment that told you to look away, your gaze followed the line of his nose down to his lips as he drank his whiskey, and you couldn’t help but wonder for a moment what it would feel like to have those lips pressed to your own, the one thing that he had denied you when he had fucked you.

His tongue darted out to lick at the drops of liquor on his lips. Desire pooled between your legs as you looked back up, and you jumped when you saw his gaze was fixed on you.

Oh, fuck, you thought to yourself, that desire intensifying as he arched a brow at you, and you realized that he had caught you looking.

Had caught you wanting.

Your hand tightened on your glass, glaring up at him even as his lips twitched into an almost imperceptible smirk.

But it was there.

And it was satisfied.

That damn, nearly unnoticeable smirk made your cunt throb as you realized that you still wanted him. And judging from the look he fixed you with now, maybe Joel still wanted you too.

You looked away hastily, knocking the rest of your whiskey back right as Tommy spoke up again. 

“So, big brother, how’d your date with Esther go?”

Whiskey got stuck in your throat as you choked, coughing as you lowered the glass, and Tommy’s hand began to thud on your back to help you clear your throat.

“You okay?” you heard him ask, and you nodded, clearing your throat of the more intense burn the alcohol had left as it didn’t go down your throat as smoothly as it was supposed to.

“Yeah,” you croaked, shaking your head with another cough as you waved your hand dismissively. “Yeah, I’m good.”

You ignored the looks each brother was giving you as you stared straight ahead, refusing to look at either in protection of your own pride as Joel asked Tommy, “What’d you say?”

The question made you bristle, something in his tone telling you that Joel knew exactly what Tommy had asked, but wanted that line of conversation to continue.

Or maybe the whiskey was just going to your head, you thought as you turned back around to the bar and grabbed the bottle to refill your glass.

“Esther!” Tommy said brightly, and you held your glass a bit too hard. “How’d it go? Did you like her?”

Joel shrugging caught your attention, and you looked back to see he was looking out of the corner of his eye at you, before he looked away and replied to Tommy, “Yeah, she’s nice.”

You turned back to your glass, taking the whole shot before refilling it again.

“She has a great sense of humor,” you heard Joel add, your fingers tapping impatiently on the counter as you chewed on the inside of your cheek.

“See, I told you!” Tommy’s voice was full of excitement, even as your mood continued to worsen the more information was revealed about Joel’s apparent fucking date. “I knew you’d like her. You’re a good match.”

Another shot was knocked back in one smooth motion before you spun around to face the brothers again.

Joel went on a fucking date. 

Joel “I’m not sticking around here”, doesn’t-want-a-relationship fucking Miller went on a fucking date.

The thought made you bristle with anger, even though you knew it shouldn’t. It made you mad because, fuck, going on a date meant that he might be getting his dick wet with other women, when he had already fucked you and was looking at you with that dark, sultry gaze earlier as he licked his lips and fuck.

It took you a moment before you noticed that the attention of both Miller men was on you, and you realized slowly that the expletive had actually left your mouth instead of just staying in your mind, interrupting whatever they had been discussing now.

You looked from Tommy’s confused expression to Joel’s blank one, the slight curl of his lip that he hid behind his whiskey glass telling you all you needed to know as your gaze shot out towards the room.

Over in the corner of the bar, Gustavo was playing his trusty banjo with a few other musicians. A small group of residents, friends and couples, were dancing in an open space next to them.

A smile grew on your lips as you slammed your empty glass back down on the counter, sending Joel and Tommy an easy grin while you walked backwards away from them.

“If you’ll excuse me, boys,” you drawled, giving them an over-dramatic flourish of a bow, one you thought Dina would be proud of, “I’m going to go dance.” 

Your smile melted into a smirk, your gaze lingering on Joel for a second too long before turning around and confidently making your way to the area where people were dancing.

The shots were definitely going to your head, but you found it hard to care where the music was louder. It didn’t take long before you were swept up in a dance, spun around in the arms of a man whose name you couldn’t remember. It wasn't often that you allowed yourself to let your hair down like this, but the rhythm of the music, the fast pace of the dance, and the alcohol dulling your thoughts made the memories you always tried so hard to forget fade further into the background.

And if the carefree feeling from dancing wasn’t making you laugh, then it was the feeling of a heated stare fixed on your back as you giggled and turned through the steps of the lively dance.

You could feel his eyes on you, and even though you didn't look back towards him as you danced, you knew it was him. That intensity was unmistakable, familiar now in its weight as it focused on you, even as you weren't looking directly at him. It spurred you on, getting closer to your dance partner than was necessary, and relishing in the feeling of that stare sharpening on your steps as you did so.

After a few songs you were starting to feel too hot, too dizzy to continue this charade. Exchanging lighthearted bows with your dance partner, you laughed a bit more before backing away. While you had approached the dancing with an ulterior motive—one that seemed to have been successful, judging by the gaze you could feel on you throughout the dances—you found that you had actually enjoyed yourself, your head clearer and heart more carefree than you had felt in ages as you tried to find where you had left the Miller brothers.

“Whore,” a voice pretended to cough as you passed by a table, and you paused.

You turned slowly, that rare happiness you had felt evaporating as you looked back to find a face you had a hard time placing a name to. He looked a little younger than you, his features weaselly as he held back a snicker, surrounded by a group of a few other stupid looking young men.

“Excuse m—”

“What was that?”

Your own voice was interrupted by another, one lower and more menacing than your own, coming from some place close behind you. 

Glancing back over your shoulder, you saw Joel had found you before you could find him. His face was carefully devoid of any telling emotion as he stared past you at the man who had apparently just majorly fucked up by calling you a whore.

You looked back as the man shifted, seeming unsettled by Joel’s presence, and then it clicked. This was that bastard that you had been drinking with last winter, the one who Joel had knocked on his ass in the snow outside this very bar.

“Alright,” you sighed as you pushed a few loose strands of hair out of your face. “Let’s just—”

“You heard me,” the man at the table repeated, trying to sound confident as he pushed himself to his feet, even as his voice was shaking. He glared back at Joel, seemingly spurred by some stupid sense of wounded pride or suicidal tendencies. “I called her what she is: a whore.”

You laughed, louder than you should, devoid now of any carefree feeling from earlier. Surely you were drawing the attention of those drinking nearby, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care about that right now.

“Right, I’m a whore for drinking and dancing with friends?” you asked, eyes blazing at the audacity of this man as you felt Joel shift and move around you. “Because I refused to sleep with you when you asked so pathetically?”

The man whose name you still couldn’t remember—something that made the situation even more hilarious, even though nobody knew that fact except for you—took a step towards you at that last jab you made, though his path was quickly interrupted as Joel stepped in front of you.

Joel’s hand grabbed the man’s shirt roughly, pulling the bastard closer as his carefully stoic face began to melt into a rare display of...anger? It was an intimidating, nearly terrifying look that you had seen directed towards you once, but now it was showing in defense of you.

“You speak that way to a woman again, and you won’t be so lucky as to leave with just a bruised ego this time,” he murmured, the low words deceivingly soft as they rumbled from his chest.

The weaselly man looked between Joel and you, forcing laughter even as he could tell he was outnumbered. His next words were his own fault, the final nail in the coffin as he sneered to Joel, “Shit, I can’t imagine the pussy is actually that good for you to defend—”

A crack filled the air as Joel’s fist collided with the man’s face, sending him flying back into the table where his friends sat behind him.

“Joel!” you shouted, grabbing his shoulder to try and pull him back, even as he didn’t budge. “Jesus, Joel, you can’t just—”

You continued to tug at his shoulder, and when he finally looked back at you, the man shifting on the table caught your eye, and your words cut off. The glint of something sharp followed the sound of glass shattering, and you stepped in front of Joel before you could think twice about it. Your arm lifted to defend yourself, letting out a yelp of pain as you felt the broken bottle slash across it.

Chaos descended upon the bar. 

Shouting rose up around you as you saw a few men grabbing the stupid son of a bitch who just tried to instigate his own funeral by attempting to cut Joel. You turned, the sound of Tommy’s voice shouting pulling your attention as you saw your friend holding back his brother, who was trying to escape his grip to fight the bastard with barely contained fury.

“One punch,” you heard Joel muttering angrily as Tommy kept pulling him back. “Just one punch, teach him a fucking lesson—”

“You already taught him a lesson, Joel, you broke his fucking nose!”

You blinked, pulling your arm up to look at the blood trickling down it. While you felt slowed, almost out-of-body by the combined dampening of adrenaline and alcohol, the action seemed to finally grab the attention of Joel and Tommy. The men abruptly stopped their struggle as they turned to you.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Tommy addressed the gathering crowd loudly, pulling their scattered attention to him as he stepped forward to grab your assailant by the back of his shirt collar. He shifted into his authoritative tone as he continued, “No more excitement for tonight.”

Tommy looked between the bleeding man he was holding onto and Joel, sighing before he said in a level tone that commanded respect, “Maria will have a word with you both tomorrow. For now, go treat your wounds.”

He gave a small shove that was hardly gentle to the guy, who stumbled away as his friends rose to escort him out. Tommy glanced at you, mouth opening as Joel pressed some clean napkins he had picked up from a nearby table against your bleeding cut.

“I’ll get her treated and home safe,” Joel said quietly to Tommy, the younger brother glancing between you two with a furrowed brow before you nodded at him.

“Go tell Maria what happened,” you added softly as you held the napkins to your cut. “I’m fine.”

Tommy sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he muttered something along the lines of not knowing what to do with the two of you, before leaving with a nod and short farewell.

Joel’s hand found a spot between your shoulder blades, gently ushering you out of the tense atmosphere you had created and into the fresh spring air outside. The chill of the late night breeze sobered you up a bit as he continued to lead you in a direction that you slowly realized was in the opposite direction of your house.

“Wait, but my house is—”

“I have first aid at my place,” Joel interrupted your confusion in a short tone, to which you raised an eyebrow in response.

“So do I,” you said slowly, watching as he stared at the dark street ahead like he was refusing to look at you.

Even with his hand still pressed firmly on your upper back.

“I don’t know where stuff is in your house," he muttered, still not looking at you as you turned onto the darker streets of one of the residential districts in Jackson.

You snorted, a small smirk creeping on your lips as you blamed the alcohol flooding your system for fueling your cheeky remark.

“Yeah you do,” you muttered, and he finally glanced back at you in disbelief when you added, “You know where the mugs are, at least.”

Joel shook his head as he led you to his house, saying nothing else aside from muttering to himself, “Jesus fucking Christ.”

You laughed at that, unable to resist the humor in his exasperation at the situation, even as his hand finally fell from where he had been guiding you when you stopped outside a large house. When he led you up the steps and through the gate to his new home, you whistled low, nodding in appreciation at the scale of it.

��Damn, Joel, they set you up in a place way bigger than mine," you drawled, smirking again as you heard a quiet scoff escape him from where he had moved to walk ahead of you.

Yeah, the alcohol was definitely to blame for sarcastically teasing Joel so much, even as he continued to give you replies that were as short as always.

“Shut up,” he muttered, though not unkindly as you crossed the path up to the porch.

A smaller building nearby caught your eye as you waited for Joel to open the door, and you turned to see a garage with the lights on a bit farther away from the house.

"What's that?" you asked, nodding towards it, and Joel followed your gaze after the front door swung open. 

"Ellie lives there," he muttered, offering no further explanation as he walked into the house, and you followed without any more questioning.

The few tones Joel spoke with were familiar enough now for you to know when not to press something. Even though you tolerated each other's presence more than you had before, Ellie was still a topic that he rarely discussed, and you didn't push him on it. It wasn't your business, anyway.

You glanced around you, trying to take in your surroundings as you entered the home, maybe gain enough of an opinion to critique his taste in décor if it was poor. But he herded you down the hallway, not giving you a chance to collect any witty remarks as you walked through a makeshift washroom-closet and into a kitchen on your left.

“Really, a kitchen again?” you teased, snickering at his annoyed huff as he sat you down at a small table next to a window, even as you were surprised at your own blunt reference to an act neither of you have dared to discuss openly since his return.

“You’re insufferable when you’re drunk,” Joel muttered, maybe more to himself than to you as he went back into the washroom to rifle through something.

“Says the drunk man who broke somebody’s nose,” you bit back with no small amount of snark, unable to hide your smirk as he reappeared with a first aid kit and a humorless expression that made you laugh.

Joel pulled the other chair at the table over next to yours, sitting in it as he set the first aid on the table.

“Insufferable,” he repeated to himself with a shake of his head, opening the kit and pulling out the supplies he needed to clean your wound.

Joel peeled away the napkins that had stuck to your skin, and if he saw you wince, he ignored it. He focused on his task, making no attempt at small talk as he made sure the bleeding had stopped before applying disinfectant. You held back any reactions from the sting, watching him as your head tilted in quiet observation, his silence giving you a moment to think.

