#something will happen and then all the cleaners will be blamed

[screampied]

‘ ONE OF HIS GIRLSSSS ! ,

ᡴꪫ‎ sum. toji ends up finding out maybe his best friend's daughter isn’t so innocent after all once he walks in on you and your precious 12k viewers. he grows amused by your little side hustle as a cam girl. but actually, maybe having him as a special guest wasn’t so bad. (girl it was)

wc. 6k

warnings. fem! reader, vōyerism, dad's best friend! toji, age gap (reader is over twenty), unprotected, praise, dirty talk, squírting, cunnílingus, slight dumbification, impact play, size kink, spit.

dbf! toji masterlist

“guys, i’m serious,” you’d utter, your monitor staring right back at you — a full live audience of over twelve thousand eyes listening to you speak. you were cooped up in your room, slouching on your chair with your legs pressed together. “he’s totally real. we even almost got caught one time.”

you were referring to your dad’s best friend, toji…

just muttering his name aloud made you feel all sorts of tingles. oh, to think how that 'one time' was just about three days ago. you still remember everything like it just happened, the intoxicating taste of toji’s lips, his unforgettable loud cologne scent, how fucking mean he was, you missed him, who were you even kidding. last time you checked, him and your father went out somewhere. you didn’t bother to care where, probably fishing or something.

skimming through the plethora of donations with filthy questions, thirsty provocative questions that desperately craved your attention, you read one, “how is he in bed, oh—well,” and you squeeze your thighs before re-adjusting your screen. “he’s okay. i had to fake my orgasms a few times though, figures ‘cause he’s kinda old.”

“oh yeah?”

as if on cue, there toji stood—right outside your doorway, hands buried in his deep roots of pockets and that same unreadable expression. he’s sending you straight daggers, you crane your neck to glance at him before you panic, “uh, i’ll talk to you guys later.”

“nah keep that shit on, girl,” he shakes his head, trodding his bare feet towards you. you mentally face palm. you could have sworn he was out somewhere with your father. “just when i thought ya couldn’t get even freakier,” he mutters, and he’s now behind you—green irises peering at your monitor. the chat suddenly spams with some of your audience lusting over toji, wondering if he’s a special guest. “heyyy,” he says to the screen, his voice was a pitchy low and then you gasp once he throws an arm around you. “is he a special guest?” and then he turns to you with a sly grin. “i don’t know, princess . . am i?”

“. . . i mean i guess,” you speak, not even realizing how your tone softens a bit. this always happened, whenever you were just a few feet away from toji, you’d feel so tense. it’s officially been a week since the two of you were screwing around—you hadn’t gotten caught, at least you think you haven’t gotten caught. the thrill of it all though, it was enticing. he eyes your little set up and he’s amused more than anything. “this is the guy i was telling you guys about,” you avert your dilated pupils back towards the bright screen. “this is . . . toji.”

“heh yo,” he scoffs at the screen with a greet, seeing how your confidence fades the moment he’s in the room with you. toji leans beside you, eyeing the lewd comments before one catches his eye. “tell him to turn around. what for?”

you sheepishly grin at the webcam, knowing some of your aroused fans wanted to take a quick peek at toji’s ass. to be fair, you couldn’t exactly blame them. you stare a bit yourself, and it was definitely. . . something.

three new tips from mod gojoclitoru: girl bye he looks like he doesn’t shower

wormfucker69: he looks like the guy who works @ my cleaners lol

shokostrapdestroyer: Where’s Shoko ?????

kanyeastinfection: Soooo hawt ;)

iloveosamudazai: i miss nanamin

“how come y’er all shy? i heard what you’ve been saying ‘bout me, y’know,” toji mumbles. he stands tall, cracking his neck towards the left. his entire frame, he was always so handsome. you take a moment to glance up at him, his perfectly chiseled physique. he looked like he was about to head to the gym, he had on a simple wife beater with dingy grey sweats. his gaze he had towards you was purely tantalizing. “. . ah,” he inches closer towards you, bending down as you sat on the office chair, getting right up close to your face. “why don’t you repeat that last bit for me. you fake your orgasms with this old man?”

“i didn’t ….” you trail off, trying to come up with some excuse. suddenly, it felt hot. you felt hot.

your heart starts to race the more he stared you down. the chat was going at a much more rapid speed, it’s like your viewer count doubled the moment toji entered. then you thought—maybe this would do you some good, having him as a special guest didn’t seem so bad.

he lightly grabs your chin, making you peer straight into his eyes. “i stay away from you for three days ‘n it seems like you forgot how to act.”

toji did have a point precisely, for the last three days you basically had the entire house to yourself. him and your father went out to some business trip, you missed him though.

of course, if you tagged along you’d be sure you’d both get caught so you just offered to watch over the house. it was as if the more time you spent with toji, the more you started to feel something.

you didn’t know what it was, it was hard to put into detail, put into pure words—but you knew for certain, you didn’t wanna stop seeing him. it was spring break after all…

“i meant what i said,” you mutter.

while returning his gaze, toji’s eyes widen for a bit, off guard by your sudden switch of attitude. you had a bit of a plan, you decided if you played along, your sweet thousands of fans would eat it up. and they were, the repetitive high-pitch sounds of constant donations rang through your ears before you continue to speak. “i faked everything, toji.”

his eyes linger into you for a long time before he drags a thumb down your lip. “well shit. that so?” and his voice—it pitches a dangerous tune. you already start to feel your thighs squeeze together more tightly. “mhm,” he grunts, watching you nod your head in response. he scoffs to himself before grumbling. “maybe i should make it more real for you then.”

with such simple words, trust and believe he does.

toji’s way of making it more real was to simply have you ride his face, all in front of your audience too.

for some reason, you felt burning up coming to the sheer realization that literally all eyes were simply on you. a quick glance at your blue light monitor and the viewer count displayed a hefty whopping amount of 12,295. all you could think about it was the hefty bank you were about to make.

your legs quaver as toji’s laid flat on your old bed, having you take your seat right on his face — his breath is hot as he runs his tongue alongside your inner thighs before giving you a stare. “eyes down here, not them,” he snarls, and you moan once he spanks your pre-soaked clit, your panties still attached. “they aren’t about to fuckin’ eat you out, are they?”

“n—no,” you murmur out, looking down back at him and he slowly runs a fat thumb down your slit.

oh, you were soaked alright.

a cute little damp spot between the middle part of your underwear makes an appearance and he slides his tongue all against it. he’s so slow with it all, making sure to take his time to make you pout out for him. “toji,” you mumble, feeling your tummy sink in before you huff out a single breath. he’s still so attractive, even underneath you—a little yet nice amount of facial hair scatters near certain parts of his face. scattered specks of brief darkened hair near his sharp jaw paint his face like an empty canvas. you run a finger against his chin and he shoots you a sleazy grin. “hurry up, toji.”

dark eyes flicker back towards you before he gifts your sopping pussy a mean spank. “hurry up toji,” he mocks your tone. you melodically whimper, watching as he licks a single stripe between your covered slit. “shut the fuck up. ‘m gonna take my time with you since apparently you ‘fake’ everything.”

you couldn’t help but merely slip out a giggle, your comment really offended him in some way. obviously, you were joking though—you and toji both knew he knew how to snatch multiple orgasms out of you at once. he was quite a skilled man without question, with his tongue—his dick, literally anything.

although, you snap out of your salacious thoughts the moment you feel him latch his tongue against your folds. it took you a minute to realize your panties were already off, he practically ripped them off and he was already digging in. you whimper, hovering your weight over his face before staring at the lit up monitor.

BIGDICKKUNA: Even my domain has better camera quality than this

gojoclitoru: here sukuna go…

FOXYKITTEN2940: clean up aisle my pants >.<

you’re starting to grind against his face, a hand combing through his hair before your bite your lip. toji stares at you, dragging a thumb down your puffy slit before leaning back to spit on it. he was always such a sloppy man—no shame in the world. you’d feel yourself pulsate whenever he did that, departing his lips away from your cunt before collecting a good wad of saliva to coat your folds with such a sheeny translucent color.

squelch after squelch, undeniably you were sopping. his nose briefly prods against your nub and you whine once he finally starts to actually eat you out.

“f-fuckkk.” you’d breathe, intaking a sharp breath. sudden dizziness overtook you—a thrum escapes from your sheeny lips as you rock your hips forward. it was hypnotic, the way you move against his mouth. toji looked so pretty underneath you too. his eyes, so hooded and half lidded—such a hungry gaze, a starved animal. he starts tantalizingly slow at first, making sure to lay the flat of his tongue against your entrance before simply digging in.

side—to—side, his head continues to swiftly shift and move as he’s devouring his meal, a thumb continues to strum against your slick arousal before he starts to suck, suck, suck.

candy, a perfect way to describe your taste in toji’s humblest opinion. he could never get enough, a few long strands of his hair tickles against your thighs as he resumes his sloppy eating. “mhm. pull on it.” he says between hot breaths, and you feel a sudden fire ignite inside of you. you knew immediately he was referring to his hair. such ruffled, messy strands desperately awaiting to be tugged by your fingers.

so you do—you take a good grab, lightly yanking him forward and he grunts.

“. . harder,” he rasps, and he’s already starting to look blissed out. eyes all glazed over, you wriggle over his face before you feel a sudden shiver overtake you. you pull harder and his face goes right against your cunt. you sloppily swipe against his nose like a credit card and he smirks at you. “that’s what ‘m talking about. ride my face, girl.”

his words, his filthy vulgarly words guide you through it all.

each pulse makes you twitch even more—each breath that runs out your mouth feels like it’s going to be your last, especially with a tongue like toji’s. he makes sure not to miss a drop, slurping quite everything out of you. he was a man—not necessarily a clean one, but he was never scared of a little mess. you start to coat the bottom part of his chin with your slit, it’s glistening so much.

after a while, toji’s already drunk off of your sweetened taste. every few flicks of his tongue against your nub makes cute whimpers coo out your throat and you only tighten the grip against his hair.

“r-right there, ‘s good when you suck there, toji.”

“cause i know what the fuck ‘m doing.” he grumbles back, bringing his same thumb to slide down your slit. he repeats it again and again. smearing your own mess right back on you, only to clean it up. he was a messy man, and with a tasty pussy that you had—you only made him ten times messier.

he was never one to complain though, toji’s the type to never say thank you—he shows you how grateful he is, it involves with being between your legs.

toji fushiguro…

a sleazy man without a single care in the word, maybe messing around his with best friend’s daughter slash colleague was a bit taboo. but did he care—no, was he gonna stop doing it—no, was he perhaps catching feelings for you the more time he spends with you? were you catching feelings?

. . .

unanswered questions, even if you asked yourself that question, you honestly couldn’t even know how to reply. the two of you never really labeled anything, so this was just a simple spring break fling right?

once courses resume and you go back to your well prestige university your father got you into due to connections, that’d probably be the last you’d see of him. toji fushiguro, the man you’ve been screwing around with for the past almost two weeks. it’s almost safe to say that you started to get attached to his presence—sometimes it’s like the two of you didn’t even care if you got caught. there was literally a time where toji fingered you under the table during dinner.

that was . . embarrassing.

the way you were trying to withhold a conversation with your father—he’s just rambling you about what a boring day he had at the office and you’re over here gushing on his best friend’s fingers. you find yourself thinking about that specific moment all too well—as well as the various other ones, him fucking you on the hood of his car, in the living room, and even the bathroom—which your panties ended up getting found.

oops.

“told you to keep those fuckin’ eyes on me,” he hoarsely rasps—snapping you out of your lewd reminiscing fantasm. his tongue, it’s swirling all against your clit as you focus your attention back towards him. with two big hands, he holds your jerky hips steady—feeling you rut against his mouth before he feels you pulse right in his mouth. “yeah.” he mutters, bringing two digits to prod towards your slick entrance. you whine, feeling him slowly insert them with ease—so wet, he was almost in awe at how you were dripping like a faucet. not even a faucet could compare nor describe how sodden your sweet cunt was. each lap he makes with his tongue gets more filthy, it turns into sucking before you’re practically spasming all over again.

you moan, hands still tight and rigidly tangled within his strands before you take a quick peek at your laptop. so many eyes were on you—so many more eyes now, the count was steadily doubling, the donations you were receiving made your mouth nearly water. tip after tip, your pupils turned into green dollar signs. this was probably the most viewers you had in the entirety of your little cam girl side hustle.

all thanks to toji.

you’re getting close, it’s inevitable—especially with the way your hips continue to rock back and forth. a cute rhythm he got accustomed to, toji brings two rough hands towards the fat mounds of your ass before squeezing it. he was always a handsy man, feeling all over your body. green pools of eyes stare right at you as you’re intaking each staggering breath that escapes your spit-glossed lips. “c-close, toji,” you’d babble out, your knees almost buckle—a sudden twinge pouring into your lower abdomen before you mewl. “gonna—cum, gonna—”

“baby hold it,” he says sternly, the base in his voice never failing to make you wet. he breaks his lips away for a moment before he glances at the screen—an upside down position. “hm. chat, should the pretty girl finish early?”

your heart drops—you knew how many trolls you had in your audience, and before you could cutely tell him to just let you climax, he hums in amusement at the incoming flood of comments.

chososbootylicker29: Petition to have Toji oiled and cheeked up

zorosballswallower: NOOOOO

anonymoususer: dad?

gojoclitoru: lol no.

and with many others the comments continue to flood.

majority of the answers being no—you hated being edged, loathed it. especially with toji because he was so damn mean. he snickers, reading the responses upside down before you feel the two tips of his fingers shove way deep inside you. your back arches and you whine ore he holds your hips in place with a single hand. “looks like y’er little fans want you to wait pretty girl,” and you look down at him with a cute glare—his lips depart and his entire mouth from the very bottom of his chin was damp. even still, he looked so attractive. “cute. a glare ain’t gonna change nothing though,” and a pout shortly stretched against your lips as he runs his tongue near your frantic pulsing clit. he brings a spank to it and it makes you whine. “be a good girl ‘n wait a little longer.”

“i can’t,” you frown out, and that only earns another sharp spank towards your folds.

“yes you fuckin’ can,” and you start to whine once he stops eating you out. it felt so warm, all of a sudden the cold air wafts against your skin and you shudder. toji loves more than anything to spank your pussy whilst staring right into your eyes. “if i tell my girl to wait, she’s gonna wait.”

my girl…

for some reason, that made your pulsing ten times worse, a plethora of butterflies arise inside your stomach and you’re still just hovering over his face.

he palpates his fingers—not his tongue to rummage all inside your cunt, you frown cutely. you wanted his tongue, not his stubby thick fingers. although, the thing you wanted most was to finish. as you grind against his face, you feel his infamous scar run against your pussy and it tickles. it tickles in such a way that it drags out a sweet crying moan from you.

“t—toji,” you start to grow impatient. he’s just teasing you, blowing against your folds with warm breath, swiping his nose alongside your sopping entrance, anything but tasting you again. he likes seeing you like this, on the brink of tears because you got denied a climax. it started to come closer and closer until once it was finally there—you puff up your cheeks for a split second before moaning. “g-god, i can’t hold it. ‘m gonna cummm.”

“wait,” he utters in a husky rasp, watching as you quaveringly hover over his face—chin just soaked with your arousal, he licks the bottom of his lip before tittering at you. “you finish when i’m ready.”

“f-fuck you,” you whimper, and you end up cumming anyway—he’s taken aback but it only arouses him even more. the brat, oh the brat that you were. one of the many things he liked about you, you were submissive but not entirely—you had a backbone, you talked back to him, you even had the nerve to roll those pretty eyes at him.

it hits you like a semi-truck.

illegal full speed, the brakes were had to step on and you feel it just strike right into you at full force. your orgasm, you scoot your hips forward against his mouth and now he’s the one glaring at you. toji laps up all of you, two fingers spreading your clit apart before he spits on it again. “you just don’t listen, huh,” and his voice was even lower than it was before—a rich baritone lingering underneath it. you’re riding out your climax when he lightly shoves you on the bed.

in your mind, you’re thinking . .

finally, the good part.

toji grimaces at the cute smile that goes against your lips. you’re eager just as him— not to mention, it’s been three days since he’s touched you. “don’t get too excited, brat,” he grumbles with a scowl tugging the corners of his mouth. he plops onto the bed before staring down at you. “bend the fuck over for me. fake orgasm my ass.”

so blunt, you immensely comply—so impatient for him to just be inside of you.

the piles of donations triple by this point, and you try to take a peep at your screen before he spanks your ass. “ass up, face down little girl. don’t got all day.”

“sorryyy,” you giggle with a mere eye roll.

testing toji’s patience was always so fun for you. for whatever reason, getting on his nerves really turned you on. once you finally bend over for him, two hands grab the fats of your ass and you bite your lip once he prepares to align himself. you’re facing your bright lit screen.

the comments talking more about toji than you and you pout . . . figures though. he’s hot, no wonder all the attention would be on him instead of you.

with his right hand, he wraps it around his thick length before rubbing his tip against your pre-drenched entrance. he grunts, witnessing how your pussy tries to swallow him so easily…

you’re puckering, awaiting for him to stuff you full as you’re slump right into the mattress. “but sweetheart, y’er not sorry,” he grunts, smacking his fat tip against your slick folds. a soft mewl runs out the back of your throat before you arch just a bit more. with another spank, he snarls in a huff, “not gonna fuck ya that easy. y’er gonna have to use those manners if you wanna get what you want.”

“huh?”

“huh?” he mocks, kissing your ass with another spank from his palm. “you can’t hear? speak, girl. talk ‘ta me nice.”

glossy eyes of yours avert towards your screen, everyone’s lusting over toji and it only fuels his ego even more—you easily felt yourself throb, a pout never leaving your lips before you inhale.

“please . . ” you start, feeling him softly drag a hand against your curves, your physique. his touch always had you weak, taking in every part of your frame. all his . . just for these few weeks.

“please what?”

“please f—fuck me,” you grumble, and you’re growing more and more irritated—he hums to himself, amused. each second you spend speaking, each second he could be inside of you. you and him both knew that.

toji rubs his leaky tip with a bit more pressure against your pussy, just a a little more and he’d be inside. you started to feel your mouth salivate before you start to whine. “hm,” he ponders to himself, green eyes occasionally staring at the laptop that had about hundreds of comments spamming per second. “fine. i feel like bein’ nice to you today, especially since i haven’t seen my girl in a hot minute,” and again, he refers to you as his girl. it sends an unfamiliar feeling of butterflies brewing up in your stomach before he spanks you for probably the umpteenth time now. “now, arch a liiiitle more ‘n stare at your fans for me, yeah.”

you’re propped on the mattress with your ass all up in the air. from your screen as you stare at it, you spot toji’s mirroring reflection. that sly smile that slowly and gradually forms against his lips.

“lie the fuck down.” he mutters, feeling you try to sit up. you do, intaking a single breath before you feel him huff out a low puff. toji’s eyes stare right at your ass, he takes every moment in. the way you suck him in, it’s just filthy. the saturated squelches that shortly follow afterward—so filthy.

a six letter word to perfectly describe this entire situation.

arched over for your dad’s best friend, who would have thought—not you, not in a million years.

“ . . . shit,” he pants, and you’re so wet. you moan, pawing at the fat silk sheets in front of you. so many flooded comments of your audience merely thirsting over toji, wishing desperately that they were in your position. ( . . quite literally . . )

and toji’s just so fucking big.

he’s got a lofty height of inches under his belt.

metaphorically speaking—just a single sharp thrust and you’re speechless.

the wind gets snatched out of your lungs and it’s so vigorous that your head’s spinning. this entire angle, he’s got you right where he wants you—on all fours with your ass perked up. toji can’t keep his hands to himself anyway, his hands roam all over your waist before holding both hips in place. clammy hands just about stick to your skin before he starts to create a decent pace.

a slow pace — a slow pace that turns more mean.

languidly, you feel yourself leaning to his touch as he runs a hand down your spine.

toji brings one leg up to deepen the position and not even moments later, your lips part.

“t—toji . . ah ah,” and you don’t even recognize yourself. he repositions himself for a split second, making haste with his hips before sliding his feet right past your knees. with this, it’s more stimulation and you feel it all. just the right amount of pressure, his balls sharply thwack against your ass and it makes your mind cloud up with fuzz.

“. . damn,” he groans, a hand grabbing towards the back of your university hoodie. as he leans forward, dark viridescent colored pupils stare at your rear. the way it jerks and recoils against him, everytime . . it’s the best part. even more when he spanks it, deepening his hips against your cunt to earn out a cute whine or two from you. for what seemed like the millionth time, toji kisses the right cheek of your ass with various spanks. the sting has you gnawing on your lip like it’s candy, curling your toes up with a few droplets of sweat coating the bridge of your nose. “missed this pussy, three days too fuckin’ long, brat.”

“i missed you t—.”

“girl hello? i wasn’t talking to you.”

you frown, and it follows from a snicker from him.

“. . . so dramatic,” he’d eye roll once he hears you blow out a cute sigh. “fine, i did miss you,” and that was only a half lie. you knew in actuality, he missed what’s between your legs. toji still remained sassy as usual, it never left and it’d always stay. he’s buried all into you, deep to the hilt that each time his angry reddened tip drives against that spot, you squeal out in sweet pleasure.

it didn’t take him long to locate it, your g-spot. after a while you start to feel your pussy open, spreading wide—gaping. he was so ridiculously big, it’s leaving such question marks floating over your forehead because how can someone be this thick.

with a gruff—toji groans, veins bulging through his veins as he yanks your hoodie forward into him. he’s lenient, at least for a good while. letting you have your fun, get drunk off his cock before he edges you a more . . . oh just maybe.

gojoclitoru: does anyone want the link to my only fans :(

willbang4curses: Idk who I wanna be more…

iamnotsugurugetoseriouslyiamnothim: i want your only fans @/gojoclitoru

hotpeach03: Toji please I’m a single mom

your chat continues to spate, it’s so much that as your eyes watch them all flood down the logs, you could barely read the words.

he’s so deep inside, you’re almost drooling.

the stretch—he always leaves you so full, lips all parted and that same gaping mouth opening. pant after pant, you’re heaving heavily with your chest feeling tight and warm. “so deep,” you’d shriek, and he makes your arch lower just a bit further. he’s hitting all the right spots, not missing a single area. his dick retreats as it pulls out, then back again—twitching all inside of your cunt, he lunges forward with his hips before making you plop on your chest. “. . . .ohmygodohmygoddd,” and you were so whiney, you still can’t believe such pathetic noises slither past your damp lips. engulfed with your warm gummy walls squeezing him tight, he spanks you again . . . and again, and again.

“miss me that bad, huh?” he starts to speak. his voice was a pitchy rasp. a gruff base hides underneath it and you can hear the grit lingering like he needs to clear his throat. nevertheless, you throb anyway as he’s jackhammering his cock right into your swollen cunt over, and over, and over. “that why ya keep walkin’ around with these outfits? with no fuckin’ panties underneath, yeah?”

“forgot,” you whimper, shuddering once you feel toji grow playful. he trails his thumb towards your neglected puckering hole, fiddling with it just to get a reaction out of you, and he does. “s-sorry, ‘m sorry.”

“you don’t just forget to put panties on, slut,” he groans, and he feels himself approaching soon. it’s at the tip of his tongue—he feels the burn arise in the lower parts of his thighs, veins contouring to bulge all throughout his body. “wonder what y’er old man would think. ya only pull this shit ‘cause ‘s just you ‘n me here.”

he was right.

then again—if you’d have your father here, you’d never pull a bold stunt like that.

you’d rather drop dead than save yourself the embarrassment. funny though, considering the amount of times you almost got caught.

“so . . ” you mumble, and that’s when he presses his weight right against you this time. ah, prone bone.

you were really in for it now, thickly you swallow before his weight merely hovers over your ass, really deep in you this time.

he vigorously rams his thick cock into your sweltering cunt that’s hugging him oh so tight. he’s such a tease too—using every few chances he gets to poke and gingerly rub a thumb against your pulsating hole.

sweet moans die from your throat as you’re clinging onto the bed—such force that the springs nearly collapse from the whopping amounts of weight creating sheer impact. each thrust, it rings rapidly throughout your ears before toji groans. “f—fuck,” he’d groan, ignoring your little attempts of pure bratiness. you were at your wits end, smothering your glossed lips together before you feel his rounded cockhead mash against your most forbidden spots. spots that was so deep inside the inner areas of your cunt that it makes you mewl out in pure ecstasy. “gonna make me fill you up, princess,” he huffs out, tugging even tighter on the bottom part of your cerulean blue pull over. “s—shit,” and his gruff voice pitches time and time again. for a moment, you think you can hear toji whimper. it was real subtle though, but you heard it. loud and clearly. “gonna take it like you always do?”

“yesyesyes,” you nod—words pouring out of your lips like a waterfall, kneading your fingers into your palms as you bawled up the bedsheets right into your hands. with hooded droopy eyes, you stare at the screen with a dumb expression—he then takes the opportunity to get closer, grabbing you by the hair before holding your head up in front of your thousands of viewers.

“yes what, girl.”

you whine, feeling how perfectly his dick mashed throughout your folds—so easy for him, he was so thick that the stretch was simply immaculate.

“yesss, ‘m gonna take your c-cum, toji,” you’d pant, feeling your own eyes roll backwards—you probably looked a mess in front of your own thirteen thousand viewers, but you could care less. all that your empty brain could fathom was how you were ludicrously stuffed with his hefty cock. he’s drilling into you so good that that it almost feels like a massage. rough fingers run down your spine with one hand, another holding your head by the hair like it’s a prized possession before you whimper. “fuck me, fuck me, fuh—”

toji slaps a hand over your mouth the minute he hears something from downstairs—sure enough, it had to be your father.

shit.

he must have came home early. you remember him mentioning to you he was taking a trip to the corner store after work, probably to get some booze for him and toji to enjoy for some dumb football game.

“honeyyy? you up there?”

you moan, almost feeling your eyelids grow heavy as he’s still holding your head up in front of your laptop—his reflection in the screen just pounding into you at full speed.

already, you’re coating the back of his hand with nothing but your damp saliva—such a dirty girl, preferably his dirty girl.

maybe you were a bit delusional, no. you were very delusional—maybe this could go somewhere? then. again, it was no secret on how toji’s only around to get his dick wet, a reality that you forevermore choose to ignore—until you’d soon find out how that would bite you in the ass later on.

dead silence—you’re just muffling out mewls right into his mouth, and as if on cue, toji ends up finishing inside of you. it’s so much, velvety ropes of hot nut that fill the very insides of your pussy, shooting straight into your womb that your tummy flutters. it’s so much to where it spews out of your hole, he’s gotta poke his thumb in and swipe some out with the way it continues to leak. it’s so dirty, then again—toji fushiguro was a dirty man, the dirtiest.

“are ya gonna reply ‘n let y’er old man know you’re getting off his best friend’s cock or . . ?”

his words, such a tease that he’s still slowly pumping into you. gradually but slow, he plugs into your walls—seeping with cum that oozes out of your folds and you stare at the screen with a cute cock-drunken expression. “mmph,” was your reply, the only reply you could formulate since his big hand almost covered your entire face. so you give him a concise nod, hooded eyes feeling dry from staring at the screen for so many amount of minutes.

eventually, your father leaves and returns back to what he was doing . . . phew.

“that’s right,” he whispers in a low risqué tone, bringing a kiss towards the left part of your neck.

so tender—you’re gathering the strength to sit up but you end up slumping forward. with a pathetic, ‘oof’ you land on your chest, your own climax at the very edge. it’s cute because you end up finishing around the same time—your chest feels heavy, lungs tightly collapsing and all. the perfect way to describe your orgasm was a bomb—a bomb that was ticking and ticking, preparing to detonate before it finally does. instead, the destruction was you squirting, all over toji’s dick that stuffed you full. he’s so close up to your ear, hot breath fanning against your earlobe before he continues to speak. “. . oh, y’er fuckin’ dumb right now, aren’t ya. can barely speak.” and he removes his hand to where a trail of your spit departs. so lewd, you’re spasming from your recent release before with a quick glance—you stare at your monitor. you surpassed your tip goal by a huge milestone, yet like toji said—you were too dumb to even process let alone acknowledge it.

“t—toji,” you whimper, feeling the remnants of his sweet and savory seed pour down the crevices of your thighs. it was sticky, sticking to your skin like glue, sweltering of its entirety.

“come here, princess.”

it surprised you. for once, he was being . . . soft.

you reach backwards, closing your laptop before leaning right into toji. you moan, feeling his beefy ripped arms wrap around you, bringing you right into his embrace. bulky arms go around your waist and he pulls you into a sloppily heated kiss.

simultaneously, your heart skips a few beats—a few, probably an understatement. he tastes sweet, you could make out a brief tang of liquor on his tongue—a taste you didn’t want to ever forget. as your tongue rummages against his, you moan once he gets a bit handsy, a hand going right between your legs to feel the mess he made. the mess you made yourself also.

breathy pants could be heard from your lips as you press your dampish perspiring hands all on his bare chest. he’s wearing a somewhat of a formal shirt — you tug on his collar, yearning for him to come closer, to touch you more, hold you more. something, whatever it was was just brewing up inside of the very depths, the very pits of your stomach.

toji groans, the warmth of his breath wafting against yours before he pulls you away to get a good glimpse of you. a big hand holds your waist, and his eyes peer into you for a long time before as if he hesitates—he kisses the top of your forehead, only to stare away with a scowl.

“. . . toji,” you murmur, and by this point you weren’t speaking with your brain—more so with your heart. it was apparent, especially with the way your droopy hooded eyes suddenly soften the moment you speak out the two syllables in his name.

“let me speak first.” he grouses, a thumb stringing alongside your back, gently strumming against your skin. with the way you gazed at him, making him lie back before aligning yourself, it was clear as day that you wanted more of him. he leans back, long strands of black hair run down his face with his legs sprawled before he prepares to finish.

you straddle him, sitting flat on his lap and he’s so warm—he’s a bit flustered, flaccid from his release and of course a bit sensitive. it’s quite rare to see toji in such a . . . vulnerable state. perhaps you soften him in a few ways or less. at least, that’s what you’d like to think.

it takes him a long time to formulate the words, it’s as if his tongue was tied—weird for him considering it’s toji, he’s always direct and blunt.

and yet for once, you have him speechless.

toji lets off a irritated sigh before while what seems like forever, he mutters out a gruff, “shit. i . . i think ‘m in love with you.”

“ . . . ”

[writeyouin]

Lucifer (Hazbin Hotel) X Fem-Reader - Sinless Sinners - Chapter 2

Chapter 2 - I Don't Need You

A/N – Since the first chapter got comments and actual reblogs, surprise, surprise, I was motivated to continue. See, Tumblr? This is how it works. I respond to instant validation.

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

MALE VERSION HERE

NON-BINARY / GN VERSION HERE

You looked around the dusty hallway that comprised the main entrance to Lucifer’s manor. Yikes, Charlie was right; he really did need a cleaner. You doubted that was her main motivation for placing you in her father’s care but looking at the layers of thick dust and brimstone coating downstairs, you could see it hadn’t been used in a long time.

Lucifer watched you sceptically. Ideally, he would have liked to leave you to find your own way around, but he didn’t want to be accused of not trying by Charlie, should you call her and state that Lucifer was straight up ignoring you.

With that in mind, he bade you to follow him with a wave of his arm and gave you a half-arsed tour of each room, during which he would energetically state its name, and occasionally pepper in a fact if he felt like it and then hurry along.

“Parlor one, dining room, parlour two, library, parlour the… you know what, we have a lot of those, if you see a room with chairs and a fireplace, assume it’s a parlour. Moving on, bathroom, closet, like the parlour situation, there are lots of bathrooms and closets. Kitchen, which is always stocked by the way, so I don’t have to shop,” He muttered a sentence about the Hell of going out there, and then he was back to his bubbly self, rushing you through the rest of the tour, “Games room, spa, my room – don’t go in there – and here, among the unnecessary number of bedrooms, is your room.”

Although every room in the manor was lavish by Hell’s standards, Lucifer had sneakily pre-worked a bit of his magic to make yours somewhat undesirable. It was still large and had all the fixings, but now, it was dirty, damp, and there would always be an underlying scent of slightly rotten milk, that was just noticeable to annoy anyone, yet not something so offensive that he could be blamed for causing it.

The now slightly squalid room wasn’t Lucifer’s way of being petty and cruel; it was just that he wanted you to leave, and that would only happen if you had a reason to. You should go back to the Hotel where you belonged; better yet, you should just head to a different part of Hell where neither he nor his daughter would have to look at your disgustingly human face… A face that, though nothing like Lilith’s, reminded Lucifer of his wife since there was nobody else even remotely like her except for their daughter and now, unfortunately, you.

The simple fact of the matter was that Lucifer was just waiting for you to start demanding things of him, or Charlie. It would likely start with something small, like changing rooms, then if he gave you an inch, you would take a mile, and soon you would demand he use his Angelic Powers to serve you in seemingly impossible ways.

One way or another, the room was a test. You would either see it and leave in search of greener pastures or a better deal elsewhere, leeching off whoever would give you the time of day, or you would stay and start giving orders; either way, Lucifer would be able to return to his daughter with proof that sinners were the problem, not him.

You stepped into the room, accidentally kicking up a cloud of dust that made you sneeze.

After a minute, you turned to Lucifer, “Thank you for the room. It’s lovely.”

Lucifer held back a grimace as you had the audacity to smile at him.

“Great,” He replied in a strained tone, “Just perfect. So, I’ll uh, leave you to get settled in and-”

Just then a portal opened over the canopy bed and two packed suitcases landed there, courtesy of Charlie. Lucifer tasted his daughter’s magic in the air and sighed resignedly; whatever Charlie had planned she wasn’t backing down from what she likely thought was a good idea.

“Right on time,” Lucifer commended the fine timing of his daughter, and even though he was clearly uncomfortable with her plan to give him company, he did seem genuinely proud of her expert timing; then again, he was proud of anything she chose to do even if he didn’t always understand what it was she was doing.

“Great,” He repeated somewhat tiredly. Then he forced himself to smile. It was important that you would see him happy so that Charlie would hear about it later. “You go ahead and unpack. I’m going to do some very important work.”

The sentiment of ‘Don’t disturb me!’ hung in the air, unspoken, but obviously there.

Once Lucifer left, you flopped down on your bed, thinking about all you had seen. You checked your phone, finding several texts from Charlie, progressively getting more impatient as she awaited your reply with a somewhat hyper-anxious anticipation; it seemed the apple truly didn’t fall far from the tree.

‘How was your arrival?’

‘Did you get the grand tour?’

‘Which room did he put you in?’

‘I bet it was the Rococo room.’

‘Oh no, he didn’t put you up in my old room, did he? That would be so EMBARRASSING!!!’

‘Wait, why aren’t you replying?! PLEASE TELL ME HE’S BEING NICE TO YOU!’

‘I can come over if you need me to.’

‘Did your bags get there okay?’

You smiled and decided to put Charlie out of her misery. Your phone alerted you that she was already writing another message, but as soon as you started to compose one of your own, the notification that she was typing disappeared.

‘The tour was fine. Lucifer has been nothing but polite,’ and frazzled, you thought, though you omitted that part from the text; it was best that Charlie didn’t have anything extra to worry about while preparing for her meeting with Heaven.

‘My room is also amazing btw. I don’t know about Rococo or whatever, but it’s certainly stunning, and judging by the lack of stuffed animals and probably cheesy posters, I’m guessing it isn’t your old room.’

You really meant that. While your room was in need of a good cleaning, and there was a slightly off odour, it was indeed beautiful with its lacquered wooden floors, rich velvet drapes (Hell-Red of course) and lustrous emerald wallpaper. It was one of the most beautiful places you had ever seen, especially since arriving in Hell, not long dead after… the incident.

You removed your thoughts far from the grim memory of your death, not wanting to relive your demise. It never did any good to think of such things, and you had to wonder whether all Demons fixated on the manner in which they perished. Perhaps some were lucky enough to die in their sleep or get hit by a bus; at least the latter would be quick, and the former peaceful.

Moreover, you also believed the other part of your text; Lucifer probably kept Charlie’s room as a shrine to her youth. He seemed like the sort of person who was stuck in the past.

Your phone buzzed again, and you expected another message from Charlie, but it was from Angel Dust.