Genuine surprise had flooded your being when Joel had stood up for you at the bar. While you had seen hints of a rare, odd sense of something almost akin to chivalry in the older man, the fact that he went so far as to break a man's nose rendered you into disbelief.

If somebody had told you months ago that Joel Miller would deck a man in the face because they had called you a whore and made an out-of-pocket remark about your pussy, you would have laughed for a long, long time in incredulity. Hell, you still wanted to laugh from doubt at it happening even now. There was no time, no universe, in which Joel—the man who had regarded you as nothing more than a nuisance—would commit such an act for you.

Yet here you were, sitting in his kitchen as he tended to a shallow wound that you had taken on his behalf. A favor for a favor, you supposed—his defense of your honor, your defense of his body.

“What?” Joel asked, sparing a glance up towards your analytical gaze and pulling you out of your inner monologue. He looked back down at your cut, wiping the cotton drenched with disinfectant over it again as you considered how to respond, wondering how much of your thoughts you wanted to reveal, if any of them.

“Just thinking about what a Southern gentleman you are,” you finally revealed in a light tone, holding back a snicker as he shot you a bemused glance.

“What?” He repeated, his voice holding more confusion this time, and you sighed. The sound was melodramatically tired, as if you were exasperated by his lack of understanding. Inspired by Dina's penchant for theatrics, even though you were only teasing right now.

“That’s the second time you’ve defended my honor,” you said the last few words cheekily, mocking a posh accent when you spoke of honor as Joel huffed at your strange show of dramatics. The next words were more serious though, more contemplative as you observed him and asked, “Trying to repay those debts?”

He shook his head, tossing the slightly bloody cotton pad to the side as he picked up a medicine cream that would help the cut heal.

“Still doesn’t count,” Joel muttered, squeezing some of the cream out onto the tip of his forefinger before gently running the rough digit along your injury. The feeling of his coarse touch against your skin made you shiver, the sensation a reminder of how it had felt when he was thrusting his fingers inside of you.

“Because I could have handled it myself?” you finally asked once you had pulled yourself out of the vivid memory, blaming both the flashback and the flush on your cheeks on the whiskey.

Joel hummed in affirmation of your question, screwing the top back on the cream once he had finished spreading it along your cut, and setting the tube back down.

“I lost my head,” he finally said quietly after a moment of silence, and your gaze refocused back on him from where it had been wandering around the room, taking in his interior design choices. “I shouldn’t have.”

“Eh,” you shrugged a shoulder, a small smile tugging at your lips. You didn't know why he had lost his head, but you found yourself unable to ask why before you admitted in a softer tone that you surprised even yourself with, “I don’t…not appreciate it.”

Joel didn’t look at you, and you didn’t look at him as you cleared that hint of softness out of your throat and mind. You were unaware of the sentiment until you had said it, and you were eager to rebury it in the back of your mind, in the empty grave all memories of Joel had managed to claw their way out of since his return to Jackson. Maybe if you buried it well enough now, he would stop haunting your subconscious.

You took another moment to glance around his kitchen that was much larger than yours. The sight of a coffee pot on the stove made you laugh, turning back to him with another smirk as he picked up a roll of gauze.

“Are you going to offer me a cup of coffee?” You asked slowly, not really sure where this constant influx of sultry snark was coming from, but you were powerless to stop it. Must be the alcohol.

You were surprised by the quiet chuckle that left Joel’s lips, a sound you had never heard before that made your heart skip a beat. The small smirk dancing on his lips made your stomach flip as he replied surprisingly smoothly, “I guess I do owe you one, huh?”

A smirk of your own was your only reply as he spared a glance up at you. Joel shook his head, gaze turning back down as he bandaged up your arm.

“That’s a bit overkill,” you remarked, examining the bandage he had wrapped around your entire forearm as you rotated it once he had finished.

“It gets the job done,” Joel sighed, packing the first aid kit back up and flipping it closed again. “You should be glad it wasn’t deep enough to require any stitches.”

“Because you would’ve done a shitty job and given me an ugly scar?” you asked, not expecting a response as he stood and took the kit back to the washroom.

“Yup,” you heard his deep voice respond from the other room, and you couldn’t help but laugh at the blunt admission as you leaned back in your chair.

It was...weird, this almost amicable atmosphere between the two of you. You had never spoken to each other so easily before, and you blamed the strange phenomenon entirely on the whiskey you both were drunk off of.

Glancing through the other doorway into the adjoining dining room, you noted that Joel had a lot of warm earth tones in his home. It was cozier, more homey than you would have expected. You wondered idly if Tommy or Ellie had helped him with the furniture choices, or if it had been all him.

The colors and the feelings they evoked also reminded you of how he smelled of that earthy scent you couldn’t name as he licked and bit down your neck.

You cleared your throat, shifting in your seat as arousal stirred within you. Joel walked back into the room, pulling your attention when he sank back into the chair that was still next to yours, his knee brushing against yours once he was seated.

Silence that had become typical between you fell again.

“So,” you started slowly, fingers tapping against the table, desire pooling between your legs as his knee brushed against yours again. You cleared your throat, trying to find a topic to distract yourself from the fact that his presence was much too close to you now, nothing distracting you from his annoyingly magnetic presence.

When a topic from earlier flashed through your mind, you grasped onto it quickly as you teased, “Esther, huh?”

Joel groaned, running a hand over his hair and effectively messing it up, the look of the disheveled, gray curls only making your lust stronger as your knees pressed together. Shit, maybe this topic wouldn't work.

“Don’t start,” he muttered, not looking at you in favor of rubbing the badly healed scars on his knuckles that you had noticed in your kitchen months ago.

His words were pointless though. Despite your best judgment that told you to take the opportunity to switch the topic, you had already started, and you wouldn’t stop now.

“With a name like that, she must be as old as you, right?” you asked, arching a brow as he turned to watch you blankly. You couldn't stop a snicker and smirk as you added, “Like, from the 1800's old?”

Joel sighed, shaking his head as he rested an elbow on the table and dropped his face into his hand.

“Can’t imagine the sex is good, if she’s that old,” you continued, spurred on by his exasperation, and grinning impishly as he groaned into his hand.

“She’s nice,” he finally muttered, hand falling away from his face even as he kept looking down at the table, and you nodded along slowly.

“Right, nice," you assented, not sure why the words made you restless as you glanced away from him.

You kept nodding, looking around the kitchen, when your gaze fell on the coffee pot again. A smirk grew on your lips as your eyes darted back to his, and your chest fluttered in excitement when you saw he was looking at you from the corner of his eyes now.

“I gotta admit, I didn’t think you were the type who liked ‘nice’, Miller.” The words were dark, almost sultry, and you saw something in Joel’s gaze shift as it focused entirely on you.

“Oh yeah?” His deep voice rumbled in his chest, his arched eyebrow begging for more of your defiance as he leaned towards you just an inch. “And what type do you think I like, exactly?”

Your fingers continue to tap a rhythm against the table, slowly moving closer to where his own hand rested until you were right next to it. Your touch hovered inches from him even as you continued to tap the surface around his fingers, avoiding touching him directly, only letting your fingers graze against his occasionally. A whisper, a temptation, a plea to touch him again.

“Sluts,” you answered slowly, the filthy term rolling off your tongue as Joel’s eyes darkened on the way your mouth formed around the word. “If I’m remembering correctly.”

He said your name in a low tone, the sound a warning, but you only saw it as a challenge.

You leaned closer, your fingers still dancing around his hand, head tilted with a sly smirk. Joel’s knee pressed harder against yours as you slowly spread your legs, and his gaze flashed down between them, his hand curling into a fist as he understood exactly what you were implying.

“You’re drunk,” Joel said quietly, voice husky as he tried to turn you down, even as he refused to look away from your opened legs.

“So are you,” you whispered, your fingers finally grazing directly over the top of his hand, and he jolted.

Joel leaned back from you, gaze darting away from you, and your stomach almost dropped from disappointment, maybe even embarrassment, before he looked back at you not even a second later.

“I—” Joel shook his head, swallowing thickly. “We shouldn’t—”

His eyes caught on your seductive smirk, and he shook his head again, the defenses in his gaze falling all at once as he breathes out, “Fuck.”

Joel’s hands were on you within a second of the murmured curse, pulling you roughly out of your chair and into his lap. His head buried in your neck, tongue and teeth finding your skin as you moaned loudly from the feeling of him suddenly pressing against you because finally, finally. You had been wanting him for weeks, even though you had tried to deny it, and now you finally had him again.

And maybe you were both drunk, maybe you both would regret it in the morning. But you wanted him now, just as much as he wanted you, and that was enough.

Your hips rolled, pushing your throbbing clit against the erection that was growing in his pants already, even as all he did was mouth at your neck.

“I make you this hard just by being in your lap, Joel?” you murmur, continuing to grind your hips against him, and he grunts.

“Shut up,” Joel muttered, pulling his head back, and you darted down towards his lips before he grabbed your chin in a firm hand.

“No,” he said stiffly, his gaze serious even as it became clouded in lust from the feeling of your clothed pussy pressing against his hard dick in his jeans.

“You have this rule for every girl you fuck?” you whisper, rolling your hips against his faster, and his look of annoyance faded into one of hazy desire as his eyelids fluttered and his head fell back. Your tone was more biting as you added, "Did you have it for Esther, too?"

“You really do have a sharp mouth, don’t you?” Joel muttered, and you laughed, jolting forward and pressing against his chest when he suddenly slapped your ass. “Pants off. Now.”

“So demanding,” you chastised, even as you stood and did what he told you to.

You made a show of it, your fingers circling the button of your pants before unbuttoning it. Joel’s eyes were glued to your seduction as you slowly unzipped your pants, then slid them down until they pooled at your feet on his kitchen floor, and you stepped out of them.

“Panties too,” Joel murmured, his hand rubbing his thigh as he leaned back and watched you, and you laughed breathlessly.

“What happened to your Southern manners?” you teased, and Joel raised an eyebrow.

Without a word, his finger reaches forward, dancing along the hemline of the dark, simple panties you were wearing. His finger curves under the band on your thigh, the rough pad of it skimming against your skin before he grabs the banding and swiftly yanks, snapping your panties and letting the fabric fall to the floor.

You blinked rapidly, unable to help the light laugh of surprise that left your lips even as he nodded towards the table behind you.

“Sit.”

Shifting backwards, you pressed your hands against the table and hopped up, bare ass pressed against the cold surface as you smirked at him. You spread your legs for him, and Joel inhaled sharply through his nose, his hand twitching on his thigh as if he wanted to touch you, but still he held back.

“Touch yourself,” he murmured, and your eyes widened before the words sent desire curling low in your stomach.

You placed your hand on your lower stomach, fingers spread as you dipped down lower, until you slid them through your folds that had grown wet from his words and your grinding against his hips.

“Already so wet,” Joel muttered, his hands moving to slowly unbutton his jeans even as he kept watching you touch yourself.

The sight of him unzipping his pants caused your breath to hitch, your wet fingers tracing up to begin to rub slow circles over your clit. You bite your lip, feeling the pleasure start to build as you touch yourself while Joel busies himself with pulling his cock out of his pants. 

It was the first time you had actually seen it and, fuck, he was big. You already knew he was, had felt every delicious inch of him deep inside of you. But seeing the strong, stoic Joel Miller sitting in front of you now, legs spread with his cock in his hand, hard at the sight of you, was enough to shoot you even closer to an orgasm.

“Don’t you want to feel?” you whispered, shivering with a moan as you watched Joel lift one of his hands and lick his palm slowly. A brief thought passed through your mind, wondering what that tongue would feel like working at your clit instead of your fingers, and you began to stimulate yourself faster.

“Oh, I will,” Joel gave a small smirk, one that grew just a bit at the moan that left you at the seductive teasing and that downright fucking sinful smirk.

“Fuck,” you whispered, eyes glued to his hand as it found his dick and he began to pump himself slowly.

Joel grunted, and you locked the sound of it away for later, for those lonely nights where you had only your own hand and no other company to bring you pleasure. He fists himself almost lazily, eyes drinking you in as your fingers picked up on your clit. Your mouth opens, breath coming in small pants as your hips begin to lift towards your own touch.

“That’s it,” Joel murmured, and you resisted the urge to close your eyes and tilt your head back, too intoxicated by the sight of him getting himself off just from watching you touch yourself. “Make yourself cum because of me.”

A loud moan escapes your parted lips, hips bucking up into the air as you rubbed your clit faster, finding just the right angle as your pleasure crests, then explodes through your body as you lose yourself in the mind numbing bliss of an orgasm.

Joel stood as you moaned through it, hands finding your sides to lower you back against the table even as your thighs twitched from the aftershocks of the orgasm. He took a moment to appreciate the sight of you spread across his table, your face flushed and pussy dripping wet from an orgasm, before he collected your release on his fingers and spread it across his dick.

He pumped himself a few times, placing the head of his cock against your entrance as you looked up at him, licking your lips in anticipation.