‘When you get the chance, snoop in the Short King’s bedroom and find out what kinky shit he’s into. I’m betting food play. He seems like a whipped cream and apples kind of guy if you catch my drift.’

Betting? He had undoubtedly roped Husk and Nifty into said bet. Husk had likely opted for a safe option like bondage… You didn’t want to know what kind of kinky shit Nifty thought Lucifer was into; that girl was a dark horse.

“Never going to happen,” You murmured to yourself with a chuckle; you would never invade Lucifer’s privacy like that, but Angel’s text had made you laugh and distracted you from your earlier thoughts.

Getting up, you pushed yourself into action and began unpacking both your thoughts and your few clothes and possessions. You lit a scented candle that Angel had gifted you. It was one of his unwanted gifts from Valentino, Blueberry Blowjob. You were glad when the scent filled the air, taking away from what you incorrectly assumed was the faint smell of mildew. The smell didn’t concern you, you had plenty more candles and tea lights with such names as Orange Orgasm, Popcorn Pussy, and Cherry Cum-Shot.

The manner was well furnished, but all of the rooms were neglected. There were seven parlours in total, each matching the theme of one Sin, probably because it would be polite should they ever need to meet with the Royal Family one-on-one. Despite that, they seemingly hadn’t been used in some time, nor had the library or any of the living rooms. You hadn’t seen much of Lucifer’s room as he rushed you past the door, which had only been slightly ajar, but what little you had caught a glimpse of seemed cleaner than the rest of the manor. Did he spend all of his time in there? Alone? That was… It was sad. Lucifer could live well among anyone in Hell, except maybe Alastor, yet he couldn’t see the good in anyone.

Without Charlie and Lilith that must be lonely. How depressing that he had created a kind of personal Hell inside of Hell. You were starting to think that Charlie was right to send you home with him.

Still, it seemed like he needed some time to get used to the idea of company and you had a job to work as his maid. Once you were unpacked, you would seek out the cleaning supplies and get started.

Lucifer draped himself over his workbench, listlessly toying with a rubber duck. It was one of his worst creations… Couldn’t even breathe fire.

He didn’t even know why he continued to make them. Honestly, he couldn’t think of anything else to make, and it was better to make something than nothing, even if he ended up creating the same thing over and over again, clinging to the memory of how one celestial duck had made Charlie smile.

Her smile was everything. Even Heaven couldn’t take that away, or… Maybe they could, if this meeting went awry. No. Please God, No. Not that. Anything but that. Kill the sinners. Show him the agonising mistake of Free Will for eternity, but he hoped to never see the day that Heaven treated his daughter with the same derision they typically reserved for him.

Lucifer froze, a glower darkening his expression as you knocked on the door.

He had clearly implied that he didn’t want to be bothered. IMPLIED IT! It hadn’t even been one day and you were bothering him.

Lucifer didn’t open the door. He didn’t want you to see inside his room. That was his space and his alone. Yet, he didn’t want any risk of you barging in, so he poofed himself to where you stood outside, using a glamorous entrance to grab your attention.

“Yes?” He said expectantly, leaning forward on his cane, as if leaning closer to you didn’t disturb him half as much as it did.

“Oh,” You blinked back surprise, though you weren’t too shocked seeing how Alastar always snuck up on you at the Hotel in a similarly flamboyant manor. “Sorry to disturb you, Sir, but I just wondered if you could tell me where the cleaning products are kept? I would like to get started as soon as I can.”

Cleaning products? Lucifer was stuck on the sentiment as if he’d never heard of such foreign words. Then he seemed to remember, you had been volunteered as his maid. Right… That was Charlie’s way of making him take you.

You waited patiently for a response, having quickly learned that your host tended to drift between a fast-talking façade or thoughtful distractedness. You wished you didn’t have to ask him for help, but after searching three floors and the attic, you had gotten somewhat turned around, and you had no idea where you had already looked; the manor was massive.

Finally, Lucifer seemed to come to and he began boredly examining his hand.

“That won’t be necessary,” He stated demurely.

“It won’t?”

“No. It won’t.”

Behind you, Lucifer caught sight of a portrait of his family. The frame was carved blood-wood harvested from a Tree-Demon who once dared to insult Lilith in Lucifer’s presence. Two winged snakes adorned opposing corners of the portrait. With a lazy wave of his hand, they creaked and snapped, coming to life, and escaping their previous wooden home, leaving only indentations where they used to be. With another magical flourish, they grew slightly and became more life-like, shedding splinters as their new uniforms appeared.

“There, see, two half-sized cleaners. They’ll take care of everything.”

You stared hard at the new servants of the house, somewhat amazed by the show of power; nobody else in Hell could do anything close to creating life, and it seemed that Lucifer didn’t even care that he had such power.

Frankly, Lucifer was upset with his new creations. He had finally strayed from ducks, creating something new for the first time in over a century, and they were still bland. When he had created Razzle and Dazzle for Charlie, he had done everything he could to make them beautiful and unique. These abominations in front of him were cheap copies of that Sir Pentious fellow he had seen at the hotel. He just didn’t have anything left worth creating. There was no point.

Whatever. The snake servants would do their job quietly and obediently. And they’d be more useful and less annoying than Charlie’s reptilian friend.

“Oh, okay. Well, is there anything else you’d like me to do?” You asked, wishing to be useful. “I can cook pretty well, or I could run errands, or-”

“NO!” Lucifer snapped.

“But-”

“Don’t you get it?! I DON’T NEED YOU.”

Lucifer forced himself to take a calming breath, his gaze downcast so he didn’t have to look at you.

“This is all my daughter’s plan. All you have to do is stay out of my way here and Charlie will be happy. Do you think you can manage that?”

[vlrspace]

something different

nanami x reader

about: a date with nanami leads to something else

warnings: nsfw!, mndi!, dry humping, pet names, fem! reader, slightly inexperienced reader, minor injury(?), unedited fic

words: 2K

maybe this date idea isn’t as ideal as it first sounded.

it’s getting harder to focus on how to make your favourite dish, as nanami walks you through every step. honestly, you were lost from the second nanami rolled up the sleeves of his white button up, showing off his strong, veiny arms.

you’re a little clumsy in the kitchen, so nanami offered to teach you a thing or two about how to cook. you guess you could blame it on the excitement that fills up your very being, because it really is special to share such intimate moment, like cooking, with someone so dear to you. yet, you can’t help but feel a little nervous as well, too afraid of messing up even a slightest bit, which could make you look unappealing to nanami.

he’s a very domesticated man, knowing his way around the household he owns. his place is never messy, cleaner than anywhere else you’ve ever been. on your first date, instead of taking you out, he invited you over and made the most delicious dinner, it had the potential to rival with those michelin starred ones.

you can’t believe it’s been three months since you started seeing nanami, it’s still fresh and new and the two of you never gone farther than a few innocent kisses and cuddles on his couch.

yeah, maybe that’s why you’re nervous and a little excited, the possibility of something new happening tonight is lingering in the air and you hope you aren’t being a little delusional and clouded by the lust you feel for the handsome man beside you.

“shit” you hiss, swiftly pulling your hand away from the knife and the meat you were currently cutting up. it’s a bad habit of yours to focus on your thoughts so much, you become unaware of your surroundings.

“are you alright? did you cut yourself” nanami’s larger hand instantly finds yours, inspecting the little cut on your pointer finger, thankfully it wasn’t bleeding furiously. “i’ll get go the plasters, put your finger under the tap in the sink” he instructs, voice void of any kind of anger and instead he presses a light kiss on your forehead before disappearing towards his bathroom.

while you let the water from the tap wash your blood away, you can’t help but pout. this is exactly what you wanted to avoid, to mess up in front of nanami, now you’re sure he won’t offer to cook with you again.

“can i get a look?” he asks as soon as he’s back by your side, gently taking your hand is his as he begins to tend to your tiny wound. nimble fingers treat yours with such delicacy, you feel the butterflies in your tummy going wild at the act.

“i’m sorry, i’m really bad in the kitchen” you mumble out quietly, not meeting his amber eyes as he looks at you softly with a smile.

“don’t apologise sweetheart, we all learn from our mistakes. here, let me help you” nanami leads you to stand before him, engulfing your hand in his as he reaches for the knife and picks up from where you left.

all your negative thoughts instantly disappear and instead, your mind is filled with the fact that nanami is standing so close to you, his firm chest barely touching your back and you feel his breath on your neck. it takes you a lot to not shiver or lean back against him completely, forcing yourself to stay fixated on the way he’s using your hands with his to cut up the remaining pieces of chicken for your dinner.

“see my love, this is a much safer way to cut up meat” nanami’s deep voice brings you back to earth, this time you’re unable to stop the ragged breath leaving you as you lean yourself closer towards the kitchen isle.

“yeah?” you muse back, your voice coming out slightly higher than usual.

nanami only hums in response, hips following yours, pressing you tight against the hard surface, before his lips find the skin of your neck. the moan that escapes you, leaves you embarrassed and you drop the knife from your hand, but nanami pushes it into the sink right away with the cutting board in sync.

he leans away to check if there’s anything else that could possibly harm you on the kitchen counter and when he finds nothing else, he turns you around before smoothly lifting you onto the cold surface.

nanami doesn’t kiss you right away, he wants to take in your beautiful form, chest heaving from his ministrations on your neck and your face is flustered red. in nanami’s opinion, you look breathtaking tonight, in your tennis skirt and sweater and if it wasn’t for the amazing control he has over himself, he’s sure he would’ve had you in his bed right at the first date.

but you’re so delicate and precious, the second he laid eyes on you, he knew you were pure. nanami also doesn’t want to rush you into anything serious after you told him about all the bad experiences you’ve been through so far and he wants you to want him just as much as he wants you when the time is right.

though, he hopes you don’t mind if the two of you go further than a few little pecks.

nanami pulls you flush against his crotch, making you let out another sinful moan before biting those plush lips of your and you look at him with such cloudy eyes from these small acts alone, nanami feels his cock twitch in his pants.

“can i kiss you princess?” you feel his breath on your lips as he leans in, amber eyes dark with want and your hands find their ways into his hair, fingers fiddling with the longer strands. you meekly nod, eyes switching between his eyes and lips. “talk to me baby” nanami chuckles and encourages you with a squeeze of your waist.

“yes” you breath out needly and there’s a tiny smirk stretching out on his face before he finally places his lips on yours.

nanami starts off a simple kiss, he doesn’t want to scare you away or make you feel uncomfortable. he doesn’t even want to move his hands from waist till he made sure that you don’t mind him touching elsewhere. it’s been a while since nanami had a relationship, but you already feel so special to him, he knows his heart wouldn’t take it well if you left him.

he leaves pecks on your lips, varying between shorter and longer ones. you don’t feel as tense, probably because you feel the safest when you are with nanami. if anything, you are curious about where this is going.

“can we try something a little different princess?” nanami ask after parting away from you, the way he speaks is a little raspy and it sends a tingling sensation to your core. “we can stop anytime you want” one of his hands comes up to cup your cheek in his warm hand, making you look up into those honey brown you love so much.

“sure” your respond comes out shyly and you look up at him with your doe eyes. nanami feels his cock grow semi hard from the face you make at him and how trusting you are.

“if you want me to stop, i’ll stop, okay little one?” nanami smiles at you reassuringly and you quickly nod before he smashes his lips against your with a little more force than before and soon enough, you feel his tongue asking for permission.

you feel ashamed at how fast you open your mouth for his tongue to enter and it swirls with yours. the hand that was on your cheeks now wanders back to your waist and moves to rest on your lips. you let nanami take charge and you feel him pull you even closer to him, closer to his crotch.

it’s your first time feeling nanami in such way and you moan into his mouth when his dick presses against your clothed core. your skirt is bunched up a little on your thighs and one of nanami’s hand sneaks to hold the underside to wrap it around his waist, before his starts moving his hips to yours. his other hand moves under your sweater, but before he moves it up further, he leans back a little.

“is this okay?” nanami’s question is accompanied with a squeeze of your tit. another moan leaves your lips as you nod, your hands leaving his hair and move to unbutton his shirt eagerly. while you do that, nanami holds you closer to him and walks to the living room before sitting down on the couch, with you on his lap.

by the time he sits down, you’re nearly finished with unbuttoning his shirt and nanami sits up a little to take it off before leaning back into the couch. your hands find his chiselled abs, flexing under your touch, but your focus is back on nanami’s lips, because he puts a finger under your chin to guide you back to his lips.

nanami moves both hands back under to cup both of your tits through your bra and it makes you squeeze your thigh together around his waist, pressing down on his crotch in turn, making nanami groan. you do it again, testing the waters and nanami pulls away from him.

“didn’t know that i have a needy little thing between hands” he groans and encourages you to keep going before stopping completely. nanami hadn’t realised that your hands left his abs and he watches you with wide eyes as you take your sweater off.

you look at him carefully, his amber looking you up and down, taking in your form as you sit in his lap, only in a pair of pink lacy bra and a skirt. the both of you are breathless, a little flustered and overall horny.

“it’s only fair for me to take it off too” your words are a little shaky, but you offer him a little smile as you fiddle with your fingers. nanami chuckles before responding to you with a smirk.

“you’re very eager for me, aren’t you sweetheart?” he asks tentatively and thrusts his hips upwards, pushing you into his chest and his lips find your neck, kissing all over to find that special spot of yours and when you let our a whimper, he bites down on the spot, licking and kissing it till it turns purple.

all the while, his hands slip under your bra, massaging and teasing your perky nipples while the two of you grind against each other, the air heavy with moans and groans. after leaving a few hickies around your neck and collarbone, nanamis lips kiss back up to yours through your jaw. your hands caress through his upper body and the way your smaller hands softly touch him all over while the two of move against each other faster.

“you’ll make me cum in my pants sweet girl” he mumbles between kisses and you only kiss him back feverishly, feeling closer to your high as well.

“i’m close kento” you whine and he coos sweet nothings to you.

nanami’s hands leave your chest to cup your ass, setting a rough pace for the both of you as he thrusts up to meet with your grinding. your hands find his cheeks, cupping them as you kiss him, tongues moving around and you feel a little saliva in the corners of your mouth pooling.

one particular thrust of nanami makes you scream his name out as you cum all over his pants and he follows you too, cock twitching in his briefs and spilling all over. you slump forward and lay against his chest, both of your breathings heavy and nanami moves his hands to stroke your back.

“i’ve never came by a man before” you mumble quietly and you feel nanami tense against you, before hugging you close to him.

“i can make cum as many times as you want to princess, if you let me” nanami’s deep voice comes out softly, feeling proud at himself for being the first man to cause you such pleasure.

and hopefully, he’ll be the only one too.

@/vlrspace, 2023

[little-sleepy-owl]

ℍ𝕦𝕤𝕜 𝕩 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣,

who is a virgin and wants him to be their first. mostly gender neutral, but there's one use of "girl/boy", coz I couldn't come up with the alternative that would fit my vision.

damn, I didn't expect I will have so much fun writing this one. for all Husker lovers out there. hope this is good <3.

warnings: not explicitly, but still smutty, daddy kink mention (have you heard Keith David's voice? there is NO way I would ignore this opportunity), biting mention.

well, he didn't expect that.

forgive him if he laughs. “really, you died a virgin? how old were you, fifteen?”

actually curious how this even happened. were you never attracted to anyone that way? or was no-one attracted to you? if so, those people were blind.

somewhat surprised you want him to be your first. are you really sure? isn't there a better candidate?

well, he is not gonna reject the offer.

he's an old-fashioned man. he might look like someone who would just drag you to his room to do the deeds, but in truth, this fellow is a hopeless romantic.

you will get a proper date. not exactly a fancy one, but very thoughtful and sweet.

a table for two right in the Hotel, some lit candles, all other patrons and staff chased away for the evening. he will dress especially nicely for you and even prepare dinner.

(it's actually ordered, but you don't need to know that.)

quiet music, slow dancing. chaste compliments, but his voice is so deep and low, tickling your ear lightly, it still feels kinda suggestive. oh, he's very smooth when he wants to be.

his hands start to wander quite quickly tho. but can you blame him? the man can only have that much patience, and it's not like you both are not aware of what it is all leading to.

just remind him to retrieve into the bedroom, or else he might go on you right at the same table you both dinned on. unless that's what you want, of course.

a king of foreplay.

he takes things slow. madly so. it's almost like he's lazy. his hands move leisurely over your heated skin, and it takes so much time for his hot, wet kisses to go down the side of your jaw and cross your neck to finally reach your collarbones.

he purrs. you don't even have to touch him, he just marvels so much when he touches you, it gets him purring non-stop.

but also, try gently caressing the base of the wings. I assure you, you've never heard those noises from him before.

he doesn't talk much, but when he does… you can't help but blush to the tips of your ears.

hot breath, voice hoarse, a quiet praise, a small chuckle. doll, babe, sweetheart, good girl/boy.

if you respond well to the last one, expect him to use the “daddy” card, too.

don't think he will do all the work. quite the opposite, actually. he will lay down and make you strangle his hips with a sly smirk on his lips.

“don't you want to choose your own pace now, hun?”

truly the lazy cat.

oh, but don't worry. If you get tired, he will take his turn too. can't have you disappointed on your first time after all.

this man has technique. he makes you feel so good so seemingly effortlessly, it's crazy.

will ask if you're okay with a bit of a biting. it's really hard to resist for him, especially on the verge of climax.

mind you, he's not finishing before you do. maybe even before you do twice.

nope, no afterglow cuddles until you drink some water and at least have a towel to get a bit cleaner. after that, he's all yours.

covers you with his wings, while tackling you close to him.

initiates a lil’ talk about everything. did you like it? was there something you'd rather him not do?

he's not insecure, he just wants to communicate properly and prefers doing it as soon as possible.

everything's fine? good.

now you know he's purring when he sleeps cuddling with someone. what a cute kitty.

[dovesdreaming]

The Ketchup Conundrum

Summary: Deadpool and you have been together for a few months, and everything's been perfect-well, as perfect as it can be when you're dating someone like Deadpool. But today, the two of you face your first real fight... over the silliest thing imaginable.

Request

Masterlist

Warnings: none

-

The sun was shining through the windows of your shared apartment, casting a warm glow over the cozy living room. You and Wade, aka Deadpool, had just finished a peaceful breakfast, and everything seemed perfect. The two of you were a new couple, but it already felt like you'd known each other forever. You were basking in that honeymoon-phase bliss, where even his weird quirks, like wearing his mask at the most random times, were endearing. But then it happened. The incident that would go down in history as The Ketchup Conundrum.