“You ready?” he asked quietly, and you nodded quickly, legs wrapping around his hips as he slowly pushed into you.

Even though you had already felt him inside you before, it felt just as delicious as the first time you had fucked as his dick entered you inch by inch. Your cunt gripped him tightly as he bottomed out, his palms placed on either side of you, bracing himself against the table as he leaned down.

For a moment you wondered if he was going to break his rule, but Joel stopped before he could get close enough to kiss you. He seemed to be trying to collect himself, brows furrowed and eyes dark as sin as he pulled out of you a few inches to thrust back in.

You moan at the same time he does, though Joel was much quieter as he pulled out to thrust back in again.

And again.

And again.

The sound of the wooden table creaking, the legs scraping against the tile of the kitchen floor as Joel fucked you was almost as deliciously sinful as the sound of skin slapping against skin with each thrust. One of your hands grabs the edge of the table above your head, your other hand snaking down to rub your clit as he begins to thrust faster.

“Fuck, you—” Joel cut himself off, still holding some part of himself back, even now when he was fucking you like you were both utterly depraved, sinful beings. Which you might be.

“So good,” he finally mutters, his hands coming up to grab the top edge of the table around your hand, his forehead falling to rest against the table next to your head so you could hear every grunt, every sharp breath of pleasure leave his lips as he fucked you. “Feel so good.”

“Mm,” you moaned, nodding desperately to agree even as the ability failed you to concisely word the pleasure that was building. “Close. I’m close.”

Joel also nodded beside you, turning his head so his lips could graze your ear.

“Cum on my cock,” he whispers against it, breath fanning against the sensitive skin, and your hips jerk forward to meet his hard thrusts, fingers desperately rubbing your clit until the climb of pleasure broke, and your orgasm washed over you.

Your back arched as you cried out from the intense pleasure, soaking in the feeling of your quivering walls gripping every inch of his dick as he fucked you through your high.

“God,” Joel groaned, grabbing your hips as he leaned back, pulling you roughly against him to meet each of his hard thrusts. You fought to keep your eyes open, vision blurry as you watched his head lean back, lips parted as his eyes squeezed shut in pleasure.

He bucked into you hard once, twice, before pulling out, his hand finding his dick as he pumped the cum out of his cock to land on your inner thighs. Joel panted, eyes opening and glazing over from the ecstasy of his orgasm. His chest kept heaving as he continued to catch his breath, even as his gaze lowered to look at you spread out and well-fucked on his table beneath him, his cum dripping down your thighs.

“Here we are again,” you murmur once you could find your voice, the words hoarse, your eyebrow arching as a tired smirk turns up your lips. “I think you might have a thing for kitchens, Joel Miller.”

A huff that sounded a bit too much like a laugh escaped Joel’s lips, and he shakes his head as he tucks his softening dick away. He turns, walking over to his counter, and your head drops back against the table, mind swimming with the desire to give into the gentle lull of sleep in the sweet afterglow of sex.

“Here,” Joel murmured, and you opened your eyes to see he was holding out a hand towel he had used to clean his hand.

You take it with a nod of thanks, pushing yourself up with weak arms until you were sitting up well enough so you could clean the mess he had left between your legs once again.

He took the towel back once you were done cleaning yourself, moving into the attached washroom to supposedly drop it somewhere to be cleaned later before walking back out to meet you. 

Joel’s hand reaches out, an offering to help you up, and you give a small, amused smile at the familiar situation as you take it.

You stumbled a bit as you stood, and Joel’s hand tightened on yours minutely, helping you steady yourself. You murmured a tired thanks, leaning down to pick up your ruined panties, shoving them in the pocket of your pants once you pulled them back on.

“I’ll walk you home,” Joel said quietly, and your eyebrows shot up in surprise as you looked at him. He rolled his eyes, gaze averting as he muttered, “I promised Tommy.”

“Ah,” you nodded, the thought of your friend making you wince because, shit, you’ve fucked his brother twice now.

Maybe Joel was thinking the same thing, because you both went quiet as you fixed yourselves up so you looked presentable enough in case you ran into anybody else on the walk back to your house, and not like you had definitely, without a doubt just fucked each other. Your legs were shaky as you left Joel’s house, but you had walked further distances on more unsteady legs before. This wasn’t that hard. 

It was quiet, the chirps of insects the only sound you could hear other than the echoes of your shoes tapping against the pavement as you walked down the empty streets of Jackson. Luckily, you didn’t end up running into anyone as you rounded the corner onto your street, and saw the familiar Number 27 that you called home.

Or tried to call home.

You sigh quietly, hands shoved inside your pockets as you glance back at Joel. The two of you came to a slow stop in front of your fence, and after a moment of trying to catch his eye and failing, you shrugged to yourself as you reached out to push the gate open.

“We can’t do this again.”

The words made you pause, and you glanced over your shoulder back at Joel.

He still wasn’t looking at you, his gaze turned up towards the night sky. Jackson wasn’t so well-lit that you couldn’t see the stars, and one glance up showed that the multitude of those stars were twinkling in the clear expanse of midnight blue before you looked back down.

Your eyes traced over Joel’s face, over the strong nose, gray scruff, and wrinkles that were from both age as well as a hard life of survival and loss.

“Yeah,” you found yourself agreeing quietly, your feet shifting away from him, walking backwards down your path as you didn’t look away from him just yet. “Yeah, we can’t.”

Finally you turned, walking silently the rest of the way up to your porch. It wasn’t until you were through your door and shutting it behind you when you felt that familiar, intense gaze on your back.

You ignored it.

[melodymay-k1tty]

Hello...

Well, could you do a scenario where the S/O should take care of some drunk OC and they declare their love to her or something...? Well, actually that would be cool with a Fem!Reader, but do as you wish, it's your choice!🫠💕 Btw I would also admire if in Part 1 you could include Sabo and Corazon in particular, I would really like to see them in this situation lmao😵‍💫

SABO ★ CORAZON ★ SANJI ★ LAW: DECLARING HIS LOVE FOR S/O AFTER GETTING DRUNK.

A/N: Well, I'm new to this scenario thing, and I'm not that big a fan of requests, cuz I can't write about something if I don't feel it in my heart... But I think I can manage about it. So here it is. Thank you so much for all your love, care and support! 🤧🩷

Age Rating: +12

Content Warning: consumption of alcoholic drinks. kiss description. maybe a little angst.

Genres: fluffy. headcanons (scenario).

Characters: sabo x fem!reader. corazon x fem!reader. sanji x fem!reader. law x fem!reader.

Word Count: 2.2k

SABO (Being the user of Mera Mera no Mi🔥)

• You are a high-ranking officer in the Revolutionary Army, Sabo's right-hand. After a successful mission of the two of you in Dressrosa, he decided to invite you to drink something in a bar, which was located on an island nearby. You accepted.

• You're not a big fan of alcohol, but Sabo didn't know that. The blonde guy, on the other hand, was a big fan of alcoholic drinks, and used to consume it whenever he was successful in his missions (which is quite often).

• He sat at the counter bar after you two comes there, and you did the same. Sabo called for a waiter who came immediately. He placed his order, which was beer, and asked you to order yours.

“I'll have a non-alcoholic strawberry cocktail with condensed milk, please.” You talk while the waiter writes it down on his pad of paper.

“Alright, ma'am and sir. I will bring your order soon.” He speaks after withdrawing from there.

Sabo looked at you in a somewhat strange way. “You don’t drink alcohol?”

“No, I like sweet drinks more.” You speak while he stares at you seriously, but he soon opens a smile. “Cutie.” He smiles like a know-it-all.

You looked at him strangely, and he immediately retaliated. “I meant, you look like a cute little girl acting like that.” He makes fun of your face a little.

“Sabo...” You look at him with hate and you were ready to attack him. But the waiter interrupts them.

“Your order is almost ready. In the meantime, would you like to fill out this survey?” He asks while handing over a sheet with some questions.

“What is it about?” You ask. “Can't you read, little girl?” Sabo laughs and makes fun of your face some more. “It's a survey about couples, and here it also says that couples who respond will get a discount of up to 50% on the amount spent at the bar.” He says with his knowing smile.

“But we're not a cou...” Before you can finish your sentence, Sabo puts his hand over your mouth, preventing you from speaking. “Will we really get that discount?” He asks the waiter, with his usual smile.

“Of course, sir. Just complete the survey with your girlfriend, and you'll get 50% off. It's a data collection survey for an article that will be released on Valentine's Day, in the island's local newspaper.”

“I understand. I'll do it as soon as possible then.” Sabo speaks enthusiastically to the waiter who leaves. The blondie starts marking off some answers on the survey, like we're really dating.

You had already understood that Sabo was a cheapskate and didn't like to spend money on others. So you decided to just leave it down.

He finished marking the answers, and shortly after that, your drinks arrived.

You two started drinking, but Sabo got too carried away. He ordered more and more glasses of beer, one after another. Maybe he was thinking that 50% off could become 100%...

And when you least realized it, he was out of his mind. “Y/N, let's go home soon” he grumble drunkenly, collapsing on top of you.

His sleepy voice showed just how much alcohol had already knocked him out. You saw no option but to take him for home.

“Okay, just let me pay the bill first” Apparently, the account is left for you. But thinking on the bright side, at least a discount you would have.

Sabo couldn't even pay attention to what you said. You then placed him gently propped up in the chair, and got up to go pay the bill.

After that, you put him on your shoulders and left the bar with him.

“How heavy he is...” You complain while carrying he with difficulties.

He had a stupid smile on his face, he looked like a retard. You looked at him strangely.

“What it is?” You asked arching your eyebrow. Sabo acted strange after your question, he turned red and sparks started to come out of his logia body.

He smirks again, his cheeks getting redder.

“Y/N, I love you…” His stupid smile gave it all away. You were in shock and ended up letting go of him, letting him fall to the ground.

“AAUGH!” he lets out a groan of pain as he strokes his own head. “Hmph. Y/N, why are you so mean to me?” he says this as he gets up, and his drunken body begins to stagger.

“I'm sorry, Sabo...” You say as you help him up. “Y-you… Are you serious?” you widen your eyes.

“Y/N, I want to sleep with you today and always...” he closed his eyes and was about to fall asleep. You leaned against a bench, pulling Sabo with you, and make a phone call for Dragon, who went to get you and took you to your house.

You two went to your rooms, and you went to sleep thoughtfully.

The next day you woke up and went to the kitchen for breakfast, bumping into Sabo, who blushed violently when he saw you. But now, in an embarrassed way.

“H-hello, I-I'm sorry about what happened yesterday...” He speaks awkwardly. “It's okay, Sabo-kun...” You smile sweetly.

You two was in a compelling silent for a while. Until he decides to say something. “I think we need to talk… I need to clear something up.”

“Sure, what is it?” You looked fine on the outside, but on the inside, your heart was beating hard with fear of what he might say to you.

“Dragon told me everything. I know what I say to you in yesterday night, and about that... I need to tell you that it's really true.” Now he was staring at you. And again, sparks were shooting out of his body, his face was red and he was probably really fear of what you might say too.

“Sabo-kun...” You murmur.

“Okay, I understand that you might not feel the same about me. But I would like you to know that, although.” He says as him leave the kitchen, but you pull him by the arm.

“S-Sabo...” You look deep into his eyes, and he looks into yours. Your bright eyes never stopped looking at each other. “I love you too.” You said as you approached him. The blondie approached you too, shifting his gaze between your eyes and your lips.

He placed his big hand on your face, and kissed you passionately but calmly. Your lips glued to each other, were making your bodies approach too, and in a matter of moments, you and Sabo were glued and your kiss was getting even more intense and passionate.

“I am the happiest man in the world to know that, my little girl.” He speaks after parting with you, stroking your hair and smiling cutely at you. “But I love you more...”

Finally you could understand, that he didn't do the couple survey to get a discount, but because he loves you and, in fact, wanted you like his girlfriend.

CORAZON ♠️

• You were part of the Donquixote Pirates, led by the infamous Doflamingo. While you were still living in Spider Miles, the whole family was gathered at the table and having dinner, when you felt someone poke you under the table.

• You looked to the side, seeing Corazon's serene face disguise as he lit a cigarette. He had left a note on top of your thighs.

• You pocketed the note and politely left the table, getting Doflamingo's permission. You went to your room and read the note. On it was written “You said you wanted to get to know me better. We're going out to eat today, I know of a wonderful restaurant nearby. I hope you isn't full yet.” You opened a silly smile when you read the note, and ran to change your clothes, and soon to meet him discreetly outside. You climbed out your bedroom window and left, going to meet Corazon.

He was leaning against the wall outside the house. As always in silence, lighting his cigarette. When he realized you were there, he stared fixedly at you, and let his cigarette go out carelessly.

“Wh-what is?” You asked embarrassed as you crossed your legs because of your momentary shyness.