You were making sandwiches for lunch when you noticed the ketchup bottle was nearly empty. You grabbed it and did the natural thing, gave it a firm squeeze to get the last of the ketchup out. Wade was sitting at the kitchen island, flipping through a magazine with one hand, the other clutching a half-eaten chimichanga. As soon as he heard the telltale squelch of the ketchup bottle, he looked up, eyes narrowing beneath his mask. “Did you just... squeeze the bottle from the middle?" he asked, voice dripping with disbelief. You froze, ketchup bottle in hand. "Yeah, why?".

His magazine hit the counter with a dramatic thud. "Because! You’re supposed to squeeze from the bottom! Everyone knows that! Now it’s all uneven and weird!". You blinked, trying to wrap your head around the fact that your first real fight was apparently going to be about ketchup. "Wade, it’s not a big deal. I can just push the rest down, see?" You started to smooth the ketchup down with your fingers, trying to fix the situation. But Wade was already worked up, standing now with his arms crossed over his chest. "No, no, no. It’s not just about the ketchup, it’s about principles! You start squeezing from the middle, and next thing you know, you’re putting pineapple on pizza! Or-“He gasped dramatically, "folding the toilet paper the wrong way!". You stared at him, a mix of confusion and irritation bubbling up. "Wade, it’s just ketchup! It’s not like I-“. He interrupted with a raised hand, "I thought I knew you. I thought we had something special. But now… I don’t know what to think!".

The argument escalated quickly. You both started throwing petty jabs, the playful tone gone as the ridiculousness of the situation was lost in the heat of the moment. “I can’t believe you’re this upset over ketchup!” you huffed, crossing your arms. “And I can’t believe you’re so nonchalant about it!” he shot back, his voice muffled as he grabbed his mask and yanked it back over his head in a huff, as if that would shield him from the sheer absurdity of the situation.

It wasn’t long before you both stormed off to different rooms, the door to the bedroom slamming behind you as Wade retreated to the living room, muttering something about “ketchup heretics”. You sat on the bed, fuming. Of all the things to fight about, this was by far the dumbest. You grabbed a pillow and hugged it to your chest, glaring at the wall as if it was the one to blame. But as the minutes ticked by, the anger began to fade, replaced by a gnawing feeling in your stomach. You missed him already. The apartment felt too quiet without his constant chatter, without the sound of him flicking through channels on the TV. And that’s when it hit you. “I need to tell him I’m sorry” you whispered, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

Meanwhile, Wade was sitting on the couch, staring at the TV but not really watching it. He had flipped to a random infomercial, and the overly enthusiastic salesman was shouting about some kind of miracle cleaner. Wade didn’t hear a word of it. His mind was stuck on you, on the stupid fight, on how empty the apartment felt without you in the same room. “I need to tell them I’m sorry” he muttered under his breath, barely loud enough for himself to hear.

Both of you, in separate rooms, stood up at the same time. You hesitated for a moment, wondering if maybe you should wait, give him a bit more time to cool off. But then you shook your head, steeling yourself. No, this was too silly to drag out. You needed to fix this, now. You opened the door just as Wade was walking toward it. You both froze, standing awkwardly in the hallway, staring at each other. “Uh…” Wade scratched the back of his neck, looking uncharacteristically shy. “Hi”. “Hi” you replied, suddenly feeling a bit ridiculous.

“I was just…” He gestured vaguely behind him, “coming to say sorry”. “Me too,” you said quickly. “I’m sorry, Wade. I didn’t mean to make a big deal out of something so small”.

He shrugged, looking down at his feet. “I overreacted. It’s just… I don’t know. I get all weird about dumb stuff sometimes. But it doesn’t matter, because you matter. More than ketchup. Way more”. You couldn’t help but smile at that. “Really?”. “Really” he said, finally looking up at you. He reached out, pulling you into a hug. “I’m sorry, babe. Let’s never fight again, okay? I hate it”. You hugged him back tightly, breathing in the familiar scent of him. Leather, chimichangas, and something distinctly Wade. “Agreed. No more fights. Especially not about ketchup”.

You both stood there for a long moment, just holding each other, the relief of reconciliation washing over you both. Then Wade pulled back slightly, looking at you with a mischievous grin. “So… wanna make up for lost time and be super cuddly for the rest of the day?” You laughed, feeling a weight lift off your chest. “Only if you promise not to judge my ketchup squeezing technique ever again”.

Wade held up his hands in mock surrender. “Deal. Now, how about we cuddle on the couch and watch terrible rom-coms?”. You smiled, feeling nothing but love for the ridiculous man in front of you. “That sounds perfect”. And so, the two of you spent the rest of the day glued to each other, making up for the lost time, the earlier fight forgotten as you basked in the comfort of each other's presence. Because in the end, it didn’t matter if you squeezed the ketchup bottle from the middle or the bottom. What mattered was that you had each other, and nothing, not even ketchup, was going to change that.

-

Thank you for reading!!

[lesinquietes]

Imagine Shigaraki forcibly taking you as his pet and everyone in the League is kinda chill about it — except Spinner.

Tw; abusive behaviour, angst, kidnapping, noncon (implied), yandere

—

The others don’t notice the little things he does. They don’t see the marks peeking out beneath your sparse clothing, or the haunted expressions that overtake you when you think no one’s paying attention. He does, though; he blames his perceptive nature.

Unfortunately, noticing these sorts of things are conflicting when the root of the problem is his friend. On one hand, he wants to support Tomura’s pursuits. He’s always believed them to be noble, even if they’ve diverged from rationality. Spinner would proudly declare him a close confidant. On the other, he knows that Stain wouldn’t do something like this to a civilian, and didn’t he enter the League under the premise that he would uphold his ideals? It’s perplexing. But the more he watches Shigaraki traumatize you, the more he realizes he’s condoning something terribly wrong.

So, what does he do? Try to reason with his boss, of course. It’s not like he has any other viable options.

He catches Tomura leaving the dining room one evening. It’s perfect. Everyone else is either asleep or away. The conversation seems to go well at first; then, it takes a spin into the dark side.

It turns out AFO was the one who told him to capture you, that your purpose is stress relief so he can operate the League. Tomura makes it clear that something big is going to happen soon. Things are going to change. He knows what he does to you — how he takes his frustrations out on your mind and body — may not be just, but it’ll help them achieve their goal of overthrowing hero society.

For a moment, Spinner asks himself if the ends justify the means. He ponders what Stain would say, if he were here instead of locked away in Tartarus. Would he say there’s a better way? Would he propose a cleaner execution to achieve the objective?

But Shigaraki is his own man. As much as he wants to compare the two, it’s unjust and incomplete of him. He chooses to trust Tomura’s judgement, even though his gut directs him otherwise.

He’s tries to ignore your whimpers at night, and whenever Tomura gets a bit too rough with you in a tense meeting. He tries to turn a blind eye to the way you glance anxiously around the room of villains, searching for someone who gives a damn — all you get in return is the likes of Dabi leering at you. But what he finds the most difficult to deflect is when you sob as Tomura drags you away, no doubt to his bedroom for a few hours to diffuse his souring mood.

[cephei-ea]

Memento (Geto)

CHAPTER ONE

Warnings: angst, derogatory slang (ball gargler), suggestive themes, yandere

Genre: Comfort, Angst

Word count: 2.7k

╭─────────────────.★..─╮

Suguru was different than the rest. At least that’s what you thought, having known him for so many years now. He’d always stood out. While others threw tantrums, he remained stoic, while others ogled, he respected, while others lied, he remained honest, while others judged, he remained understanding.

Suguru was always a safe space for you. That’s what you thought, having spent so many months and so many years by his side after his defect. The defect hardly mattered, nor did his tendency to lash out at the followers, or his distaste for “monkeys” or his switch to psychotic behavior.

You loved Suguru through and through. He was your home, your person, your moral compass, despite his lack thereof, and your ambition.

Now, as you both stood atop a rooftop, gazing out over the city below, his hair brushing past his shoulder and blustering out behind him. For the first time in weeks, and something that really only happened in front of you, he wore clothes that you thought suited him a bit better than those robes he constantly brandished. Something cleaner and more simple, a black t shirt a size too small and a pair of sweatpants with their usual sag near his ankles.

You would never admit it to Suguru, in fear of how he would react, but you’d spent the better part of your afternoon at Jujutsu High, speaking with Satoru. If Suguru found about your meeting behind his back, well… you were sure he wouldn’t take it well. At all. But it wasn’t any attempt to betray him, or break his trust. Rather, Satoru asked to meet, as he did every now and then; maybe once or twice every few months. Because whether Suguru realized it or not, his best friend still cared about him enough to contact his… lover(?) in hopes that you would catch up and tell him how everything’s going. If Geto was okay, if he still held bags under his eyes and if he still walked about brooding and the seeming epitome of depression.

So that’s what he did. Every couple of months, you’d receive a call from “DNI” on your phone, asking you to meet either at his house, the high school you once attended and taught at or at a park in order to simply catch up. It was nice, really. Not just to be able to catch a break from the responsibilities of being Geto Sugurus right hand and… lover(? [Or whatever you were to him]), but also speaking with Gojo calmly, without any qualms after so many years apart.

<<<

“Thanks for coming.” Satoru was always smiling, noting the absence of a smile on your face, and the way your expression had drastically changed. “I know it was a bit of a stretch, asking you to meet up.” He continues. The depressive look that had finally vanished from Sugurus eyes was replaced, perhaps stolen, by the same look you once bore, of brightness and certainty. You’d taken on new burdens and Suguru had released them. Heavy bags ran evento your eyelids, your cheeks carved in tighter and the clothes you once wore confidently becoming a size too big.

If seeing Suguru los himself in the same way only to defect hadn’t hurt Satoru, this surely had. Perhaps because the blame for his other friend losing herself could be placed entirely on Suguru or perhaps because the person you’d become was the plain opposite of who he knew you were. Or maybe because he wish he could help more, because the new version of you was more of a stretch from your true self than it was for Suguru or because he simply couldn’t watch it happen again.

“Satoru.” You try a smile, though it’s a shell of what it once was. The sight sends a chill through Gojo. It was as if you and Geto had entirely traded demeanors. A shame, and almost sickening to see, consider in the way you’d stuck by him following his defect. “It’s been a while.” The words are genuine but speaking alone is like spice on your tongue, a sharp reminder of your sore throat. There were so many potential causes, all being some direct or indirect result of accompanying Suguru. Sickness, his crudity the night prior, or the laughable amount of sobbing you still did every night. Whatever it was, you still held no regrets and told yourself you’d follow him to defect in every timeline and in every universe.

You loved Suguru.

“You look like shit.” Gojo said, the second thing he’d really said to you since the last time you saw him, so many months ago. You huffed a breath of humor. But suddenly, the playful lilt in his voice was gone and so was your attempt at a smile, your eye bags weighing you down. “What’s he done to you?” You didn’t answer when he asked, because really, he hadn’t done anything. You shook your head.

“Satoru. You have to understand how difficult this decision was for me.” You explained, finally able to explain your side. “The way I look now is no one’s fault but mine.” Satoru opened his mouth to speak but you cut him off. “It was my decision to follow him and lead this life. The consequences are just…” you tried to explain but your throat closed up. “We’re more different than I thought we were.” Your tone was guilty, your voice shaking. Gojo shot you a look that was all but pitiful, his fists enclosing at his sides and the air filling with tension. “Don’t look at me like that.” you whispered, sighing. “I’ve second guessed myself enough, I can’t start regretting things now.”

He stepped forward and his hand was in yours, pulling you along to the desk chair. “I don’t pity you.” He explained, though his expression doesn’t waver and you grit your teeth. “You made the decision a lot of us were too scared to make.”

>>>

So every two months, you and Satoru would catch up, him bragging about his new students and you expressing your deepening love for Suguru, despite your differences. It had been nearly 2 years of this trend before you made a mistake. You’d spent just a little too long at Satorus house gaming and playing card games. It came out of no where, one night on the rooftop when Suguru turned to you after a few moments of silence.

A big smile split his face so you reached for his hand, offering a small one in return. “Sugu~ Should we make plans for a date this weekend? We still have a couple of days.” He intertwined your fingers before leaning forward to press a kiss onto your lips, consuming your mind whole like always.

It wasn’t long before his thin eyes were staring you down, a change in mood so sudden you almost flinched, his smile faded. The darkened bags under your eyes had not subsided, only deepened.

“Where have you been?” He asked, the night air chilly and the goosebumps on your skin evident beneath his touch against your neck. He all but ignored your suggestion, his grip tightening and his eyes boring into yours. It was clear to you, though maybe not to anyone else, Suguru was angry. “All day, while I was working with those monkeys to achieve our goals?” His voice deepened as he spoke, still the smooth and entrancing melody it always had been. There was a falling of his features, a darkening in his eyes and a pinch between his eyes.

“W…” you began, voice small and fearful. You’d always been a bit on edge around Suguru. After all he was Geto Suguru, the second most powerful sorcerer and a man who had time and time again shown how far he was willing to go, how much he was capable of changing and how ready he was to abandon everything he once claimed as his, in order to reach his goals and regardless of how unreasonable they seemed. “What?”

Of course while Satoru held the title of the strongest, he was the epitome of bubbles and sunshine.

Suguru was different in that regard, brandishing an aura that told all those around him that he was a dangerous man with a willpower and ability to detach that rivaled even the most stoic of warriors.

So when Sugurus body turned to yours and he stepped forward, you stepped back. Of course this only alerted him more.

“You reek of Satoru.” It was expected that Geto would be angry. His voice filling with a tone of betrayal and distaste. Still, the man was calm in lifting a his nose to a lock of your hair and inhaling the scent of his former best friend. Questions berated at his mind: Why had you done this? How did you hide it from him until now? When did you find the time to visit Gojo? Where had it even happened? But Geto remained silent, a silent expectance between you to know what he was thinking.

“Suguru it’s not-“ you tried for an explanation. No matter what you could say, it was all incriminating and nothing was good enough of an excuse to go behind his back. “I.. I didn’t do it to hurt you.” Suguru wrapped his lithe fingers around your upper arm and yanked you toward him, nearing his face to your neck and pushing your hair away to brush his nose against your skin. His voice was in your ear, a chill reminder of his uncanny control over you. His hand ran from your neck down your sternum and to your waist.

“I’ll kill both of you.” He hushed against your ear, a warning. You knew Satoru was stronger, but you also knew Suguru was being honest, and would die trying. It was that known sense of determination and unfiltered anger that scared you. The threat reverberated in your ear, making your chest pound with nerves. Then, you knew he had the wrong idea because of the way he pulled you against his body and looked down at you.

“Sugur, it wasn’t like that-“ he was quick to interrupt you, pressing his fingers into your back. Instead of coming off as a threat, it only spurred your reeling mind on, his touch a sharp contradiction to his cruel words.

“Going to another man’s house behind my back ‘wasn’t like that’?” You had no explanation really, only guilt and a heart that was easily swayed by your feelings for him. “I mean if you were gonna get with another man, you should have at least done a better job at hiding it-“ he plucked a white strand of hair from your shirt, eyeing it as it floated to the ground.

“-No!! No, Suguru, I promise you it’s not what you’re thinking!” You grabbed his hands in yours and watched as the pinch between his eyes dispersed, bringing up his palms to your face and holding him close. “I wouldn’t do that to you.” He still held a look of suspicion, his fingertips then coming to brush against your skin.

“How is he?” Geto briefly changed the subject, gripping and tilting your head to the sides and pulling your shirt down just past each of your shoulders and then your collarbone to view your chest. Checking for any bruises or marks or… lovebites. The thought made him sick. The situation you two were in made him sick.

Your breath hitched in your throat, his touch like fire against your skin and leaving flames of desire in their wake.

“He’s good. He asked about you.” You smiled, his finger releasing your shirt only to grip your elbows and run up to the side of your head, haphazardly pushing away any hairs that followed the wind to obstruct his view of your face. “He misses you so much, so does Shoko.” Your face molded with sentiment, meeting his brown eyes, chocolate coated and sweet as such. “You know that, right?” You reached for his hand and pressed closer, not daring to mention his suspicion of you.

Suguru didn’t answer. Instead, he reached to get your hand in his and looked back into your eyes. “I don’t really want to hear it.” You sighed, but there was hint of emotion in his face you knew he kept well guarded.

Hurt?

A squinting in his eyes, the raise of his brows and pinches at the corners of his lips. “Especially when you went to visit Satoru.” His voice is dangerously low, offering you no comfort or inkling of a moment to explain any further. “At his apartment.” In all fairness, it was hard to question why Geto cared so much, seeing as he’d made it a point to ignore all your desires for a genuine relationship with him. Rather than blatantly ignoring you, he’d strung you along for years now.

At some level, it was more than you could hope for that he even allowed you to stick around. Much less that he allowed you in his bed every night. Then at some level, you thought it was the least you deserved to receive a proper relationship from him.

You loved each other, didn’t you?

“Suguru I told you it wasn’t like that-“

“Does it really matter what it was ‘like’ when you went to his apartment alone, to do God knows what?” He paused, the scowl on his features was not leaving room for another word from you, so you glued your lips shut. “What have you been doing all day that you smell like him???” The anger in his face was only growing with every moment. What could you really say? You knew it was wrong to go behind his back. And if it wasn’t, it gnawed at your heart every two months, as though you were doing Suguru a disservice, if not disrespecting him. “Did you fuck him?” He asked with a lilt in his voice that told you he was jumping to conclusions.

“God Suguru do you have to be so crude?” You scoffed and ripped away from his hold. “Of course I didn’t fuck him; we spoke.” Suguru looked out on the city below, and you knew he was not listening, only hearing your words. “Because when I decided to stick by your side for years and when I joined you back then, I left behind everything.” Your throat was closing up and the sting behind your eyes told you it was time to end the conversation. “And everyone I cared for.” The bump in your lovers throat bobbed and he still couldn’t meet your eye. “For you. Because you were worth losing everything for.” And you took a step back because the proximity was making you want to cave in on yourself. “They were my friends, too, Suguru. Except I wasn’t caught up in my own head and I still loved them when we left.” Suguru only allowed his facial muscles to relax.

“I gave you the option to stay behind. I made sure you knew that you didn’t have to stay. If you’re saying you’re regretting that now, then I guess Satoru is having more of an affect on you than I thought.” Where you stood now, there was no chance to indulge in the cool night air to calm your heated nerves. What you knew was that you needed to be away from Suguru.

You sat at the edge of a nearby dam, the concrete beneath chilling and the view far below just a slight switch from what was normal, a bit of thrill in the otherwise boring maze of a life you’d trapped yourself in. Ever since the night that Suguru cornered you, or maybe before that, things were different. At least for you, the once heavy weight that rested on your shoulders while being at Sugurus side now felt as though it doubled. This wasn’t you, never had been. And when you thought about it, Suguru must have known as well, because when he looked at you, his gaze held a sense of familiarity and recognition he’d not seen in you until recently. That warm sympathy in his eyes that he dared not mention, partially because of his increased workload but also because he recognized it would take you more time to forgive him. Suguru was willing to wait, he knew it’s always lead to him, knew you were coming back.

╰─..★.─────────────────╯

[cassiefromhell]

Bats and Fire 04

"The Calendar Situation"

Last time on bats and fire... 01 02 03

a/n: it turns out that i have bad writing motivation and love bouncing between projects, lol (also you can blame late updates on my current bg3 phase and jjk hyperfixation). so expect BAF 1-2x monthly. once again, i am very open to suggestions/themes for future chapters/episodes, so leave them in comments or my inbox!! and my requests are always open <3 enjoy!

warnings: smut, mdni/18+. p in v, oral (f receiving) morning sex, character watches while y/n is eaten out, interruptions, slight overstimulation, etc...

wc: 3.4k

Things were thoroughly out of hand.

Your mates were incapable of not fighting over every single second of your free time. And that turned into tug of war games where you get the lovely privilege of being the rope, and you know what you also weren’t getting? 

Sex.

You had not had sex in two weeks.

But you have five mates? How’s that possible?

Because you are almost never left alone with any of them long enough to get someone’s shirt off, nevermind a hand in your pants.

And a girl will get fed up after a while.

But luckily, on your first expedition after your cycle ended, you found the perfect solution…

You stumble into the old shop, wiping your dirtied hands off on your pants. The scent of magic immediately hits your nose, and you bite your tongue to distract yourself from it.

“You look like you’ve been to hell and back,” the female behind the counter says, her sunken gray eyes tracing over your tattered clothing.

You clear your throat, approaching the counter. “Do you carry any blade polish, or leather cleaner?”

She pauses, then opens and closes her mouth. “Say… are you the hunter that our mayor is paying to clear our woods of those damned Puca?”

“How could you tell?”

“I had a feeling.”

The female hobbles her way around the counter, and leads you to the left. She opens a cabinet door, and pulls out two glass containers, one with a clear liquid and the other a slight brown. She hands them both to you. “Your polish and cleanser.”

“Thank you,” you say, turning to head back to the counter. But something shimmers in the corner of your eye, and you pause, turning to face it.

It’s a pile of calendars, the edges glimmering with the sparkle of spells. But who would need a magical calendar? 

“Eyeing the Mrythat Calendar?” the shopkeeper asks, coming up beside you. “No one ever buys ‘em.”

“What do they do?” you ask, reaching out to take one and examine it.

“You buy a few, sign ‘em with blood, and then they’re connected to you. Write something on one, it appears on all the others. Useless, if you ask me, but a merchant came through ‘ere with an offer I couldn’t refuse,” she explains, then starts back towards the counter.

You take six of the magical calendars, tucking them under your arm.

“You’re sure ‘bout that, hon?” the female raises a brow at you. “Don’t know what you’d use ‘em for.”

“You don’t even know,” you grin, dropping the calendars on the counter. “You don’t even know.”

The next time you were at each of your mates’ residences, you spread the calendars. Of course, you happened to be with Azriel and Cassian in the House of Wind next, so you got to work...

The sound of the hammer nailing the calendar into the wall echoes down the hall. You step back, satisfied, admiring the shimmering calendar mounted over the soft blue paint.

Cassian rounds the corner, slacks hanging low on his waist, rubbing his eyes. “Love… what’cha doing at four a.m…?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” you beam up him, gesturing to the glorious calendar — the solution to all of your problems. “Too excited. Look at it!”

“That’s… that's nice, love,” Cassian mutters, walking up behind you and putting his hands on your waist. “But let’s go back to bed, hmm?”

“No, no,” you gesture to the calendar once more. “I’ve gotta explain to you both how this works— hey— Azriel! Azriel, are you up?”

In response, a shadow comes to your side, winding around your leg.

You frown. “Did your master send you?”

The shadow tightens its grip.

“Is he just avoiding getting up?”

Even tighter.

You huff, poking Cassian’s shoulder. “Go get Azzie. This is important. And now I know he’s awake.”

The Illyrian nods and trudges off, cursing under his breath and running a hand over his face.

You almost feel a little bad, but then you’re distracted by your calendar again.

You did research on how these work. They were invented specifically for managing one person’s schedule, like a boss giving them to his employees to find time for meetings with them. Whoever’s schedule was being managed, just had to mark the calendar with a bloody fingerprint, and then all the calendars they marked would sync up. 

You grin, sticking your thumb into your mouth and piercing the skin, then you press it to the back of one of the pages. Instantly, the calendar glows, and then stops, but when you flip it to the current month, you find that it’s been filled in with all of your missions and plans — the magic has even sorted out what days you’re in which court, with which mates.

You grin maniacally.

Shadows slide around the corner, and out come your two Illyrian mates, bleary-eyed and wings damn near dragging.

You grin and clap your hands, pointing at the calendar. “Lookit! Look at what I did!”

“What did you do?” Azriel asks, coming to stand at your side and placing a hand on your lower back. It’s obvious that he’s trying his hardest to sound interested.

“Cass, c’mere,” you grin, tugging him to your other side. “Okay, okay, so, how this works. I have six of these calendars. They’re all enchanted, and they’ll soon all be connected to me by blood. When someone marks one, the others get the same marking, and I simply have to think it in order to add something. Each of my mates will get one, and so my schedule can be fairly organized.”

Cassian nods slowly. “Okay… but I thought normal scheduling was working fine.”

You bark a laugh. “No, no, no. You all are rather fond of interrupting each other’s dates and alone time, claiming to have ‘forgotten’ that I was already scheduled. This fixes that.”

“I do not,” Azriel grumbles, wings twitching.

“Well, see, the main inspiration here was my sex life,” you explain, perfectly calm as both your mates’ eyebrows shoot up. “I haven’t had actual sex in a week and a half, did you both know that?”

Cassian narrows his eyes. “No, no— how is that possible?”

You point to last Friday on the calendar, when you were marked to be on a date with Rhys. “Look, here; at this time, I was on the riverbank of the Sidra, about to be fucked against a tree, until Cassian came in and stayed for the rest of the date— and was completely oblivious to the mood and the arousal drenching the air.” You point to two days ago, when you were supposed to be sleeping at Eris’s palace. “At eleven p.m. that night, I was fully prepared to be ravished and yet Lucien needed me for something. And that’s not an issue, right, because two is better than one! But no, Eris and Lucien refuse to be naked in the same room at the same time.”

“…I see why you want the calendar,” Azriel murmurs, walking away and coming back with a pen and approaching the calendar. 

“What are you doing?” Cassian asks, tilting his head to the side.

“We’re the first ones to have this, right?” Azriel looks at you, and you nod in confirmation. “We have all the empty slots. I’m filling them all in with me.”

Cassian blanches, and then steps forward, promptly shoving Azriel to the side and stealing the pen. “Give me that! You can’t take all the slots!”

“You were just too slow,” Azriel grumbles, gesturing to the calendar, which is now half-filled with dates… all with Azriel.

You snort, and then turn on your heel, heading back down the hall. “I’m going back to bed. Whose bed am I getting in?”

“Mine,” they both say at the same time, and you can feel the glare they give each other. 

You grin, and turn the corner, knowing one — or both — of them is bound to come running after you.

All goes well with your visit to Rhysand, and he was very happy with his new calendar. However, things get a little bumpy when you’re at the Autumn Court…

“Fuck—” you whimper, gripping Lucien’s hair as his tongue works at your clit, fingers pumping in and out of you steadily. You’ve already come twice, and he’s damn close to working you up to a third.

The bliss is nearly lighting you on fire, legs shaking as you finally approach that cliff again, climbing higher and higher and—

“Cum for me,” Lucien murmurs against your clit, the vibrations nearly tipping you over the edge. He looks up at you with those eyes from between your legs, and you whimper as you reach that—

A knock comes on the door.

Lucien pauses, and you whimper, desperately bucking your hips into his hand and lips.

“Shit, what time is it?” he asks, sitting up and looking at the clock, mouth glistening with your slick. 

“Lucien,” you grit out, “please.”

“Times up,” a familiar voice calls from behind the door. “Your slot is only from seven to eight, I have her for the full night from eight p.m. to sunrise.”

You hiss in frustration, gently tugging at Lucien’s hair. “Ignore him.”

Eris slips into the bond immediately. Ignore me?

Eris, give me five minutes. Please.

That’s not what the calendar says.

Does it sound like I give a shit about what the calendar says? You growl down the bond, frustration only building.

Lucien has obediently gone back to working your cunt, sliding two fingers back in. His mouth latches around your clit immediately, and the wondrous sensations start to build up again.

Two minutes later, Eris is speaking down the bond again.

I’d have already gotten you off by now.

Your only reply is an audible whine, surely loud enough for Eris to hear on the other side of the door.

And clearly he does hear it, because he’s winnowed to your side within seconds.

“Add a finger, it’ll make her come faster,” Eris idly comments, taking a seat next to you on the bed. “And harder. That’s important.”

You’re now completely naked and vulnerable in a room with two fully clothed males. Because apparently you’re the only one getting their clothes taken off today.

“What are you—”

“Shush,” Eris hushes you with a gentle kiss, stroking a hand down the center of your torso, rubbing circles on the sensitive skin of your belly. “Let us take care of you.”

Before you can reply, his head dips down to your left nipple, licking a circle around it. His thumb runs circles around your other breast, all while Lucien increases his pace.

With very little warning, your climax creeps up on you, pleasure suddenly spiking. You cry out, gripping Eris’s shoulder for support as you tip over the edge, stars and flames filling your vision as the waves of your orgasm crash over you again and again and again and—

“What does that make?” Eris asks, stroking your hair.

“Three,” replies Lucien, who is gently rubbing circles over your clit, coaxing you through the last waves of pleasure with gentle kisses along your thighs.

The High Lord clicks his tongue. “That won’t do. She needs at least five, else apparently she’ll get needy at an ungodly hour.”

You try to protest. “Will not—”

He stops you with a quirked brow. “Two weeks ago. You woke me up before sunrise by humping me. Like a puppy in heat.”

You open your mouth, and then close it. He’s right. You did do that. But he looked so damn sexy like that, features relaxed and mouth parted and—

Lucien licks a stripe up your folds, and all your thoughts screech to a halt.

“Love,” Rhysand whispers in your ear, pressing kisses over your cheek and hair. “Love, time to get up.”

You blink awake, squinting in the early morning light. “Mm... what time is it?”

“Seven,” he murmurs, slipping his hands up and under the shirt you’re wearing — his shirt — and rubbing your skin.

You groan. “Cass isn’t picking me up ‘till seven-thirty. Why’d you wake me?”

“Because I was thinking we could squeeze a little something in,” Rhys kisses your neck, pressing his hips to yours, letting you feel his bulge beneath his pants. “If you so please.”

Your heart skips a beat, and you bite your lip. You run your hand down his chest, finding his bulge and palming him through his pants. “Needy, are we?”

“Please,” he groans, rutting against your hand once, twice, then pressing more kisses across your collarbones.

You smirk and nod, spreading your legs for him. His reaction is instant, making quick work of your panties and discarding his pants. 

He presses a finger into your entrance slowly, hissing as it comes back soaked. “Fuck. So wet for me, love.”

You tilt your hips up for him, and he strokes himself twice, then slowly slides in, stretching you wide. You whimper, gripping his shoulders and chewing your lip to stay quiet. “Fuck…”

Rhys picks up a slow pace, gentle and loving as the kisses he’s pressing along your collar and neck. He rubs your hips in time with his thrusts, each time hitting just a little deeper, each push a little more pleasurable than the last.

“Please,” you moan, desperate for more, deeper, harder, faster… and he doesn’t give it to you.

He presses a chaste kiss to your lips, shaking his head. “Impatient little thing. It’s bright and early, and you want to have the shit fucked out of you?”

You nod, and he merely chuckles. The sound is low and deep and effectively makes you even wetter around him. 

He pulls out, and you open your mouth to whine, but he sweeps you up into his arms, picking you up out of the bed. Before you know it, your bare back is against a wall, and he’s entered you once more, this angle deeper than before.

He picks up a bruising pace immediately, and you moan, capturing his lips in yours to swallow both of your noises. You can’t help but tilt your hips with each thrust, desperately matching his pace as that coil in your abdomen begins to grow tauter.

“Fuck— fuckfuckfuckk—” you hiss against his mouth, clutching at his biceps, his neck, his shoulders — anything to ground you as you’re pulled higher and higher.

“I’ve got you, love,” he groans, slamming into you harder, brushing that spot so deep inside of you—

You come immediately, clenching around him and squeezing your eyes shut, moaning loudly as the pleasure drags you down, down, nearly into unconsciousness as your thighs cramp. Rhys has to hold you up to keep you from falling out of his arms, and he follows you with three sharp thrusts and a low growl, spilling into you.

He kisses you, gently, and you run your hands through his hair, rolling your hips against his once. 

“God, I love you,” you murmur, between gasps for air.

“I love you too, darling. I love waking up to you next to me,” he murmurs back, nosing your neck. “I love fucking you first thing in the morning.”

“Round two?” You run a hand down his abdomen, licking your lips. You can’t help it; you want to taste him.

He grins deviously, opening his mouth to reply — but then footsteps sound down the hall, accompanied with what is obviously Cassian whistling. He’s definitely giving you a warning that he’s coming — he could be quieter than that.

“Fuck,” you grumble. “Just a sec.”

Cassian, you speak down the bond. Not done here. Give me half an hour. 

What? No. He whines, but his footsteps halt. I’m scheduled to pick you up at seven thirty. It’s my time.

I’m aware. The schedule isn’t supposed to be exact. You guys seem to have an issue with that.

…Isn’t exact reserved time the point of the schedule?

You sigh, shaking your head. “Change of plans. I’m calling a mates’ meeting.”

Half an hour later, all of your mates are gathered at Rhys’s dining table, their calendars sitting in front of them. You sit at the head of the table, decidedly unhappy…

“Alright,” Azriel starts, leaning forward on his elbows. “I’ll break the ice. What’s got you upset, love?”

“What do you think has me upset?” you grit out, glaring over at him.

Azriel suppresses a flinch, leaning back in his seat.

“I’m assuming it has to do with the calendar?” Eris says, gesturing to the calendars in front of them all. 

“Uh huh. And why, exactly, did I enact the calendar rule?”

There’s a short pause, and then Lucien responds. “To organize your schedule?”

“Because you wanted more sex,” Cassian corrects him, rubbing his chin. Lucien, Eris, and Rhys whip their heads to look at him, having not been there for that conversation. “But hasn’t that succeeded?”

“More sex, yes. But short sex. Painfully short. You know why? Because I start having sex with one of you. We do the deed. I want more. You want more. Then what happens? Knock knock, someone else comes along and refuses to give up precious time from their slot.”

Cassian looks down and away, making a face. Eris doesn’t look pleased either.

“You guys,” you sigh. “The calendar is flexible. You can deal with having half an hour taken off of your slots. It’s supposed to be a guide, not a strict schedule.”

The males before you begrudgingly grumble in agreement, and you gesture to the calendars. 

“Okay, thank you. Now that that’s understood, it’s time to schedule next month’s times. Please open your calendars,” you instruct, opening your own. Everybody follows your lead, so you continue. “I’ve marked in all the slots available, and when I’ll be gone. I have two missions next month; a dragon study and a job for the Winter court clearing out a pair of Banshees. The dragon study I have to do alone, but one of you can tag along on the clearing.”

Azriel immediately reaches for a pen, but not before Eris has already winnowed one into his hand, already writing his name.

“Ah!” you hiss, grabbing Eris’s wrist. “We’re drawing sticks.” 

Eris snarls at you on pure instinct, then his face goes slack. “Sorry, sorry— I didn’t mean to—”

Immediately, your four other mates are up out of their seats, teeth bared and ready to attack Eris.

“Dear mother,” you groan. “It was instinct. Everybody down.”

Everyone sits. 

“That’s the other thing,” you sigh, waving your hand to winnow in a cup with five sticks in it, all marked with a name. “You all need to work on the hostility. I know it’s difficult. But mistakes will be made, fights will be had, and instinct is instinct.”

Lucien mumbles a ‘sorry’ to Eris, and the rest follow, some less apologetic than others.

You carry on with the meeting, and you draw sticks, deciding the order of who gets to pick first. Cassian, much to his joy, gets first, then Azriel, then Lucien, followed by Rhysand, and in dead last — which you’d bet money was influenced by someone’s magic — is a very salty Eris.

Nevertheless, the dates are set, and you dismiss everyone—

“Hold on,” Azriel cuts in, holding up a finger. “There was a prearranged date with Rhys on here. Why only him?”

“Because he’s set to meet my parents,” the words fly out of your mouth before you realize what you’re saying, and you immediately clamp your jaw shut.

Damn your mouth.

All five heads turn to look at you, shocked faces adorning all but one — Rhys, who knew about this and didn’t question it.

“Why only him?” Eris asks, raising a brow. 

“I want to meet your parents!” Cassian pouts, leaning forward against the table.

“I do as well,” Lucien adds, scratching the back of his neck.

“Agreed,” Azriel finishes. “I’m free that time. We could just all meet them at once.”

Agreement runs through the circle, leaving you opening and closing your mouth.

Because there’s one issue.

One little, tiny issue…

“Cauldron boil me,” Eris murmurs, slowly leaning back in his seat. “They don’t know you have more than one mate, do they?”

Ah, yes.

That.