“Nothing” He answered coldly and walked away, and you followed him. You felt honored that you were the only person who knew Corazon could speak. It was like you were special.

You two finally arrived at the restaurant, beautifully decorated with artifacts of dragons and other ancient legends creatures. The food smelled divine.

“Hmm” You mutter at that delicious smell. “Maybe you really were right when you said this restaurant is wonderful, Corazon” You say smiling.

“You can be sure I don't make mistakes when it comes to food” He replied confidently and sat down at a table in the corner of the restaurant, with your company.

The waiter came to serve us with a menu in hand. “Good night, sir and ma'am. What will you want for today? Our menu is full of original and exclusive recipes only from here, but we also have traditional ones” He says as he places the menu on the table.

“I'll have the dragon meat in white sauce, with vegetables and all the extras. For a drink, I would like a red wine and a white wine” Corazon spoke without even thinking twice, making you speechless.

“Right, sir” The waiter takes your order. “And Ma'am, what will you want?” he asks you, while Corazon looks at you waiting for your answer.

“T-the same as him. But instead of wine, I would like a melon juice” You say with a little embarrassment, for not ordering something fancier.

“Alright, your order will arrive within 30 minutes” The waiter speaks after bowing and leaving.

You felt Corazon's heavy gaze on you. “What do you want to know about me?” He asks suspicious.

You were intimidated by his look, but you answered him. “I just wanted a friend. Sometimes I feel really lonely around here... And looking at Doffy's face really isn't one of the best hobbies” He looked convinced by your answer. "I understand. In that case, I'm sorry to tell you, but I can't be a friend.”

“N-no? Why?” You ask incredulously.

He gives a blank look and then lights his cigarette. “It's complicated to explain to you, but it's better that way. We can’t have any kind of bond.”

You give him a sad and downcast look. “I see, it's okay.”

And so, you talk about friendship ends there, until you two talk about the crew matters, and the food finally arrives.

“Hmm, wow! It smells delicious. I've never tasted dragon meat before. I thought they were extinct...” You say looking appetizingly at the food.

“Dragons are just hard to find, but they never went extinct” Corazon is as serious as ever as he begins to cut his meat and eat it. You could see a bright in his eyes as he tasted the meat, and the same happens to you.

After a few minutes, you realized that Corazon was acting strange. He'd started to get tipsy after drinking so many glasses of wine, and he'd even had a little whiskey too.

He got up abruptly, you ran to hold him when you saw that he had almost fallen to the ground. “C-corazon! Are you okay?" You ask worriedly as you hold in his shoulders.

His eyes were small and bloodshot, probably from the drunken effect of alcohol. “Y/N... I...” He tries to say something with difficulty.

“Please don't do that again!” You scold him. “You almost fell, you know how worried I was?” You ask angrily and as you look at him, you see that he is staring at you with twinkling eyes. He approached you slowly, when he finally pressed his lips to yours.

“Y/N, I… love you” He whispers after breaking away from the kiss. “But we can't be together, only for your own good” Tears start to fall from his eyes.

“W-what? What are you talking about, Cora-san?” you ask incredulously. “D-do you love me?” Your eyes widen. “And why are you saying that? We can not be together? What...?"

He doesn't say anything for a few seconds as the tears fall down his face. Until Corazon finally says something...

“I... I CAN'T!” He screams while crying. “I'm on a suicide mission, I'm going to die. I'm cheating on Doffy, Y/N” He keeps crying “I love you so much, and I don't know if you feel the same, but...”

“Ya, Corazon! I feel the same, I love you too!” You grab his shirt with your fingernails and speak with desperation.

Gently, he removes your hands from his shirt, and squeezes it affectionately. “I'm sorry, Y/N” He speaks with a look filled with sadness. “But I can't risk losing you or hurting you. We can't be together, and you can't get attached to me. Please… Just forget about it” He asks while stroking your chin with his thumb.

You start crying uncontrollably.

“I'm going to die... It's just a matter of time” He whispers sadly, which makes you cry even more, and hug him tightly, not wanting to leave him never ever.

He gently separates you from the embrace.

“But know that I will always love you, my sweet Y/N” Corazon finally smiles, a smile so big as the love you feel for him.

You will never accept your parting words.

SANJI 💐

(The rest I will continue later)

[ddejavvu]

Hey I have this Eddie idea! Maybe lame but yknow how guitar players tend to have calloused fingers/hands? Let's say his gf went to watch corroded coffin perfom & it was his best yet; Eds just totally shredding on that guitar causing the calluses to bust open & bleed :( do ya think u could write something abt the reader patching his hands/fingers up after his show?? I imagine him bein totally hyped up on adrenaline like "whoa babe did you SEE THAT?!" while also bein a very needy & lovesick boy 🥺

cont: Continuing off that last part, Eddie just becomes so enthralled at the idea of someone nurturing and loving him so much while his gf patches him up. Sorry i couldn't fit the entire idea on one post but yeah. I've often thought about Eddie's possible musical injuries haha 😄

i'd literally give up my sense of taste to be able to patch him up after a concert.

--

Nothing pumps eddie with adrenaline more than performing. Something about the dingy bar lighting, the sticky floor beneath his boots, and the amalgamation of drunk middle aged men and his closest friends cheering him on has energy racing through him.

That's why it's so difficult to corral him so that you can fix the busted callouses on his fingers. He obviously isn't able to play with bandages on his fingers, he tells you very emphatically that they wouldn't be good for shredding, so they have to be administered after the show, when the damage has already been done.

"-you see that?! Like, that had to be the best show we've ever done. I was- man I was killing it! The guy in front of me was filming." He reminds you proudly, as if the camcorder hadn't been in your line of sight the entire time he'd been using it to record the performance, "I think he's a scout or something. He's gonna send it to a producer, 'make us big."

"I'll have to tour with you," You hum, fingers wrapping one of Eddie's own with a plain brown bandage, "You'll need a medic for after your solos."

Eddie's brows furrow, and he glances down at your hands, suddenly aware of your touch. He realizes with a start that he's bleeding, too busy rambling before to feel the sting of his cuts.

"Oh shit," He mumbles, staring at the bandage on his pointer finger. You reach for his middle, crouched by his feet to have a better view of his injuries.

"'Must've busted when I was playing," He hums, brain still whirring with excitement.

You nod, humming in agreement, "Probably. Unless you were playing with a cactus I didn't see?"

"Yeah, it's back there," He gestures to a corner of the room that you know full well does not have a cactus in it, giggling softly as you squint at his blister. You're making sure that no residual blood is left on the skin, the cotton ball in your hand stained a murky crimson, when you feel Eddie's lips against your temple, his neck craned down to reach you.

"Thanks for patching me up," He murmurs, his voice soft against your skin.

You preen under his affection, eyes scrunching in a smile as you nod, "Mhm. Can't let you drive with bloody hands."

"'Sounds kinda metal," He muses, and you know he's joking, that he won't actually smear blood over his steering wheel. Still, you jerk your head towards his guitar, the thin strings tinged red.

"I think that's just about the most metal thing you could have." You finish dabbing away at his blood, wrapping one last bandage around his cut, "You'll have to leave it all bloody and sell it when you get big."

"No way." He shakes his head, curls flying, "I'd never sell it."

"Why not?"

You're expecting a rant about his sweetheart, how he could never bear to part with the guitar that had carried him through so many shows. But he surges his head forwards, eyes narrowed in an incredulous stare, "Uh, 'cause then someone could clone me?"

[greycaelum]

Hi! Could you maybe make something protective Satoru-like? Maybe the reader is bothered by some drunken while coming back home?

Overall just angsty-fluff with comfort. Your style of writing is really to my liking and I've been thinking of taking a request for a while. I hope its not too much ❤️

Kaleidoscope Series—Love Me Now, Love Me Never Chapters: { Tipsy }

—Gojo Satoru X Sorcerer Reader

𑁍 Synopsis:

"You sure you don't need me to drive and pick you up later? It's a den full of wolves." Satoru crossed his arms, leaning on the doorframe as he watch you wear the Jimmy Choo black pumps fitting your Friday night fashion for a girl's night out. "Satoru, baby. You don't know how to drive." You looked at him and sighed. "Y'know I don't need to drive, I can just whisk you away in a second back to bed!" He gasps dramatically and argued.

𑁍 Genre: mild angst to comfort, sfw (mild suggestive content)

𑁍 WC/CW/TW: (1.3k)—/ alcohol, suggestive violence (not towards reader), the reader being bothered in the club—/

𑁍 A/N: Hi sweetheart, I hope you like this one. Drunk trope isn't my forte but it was fun writing this, better late than never —Grey,

Having a Gojo Satoru as a boyfriend means there's often a 6'3 giant lurking around you. Or if he's unavailable, undoubtedly one of his subordinates is tailing you in the shadows. It's a compromise you both reached knowing your lover has many enemies and it's for your protection too. Satoru won't take it kindly if ever something to you. He will lose it.

"You sure you don't need me to drive and pick you up later? It's a den full of wolves." Satoru crossed his arms, leaning on the doorframe as he watch you wear the Jimmy Choo black pumps fitting your Friday night fashion for a girl's night out.

"Satoru, baby. You don't know how to drive." You looked at him and sighed.

"Y'know I don't need to drive, I can just whisk you away in a second back to bed!" He gasps dramatically and argued.

You giggled and threw your arms around Satoru's neck. Satoru won't have to admit it, but you have him wrapped around your finger.

"Call me when you wanna come home, 'kay?"

"Okayyy~" 

That was the plan... Until Utahime started wailing about still having no prospects for marriage even at her age. Shoko is too busy having a drinking contest with herself and you... well, Satoru's lightweight tendencies must be rubbing on you. Just one glass of margarita and you can tell that you are already tipsy, two more shots and you knew that was enough for tonight.

"Mei-san can I leave the two of them to you? I'll go home, I'm feeling a little lightheaded."

"I don't mind. Should I call Gojo for you?"

"No need, I'll call him. See you around Mei-san."

You made your way through the bar. It's so loud with the full-blast speaker and people dancing on the stage, some are getting a little more frisky in the open.

Did Satoru also go through this kind as a teen? You know he doesn't drink but did he ever go to a bar too? Did he also make out with some random girls and do the deed? Did he also—?

The dark thoughts are suddenly attacking you from all directions.

"Hey Miss, you look so lonely, care to spend some time with me?" A tall guy approached you, just from his scent you could tell he was wasted.

"No, I'm on my way home. Don't bother me." You stumbled a little but managed to grab onto the nearest wall to support yourself. Damn, maybe you should've stayed home instead.

"Awee c'mon, going home?" hiccup "Your cat at home got no tuna or somethin'?"

Fuck, the liquor in your veins is starting to get dizzying.

"Her cat is actually a territorial one. Now, fuck off from my woman."

The familiar cool spicy scent overpowered the bitter taste of liquor surrounding you, your body collided with a hard chest and a hand over your shoulder guided you close to his side.

"Hey, hold on to me alright pretty girl? 'M gonna get us home in a second."

True to his words, you feel the ground melting from your feet and in a second landed back on the floor of your home. There's a faint aroma of the chicken noodles you love.

"Satoru..." A small whine like a child escaped your sealed lips. You don't have the energy to wash up or even take off your clothes. You just brought up your arms asking for a carry.

"Y'know, you're too spoiled." Satoru sighed and hugged you while your feet clumsily took off your black pumps and left them there.

Satoru watch his girl act like a baby, whiny and more needy than usual as he carried her to the sofa and brought the warm mug of noodle soup to her hands.

"I told you to call me. What if I didn't come?"

Satoru helps you take off your makeup and at the back, he's running the water in the tub for you. He wants to scold you but the sight of your hazy eyes and flush cheeks will only evoke something else other than anger in him.

"Liar..." You slurred. "You always come even if I don't call..."

It's the perks of having a sober man who is too protective to let you go in a den of wolves as he would often phrase it, and yet still supportive enough to let you go on a girl's night out.

You don't wanna get used to him being a superman in your life but he does show up at the split second before the pinch. And you can't help but be complacent at the thought Satoru will always be there to catch you. Selfish... You silently berated yourself and finished the second mug of soup.

You stared at Satoru who is now drying your hair after a quick bath you had. The thoughts from earlier came running back to you.

Satoru set down the blower and that's when you turn around and crawled between his legs, your noses hit as you took his glasses down and stare into his cerulean orbs.

"Babe... wanna get frisky with me?"

"B-Baby?" Satoru uncharacteristically stuttered at the sudden aggressiveness, but he easily recovered and look down at your plump lips that seems to invite him to take a bite.

"Uhmp!" You gasped and felt yourself being rolled into a burrito roll towards your side of the bed and Satoru patting your head before he drop a kiss on your forehead.

"Ask that question again when your sober, you drunkard." Satoru chuckled at your pout and frown.

"'m not a drunkard! Satoru you coward!" But no matter how you spite him Satoru merely shrugs and gently pats you to sleep.

He watches you murmur empty threats with that feisty mouth towards him while he hums and lets you tire yourself out with the liquor in your veins still making your thoughts fuzzy. He thinks you're really cute when you're drunk, and if he was a lesser man he doubts he'll have the strength not to rail you all night.

But Satoru doesn't like the thought of doing it when you're barely sober to give him decent permission. So he painfully stuffs a pillow between the two of you while you're rolled in the blanket as he shushes you to sleep.

The next day, you woke up almost rolling down the bed to free yourself from the blanket. Satoru was already downstairs. He looks at you with a knowing smirk as you approach him for a morning hug and kiss.

"Hey, ask me the question again, Baby." Satoru hugged you as if he could press you any closer to him when even a thread can't pass between the two of you.

You could feel the fast beating of his heart against your chest.

"... What question 'Toru?" You pat his back and look at him. Did you ask something weird last night?

"..." Satoru stopped swaying you and frowns before running his hand over his face.

"Eh? Did I do something while I'm drunk?" What's with his reaction? You tried going back to your memory but you can't remember anything more than him giving you chicken noodle soup.

"This is why I don't drink." Satoru huffs and pouts at you. You're hopeless when you're drunk. Satoru looks at your (his) clothes. His shirt looks oversized in your frame running down to your mid-thighs while your hair falls freely to your back, your legs are in his full view, plump and full to his touch while you wiggle your bare toes in the warm insulated flooring.

"Hey Baby... wanna get frisky with me?" He rasped, tipsy with you.

—GreyCaelum

PLAGIARISM IS A CRIME

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All rights and credits of the Jujutsu Kaisen character(s) mentioned images(s) and songs(s) used, belongs to their respective owner(s)

General/Kaleidoscope Series Taglist: @ice-icebaby @aeanya @gummy-dummy @tender-rosiey @lexiene @nevermoresworld

[romana-after-dark]

Finish the Job

Yandere!Jake Lockley x GN!reader

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Dark!Romana's Masterlist

Summary: After months living in a room with only Jake, Steven and Marc as company, you can't say you aren't content most of the time. Sometimes, however you make a little trouble and Jake reminds you that he is the only one who can keep you safe.

CONTENT WARNINGS: Yandere!Jake. Reader is kidnapped. Implied/referenced rape (reader 'never said no' according to jake, but rather just gave in after an unclosed amount of time bc they were lonely/manipulated. The circumstances of this are v vague but remember, if you feel like you have to, its not consent.) Jake Lockley typical violence. Referenced past abuse.

A/N: I began writing this fem reader, as most of my fics are since I am fem, but I realized there was no reason this couldn't be gender neutral. So, that's what it is. If I missed changing anything that makes it seem like reader is fem presenting, lmk and I'll edit it but I looked through this several times.

*************************

You couldn’t say the bed was uncomfortable. You couldn’t say the room was bland or boring. You couldn’t say you had nothing to do. It was a great room, actually. If you were being honest, you loved it here…

The problem was you couldn’t leave. When the man had taken you, it took a while to figure out what was going on with him; it was Steven that explained it, the DID. Honestly, maybe the mental disorder should have scared you more, but you were well versed in different disorders so it wasn’t something that phased you, rather than just made it a challenge to navigate your situation. You were given book after book after book to read, to entertain you when outside of Marc Steven and Jake’s company; it didn't matter how many you went through, you just had them. If you were feeling brave, you made requests but honestly after the boredom of the first month while you were still fighting it, you took what you could get. You were even given a laptop, although it couldn’t possibly connect to the internet, but you were writing. They didn’t even make you show them what you wrote, but Steven would often sit on the bed while you read to him your poems or short stories. You were saving your novel for when it’s finished.

Some days were better than others. 

Some days you and Steven talked for hours.

Some days you and Marc marathonned Star Wars.

Some days Jake held you so warm and so tightly you forgot they kidnapped you.

Today was not one of those days.

You were angry, you were upset, you missed your friends and you missed the outside, you wanted fresh air and you didn’t want to spread your legs for a man that took you away from everything you knew and wanted. 

“Why are you giving me so much fucking attitude today?!” Jake shouts at you, pacing the floor of your room so aggressively he had your throw rug all twisted up.

You were sat up on your bed, shouting back. “You KIDNAPPED ME, you HURT ME you RAPE ME-”

“CALLATE!” He screamed, storming towards you so fast you flinch and scramble back to the wall. “You know I don’t like when you call it that!”

A sardonic laugh. “What? Rape?”

“I never forced you! I never held you down! I never got you too drunk or high to resist-”

“YOU TOOK ME AWAY FROM EVERYTHING AND EVERYONE, WHAT OTHER OPTION DID I HAVE!”

His face is suddenly right up to yours, so close your nose brushed his briefly as he speaks in a dark, quiet voice. “I never heard you say no, mi vida”

He was right. You hadn’t. But they had worn you down, twisted your mind so much that eventually you just began… giving in.

He continued talking, his voice rumbling with the low octive “I only hurt you in the beginning, carino. Just until you began to listen. You needed it, didn’t you? Someone to take you away from everything, take care of you, feed you. Baby, we adore you, and it hurts us when you fight like this.”

Your eyes wheeled up with tears at his words. It’s true, you had become so dependent on them… you weren’t sure you could even shower alone anymore. You’d be lucky if you remembered how to toast bread. Sickeningly, a part of you liked it. You liked he cared for, pampered, adored, and fuck, worshiped. You had time to write, time to listen to music and podcasts. If you need to look up something for a book or research something from a podcast that interested you, you just asked, and the boys would monitor you. You didn’t really need anything except some goddamn freedom. What was that they said in The Handmaid’s Tale? There’s freedom too, and freedom from… They offered you freedom from, and made that clear.

“The world is dangerous, precioso. You know that as well as I do… perhaps better.” With a cocked eyebrow, Jake referenced your past trauma’s, forcing the tears to spill over. “You are too precious, too perfect to be put at risk again. Your family didn’t protect you, but I will.”

Still, you are ever-defiant, shaking your head. “N-no… you aren’t protecting me. You’re hurting me…” but even then, you couldn’t manage much conviction. You hadn’t so much as burned your tongue since Steven, Marc, and Jake took you, and he was right… the rest was just discipline. 

Jake frowned, but simple stood up. He went over to your desk, taking out a Glee notepad he’d found on ebay for you and a pen, tossing them in your direction.

“Write them down, all the names.”

You look at him confused. “W-what names?”

He stalked forward, once again close to you.

“Give me the full name of anyone who has ever hurt you or touched you without your consent.” His gaze was focused, intense. You knew he was on a mission when he looked at you like that.

“I don’t… I don’t know all their full names…”

“If you have workplace addresses, any identifying information that’s helpful. I promise you, I’ll take whatever you give me and I will find them. Every single person who has ever caused you pain.”

“What are you going to do?” You didn’t really need to ask, but you did anyway.

“You and I both know. Now write.”

The list was long, longer than any one person’s list should be. A few, you only remembered their first name so you wrote down what you knew… Jake had his ways. Still, you had some cheek in you, and when Jake looked at the paper, he frowned.

“What the fuck is this.” He smacked the paper with his hand. After the list of people who had violated or harmed you before you came here, were three names Jake recognized right away.

Jake Lockley

Steven Grant

Marc Spector

“You told me to write the names of anyone who hurt me or touched me without-” SMACK! Your head flung to the side from the backhand, and when your turned back to face him, his hand gripped your throat.

“You think this is funny, carino?” His face pressed against yours. “How do you think Marc would feel if he saw his name on that list?”

Your lip quivered at that… you didn’t want Marc to see. Marc was special to you, and Jake knew it; he often exploited your relationship with his alter for his own benefit.

“I’m sorry” You cried, apologetic.

His grip on you loosened, and he looked back at you with sympathetic eyes. Letting go, he tore the bottom three names off the paper and tucked the offenders into his pocket. “I know you are, amor. Now, you sit here pretty, and don’t worry about a damn thing for the rest of your life, si?”

It took about a month. He never left you for more than one day at a time, but he always made sure you had food and were provided for, even giving you access to the bathroom. You didn’t dare even look for an exit; they wouldn’t have left anything vulnerable, and you were on camera, you knew. It would just cause trouble.

It was after one of those such nights where you were alone that he came back to you, still somehow looking put together after being out all night. You knew he hadn’t slept. You awake to his footsteps, heavy boots on your polished hard wood floor. As you stir, a piece of paper is placed on your pillow.

Sitting up you rub your eyes. “Jake, what’s- ” But you are stopped in the middle of your sentence. Every single name is crossed out on the list you had given him. “Does… does what mean they are dead?”

He steps forward, slipping to stand between your knees and bedding over, placing his hands on your thighs. His face was intensely close to yours, dark eyes piercing yours. You lean forward, accepting him in, existing in his precise. Jake did this for you. You were safe here, none of these people could hurt you… but because they had, whether months ago or decades, it didn’t matter. They were dead because they had crossed you, because they had dared to touch what Jake Lockley laid claim to. Jake, Marc and Steven… they were where you belonged.

 “Jake Lockley finishes the job.”

**************

@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @howaboutcastiel @the-fox-den @fandxmslxt69

[thesupernaturalhouse]

Right so- Emily's personality ir charlies design for the hazbins Fallen au?? Which should I talk about first??

Let's go with Emily-

Alright! So, Emily is still her cheery self but also due to the nature of the au defiantly isnt all niave and trusting and stuff

In this au, she's learning about seras lies from others, which I think would give her trust issues. I also made her more, angry

I imagine in the au she holds grudges a lot more, mainly against alastor, and has more of a silent anger type personality- here's a small snippet of the pilot for the au

Emily: alright so now we watch *Katie starts throwing insults* ...oookay- vaggie, spear, down *gently holding said spears tip down

Vaggie: wha- but, come onn

Emily: no 'come onn' I don't think you scaring people with you angelic spear is a good ide- *Katie says soenthifn homophobic* .....neveemind *releases spear* do whatever you want ant. I want that bitch to fear for her life

Or it'd go something like that, I'll work out any kinks when I start writing the story, first I wanna awake an episode layout whoch is harder then it loks- I have the ideas but I need it in a list so- jsut gotta sort through all that

Like she isn't like Vaggie, spear raised, but not like Charlie, easy to forgive.

I do imagine she bites her tounge however if you ask for her hienst's opinion, she will NOT hold back. I think once she and Husk become more of a father-daughter duo, he starts rubbing off on her, and she starts blurting some ruder things out

He is so proud of his little(200k year+) girl

It's probably the most evident when I have her tell of Alastor- which will also be one instance of her being super protective over her found family.....listen I know yall love Alastor i do to, but I think he fandom over hypes him, and so does he himself, and I want Emily to kinda call him out, and threaten him in this au

But that'll be another post :)

Remember how I said charlie and slaviathen are like Ron and Tammy 2 but without all the sex? Yeah, well, then Emily is Diane! Vaggie is to but vaggie mostly focuses on getting them out and stuff. Emily and slaviathen just have passive aggressive argument and comments thrown at each other

"Always a pleasure to meet you charlies friends" "*strained smile* always a pleasure seaweed hair stranger" "oooo-Kay let's go- and let charlie Dela with this"

Why vaggie is passive with sleviathan and Emily is the protective one? Honestly idk but I think it's funny :) maybe it's cause Vaggie knows Charlie doesn't tale shit from slaviathen one bit so lets her gaurd down more because she knows charlie has it, so she's more passive or smth

Emily meanwhiem can't STAND being talked down to so absurd bites back no matter what. Which is also why her breaking point would be Katie calling them a slur.

She hates being talk down to, which stems form her years in heaven being treated as a child by almost everybody, good intentions or not it was still always so condescending to her. Especially when it was from Sera or the other heaven born and elder/arch angles

So she definitely internalized that, remember how I said she was often referred to as 'lucifers replacement' by many elder angles?? Yeah, that's where it MOSTLY stems from

She'd also have resentment and hatred for lucifer because of it all, like "I never want to meet whoever the fuck lucifer is" kinds mentality, it's due to this that she refused to search him uo and relaize he was her girlfriends, one of them, DAD

So the dad beat dad episode is...fun!! Emily gets piss drunk with HER dad, husk after realizing the short man in the middle of the living room is lucifer

It's after that whole song at the beginning happens does she realize he's lucifer, cause charlies only referred to him as dad so-

......I should start drafting a psot for her and Peter's relationship- mlm and wlw solidarityyyy

She also be a lot more sexual active I think because liek heaven is restricted so being in hell with norestricrions she definitely is THRIVING on that freedom

I have a scene planned out for when Angle takes them to that bdsm club that involved her buying black silk stuff because why not-

Anyways, the finale change in Emily, I think, for her personality that is would be she absolutely take sfter a more Sloth like sin

"Screw both of you I'm sleeping in!" She absolutely HATES waking up early in the morning, especially if it's after a night of certain events. Vaggie will throw clothes at her and force her to get up. Charlie will already be downstairs full of energy-

[sanchezsimp]

Here are my random Rick Sanchez headcanons because why not!