To be continued…

tags: @awoa1 @llovelydove @bookishbroadwaybish @maddietheshoe @eerievixen @ghostofnightcrawlerpast @cleverzonkwombatsludge @hyemishii @caro-lightwood-blog @the-sweet-psycho @myheartfollower @bubybubsters @luvmoo @foreverrandomwritings @ummmmmchillanywaysso @spongehappy @fell-in-luvs

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[romana-after-dark]

The Wrong Way: Chapter 7

Dark!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader Tommy Miller x reader (secondary)

Masterlist

Spotify playlist

Summery: You are sold to Joel to clear up some of your fathers' debts, and he takes you back to his house where him, Tommy, and high ranking members of his raiding trope stay. Joel is mean, cruel, and hash, but had small moments of softness that confuse you in your venerable state. Over time, you get to know him and Tommy, and see different sides of each, an both are hiding secrets. Was it possible to fall in love under these circumstances? Or was that just another way Joel was fucking with you?

Aka: my mom sold me to One Direction

WARNINGS FOR FULL FIC, NOT CHAPTER BY CHAPTER UNLESS SOMETHING NEW IS ADDED AFTER MASTER WARNING LIST: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT!!!! Fic contains graphic depictions of sexual assault, rape, molestation, dubcon/non con. Blow Jobs, PIV sex, lose of virginity, sex trafficking, past incest, death/people dying everywhere, Stockholm syndrome, falling for your rapist, victim blaming, torcher, branding, physical abuse, rape (not Joel), somno, dub con on tommy? idk he's not really into it but feels like he has to, self-harm/depression/suicidal thoughts (not a lot) but fair warning, major age gaps, love triangle, pregnancy/birth, threats of abortion, major character death, mentions of potential csa/child abuse but does not even come close to happening, forced pregnancy, forced housewife shit, breeding, breeding kink?!?!

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

There would be no need for a bath, he had already taken you once today and the two of you had sat in the water until it was room temperature; Joel had even managed to get a scented candle, saying the wife of one of the other raiders, one who didn’t live in the house, made for you when she heard Joel was “seeing” someone. You wondered how much she knew, if she knew you were kidnapped, bought, that Joel had hurt you so severely in the early days, but now your relation had shifted into more of a live-in girlfriend. Either way, it was a kind gesture, and you enjoyed the lavender scent as Joel washed you. You’d been rather lonely since Tommy left last month, but things in the house had shifted once again…

Lorenzo had somehow become your babysitter in place of Tommy, except you were allowed outside of your room now. You’d proven to Joel that although yes, you’d cheated on him, you wouldn’t leave. You managed to convince him it was just once, and although he was not thrilled that Tommy had taken your virginity, he seemed convinced that yes, when you had actually begun showing him affection, Tommy was just your friend. You loved Tommy, you think, but you weren’t lying. He had never touched you sexually after that first day. Joel didn’t need to know about the affection you showed each other…

Still, you wondered why Joel was so willing to leave you alone with Lorenzo for hours on end when he’d already had to deal with Nick and Tommy, but you were grateful. You’d taken to housework to kill time, Lorenzo usually sitting at the kitchen table drinking whatever alcohol he’d gotten his hands on and smoking as you cooked, washed dishes, swept and mopped. Many of the things you used to clean or cook with had to be requested of Joel, almost like a shopping list that depended on what he could find. A bunch of bachelors living together hadn’t proved to have much necessary home items (they didn’t even have flour!) but in time, you’d been able to provide them all with a cleaner living environment and better food. In turn, many of the men were less shitty to you. You think sometimes to that night Joel had left you handcuffed to the table, and you wonder who, of the men who muttered quick words of thanks, would have raped you after Nick… would Jack, who occasionally sat with you when Lorenzo and Joel were both out and made small conversation have hurt you given the chance? Were the men who you had began to take company in the same men who raped and killed? You were sure of it… but how much did it matter? Joel was your primary company, the one you took solace in, the one whose arms you laid in right now, and he had done horror to you… you couldn’t exactly hold the other men to the standard you had held Tommy to.

“Got any plans today while I’m gone, little one?” Joel asked as the water cooled, neither of you wanted to get up yet, not until Joel really had to go.

“It’s nice out, I think I’ll do some laundry” Nice weather was laundry days. Jack had thrown together a washboard of sorts for you when Joel was unable to find anything and you had refused to let him demand one from any of the households of the other men. Jack had worked with his hands pre-outbreak and was able to put something together for you, which you appreciated.

“Lorenzo ain’t give’n yuh no trouble is he? I know he can be a damned asshole sometimes, especially when he’s been drink’n”

When wasn’t he drinking? When wasn’t he an asshole?

Great question. “No, no trouble, thank you for asking.” Lorenzo could be an asshole. He was blunt, and made it very clear a few times how stupid he thinks you are for staying with Joel, for pushing Tommy away, for putting yourself between Tommy and Joel tha night and refusing to kill Tommy, simply banking on the unstable man’s mercy, so on and so on… But you would yell at him to shut up and he would, after a last word or two if he was drunk. You appreciated Joel’s concern, the way he always looked after you… You remember the hurt on his face when he had come back from slaughtering Nick, how sorry he was that you felt like you couldn’t tell him, and of course Tommy had insisted that he made you have sex with him, despite the fact you had begged Tommy… Joel tried so hard to communicate with you now, or at least for you to communicate with him.

“Alright. You’ll-”

“Yes baby” You took Joel’s hand. “I’ll tell you if he so much as looks at me funny”

You could feel the light laughter from the rise and fall of his chest. “Anything you need today? Other than the cocoa powder, I’ll keep looking for that.” It was the last thing you needed before you could make brownies. You knew he’d find it eventually, but it wasn’t a necessity.

“Can you trade for more eggs? Trade, Joel. Trade. Not steal.” You insisted he not take more from people on his lands other than the ‘rent’ for ‘protection’. An older farmer had a chicken coup and that’s where you got your eggs. Joel sighed, but agreed. You pause before asking. “Joel?”

“Yes, sweetheart?” He leaned over to pull the plug on the tub, draining the cool water out. 

“Lorenzo said there were a few apple trees a couple miles out… I wanna make a pie for Mrs. LittleHawk, Cash’s wife, as a thank you for the candle, and of course a few for you all.”

Joel mumbled something about not needing to send a thank you, that the women should respect me the way the men respected him, but you thought that was silly. They had no reason to think anything of Joel’s kept woman.

“Please Joel?”

He sighs again. “Fine, only because I ain’t had apple pie for 10 years. I’ll swing by the patch on my way back.”

You turn around in the tub, facing him as your wet hair stuck to your face. You comb his hair back and smile as he leans into your touch ever so slightly. “I was actually hoping… maybe we could take a ride out there? I wanna pick ‘em myself…” 

“Baby…” You looked so hopeful, so wide-eyed and innocent. “I got so much shit to do, I ain’t got any time in the day light to take you for a few weeks”

You pout. You know Joel has a hard time saying no when you pout, especially when he’s all lovey-dovey after sex.

One more sigh. He supposed you’d been so good, very well behaved and not an inkling that you wanted to run… he had forgiven you for cheating on him with Tommy, a difficult betrayal to grapple with, but that was just how much he loved you… he supposed there was no reason to not let you go… you knew if you tried anything it’d spell the end for Zach and Tommy. “Are you comfortable going with Lorenzo?”

You light up, peppering kisses all over his face as you thanked him, continuing to tell him how much you appreciated it and how you were gonna make a whole pie, just for him as he dried you off, carrying you back to the bedroom you shared. There was no reason you couldn’t walk, but Joel always carried you, and you always laid your head on his shoulder or kissed his neck as he did. You loved feeling loved, protected, adored.

You watched Joel pull off the towel around his hip and get dressed, and despite being sore from the ravenous fuck this morning, you still felt that pang of desire. He really was so, so handsome; broadest shoulders you’ve ever seen in your life. Joel looked over his shoulder and smirked as you eyed his bare ass before he pulled up the boxers. “Like what you see, little girl?”

You blush and turn away as he chuckles, before going to the closet to pick out an outfit for you. He had been bringing back several dresses, which you thought a bit impractical, but he seemed to enjoy watching you cooking in a dress, walking up and pressing his erection into your ass with your hands in the dish sink. He had absolutely fucked you against the counter before, nearly burning the baked beans in the process and your arm, and you had managed to assert one single boundary during sex; no fucking while you cook.

He pulled out a white dress for you which you put on over your underwear. 

“I got a surprise for you.” He says as he finishes dressing, strong muscles flexing with his movements. He gestures for you to sit on the bed, and you are delighted as he picked up his guitar.

You gasp a bit. “You fixed it?”

“Just for you, princesa” Joel smiles. “Now, it’s been a long as time, and my voice ain’t what it used to be-”

“I’ll love it, it’s perfect, no matter what” You assured.

Clearing his throat as he sits on the bed, he tuned up one more time, having fixed it up the other day while she worked on the garden with Lorenzo binge drinking outside. “Alright, well, this is one I still remember all the words and chords to, so here we go.” He looked… nervous. He wanted to please you, make you smile, wanted to make you happy in your life here… and you seemed happier, you really did. He knew you missed that traitor bastard of a brother, but it seemed Lorenzo kept her enough company when Joel was gone.

When the music started, you were immediately entranced. It was melodic and haunting and beautiful all at the same time… and when Joel began singing… you couldn’t help but begin to truly adore him. Nothing he had done to you mattered the moment he sang to you.

“Well I’ve been ‘fraid of change’n cause I built my life around you

Well times makes you bolder, children get older and I’m getting older too

Take my love, take it down… If you see my reflection in the snow covered hills, will the landslide bring me down, oh, the landslide brought it down.”

The cords were a bit clunky, and he mumbled over a few words not seeming to remember exactly what they were, but you loved, you loved it so much you begged him to play again, and again, and again until he said he needed to get going, but you had memorized chunks of the words and the melody, you wanted it to play in your head forever the way Red River Valley did when Zach used to play it. 

“I take it yuh liked it?” Joel chuckled as he took the strap off his shoulder.

“It was beautiful, Joel. I loved it. Were you a singer before the outbreak?”

Joel couldn’t help but chuckle at that. “No, not really. I wanted to be though. I used to sing and play for family, few open mic nights” You didn’t know what an open mic night was, but it sounded like a show, and it made you proud that someone who had played at shows played for you.

“For family?” You ask, not thinking, but then immediately regretting it, knowing that this was a sore subject for him.

Instead of getting angry, he looked… sad… He shuffled a bit, getting up to put his shoes on. “Yeah I uh… I had a daughter. I sang to her before bed, she loved that song.”

You knew better than to press the issues, knowing the fact he even mentioned Sarah was him laying an extreme amount of trust on you, and you took this trust seriously.

“Did you write that song?”

He hesitated. “Ummm Yeah, I did. Years ago.”

A few hours and a horse ride later, you were picking apples while Lorenzo smoked and drank against a tree. His cigarette smelled awful so you made him move away from you. You usually didn’t mind the smell, but your nose had been so sensitive lately, and whatever brand he got today smelled like a skunk. You supposed he couldn’t be choosy, but Jesus did he have to drink too? Nonetheless, you were happy today, you really were, happy to get fresh air and sunshine, enjoy the smell of the apples and the trees and the flowers, the warmth on your skin and the breeze through the thin dress. You hummed along to the song Joel had sang you today, gently singing the few words you remembered here and there. 

“Oh, hhmhmmhmmm what is love. Can the child hmmm hmmmmmmm rise above, Can I sail hmmmm hmmmm hmmmmmmmmm can I sail through the seasons of my life”

“How the fuck do you know that song?” He slurred, clearly drunk already.

You turn to look at him curiously. “How do you know that song, Renzo?” 

He scoffs at you. “Uh, maybe because it’s an incredibly popular song from before?” The sarcasm slurs out of him.

“No it’s not” You chuckle. “It’s Joel’s. He wrote-”

Lorenzo was laughing so hard he fell over. You felt your cheeks burning.

 “Why are you laughing!”

He tries to catch his breath as he continues wheezing on the ground, his smokers laugh mixing in with coughs and chokes. “I-I’m sorry” Now, you knew that wasn’t genuine. Lorenzo didn’t apologize. “God DAMN you are way too fucking young for that old bastard” he holds his stomach and hickups as he laughs. 

“Don’t call him that!”

“Fucking hell” Lorenzo covers his face, kicking his legs a bit as he mocks you. “He’s got you so fucking brainwashed, I should feel bad for you if this wasn’t so fucking funny!” 

You didn’t think it was that funny, but whatever was in that drink must make him a lot gigglier than usual. 

You throw an apple at his head.

“Ow!”

“Why are you laughing!”

“This is some really fucking good weed”

You didn’t know what that meant and you didn’t wanna ask.

Lorenzo went on. “That song he sang you is a very very popular song by one of the most famous bands in history, Fleetwood Mac, and it was covered by a popular country band like a year before the world went to shit. Joel absolutely did not write it, and the fact he was, what? 5? When the original song came out and you don't even remember it should disgust him. And Tommy for that matter but you don’t ever fault Tommy for- OW!” Another apple.

It was a while before he spoke again. “You could run for it, you know. This would be a good time, if you can get to the horse before me.” You ignore him, and he mutters that you are a dumb bitch again, lying on the grass with his smelly cigarette.

“And what about you?” You challenge him. “Now would be a great time for you to cope a feel, take advantage of us out here alone like everyone else seems too.”

“Oh don’t you worry about that sweetheart” He giggles, his accent (Boston, he told you a few weeks ago), even thicker with the alcohol, making him a little hard to understand when he drinks. “You aren’t my type”

“Oh?” You ask, not believing him. It’s not that you thought yourself anything special, but you also knew with men, it wasn’t your looks they were after, just what was between your legs, and most of the men you had met, save for Zach, Tommy and Lorenzo, seemed eager to get there. “Then what’s your type?” Your laundry basket full of apples perched on your cocked hip, you challenged him.

You did not expect him to answer “You’re brother”

The basket of apples`drop to the ground. “What?”

Another burst of giggles. “Oh come ON! You got Stockholm syndrome but being gay is where you draw the morality line?”

“No! No it’s not that… well, I guess I’ve never met… and you still see Zach? How is is he-”

“Slow down there, sweetheart” The drunkenly thick accent making it sound more like sweethaht. “First of all you have obviously met a ho-mo-sexual” he drew out the word teasingly. “‘Cause your brother is one. Secondly, he’s doing good.”

 He ended oddly sincere.

You had so many questions, but mostly you were thankful Joel didn’t go back on his word and kill Zach for trying to take you. “Did you… is that why you helped him try to rescue me?”

“Nah” A little wave of his hand and a sleepy chuckle. “He did pay me, but we hit it off. Don’t think too hahd ‘bout it, we ain’t elope’n or nothi’n”

“Well… can you tell him I said hi, and… I miss him?”

“Yeah, yeah I will. C’mon, let’s get going” Lorenzo wobbles as he stands up, falling over a few times getting to the horse. As he tries to mount, he’s halfway on the saddle before falling off with a harsh ‘OOF’

“Lorenzo!” You set down your basket of apples you had to regather, and hurry over to where he lay. The wind was knocked out of him but he was breathing, to your relief. “C’mon, let's go.” You try to pull him up, but he just laid there, groaning and dizzy as his world spinned.

“This is the perfect oppretunity to go, why don’t you just fucking leave, dumbass”

You growl a bit as you try to get him going, successfully pulling him to sit up at least. “I’m not having this discussion.”

“You’re little hero left you, there’s nothing here for you except this delusional little white-picket fence life you are playing with.”

“If I leave, you are dead! Joel will kill you! You ridicule me for not having common sense but if I leave you’ll end up like that rotting body outside the house as will Zach and Tommy!” You push him back down, but he sits up quickly grabbing your shoulder. “Let go!”

“Don’t pretend like you are doing this for me, kid, when you know damn well you’ve gone and fallen in love with the same asshole who raped and abused you!-”

“You don’t know anything about us, or about him!” You scream, trying to pull away.

“You think I ain’t seen that fucki’n brand on your thigh when Joel dresses you up like a doll in those short little dresses?” His voice raises.

“Let! Go!” 

Lorenzo’s hand goes to your skirt. “Look what he fuck’n did to you!” 

The slap you delivered across his face was so hard it stung your hand, his lips bled a bit as you fell back in shock and he laid back down on the grass.

The two of you laid there in silence on the ground for a while, panting. You hadn’t reacted like that since Joel first took you, and even then you never slapped him.

It was Lorenzo that spoke first. “What are you gonna do when the baby comes?”

There was a pause as your ears rang, blood draining from your face, you felt hot as your heart rate picked up. “What?”

“I had all my sisters, 6 of them. Was married too, not that anyone ever asks. I know when you’re on your period, even though I try not to. It ain't come yet” You had no way of keeping track of dates… it came when it came and all the days had begun to blur…

“No… no he always pulls out…”

“Well so did my sisters boyfriend but she still got knocked up at 14, was puking every morning like you. You’re about 3 weeks late.”

No, no this can’t be happening… Your hand flies to your stomach. “No, I had… I had a stomach bug…”

“Whatever you say.” He looked like he was about to fall asleep.

God no, you can’t bring a child into this world… How is Joel gonna react? Fuck, fuck, fuck! “Get up!” You scream at Lorenzo, standing up and forcing him on his feet. “Get on the fucking horse and get us home!”

He begins to climb up. “So fucking-”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, so fucking stupid” You grumble, and sit behind him to keep him from falling over as he takes you home.

You’re pacing the floor when Joel comes home, and immediately clocks something is wrong, dropping the bag he brought. “What did he do?” His face is stone cold, pulling out his gun.

You knew he meant Lorenzo, and as much as he got on your fucking nerves, you didn’t want him dead. “No he’s fine, it’s not him, it’s just… Joel I gotta tell you something, and I don’t know how you’re gonna react…”

Joel softened. He knew… he knew his reactions are why you didn’t tell him about Nick, and if something was wrong he wanted you to be able to tell him. “It’s okay, you can tell me little one, we’ll figure it out together.”

Tears fill your eyes, and as the sobs start, Joel takes you into his arms. “J-Joel… I-I-I’m pregnant.”