TW: mentions of self harm !!

- He cries himself the fuck to sleep every night. If he doesn't, then he drinks until he's asleep, or works on a project. He can't just lay there, he'll overthink and get no rest.

- He often has nightmares about Diane or Morty

- He likes musicals. Because I say so.

- Have you seen how he likes his cereal?? I imagine he likes his coffee hella sugary too- With too much creamer, whipped cream, and rainbow sprinkles on top!

- He totally met and had a crush on Ford Pines. I know I ship them, but I headcanon that when they knew each other, Ford never actually returned that feeling. (I could probably elaborate on some of my Ford headcanons later... Oh! Maybe I can make another post of my headcanons for when they knew each other?) And they broke up (as friends) when Ford decided that Rick is, not only an asshole, but fucking insane.

- More on that last one-- I imagine that Rick would often have revenge fantasies about Prime. Constantly imagining the pain he wanted to inflict on him in graphic detail. (I headcanon that at some point, Ford found out somehow and was horrified.)

- He only stays still when he's overthinking. Otherwise, he's constantly stimming or making stupid noises (whenever he's not talking or occupying himself). He gets extremely fucking bored. He needs constant stimulation, always needs to be doin' something.

- He has scars on his arm and cuts frequently. He cuts in shame of how he's lost his wife, and in shame of the fact that he cares for Morty, because he's so afraid of losing him... And he cuts because it's him who killed her. Not him-him, of course, but I imagine he also holds himself responsible because it WAS himself... in a way. Does this make sense to ya?

- He has to resist the urge to rip his fucking face apart every time he looks in a mirror. Because he doesn't see himself anymore. He sees Prime. And it hurts.

- He HATES mirrors.

- I imagine that sometimes when he's drunk, he's more affectionate to Morty in a rather unsettling way. Like, he'll hug him and praise him, and Morty would be just confused as fuck (at first anyways, until he gets used to it lmao).

- He has green eyes. It just... makes sense to me? I dunno, maybe I'll talk more about my RaM eye colour headcanons later.

- I headcanon that he got like, some sort of crazy hair removal on his pits- 'cause he had a lot in Lawnmower Dog, and in the past in comics (like Flesh Curtains... some of it anyways. Their inconsistency with his hair bothers me.), then never again. Unfortunately. GOD, I miss that hair. (I'm so normal I swear-)

- He knows damn well he looks strange, and there is no actual reason. He's aware he's just a character, and so there is no real WHY he looks like that, it's just character design. And he's fine with that.

- He likes cute things. He just... likes cute things. He adores Morty and he adores adorable animals! I headcanon he has a soft spot for cats specifically. This is also based off of how he had Mr. Frundles and his only defense was "It was cute! FUCK!"

That's all for now- I'll post more of this if this doesn't flop, lol

Thanks for readin'!! And don't hesitate to ask for my random headcanons of other characters or fandoms, I'll be happy to write 'em!!

[sixx6sexx2love]

Hii I was just wondering if you could write dating headcanons or a fluff alphabet or something for Mick Mars

HII YES OMG THIS IS MY FIRST MICK WRITING!! SORRY TO THE PPL WHO WANTED MICK BEFORE I JUST DIDNT THINK I WAS READY GO WRITE FOR HIM YET😭 SORRY IF ITS NOT THE BEST I'LL TRY AND WRITW FOR HIM MORE IN THE FUTURE.

word count: 489

warnings: mentions of sex, drinking, one cuss word, not very well written, not proof read

literally nobody knew where mick was half of the time, but they knew he was with you he always has you with him (partially because of the guys) not saying he thinks one will fuck you but hes watching out. like on the tour bus you're always sat in the back together. hes not super into PDA, not for really any specific reason. its just not his thing maybe hand holding or wrapping his arm around your waist. he'll also let you hold his arm. if he has a love language its most likely words of affirmation. hell tell you how much he love you and loves you being here with him and also tell you how pretty you are. he loves making you laugh and loves it even more when he doesn't mean to make you laugh. he'll take any affection from you but his favorite (though hed never ask for it) is also words of affirmation. hes never really believed in love after his first, so hearing that you love him and all that means a lot. he also likes when you give him massages. his back, his shoulders, his hands, neck, he loves it. this is also something he wouldn't ask for unless he really needed it. but like before they go on stage you can sit there and rub his hands and usually the guys would mention it every time. Nikki would ask for a massage and wiggle his eyebrows. and also before a show I can see you filling his water pitcher with vodka since he thinks he's convinced everyone to think its water. but I can also see you actually filling it with water and him being confused. its long. I've seen it. I haven't seen it up close but I've seen enough. probably not too kinky, maybe some warship and stuff like that. definitely into giving oral. you know how the guys said that sometimes he'd be late to photo shoots and his lipstick would be smeared? that's because of you. I dont really see mick being one to fight, like I don't really see him putting up a fight anyway. thats a fact though he doesn't want to fight with anybody. hes tired and he loves you. if you're really angry at him and you're yelling, he'll leave on his own to give you some space, then he'd come back and ask if you wanna talk about it or if you'll yell at him more. if he's ever one to start a fight he probably wouldn't mean it, maybe he's really drunk and wants to be alone or hes just in a lot of pain and lashes out. but that doesn't happen too much because you often make him feel better before it gets too bad. over all mick is a sweet, funny guy who just really loves you to the moon and back. he wants peace and a good time.

[satubby]

Hello again! How are you? I hope you are well, I love your Male Makima x reader Headcanons, if it is not too much to ask, I will give you this other request. Could you do Headcanons and Scenario on Male Makima when the reader (both are already in a loving relationship) is popular for her beauty and many guys flirt with her? I hope it's not too much to ask or the order is weird. I hope you can meet my request and I'm your fan!

[Hi, of course, thanks for being consistent and I hope you liked last time. I hope you like this too, I'm still thinking about the full NSFW scenario but I'll leave you a small one here. Cheers!!! 🤗 (＾ω＾) Sorry for the late reply and have a nice day]

[I take this opportunity to thank the 100 followers, I hope you like my junk writing. I'm still working on Powa (Male Power) headconons, thanks!!!]

[Warning: Mentions of violence, sexual and labor abuse, abuse of power, Spanking, derogatory names, NSFW, hard penetration].

The lively atmosphere in the karaoke box bar filling every wall of the place, you've been here for a while and everyone has had a few too many drinks accompanied by snacks and fried chicken. It was your birthday and honestly you didn't want to make such a fuss for a day like this, there would be a chance of a demon ruining it anyway.

The three demonic men in the room don't count or so you tell yourself. Honestly, you didn't want to invite Makime, something about him often gives off a bad vibe and more so when you meet him after all, you're not really of this world.

"Thank you all for being with me on this day, even if it was a small party, I give you my sincere thanks. Let's drink till dawn!!!" You smiled clinking glasses with everyone in the room. Makime as usual just stood on the sidelines, ignoring the noise of the Karaoke.

As you drank another glass of juice, as you were not good with alcohol, you felt a body bigger than yours, approaching and sitting next to you. Immediately, you identified who it was, his unmistakable smell of alcohol and cigarettes told you the identity of the individual: Himeno.

Said man was quite drunk at this point, being a heavy user and addicted to this type of vices because of his traumas, it was understandable to you. Himeno had smoked his sixth cigarette of the night, if you were honest you felt somewhat sorry for him knowing his history, this male version of Miss Himeno was more carefree, but when he got serious he was usually pessimistic and sarcastic.

"Ah! You look a little tense. Come on!!! This is your party, there's nothing better than drinking and forgetting everything - UGH! My head!" he spoke in a clearly slurred voice, honestly this made you laugh.

"Thank you for your concern Himeno-san, but I'm just a little uncomfortable… You don't need to worry" Said man made a reproachful noise and answered you, placing his arm behind you, pulling you too close to his chest.

"Hahaha what a little thing you are! … You know you should relax, we're not working and a little drink won't kill anyone, hehe… You look pretty like that, you know that? How I wish I could kiss you-" The black hair was getting closer and closer, almost as close as your lips. You couldn't move a muscle, and Himeno was getting closer to your face with every word that came out of his mouth. If you were honest, you could feel two pairs of demonic eyes watching: Makime, it was him for sure.

You knew it when you tried to push the man with the patch away, but because he is stronger than you, it was impossible. Makime was drinking his beer confidently and although he seemed calm, you could already feel his jealousy burning or maybe he was amused by the situation.

Fortunately or unfortunately, Powa, also drunk and out of control, interrupted them.

"You rascal! She's mine, big Powa deserves his first kiss tonight… MUAJAJA!" you had to cover your ears when he started yelling. Sometimes he was too loud for his own good, you could almost smell the fried chicken on his clothes and adding the alcohol on both men almost made you dizzy.

"Tsk! What a killjoy you are kid, it was just a little kiss… Besides, you're just as drunk as me hehe…!" Himeno laughed between sighs and took another swig of his bottle. And yes, he literally drank from the bottle Makime had brought and oddly enough that only made them all drunker.

You didn't really think much of it, but now you realized it in a way. Makime once again had something on his hands and you were going to be his victim but the others interfered with his plans.

A bang distracted you, it was like glass colliding with an object. Powa was so drunk that his childish temper only aggravated his demonic and aggressive tendencies, he could barely stand up straight when he smashed the vodka bottle on Himeno's skull.

"SHUUUT UUOP YOU RASCAL! This bottle is mine and so is it (Y/N). I... POWA AM THE KING OF THE PARTY HAHAHA!!!" You ran to the other side of the huge Karaoke room, you were startled when Himeno was there, lying on the floor, also laughing without caring about the blood coming out of his head.

"Powa! What have you done?" you looked at him even though at this point the aforementioned was already gone in his drunken fanfare.

Aki had to come over to calm the pink hair, who was protesting, refusing to move away from the broken bottle that even his hands were holding nailing pieces of it. "HAHAHA DRINK MORE!!! Tch! Let me go you rascal" Powa fought against his partner, poor Aki barely dodged his scratches. In the end, the rowdy little devil ended up slipping because of how drunk he was, falling asleep on the floor.

"Himeno-san, we need to heal your wounds" You tried to help him sit up properly, as he had fallen off the couch. The black hair refused throwing a small drunken tantrum.

"No, I'm fine… JEJE this doesn't compare to my days in public safety, calm down girl" Hiccuping, he collapsed too, blood was flowing worryingly, so you turned to Aki.

"Can you please take him to the hospital? Or something, FUCK! … I'm sorry to ask you this Aki" You rubbed your temples as he smiled slightly.

"The hospital is far away and it's already night, I'd better look for a pharmacy. I'll be right back and don't worry, it's your birthday, I'm sorry Himeno-san again got out of control as well as Powa" With those words and a hug from the boy, he stood up and left the room.

You sighed as you sat next to a sleeping Himeno, his head accidentally falling on your shoulder. You felt uncomfortable but a blush fell on your cheeks as the man himself began to drool in his sleep.

Returning to Makime, he was not very happy to say the least. He waited and watched, as usual just to analyze things. He would have left you alone knowing that expensive wine was laced with aphrodisiacs. Lately you have been avoiding him as if his mere presence was poison, and maybe it was, but it irritated Makime.

That's why he waited for you to drink, it was wrong, but since your mugging at the office a few weeks ago, he was smitten and although he didn't deny or accept his strange feelings for you; as a demon he felt possessive as soon as he sensed something beyond the emptiness in his empty sentimental heart. But this went to hell when the drunken Himeno drank the bottle that was to be for you first.

The Devil Control watched as you took Himeno to the bathroom, as he had thrown up on Denji's shirt at the last minute when he approached you to chat and offer you more chicken. You had offered to exchange your shirt for the orange-haired one, who took off his shirt without bothering to be exposed. Anyway, the others were drunk, except for Aki, Makime and you. Denji on the other hand was half a step away from getting completely drunk.

Therefore, Makime gulped down the last of his beer, standing up and coming towards you, taking advantage of the fact that you were distracted by carrying Himeno in the direction of the bathroom for him to throw up all over himself.

"I see you're in trouble (Y/N), I should help you with this. Himeno is too heavy for your small body" You honestly didn't want his help and you didn't know whether to take that as an insult or something else. But yes, Himeno was heavy for you so you let the redhead help you.

If Makime was honest with himself, he was already feeling the ravages of jealousy in the back of his mind and it turned his stomach. But he decided to be patient with you, he still won't confront you about it.

They both arrived at the men's room carrying Himeno.

"Makime-san, can you help him into the bathroom? I can't for obvious reasons" You said between uncomfortable glances. He didn't answer you anything, but still carried the black hair to the baths. Makime took a few minutes and you could hear the man with the patch vomiting.

You decide to check your old phone while waiting for them. Ah! you really missed the touch screen phones and not these old ones with keyboards.

Makime came out of the bathroom and seeing you distracted, he smiled and suddenly came up behind you, locked you in an awkward grip with you leaning against the wall and the red-haired man locking you in.

If it was indeed what you thought … Makime was doing the Kebedon to you and you would feel this as a compliment, if it was another person and another situation. But no, we're talking about the control demon, a deranged madman who doesn't feel anything or at least that's how you knew him until he started with these little games of catch and run.

"Amm… Do you need something Makime-san? It's… It's quite uncomfortable for you to lock me up like this, hehe." You laugh hoping to ease your nerves and instinctively hide your face behind that insignificant little phone of yours, as if that thing will protect you from Makime's serene and deathly jealous gaze.

Her eyes with rings in them scanned you. Then, a chuckle was heard in the background and Makime walked away ruffling her tresses. It was unsettling and uncomfortable, more so because of the secluded silence of the bathrooms compared to the soundproofed Karaoke rooms.

"Ahh! You really are something… Tell me something, doll, why do you keep testing me huh?" His smile although serene, had a tinge of anger and jealousy which you were not able to decipher because normally your boss is calm no matter how fake the facade is.

"Well… I don't understand what you mean superior" This time you didn't use his name or honorifics, you were more serious. If you were honest you wanted to swallow these growing nerves in your stomach, to appear that you were not at all at his mercy even though the situation and poses contradicted these thoughts of yours.

As if this was even funnier, he laughed and reminded you of that scene in the manga where Denji gives himself to Makima as one of her dogs. Which is ironic because she and he are the same in a way. Same essence, different sexes.

The controlling demon inside him struggled with his pride and growing, but confused feelings for you. Boy was it a cruel prank by cupid or whoever did this, dammit! If you knew how you made him feel, you'd stop fooling around with those bastards you call friends.

"Haaa! Are you that dumb or do you make yourself? Look at me, aren't you aware of the effect you have on my perfect self? For some reason that I refuse to accept as interesting as it is, you move things around inside my empty self."

There was a dangerous edge between the lines, an unleashed desire waiting to be accepted. Makime had always been a master in his perfection and control of everything, even among his own lacking emotions, but at this moment he doubted himself. These months that you have stood out in his eyes like a scared rabbit, running away from him, for some reason made his already perfect composure falter.

Again his gaze fixed on yours. I was looking for those answers in you… Why, of all humans and demons, was he interested in a pathetic being like you? For fuck's sake! He didn't know and yet you managed to have that effect on him… What did humans call that? That's right! Love.

"You really confuse me (Y/N), you make me doubt myself. Are you blind to the fire that burns in me, the hunger that grows every time I look at you? There is always a clash with my emotions and my rationality" He whispered softly almost growling. Both of you close to each other and Makime had unconsciously pulled you back, but you couldn't help it. You also had no words with which to counterattack.

"Every fucking night, every day and hour in this fucking existence called life… My mind goes out to you, for reasons I cannot control" His voice carried a hint of frustration, god knows if it was to himself or to you, though at the end of his words there was that yearning touch.

"Superior… I- I didn't know it put you like this, forgive me if this has caused you trouble" His hand silenced your words, giving way to you, invading your intimacy,. He reached out both palms caressing your face and you swear his gaze ceases to focus as his eyes are clouded. His touch on your cheeks, skin to skin, sends shivers down your spine and strangely is not as unpleasant as you might think.

In a quieter, softer voice, you hear him respond to your words. "I am divided. Torn between the darkness that my being represents and the light that emanates from you, even if it is gray or dull, it still draws me like a moth in a flame" Again you heard the longing in his tone of voice, full of torment and a kind of pain.

"Tell me, do you long for this too, or do you even understand it? The attraction to the forbidden, that which must not be touched or possessed, but I want to do it… Is it just my delusions in a maddening dance called love?" Makime fixed his eyes on your lips and ran his right thumb over them. You were so caught up in the shock of seeing him act so out of character that you didn't even care about this.

You were weak, foolish and pathetic in his eyes, but somehow he craves that warm touch of softness. You don't show him that you fear him so openly and you don't give in to disobeying him either, his control for the first time doesn't work on someone: You.

"Makime-san, I" Your words were caught in your throat as Makime crashed his lips to yours, desperately and obsessively. It was as if he was trying to mark you as his, to make it clear that he wouldn't let anyone else have you. It didn't matter if that went against the feelings you both felt at the moment.

The kiss was wild and charged with forbidden passion. You could feel his voracious hunger and his need to possess you, you awakened his darker and more bestial side, you knew that being in this state he was capable of more than just a game of cat and mouse.

As the kiss continued, you were torn between excitement and fear. On the one hand, you were attracted to the intensity of his emotions or the way he wanted you. On the other hand, you knew that being close to him was dangerous and that his perseverance in his goals could trigger terrifying consequences.

Makime slowly parted, leaving a trail of heaving breath between you. His eyes were filled with a mixture of lust and madness, you could see the internal struggle in his expression.

"What are we in the midst of this chaos?" whispered Makime, his voice laden with possession and despair. "I can't resist how I feel about you, even if it's my own contradiction. But I understand if it scares or disgusts you… You know puppy though, I don't care."

As you struggled to catch your breath, you faced a difficult choice. Makime was dangerous and ruthless, but he had also awakened something in you that you couldn't ignore, your love frustrations of a virgin girl.

You knew you couldn't turn your back on his behaviors. But carnal desire blinded you by making you love him and you were scared of what that meant.

You put your hands on his chest trying to separate and lengthen the distance between the two of you, after all he had already kissed you, though your voice sounded shaky but firm. "Makime, this can't go on like this," you said, trying to set boundaries. "I understand your feelings, but I can't let this consume me. I need you to respect me and understand my concerns."

Makime looked at you with a mixture of surprise and frustration. He didn't like you rejecting him, but his playful side took this as a challenge that he gladly accepted. Little by little he took control, even when you tried to push him away. You had long since forgotten that you were in the hallway next to the bathrooms, you hoped this would end soon, you didn't want to give in or be embarrassed.

"I see you still don't get it, there's no choice here, come on there's no denying it… I want you so bad!!!" Again he grabbed you kissing your neck and starting to suck it. "Fuck! If it wasn't because that bastard Himeno drank the wine I brought for you, you'd be just as horny if not hornier than me" He whispered between sighs and then licked your left ear lobe.

You couldn't help but moan in response, his warm tongue sliding down your neck and your earlobe making your whole body shiver. You had to admit, he was doing it very well and your body was starting to respond.

"If I had known that bastard would drink the wine for you, I would have put aphrodisiacs in your juice… Hum! But it doesn't matter" he replied arrogantly. "Fuck, look what you provoked, I can't believe he actually did it… Drinking your gift, pathetic."

His hand moved down, reaching for your ass, while his mouth nibbled and licked the tender skin of your neck. Then, without warning, he caught you off guard again and rammed you by grabbing your thighs in the direction of an empty Karaoke booth. After all, he had already planned this.

"Hey, put me down," you protested, trying to stop him, but his strength and will were too strong, so he easily carried you away.

"What are you doing? I thought you said you understood and respected me?" you growled in protest.

"Yes, but not everything can be taken into account in a situation like this," Makime replied as he closed the door to the small cabin.

"Did you really think I was going to accede to your pathetic requests after your little games? Ahh you really are a thing, my sweet silly doll."

You felt trapped and frightened by Makime's attitude. You didn't like how he was treating you and wondered how you had gotten into this situation. You tried to break free, but his hands were still holding you tightly.

"I don't want to do this, Makime. Please let me go," you pleaded, trying to hold back tears.

But Makime didn't seem to hear you. She approached you with a lustful look in her eyes and began to rip your blouse. You felt vulnerable and exposed, not knowing what to do.

At that moment, when you both saw the shadow of someone you felt emotions running to extreme edges. On the one hand, Makime felt excited at the thought of those sons of bitches you call friends seeing you in this intimate position and on the other hand…. You just wanted the earth to swallow you up. Apparently Denji had been looking for you, since you had disappeared, but a still drunk Himeno told him to forget it, so they left, leaving your heart more nervous than relieved.

Makime smiled when he felt you tense up, laughing at the situation.

"What's the matter, my little puppy?…. I know, you feel self-conscious because we are here in a public place right?", Makime teased.

You felt humiliated by his attitude and backed away from him, trying to cover yourself with what little was left of your blouse. You couldn't believe that you had fallen for his tricks and had allowed him to lead you into such a dangerous situation.

"You should shut up and play along, after all, we are still in sight no matter how dark the cabin is," Makime continued to mock you as he pulled you back into the small armchair in this cabin which is considerably smaller than the previous one where the others were getting drunk.

But you had had enough, so you struggled even though this only made the demon laugh and he bit one of your hands stopping your struggle, you looked at him indignant and blushing.

"I'm not going to play along, Makime. I already told you I don't want to do this," you told him firmly.

Makime seemed annoyed by your reaction, but finally stopped laughing. Then he turned you completely around because before you were on his back touching his chest and feeling the bulge between your buttocks.

Then the redhead threw you down on the couch pinning you down, he started to take off your clothes while talking to you with a tone of irritation and jealousy.

"I know you love it, that's why you were going from bed to bed, surely Denji or that idiot Powa buried his dick in you".

Makime looked at you with a smirk, her fingers rubbing your clit as her fingers slowly sank into your wet entrance.

"Ahh-! You're wrong," you groaned. "I-I was never with anyone, sleeping or waking up with them meant nothing- NHHH!!!" You almost arched your back as he buried his fingers closer and so far into your sensitive G-spot. It was fucking painful.

"Oh, are you sure, because from what I can see you want lots of men to fuck you and turn you into their little slut. Even with the fact that you don't look like a girl who likes to fuck a lot" Makime commented. in a sly voice "Fuck! You're so fucking wet and tight, ahhh this is a good thing for me, your pussy is going to be perfect."

"Makime-san, it's not what you think! Please let me go. It's supposed to be my birthday" You screamed as he pulled out his fingers and squeezed your clit with them. Then he lifted your legs and ripped off your clothes completely, like a dessert to be tasted in his eyes.

"Oh, of course it's your birthday, my sweet bitch…. I'll use my cock to poke that little pussy of yours, it will be my second present tonight just to remind you who you belong to" You started to cry as he swallowed your juices and licked your pussy like candy. You felt depraved, disgusted but lust clouded your judgment. After all, you were human.

You tried to move, but your body no longer obeyed you. Makime had enchanted you with his control and for the first time carnal desires blinded you both.

"Fuck! I'm going to make you mine, (T/N)…. You have no idea what you are doing to me" You heard his voice, full of lust and malice, it was as if he was talking to himself, as his mouth continued to devour you, he pulled his fingers out of your pussy and grabbed his cock, which moments before he had pulled out of his pants.

At this point you stop caring about the leather sticking to your skin making it uncomfortable or the strange angle of your neck with Makime's movements.

"That's it… Spread my legs, my little whore" you heard him say as you felt his cock thrusting into your entrance, you knew it was quite plentiful from the many times he pressed against you playing those games of his. It was big and thick, even though it was only a few inches, it scared you and more so when you and this body were virgins.

"Makime! Please…Stop," you moaned, feeling the pressure of his cock in your pussy grinding against you.

"Oh! My love, I can't do that…. Not until you beg for my cock" The next thing you knew you felt him enter you and a mixture of pain and pleasure hit you, you gasped for air as he went deeper and deeper.

"Ahh, you're so fucking tight!"

"Stop, stop, it hurts!" you moaned, closing your eyes, feeling the discomfort.

"What the fuck are you doing? Stop moving around like it's going to kill you to have me inside you…. OH GOD, are you trying to make me cum before I get my entire cock inside you?" You inadvertently squeezed your legs and loins together, this caused a grunt to come out of him as you felt his cock against your walls.

"It's so big I don't know if I can handle it" you replied, between sobs. Makime then moved on to kiss you again, you couldn't help it, his kisses were addictive and his tongue was as powerful as he was.

"I already told you, you are mine. If I wasn't so impatient, I'd take my time and enjoy every part of your pussy, whether it was with my cock or my tongue," he moaned, sticking his tongue out and licking his lips. "Fuck! I'm going to fuck you, so you know who you belong to, no one else is going to fuck you again after this" Makime just gyrated from there. He lunged, bit and clawed, just as you, you re-sanguinated his back to withstand each onslaught.

You had never been more aroused, the thought of him taking you as his own affirming his dominance over you made you even more lustful and even though your logical side screamed otherwise, you no longer cared.

"Look how much you want me, look at all this cum you're giving me. Are you ready for my gift, slut, are you going to beg for my gift?". He looked at you between bites, his eyes and yours lost in lust.

"Gift?" You looked lost, again a sense of nervousness and fear.