He freezes, unmoving and you cannot tell what he is thinking. He’s gonna be mad, he’s gonna be so fucking mad at you, he’s gonna beat the shit out of you until you miscarry, or he’s going to kill you! He only just mentioned his daughter to you today, this is going to tear up open wounds… what if he thinks it’s Tommy’s baby? You didn’t want this, you didn’t want this at all, how could you bring a child into your situation?

“This is amazing…” He whispers.

“W-what?” How could this be amazing?

Joel pulls back to look at you. “This is amazing, you are amazing…” wonder is in his eyes, but you shake your head slowly.

“No… no Joel we can’t do this, we can’t raise a child”

“Of course we can.” His voice was so soft, so assured… “We absolutely can, I’ve done it before.”

“When the world hadn’t gone to shit!” tears were still in your eyes, occasionally spilling over.

His grip got just the tiniest bit tighter… “You don’t think I’d be a good dad?”

You knew a warning when you saw one. “No, no that's not it!” You were quick to deny the accusation. “It’s just… this world, there's constant danger-”

Joel cuts you off with a kiss, his grip tight as he begins to kiss your neck. “I protect you, don’t I?”

“Yes, Joel, but there's so much going on, I can’t-”

Another kiss. “Yes you can.”

“No, no I can’t. Please, Joel, I know you know people, doctors… can’t you find someone, someone too… to take care of-”

Another kiss. “Of course I can, I’ll find the best doctor around, you’ll have everything you need.”

“No, not a pregnancy doctor, Joel I want to end-”

His grip on your shoulder was harsh, uncomfortable, but not necessarily painful… he was playing nice, nicer with you than he usually did when he perceived a wrongdoing. “You wanna abort my baby?”

The tears flowed freely as you began to plead with him. “I can’t do this Joel, I’m fucking scared, somethings gonna go wrong I just know-”

A final, searing kiss. “We’re gonna be parents, okay? A happy little family.” There was no room for question, no room to argue, no room to ask as he kissed you, his grip softening as you didn’t protest; your reward. I won’t hurt you today, but remember, your body is still mine. All this freedom, but you still belong to me.

He kissed you onto the bed, dressing you down and into a nightgown, his hand constantly rubbing your stomach, caressing it, adorning it in affection with the same hand that nearly brought you to death multiple times… but he was so gentle, wasn’t he? So gentle when he wanted to be… And he had been different, he’d been better, Joel had been so soft, even in sex. None of the ways he would in sex, even accidentally. And he agreed not to come onto you while you cooked, you had successfully been able to say no to sex… that was an improvement, a vast improvement… yeah, maybe you could do this.

When Joel fucked you that night… you felt like you could call it making love.. He was so tender, it was surreal. As he strummed his guitar lazily for you you felt your stomach. Logically, you knew there was hardly anything there, but you felt it… you felt that little baby in you… barely a twinkle. Joel would keep you safe, Joel would keep the baby safe, everything would be fine… As Joel played the song from this morning again, you didn’t bring up what Lorenzo said. Joel was the one singing it to you, so it was his song…

You rested on his lap. “Do you know Red River Valley?” You ask, looking up at him as he clumsily strummed his guitar.

“Yeah a little, it’s a pretty popular western song. You like that one?”

“Yeah, my… my brother played it.” Shit.. you froze again. Would that upset him? There was an unspoken rule not to talk about your life before him…

“Ah, well, I think I can get the chords out, dunno the lyrics though.” He began to plunk around to get the tune, teasing the chords out of the 6-string.

“I know the lyrics.”

You watch him smile softly at you, eyes sparkling as he brushes the side of your face with the back of his hand. So gentle, so tender… “Sing away then, pretty one, I’ll match your speed.”

And you did. You sang all the verses you knew while Joel strummed along, carefully to your pace. You weren't a great singer, but it brought you comfort… You were scared, so scared, but it would be alright, wouldn’t it? The tears rolled down your cheeks, and you smiled at Joel so he would think they were tears of Joy.

“From this valley they say you are going

I will miss your bright eyes and sweet smile

For they say you are taking the sunshine

That has brightened our path for a while”

“Come and sit by my side if you love me

Do not hasten to bid me adieu

But remember the Red River Valley

And the cowboy who loved you so true”

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

Okay so i know this is a boring chapter but i was looking at the initial pacing of the chapter timeline and i didnt like it, it felt rushed but now i fel like this chapter makes it too drawn out??? But here we are

I knowthis focuses more on Lorenzo and Little one but I thought it was fun at least. plus, baby?!?!?!?!

If you had theories on how this ends, or where its going, does baby and joels reaction to baby change it? lets here it!

New header, pictures of LO tied up are replaced with pictures of her as a "little house wife" as Lorenzo says. and of course, Tommy is gone, replaced with Lorenzo;-;

Since the last poll was SO FUN lets do another!!!!

As always, thank you sooooo much for comments and comment reblogs and asks!!! it makes me sooooo happy to see how engaged people are with the story!!! makes me really happy and keeps me writing.

Im tryna work on dark!nathan bateman but joel distracts me!

Also I really need to work on my normal non dark frankie series on my main XD

@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @howaboutcastiel @tidlewav3 @bunnnyy-dummy @slutfortimotheechalamet @foggymoonbanana @dinsbaby @miraclesabound @jenna-ortega @primosworld @marclovers @threeheadedlamb @secretwriterpp @the-fox-den

@bitchyglitterfox @0bsessedwithfictionalcharacters @alloftheboysivelovedbefore @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @lunar-ghoulie @pedritosdarling @dreamonseems @alwaysdjarin @amoramorquetepintas @milla-frenchy

[strikersexhaver]

i think i got the go signal to request something more angsty? so here's my little request..

striker's S/O can't call striker while he's on a job right? what if they did and accidentally risked themselves getting tracked?

maybe happening after the job to kill stolas again, which he failed, let's say stella didn't approve of his second slip-up and possibly risking herself getting it out to the public about the attempt, leading to her getting furious at striker and instead wanting him dead for it.

(like the first episode where he got introduced and his whole get-up and all at the end of that episode where he's on call with stella type of thing?)

he's on call with her while she's literally threatening him, and then suddenly his S/O calls at that really horrible time and he accidentally answered it and the reader blabbing about being sorry for calling him but they just really badly miss him to which stella hears and continues to threaten to kill them next if he keeps fucking up.

how would striker feel and what'd he do now?

THE REST IS UP TO YOU LOVES! sorry this is kinda long.. but tysm!!💕

(A/N) I love this request oh my god, it is so interesting it’s insane- I genuinely think if Striker had an S/O this would 100% happen at this time in the show! This was super fun to write and honestly- I wouldn’t mind making a part two to this or something like that!

Wrong place, and wrong time… 🦢 🗡️

Striker messed up, big this time- not only did he fumble the bag he also had an annoying Goetia Swan squawking at how much he failed so… Adding more pain to the blow.

“You had ONE job! ONE! I even made the job easier for you and simply asked you to bring him back to me!” Stella yelled, her voice breaking the microphone of the motel phone.

He had to turn down the volume from how loud she was, but it showed how badly he pissed her off.

Even though he disagreed, he could’ve killed Stolas if not only she didn’t request to torture him THEN kill him. This job would’ve been easier- plus, it would’ve been cleaner if she had him not attack him in a PUBLIC RESTAURANT.

She kept yelling at him on how regretful he should be, how bad he failed, and etc- he was expecting this when he failed to the M&M’s

He sighed, practically tuning her out- only to hear another ring but from his burner phone. He was confused, because the only person he gave the phone number to was Stella, maybe a few other clients but…

While Stella kept yapping her mouth, he accepted the call then sighed, scratching his temple before saying-

“Bad time Rogue, I ain’t got-“

“Striker, I’m so sorry I called I just missed you, and it’s been such a while since I heard from you and I didn’t know if you died or anythin-“

His eyes widened, it was you- how did you get his number? Most importantly, why did you go against his one request to not call him during a job? But he couldn’t blame you because he had been away for a long time.

He tried calming you down as you sounded genuinely upset on the phone, like you were breaking down.

“Darlin’, Darlin’, listen to me- breath in- breath out- “ he said in a calming voice, trying to be as comforting as possible.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry-“ you kept going sobbing on the phone.

“It’s okay darlin’, just calm down- I’ll be home soon..” he spent the next few minutes trying to calm you down, and reassure you- he admittedly was mad at you for it but that’s for a different time. Even though, if only this was at a different time too.

Stella stopped yelling and listened in, she panted then kept quiet to hear.

She looked around, then had an idea brew in her head, a smirk formed on her mouth.

“Striker,” she started, “I’ll give you one last chance, ONE LAST CHANCE! If you fail this time I’ll make sure to get someone who can do what you can’t, finish the job! But not on Stolas on your pathetic little bitch whining like a damn child!” She hung up and left it like that, feeling more than too proud of herself.

Striker paused, stopping himself from even speaking a single word.

A ringing was in his ears, as the only color he saw was red.

He grabbed the phone Stella was on and tossed it to the wall, it smashing into pieces. He had a angry rattle in his tail and the sound of a snake warning it’s prey; hissed throughout the room.

In a fit of rage he tore off the window’s covering and ripped the sheets of the bed into shreds.

Before panting and tuning back in to hear you calling out for him, concerned and scared with all the noises he created.

“…Striker?”

“Darlin’ pack your shit’ and meet me at our hangout, now,” he tried to seem softer but it came off much more aggressive and serious.

“Wh-what?”

“Pack your shit and go now,” he hung up on you.

He was serious, you could tell, without hesitation you got up and started packing your bags and things from your shared home.

He needed to cool down during this time, he was angry mostly at Stella but he couldn’t help but feel angry at you. Even if you had good intentions, he never lets you call him to protect you and only you.

Now you’re in danger, and there’s probably nothing he could about it- besides killing off two birds with one stone…

[thatesqcrush]

12 Steps to Love: Step 7 - Ask a Higher Power to Remove Your Shortcomings

Rafael Barba x Reader. CW: NSFW for smut, obscene language, addiction talk (alcoholism), minor physical altercation, and that bitch (IYKYK).

AN: HBD to me! So I am giving y'all a present instead. That present, is smut (under the cut).

The next morning you woke up to an empty bed. You scanned the room, the entire apartment quiet. You wrapped the bed sheet around you as you explored the apartment. “Rafael?” you called out to no response. Your hand trailed along the wall as you headed into the kitchen. There was a note on the counter from Rafael stating he went to pick up breakfast and his suits from the cleaners. You smiled to yourself, feeling perfectly content. 

After your shower, you decided to rifle through Rafael’s cabinet and sure enough you found a new unused toothbrush. You brushed your teeth as you then looked through his drawers to find something to wear. You crouched to the bottom drawer and to your surprise, you found a pair of jeans that you must have left behind. You grabbed one of Rafael’s many (albeit faded) Harvard t-shirts and brought it to your face, inhaling the scent deeply. You were in the middle of putting it over your head when there was banging at the door. You furrowed your brow and made your way over. Your hair left a trail of water droplets as your feet padded along the floor.

The banging continued and you huffed to yourself. “I’m coming, hold your horses!” You undid the lock and the chain on the door before swinging the door wide open.

You let out a gasp. It was Yelina. 

Yelina scoffed with an eye roll as she took in the sight of you. You took the sight of her in - she was dressed casually, no makeup. You could see the redness in her eyes and the dark under eye bags and you quickly deduced she had been crying.

You awkwardly turned towards the apartment. “Look, um, Rafi’s not here…” your voice trailed.

“It didn’t occur to me on my way over that you’d be here, but of course you’re here,” Yelina spat. Her voice is bitter, dripping with disdain. Her eyes narrowed. “Are those my jeans?”

You opened your mouth to speak but nothing came out. It didn’t occur to you that they would have been anyone else’s but yours. 

Yelina held up a hand. “Don’t answer that. Keep them. I wouldn’t want them back. Not after you stretched them out anyway.”

You were still too stunned to speak. 

“What Rafi and I had… I finally got a second chance with him,” Yelina continued, pushing past you and making her way into the apartment. You look around awkwardly and then decide to use the small ceramic bust of José Martí that Rafael had to keep the door propped open.

“I wondered what I did wrong to deserve this. Then I realized the only ones to blame are you two.”

You took a deep breath and prayed like hell, your voice wasn’t going to shake. “You know, Rafi told me all about you. And that when he was with you, he imagined it was me who was with him. Look, I get why you’re being such a bitch. You obviously love him and you think you’re gonna get him back. But the thing is, he outgrew you.”

“Bullshit. After he dumped your sorry ass, he came to me. I can’t pretend that I am over him, cuz I am not,” Yelina replied, her voice dripping with acerbity. “You think you’ve got him all figured out. Well, let me tell you something—“

You crossed your arms and jutted your chin. “I’ll worry about that the next time I fuck him.” 

What happened next came off as slo-mo - Yelina’s hand swung out and connected with your face. Your face felt hot from the impact of the slap. You immediately reached for your cheek. Your skin stung and you flexed your jaw. 

And without so much as a second thought, you clenched your fist and crooked your arm back before popping Yelina directly in the face. She let out a cry of pain and stumbled backwards. She brought her hand to her face and shrieked in horror. “I’m bleeding! Holy shit! Did you break my nose?”

It was that moment Rafael walked in, carrying flowers and a bag of food. “Yelina?” He looked at you and then her. “What is going on? What are you doing here?”

You and Yelina both turned towards Rafael.  Because she was standing next to you, some of her hair whipped you in the face. You sputtered and wiped your hands over your face repeatedly.

“Are you bleeding? Are you okay?” Rafael rushed to Yelina’s side. Rafael turned to you. “Did you hit her?”

Yelina moved her hand from her face, blood dripping down from her nose. “Rafi! The stupid pendeja punched me!”

“Hey! You slapped me first!” You yelled defensively.

Rafael looked at the two of you, completely stunned. He shook his head, recovering. “Yelina, don’t ever say that!” he scolded before continuing. “She’s not a pendeja. Did you slap her?”

“You asked me to bring you your stuff. And as much as that hurt, I did.” Yelina sniffled. She dropped the bag without care and some of the contents spilled out - mostly toiletries, but also some other items, like a few ties. But your eyes were immediately drawn to the gold strip of condoms. “Guapo, is there somewhere we could talk privately?”

Rafael let out a sigh; he didn’t miss how Yelina didn’t answer his question about hitting you. “Siéntate, por favor. Let me get some ice for your nose.”

Yelina turned to look at you, scoffed, and then made her way to the couch. Rafael approached you. He lifted your face with his finger and pushed away some hair, tucking it behind your ears. “Are you okay?”

You felt your cheeks grow hot and your eyes welled up. The skin where you were slapped was sore. “I am. But I am not gonna sugarcoat it. I could use a drink. Or ten.”

Rafael frowned. “I understand. Let’s talk about that once I deal with Yelina, okay? Go wait for me in the bedroom.”

You nodded. “Okay,” you replied quietly. Rafael pressed a kiss to your forehead. You watched as Rafael made his way to the kitchen. 

Your chest felt tight and panic bubbled under the surface. You took a deep breath and then walked over to pick up the bag Yelina dropped. You threw everything back haphazardly. When you got to the condoms, you stared at them. Your mind briefly imagined Rafael and Yelina together and you shuddered before shoving the condoms back in the bag. 

With a sigh of your own, you headed to the bedroom. You scrolled through your various social media apps waiting for Rafael to return. When he did, he himself looked agitated.

“Is everything okay?”

Rafael nodded, rubbing his chin. “I sent her home in a cab. She is not taking the breakup well. But I made it very clear that in no uncertain terms that she and I are not getting back together. And I managed to convince her to not press charges.”

You sat up straighter, your anger increasing. “Excuse me? She is the one who came here and hit me. I just reacted in response. Self defense if you will.”

Rafael gave you a pointed look. “It’s over. And I am glad I got here when I did. Are you okay? Do you want to file charges? I can call one of the detectives…”

You shook your head. “No you’re right. It’s done. It’s over. I don’t want to make it more messy than it needs to be. In working step 7, I need to be conscientious of avoiding sources of temptation that threaten my sobriety.”

Rafael gave you a look. “Temptation?”

You laughed. “You sir are a good kind of temptation. You give me orgasms and keep me humble. I mean more, just trash that threatens my sobriety… like her. I don’t want this to set me back.”

Rafael nodded. “Of course. Also glad to know I am a temptation.”

You climbed off the bed and approached Rafael, swatting him playfully. “You’re so full of shit. You know how fucking handsome you are.” You wrapped your arms around his neck. “Maybe a TRO won’t be so bad. I could have handled her, y’know.”

“I know,” Rafael murmured. “Let me take a look at your face sweetheart.” You lifted your cheek towards him. He crooked a finger under chin and tilted your face some more. “I don’t see any bruising or a mark.”

“It’s sore but mostly faded,” you responded. “Truth be told, I enjoy getting slapped - but on my ass. And by you.”

Rafael chuckled. He turned your face towards his. He bent his head down to press a kiss to your lips. You sagged against him, returning the kiss. His hands gripped you tightly, pressing your body close to his. 

“I know you brought food and all that, but maybe let’s just go back to bed?”

Rafael kissed you once more. “Yes.”

You undid the jeans and went to remove his t-shirt when Rafael stopped you. 

“Leave it on.”

You arched a brow. “Okay Mr. Harvard.” 

Rafael gave you a cheeky grin before he got undressed himself. The two of you made the way back to bed. 

“Are you sure you’re up for this?” Rafael asked in between kisses. “You can say no.”

You pulled back. “I know. And you’re so sweet and such a nice, decent guy for checking. But I enthusiastically consent to being fucked Rafael.”

Rafael’s eyes darken, blown by lust. “Okay cariño.”

You wrap one hand around his neck and pulled him to you. His lips crushed against yours, and you opened your mouth to allow him to deepen the kiss. His tongue exploded your mouth, licking hotly.  You wrapped your legs instinctively around his hips. Rafael rutted against your lace covered pussy, already so wet and ready for him. Your hips rose to meet his, and for a second as if the two of you were two teens dry humping one another.

“Fuck me,” you whined. “Please.”

“When you beg so prettily, how could I ever even dare to say no,” Rafael husked. You let out a moan as he rucked up his shirt, exposing your braless tits. His tongue traced your areola before taking your nipple into his mouth, sucking.  Your nipple hardened in response to the combination of the cool air and his warm wet mouth. His teeth gently scraped your sensitive bud and your back arched toward him, wanting more. Rafael repeated the actions to your other breast and you sighed contentedly. “Don’t stop, so good.”