"Yes, my little puppy…. Don't be afraid, this time I'll be good even if I have to punish you for running away from me" You moaned, feeling it come out of you, it was so sudden and unexpected that your body seemed to collapse too.

Then the redhead pulled your legs down and sat you up, helping you not to fall down from exhaustion, then he licked your wounds before rising again and placing your entrance over his cock, both of you sitting with you on top of him with your buttocks in the air. Makime began to smack you like a parent would a misbehaving toddler as he rammed you then grabbed one of your breasts sucking on it, the other he squeezed digging his nails into it.

"W-what are you doing?" you moaned in pain as his other hand left your breast and went to your clit, his fingers pressed and caressed it.

"Makime, please don't hurt me…. I'll be a good girl, I swear." You were about to start screaming again but that didn't stop him, on the contrary, he moved from your right breast to your mouth, his lips glued to yours, your tongue dancing with his, his tongue exploring every part he could. allowed.

"Ahh! I'll make you understand what happens when you run away from me, if you don't want me to stop, if you want to be my good girl then say so, my dirty needy bitch" he growled digging his nails even deeper into your left breast and then his right index finger rubbing faster against your clit.

"Ngh! Ahh-MAKIME!"

"Oh! You want me to stop, you want me to release that point of pleasure that I know is the right thing to do? But I won't. Beg, beg, beg me to stop, I won't until you suck my cock with your lips."

"Ngh! Ahh- No, no, please…. MAKIME."

"That's not the answer I wanted to hear my dear bitch."

"N-no, don't hurt me…. I-I-I… AHH!"

"What's the matter with you, don't you want it? Tell me!"

"I-I… I… want-NGHH!"

"Say it, say what you want me to do to you."

"I want more… I'm not satisfied… I need more!"

"Fuck! This is… Ahhhh" growled the redhead as his right index finger and cock began to move at a frantic pace, so fast it felt like a blur, making your body tremble with pleasure, your breathing ragged as you neared orgasm.

"Ahh! I'm going to cum…" You moaned almost passing out from the pleasure.

"Good girl… Let it out" Makime replied, his finger pausing to leave you with a sigh of relief and then continuing to rub your clit, but gently as his cock filled your pussy.

Then you both cried out, falling tired, more you than him as Makime is a demon and therefore more resilient.

"Makime-san… Why?" you asked angrily having regained your consciousness away from lust still panting, but this only made him smile.

"Well, if I tell you it will be boring and you'll go back to avoiding me, besides I'm glad to know I was your first time." You were so confused by his words and the feeling of the semen inside him that you couldn't articulate words.

"Do you really think I don't want you even after all I've done to you? Haha, ahh…. Let's change, you don't want to look like that in front of the others…. Although I'm sure they're still drinking. For this occasion I'll reserve your oral fucking" Makime got up from the chair pulling on his clothes starting to put them on. Then he left the karaoke booth and as you were reaching for your panties, you noticed…. FUCK!!! That bastard had stolen them from you.

You quickly put on your clothes and ran after him, while he laughed at the scene, ignoring you even when you grabbed his arm pulling him on nonchalantly. You had to put on his jacket, at least he was aware that he tore your blouse.

"What's the matter? Don't be so rough little dove, you're not going to deny that you like me?" He asked arrogantly getting close to your face, almost playfully kissing you. You felt disgusted and embarrassed by past events.

"You…!"

"I what?", He said as he walked back to the party with you trying to retrieve your panties. It was disgusting of him and uncomfortable for you to walk around without them on.

"Don't look at me like that, I know you like me …. And you should let me go, everyone is looking at you. By the way, from now on, be careful that in the future I find out who you fuck, you're mine. "You blushed when he mentioned it again, embarrassment ran through your being as you felt his hand near your buttocks.

[Well… like I said, I'm horrible at writing NSFW, I'm a virgin and even if I watch porn or whatever to inspire me, I honestly suck. I hope the sex made sense, I'm sorry if there are errors in narrative, coherence or any inconvenience].

Tag List:

@potatofriesthings @cyppelizabeth @hana-no-seiiki

If you want to be tagged, let me know.

[littlemissmanga]

I really liked those hurt/comfort dialogue prompts so if you're taking requests, would Rex with 13 "you deserve better than me" or 23 "did they hurt you" inspire you at all? 😊

Um, YES! Absolutely!!

I do like me a good, angsty "you deserve better than me." But that feels a little too like what I did in "One Last Order, Pt. 1."

So, "did they hurt you" it is! I'm getting better at "ficlets" and managed to keep this under 2k words! Eventually, I'll be able to do shorter writing lol. I hope you don't mind!

Rating: SFW

Warnings: fisticuffs, slight violence, descriptions of desire but nothing explicit.

Did He Hurt You?

The alcohol buzzed pleasantly in your blood. Not enough to make you sloppy. Just enough to make your skin feel like a livewire.

Exactly what you were shooting for when the boys invited you to join them at 79’s. The club scene wasn’t usually your top choice for how to spend your limited free time back on Triple Zero, but it was worth it to see the men of the 501st let their hair down. Metaphorically, that is … except for Tup, who very much let his hair slip from his signature bun.

But most satisfying was seeing Rex let the weight of responsibility slip from his shoulders for the night. His laugh was a too rare thing, and you indulged in the sound every time one would slip past his lips. Even better was that you seemed to be the cause of most of them tonight.

You hadn’t intended on flirting with the stalwart captain upon being assigned to the 501st as a mechanic. But Rex had a bad habit of putting his foot in his mouth when caught off his guard. All it took was one moment of hesitation on his part and a witty quip on yours, and you were hooked on how adorably flustered you could make him.

Still, he wasn’t a captain for nothing. It didn’t take long for Rex to find his grove and give as good as he got. By now, your flirtationship was well established. The boys would often tease you about it, and you suspected they did the same to Rex. Neither of you were ignorant of the pointed looks and raised brows from Jesse or Hardcase. Shit, even Tup would let a sly comment slip by from time to time.  

No matter what, though, you and Rex insisted it was just all in good fun.

And it was. That was all it could be. Didn’t stop you from imagining what could be. Maybe. One day, after the war.

You weren’t blind — Rex was an attractive man. All the clones were. But the way he carried himself set him apart far more than his distinctive blond buzz. You could get addicted to that quiet power. And you weren’t stupid — good men like Rex didn’t come around often. Any girl would be lucky to call him hers.

You wished you could be that lucky. Too bad he was your boss. Too bad you knew nothing would ever distract him from his responsibility to the Republic.

No, that’s not right. It’s good that he’s like that. I like him because he’s like that.

“Lost in thought?” There was nothing untoward in his tone, but you could see flickers of mirth swimming in Rex’s eyes.

You had been lost. But not in thought. Lost in him. Maybe the alcohol was getting to you. Not good.

“Nah, just wandering through,” you jest. “Speaking of, I’ll be right back.”

You gingerly climb over him to exit the booth, focusing very carefully on moving your limbs without touching him. You keep that forced control with each step you take toward the restroom, determined to look as put together as possible as you head toward the restroom.

REX POV

Years of training, and he barely held himself back from grabbing your waist to help you out of the booth.

I’d be helping, the drunk part of his mind supplied.

I want to feel her against me, the more honest part admitted.

You were a bright spark of a challenge, one he needed to meet, to overcome. Or maybe not. Maybe he needed to succumb. Either way, he wanted you. He knew touching you would shock him, and yet he couldn’t help but yearn for the pain. He imagined it would feel like pleasure.

Rex tracked your movements through the crowd to the back of the room. He had switched to water long ago, letting the boys and you believe it was still spotchka in his glass. You, however, had kept pace with his troopers and, despite your best efforts — your endearing, adorable efforts — he knew you had to be feeling the punch of liquor.

Sure enough, he saw a few of your stumbles as you tried to gracefully make your way to the restroom.

Chancing a glance around the table, Rex confirmed the boys were occupied, entertaining each other with tall tales that everyone knew were fiction but indulged in anyway. He wondered if anyone would notice if he …

“Go.” Kix commanded from across the table with a wry smile. “I’ll make sure no one ends up in jail.”

Rex raises an eyebrow at the medic. “You telling me what to do now, Trooper?”

“When it comes to the wellbeing of the men of the 501st, I outrank you, Sir. Go get your girl.”

“She’s not my-”

“Yes, she is!” The chorus rang out from a few of the men at the table, pulling looks from the rest and a few from neighboring booths before everyone turned back to their conversations. With one last pointed look from Kix, Rex pushed up from the table to follow you.

His intention was just to give you a hand to walk back to the table when you were ready. But as he passed through the thick of the crowd and the back hallway where the restrooms were came into view, his blood boiled.

There you were … pressed against the wall, trying to create as much space as possible between you and the Twi’lek looming over you. The smirk on the man’s face as his eyes trailed down your body curled Rex’s stomach.

He let rage mask the tiny voice of reason calling out his hypocrisy. How often did he look at you a little too long, imagine you in less than appropriate ways? How many times has he stood a little too close to win the latest round of flirtatious teasing to better see how your eyes would grow wide, how your heart would beat under your shirt?

But she never looks scared like that when I do.

Training kept his anger cool as he moved faster, not caring how many brothers and nat-borns he pushed rudely out of the way. But it felt like he was moving through slime for how much progress he was making.

He wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or your natural combativeness, but apparently you had enough. Using what he was sure was all your strength at the moment, you pushed against the man’s chest to give yourself enough room to slip past, but it was for naught. The Twi’lek caught you by the elbow and yanked you back roughly against him.

Rex was close enough now to hear your pained exclamation.

He didn’t think about the trouble that could come with hurting a civvie. Nor about how the police would likely be called if he started a brawl in the bar. Most unlike him, Rex didn’t think about anything as his fist flew over your shoulder to connect with the man’s face.

For his size, the Twi’lek didn’t put up much resistance, crumbling to the ground with the first hit. Careful not to touch you just yet, Rex moved deftly between you and the man now on the ground, looming over him menacingly while keeping you from his gaze.

“Kriffing hells! What’s your problem, asshole?” The man’s furious response was dulled by the thick blood pouring from his nose, clogging his words.

“Leave. Now.”

Whatever the man saw in Rex’s eyes must have been enough to convince him he wasn’t winning this fight. He clamored to his feet, grumbling as he went to get the last word.

“Whatever, man. She’s all yours. Frigid bitch is a waste of my time, anyway.”

Rex never felt hatred before, but the sound of someone calling you such a disgusting thing made him burn with it. There wasn’t a conscious thought behind it as Rex felt his body start to move forward on its own. But his mind didn’t seem to care.

At least, until he felt your hands curl into the back of his dress grays. It was the lightest touch, but it may as well have been a chain. Not that he minded. Anything that bound you to him was welcome.

Careful not to jostle you, he turned carefully, causing your hands to trail around his torso until they rested on his chest.

“Did he hurt you?” he asked softly. It was a stupid question. As his hands hovered over your shoulders and down your arms, he could see the skin around your elbow had marks. His marks.

Rex’s nostrils flared with the effort it took to swallow the growl that threatened to burst from this throat. He wouldn’t scare you further.

“No.” Your voice was so soft, making the lie all the more painful.

This was new territory. You were smart, confident, self-assured. You weren’t one to make yourself small. Seeing you like this was wrong, and Rex didn’t know how to make it right.

But, thank the Maker, it seemed you did. You pressed yourself forward, almost trying to mold yourself into his chest, burying your face in his shirt to block out the rest of the bar. Without letting himself think more on it, Rex brought his arms around you, wrapping you in the circle of his arms and resting a hand on the back of your head, holding you to him.

And just like that, the hatred and jealousy evaporated, replaced by something much more tender. Gentle. A warm fire burned softly in his heart at how you sought comfort from him. In him.

Stars, how he wanted to always be able to give you that.

“Do you want me to take you back to base?”

Your head shook against him. “No. Just … can you just hold me for a second?”

He tightened his arms around you as if they could actually keep you safe. “Of course, sweetheart. As long as you need.”

“Thank you.”

He huffed. Rex wanted to scold you for being silly, thanking him for something he did selfishly. Because holding you like this was a selfish act and he knew it. He shouldn’t be this possessive over you, this infatuated. Shouldn’t crave the feeling of you against him like an addict did spice.

But he couldn’t help it. And he couldn’t regret it at this moment, either. That desire kept you safe tonight.

“Nothing to thank me for.”

The two of you stayed like that for a few more moments before you took a deep, steadying breath to collect yourself enough to pull back. But you still didn’t pull away. Rather you leaned just enough to look up into his eyes.

Your own shone with unshed tears … and a bit of that spark he had come to love.

“If I had known that all it took to get into your arms was getting hit on by an asshole, I’d have come to 79’s with you all ages ago.”

It was funny. Your flirting had flustered him so much at the beginning. Now, it was the most welcome relief. In more ways than one as he could hear the sincerity in your drunken voice.

“Silly girl. All you needed to do was ask.”