Rafael obliged, alternating his attention, sucking, flicking, squeezing and pinching. You whined some more and Rafael took the opportunity to leave a dark mark on the slope of your breast. He then moved down your body, creating a path down your stomach with open mouthed kisses. 

Rafael used the tip of his tongue to trace along the seam of your panties. Your skin fluttered and you squirmed under his touch, and Rafael made a mental note to file away about this secret sensitive spot of yours.

Your hands ran through his dark hair, tugging. “Raf?”

Rafael looked up at you, his gaze downright sinful. “Yes amor?”

“Fuck me, please. I don’t want to wait anymore.”

Rafael nodded. “I need to get a condom.”

Your mind flashed to the strip of gold condoms that fell out. You shook your head inwardly gagging. “No, I trust you. I still have my IUD.”

Rafael swallowed hard. “Okay,” he managed to squeak out. The idea of going bare with you made his temperature soar and he felt dizzy. 

He climbed over you again, and you spread your legs wider. You used a finger to push your panties to the side. Rafael pushed his boxers down, but didn’t completely remove them. He sat on his haunches and pumped his cock, before he drew the tip through your folds, teasing you and coating his length in your wetness.

Finally, Rafael lined himself along your entrance and pushed in. Your wet warm cunt pulled him in, gripping tightly like a vice. You wrapped your legs around his hips and gripped his biceps tightly as Rafael began to fuck you. The rhythm was slow and measured at first, drawing half way out before snapping forward, pushing all the way to the hilt until he bottomed out.

Rafael watched as your eyes fluttered close and your face contorted in pleasure. His pace quickened, snapping his hips repeatedly, driving his thick cock in and out of you. The way you chanted his name as you surrendered yourself to him made him feel like a king.  You watched as sweat dripped off his brow and how his cross swayed with his thrusts. You weren’t religious but something about just the sight of that made you feel perverse. 

You’re gasping, clenching his sides, your nails digging into his sweaty, tanned skin as he rode you hard. He pushed one of your legs higher, changing the angle and you let out an actual sob at the feel of his cock dragging along your cunt, hitting that one spot that makes you feel boneless. You were close - so close, but you did not want it to end, so instead you tapped his bicep. Rafael locked eyes with you. “I want to be on top.”

Rafael lowered his body to yours and kissed you before rolling your bodies so that you were on top. You rucked up Rafael’s Harvard shirt so that he could knead your tits. One of your tits puffed through his fingers as you bounced on his cock, meeting his thrusts. You slowed your roll of your hips, throwing your head back as pleasure sparked through you before picking up the pace again. The room was filled with obscene sounds wetness, breathy moans and groans. There was something about all of this - how this extremely handsome man wanted you, and that he wanted you in spite of everything, that made you feel so incredibly vulnerable. Rafael slapped your ass quickly in succession. 

“Again,” you panted. Rafael is quick to oblige, smacking your ass some more.

“Is that what you like? Getting spanked.”

“Sí papí,” you purred.

You reached between your bodies to rub your clit, but Rafael shooed your hand away. The way you called him papí thrilled him. He pressed his thumb to your clit, rubbing haphazard circles. 

“Gonna come for me?” Rafael grunted as he met the pace of your hips. You bit your lip and nodded frantically. Your toes curled as you began to teeter closer and closer to the edge.

“I’m close too,” Rafael panted as he continued the snap of his hips. He could already feel the tension in his belly, the heaviness in his balls, aching for sweet release. You cried out as you fell, coming hard on his cock. The wrecked look on your face, the way you whined his name so prettily, and the feel of your wet cunt rippling around his cock, soaking him with your slick is too much. You collapsed forward, and Rafael planted his feet firmly into the mattress and began snapping his hips into you even more quickly as he chased his release. Rafael’s hips stuttered and with a deep groan of your name, he spilled inside you, painting your walls with his release, white, hot, and sticky.

Rafael stayed there, buried deep inside you. You were both panting, waiting for your hearts to slow down. You enjoyed the feel of his sweaty body against yours. You felt his cock soften and his release began to drip out of you due to gravity. He kissed you softly, then peppered your jaw and cheeks with some more before a final kiss on your nose.

You hum contentedly. “Mmm that was wonderful.”

Rafael smirks. “You got one more in you sweetheart?”

“Wha—?” 

Your question is quickly answered as Rafael rolls you back onto your back, withdrawing from you as he did so. Your legs still feel boneless and Rafael spreads you easily, your body pliant to him. He uses his thumbs to spread your wet puffy lips, watching his release drip out. Then his mouth is on you, licking and cleaning the mess he made between your legs. You thread your hands through his damp dark locks.

You cried out and whined Rafael’s name, drawing out every syllable.  

Rafael lapped at your cunt as if he were a starving man with his last meal. He couldn’t get enough of the taste of your sweet juices mixed with his salty cum. He paused to climb back over you and kiss you, pushing the mix of yours and his release into your mouth. You moan as you take it in and swallow. Rafael settles back down between your legs and sucks at your clit while he slides two of his thick fingers inside. Your second orgasm quickly crested. Rafael could sense you were close with how your stomach tightened and your legs shook. 

“That’s it, come for me again. Show me how prettily you come for me.”

Rafael wrapped his mouth around your clit and shook his head. You arched off the bed, your words incoherent as you come once more. He licked you through your release, letting go of your clit with a wet squelch. 

Rafael’s face was smug, his chin and cheeks coated in your juices.

“Get up here,” you purred. Rafael climbed over you and the two of you lazily make out, you tasting yourself on him once more.  Rafael rolled so he was on his back and you snuggled in his embrace.

It would be easy to settle back to sleep, but your stomach growled loudly enough to remind you to eat. You climbed out of bed, legs unsteady. Rafael caught you and you thank him with a smile. Rafael pushed you back onto the bed by your shoulders. You give him a confused look. 

“Stay put, I’ll bring everything here.” Rafael explained. Your mouth formed an ‘oh’ and you climbed back into bed. 

And it was in the soft morning light that you both ate, committed to one another and this relationship more than ever. 

Tags: @madpanda75 @beardedbarba @beccabarba @melk917 @witches-unruly-heart @dreamlover31 @detective-giggles @storiesofsvu @qvid-pro-qvo @tintinxtintin @plaidbooks @wanniiieeee @qvid-pro-qvo @detectivebarba @mrsrafaelbarba @mrsraulesparza @garturbo @zoeykaytesmom @bisexual-dreamer02 @evee87 @i-justreally-like-cats-okay @madamsnape921 @imjustreallynosy @glimmerglittergirl @sass-and-suspenders @alwaysachorusgirl @greeneyedblondie44 @gibbs274 @lovebishoplosamiguelgalindos @ottosuricato @amelia-song-pond @averyhotchner @eltrujillo

[writeyouin]

Lucifer (Hazbin Hotel) X Male-Reader - Sinless Sinners - Chapter 2

Chapter 2 - I Don't Need You

A/N – Since the first chapter got comments and actual reblogs, surprise, surprise, I was motivated to continue. See, Tumblr? This is how it works. I respond to instant validation.

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

FEM VERSION HERE

NON-BINARY / GN VERSION HERE

You looked around the dusty hallway that comprised the main entrance to Lucifer’s manor. Yikes, Charlie was right; he really did need a cleaner. You doubted that was her main motivation for placing you in her father’s care but looking at the layers of thick dust and brimstone coating downstairs, you could see it hadn’t been used in a long time.

Lucifer watched you sceptically. Ideally, he would have liked to leave you to find your own way around, but he didn’t want to be accused of not trying by Charlie, should you call her and state that Lucifer was straight up ignoring you.

With that in mind, he bade you to follow him with a wave of his arm and gave you a half-arsed tour of each room, during which he would energetically state its name, and occasionally pepper in a fact if he felt like it and then hurry along.

“Parlor one, dining room, parlour two, library, parlour the… you know what, we have a lot of those, if you see a room with chairs and a fireplace, assume it’s a parlour. Moving on, bathroom, closet, like the parlour situation, there are lots of bathrooms and closets. Kitchen, which is always stocked by the way, so I don’t have to shop,” He muttered a sentence about the Hell of going out there, and then he was back to his bubbly self, rushing you through the rest of the tour, “Games room, spa, my room – don’t go in there – and here, among the unnecessary number of bedrooms, is your room.”

Although every room in the manor was lavish by Hell’s standards, Lucifer had sneakily pre-worked a bit of his magic to make yours somewhat undesirable. It was still large and had all the fixings, but now, it was dirty, damp, and there would always be an underlying scent of slightly rotten milk, that was just noticeable to annoy anyone, yet not something so offensive that he could be blamed for causing it.

The now slightly squalid room wasn’t Lucifer’s way of being petty and cruel; it was just that he wanted you to leave, and that would only happen if you had a reason to. You should go back to the Hotel where you belonged; better yet, you should just head to a different part of Hell where neither he nor his daughter would have to look at your disgustingly human face… A face that, though nothing like Lilith’s, reminded Lucifer of his wife since there was nobody else even remotely like her except for their daughter and now, unfortunately, you.

The simple fact of the matter was that Lucifer was just waiting for you to start demanding things of him, or Charlie. It would likely start with something small, like changing rooms, then if he gave you an inch, you would take a mile, and soon you would demand he use his Angelic Powers to serve you in seemingly impossible ways.

One way or another, the room was a test. You would either see it and leave in search of greener pastures or a better deal elsewhere, leeching off whoever would give you the time of day, or you would stay and start giving orders; either way, Lucifer would be able to return to his daughter with proof that sinners were the problem, not him.

You stepped into the room, accidentally kicking up a cloud of dust that made you sneeze.

After a minute, you turned to Lucifer, “Thank you for the room. It’s lovely.”

Lucifer held back a grimace as you had the audacity to smile at him.

“Great,” He replied in a strained tone, “Just perfect. So, I’ll uh, leave you to get settled in and-”

Just then a portal opened over the canopy bed and two packed suitcases landed there, courtesy of Charlie. Lucifer tasted his daughter’s magic in the air and sighed resignedly; whatever Charlie had planned she wasn’t backing down from what she likely thought was a good idea.

“Right on time,” Lucifer commended the fine timing of his daughter, and even though he was clearly uncomfortable with her plan to give him company, he did seem genuinely proud of her expert timing; then again, he was proud of anything she chose to do even if he didn’t always understand what it was she was doing.

“Great,” He repeated somewhat tiredly. Then he forced himself to smile. It was important that you would see him happy so that Charlie would hear about it later. “You go ahead and unpack. I’m going to do some very important work.”

The sentiment of ‘Don’t disturb me!’ hung in the air, unspoken, but obviously there.

Once Lucifer left, you flopped down on your bed, thinking about all you had seen. You checked your phone, finding several texts from Charlie, progressively getting more impatient as she awaited your reply with a somewhat hyper-anxious anticipation; it seemed the apple truly didn’t fall far from the tree.

‘How was your arrival?’

‘Did you get the grand tour?’

‘Which room did he put you in?’

‘I bet it was the Rococo room.’

‘Oh no, he didn’t put you up in my old room, did he? That would be so EMBARRASSING!!!’

‘Wait, why aren’t you replying?! PLEASE TELL ME HE’S BEING NICE TO YOU!’

‘I can come over if you need me to.’

‘Did your bags get there okay?’

You smiled and decided to put Charlie out of her misery. Your phone alerted you that she was already writing another message, but as soon as you started to compose one of your own, the notification that she was typing disappeared.

‘The tour was fine. Lucifer has been nothing but polite,’ and frazzled, you thought, though you omitted that part from the text; it was best that Charlie didn’t have anything extra to worry about while preparing for her meeting with Heaven.

‘My room is also amazing btw. I don’t know about Rococo or whatever, but it’s certainly stunning, and judging by the lack of stuffed animals and probably cheesy posters, I’m guessing it isn’t your old room.’

You really meant that. While your room was in need of a good cleaning, and there was a slightly off odour, it was indeed beautiful with its lacquered wooden floors, rich velvet drapes (Hell-Red of course) and lustrous emerald wallpaper. It was one of the most beautiful places you had ever seen, especially since arriving in Hell, not long dead after… the incident.

You removed your thoughts far from the grim memory of your death, not wanting to relive your demise. It never did any good to think of such things, and you had to wonder whether all Demons fixated on the manner in which they perished. Perhaps some were lucky enough to die in their sleep or get hit by a bus; at least the latter would be quick, and the former peaceful.

Moreover, you also believed the other part of your text; Lucifer probably kept Charlie’s room as a shrine to her youth. He seemed like the sort of person who was stuck in the past.

Your phone buzzed again, and you expected another message from Charlie, but it was from Angel Dust.

‘When you get the chance, snoop in the Short King’s bedroom and find out what kinky shit he’s into. I’m betting food play. He seems like a whipped cream and apples kind of guy if you catch my drift.’

Betting? He had undoubtedly roped Husk and Nifty into said bet. Husk had likely opted for a safe option like bondage… You didn’t want to know what kind of kinky shit Nifty thought Lucifer was into; that girl was a dark horse.

“Never going to happen,” You murmured to yourself with a chuckle; you would never invade Lucifer’s privacy like that, but Angel’s text had made you laugh and distracted you from your earlier thoughts.

Getting up, you pushed yourself into action and began unpacking both your thoughts and your few clothes and possessions. You lit a scented candle that Angel had gifted you. It was one of his unwanted gifts from Valentino, Blueberry Blowjob. You were glad when the scent filled the air, taking away from what you incorrectly assumed was the faint smell of mildew. The smell didn’t concern you, you had plenty more candles and tea lights with such names as Orange Orgasm, Popcorn Pussy, and Cherry Cum-Shot.

The manner was well furnished, but all of the rooms were neglected. There were seven parlours in total, each matching the theme of one Sin, probably because it would be polite should they ever need to meet with the Royal Family one-on-one. Despite that, they seemingly hadn’t been used in some time, nor had the library or any of the living rooms. You hadn’t seen much of Lucifer’s room as he rushed you past the door, which had only been slightly ajar, but what little you had caught a glimpse of seemed cleaner than the rest of the manor. Did he spend all of his time in there? Alone? That was… It was sad. Lucifer could live well among anyone in Hell, except maybe Alastor, yet he couldn’t see the good in anyone.

Without Charlie and Lilith that must be lonely. How depressing that he had created a kind of personal Hell inside of Hell. You were starting to think that Charlie was right to send you home with him.

Still, it seemed like he needed some time to get used to the idea of company and you had a job to work as his cleaner. Once you were unpacked, you would seek out the cleaning supplies and get started.

Lucifer draped himself over his workbench, listlessly toying with a rubber duck. It was one of his worst creations… Couldn’t even breathe fire.

He didn’t even know why he continued to make them. Honestly, he couldn’t think of anything else to make, and it was better to make something than nothing, even if he ended up creating the same thing over and over again, clinging to the memory of how one celestial duck had made Charlie smile.

Her smile was everything. Even Heaven couldn’t take that away, or… Maybe they could, if this meeting went awry. No. Please God, No. Not that. Anything but that. Kill the sinners. Show him the agonising mistake of Free Will for eternity, but he hoped to never see the day that Heaven treated his daughter with the same derision they typically reserved for him.

Lucifer froze, a glower darkening his expression as you knocked on the door.

He had clearly implied that he didn’t want to be bothered. IMPLIED IT! It hadn’t even been one day and you were bothering him.

Lucifer didn’t open the door. He didn’t want you to see inside his room. That was his space and his alone. Yet, he didn’t want any risk of you barging in, so he poofed himself to where you stood outside, using a glamorous entrance to grab your attention.

“Yes?” He said expectantly, leaning forward on his cane, as if leaning closer to you didn’t disturb him half as much as it did.

“Oh,” You blinked back surprise, though you weren’t too shocked seeing how Alastar always snuck up on you at the Hotel in a similarly flamboyant manor. “Sorry to disturb you, Sir, but I just wondered if you could tell me where the cleaning products are kept? I would like to get started as soon as I can.”

Cleaning products? Lucifer was stuck on the sentiment as if he’d never heard of such foreign words. Then he seemed to remember, you had been volunteered as his cleaner. Right… That was Charlie’s way of making him take you.

You waited patiently for a response, having quickly learned that your host tended to drift between a fast-talking façade or thoughtful distractedness. You wished you didn’t have to ask him for help, but after searching three floors and the attic, you had gotten somewhat turned around, and you had no idea where you had already looked; the manor was massive.

Finally, Lucifer seemed to come to and he began boredly examining his hand.

“That won’t be necessary,” He stated demurely.

“It won’t?”

“No. It won’t.”

Behind you, Lucifer caught sight of a portrait of his family. The frame was carved blood-wood harvested from a Tree-Demon who once dared to insult Lilith in Lucifer’s presence. Two winged snakes adorned opposing corners of the portrait. With a lazy wave of his hand, they creaked and snapped, coming to life, and escaping their previous wooden home, leaving only indentations where they used to be. With another magical flourish, they grew slightly and became more life-like, shedding splinters as their new uniforms appeared.

“There, see, two half-sized cleaners. They’ll take care of everything.”

You stared hard at the new servants of the house, somewhat amazed by the show of power; nobody else in Hell could do anything close to creating life, and it seemed that Lucifer didn’t even care that he had such power.

Frankly, Lucifer was upset with his new creations. He had finally strayed from ducks, creating something new for the first time in over a century, and they were still bland. When he had created Razzle and Dazzle for Charlie, he had done everything he could to make them beautiful and unique. These abominations in front of him were cheap copies of that Sir Pentious fellow he had seen at the hotel. He just didn’t have anything left worth creating. There was no point.

Whatever. The snake servants would do their job quietly and obediently. And they’d be more useful and less annoying than Charlie’s reptilian friend.

“Oh, okay. Well, is there anything else you’d like me to do?” You asked, wishing to be useful. “I can cook pretty well, or I could run errands, or-”

“NO!” Lucifer snapped.

“But-”

“Don’t you get it?! I DON’T NEED YOU.”

Lucifer forced himself to take a calming breath, his gaze downcast so he didn’t have to look at you.

“This is all my daughter’s plan. All you have to do is stay out of my way here and Charlie will be happy. Do you think you can manage that?”

[miracles-and-butterflies]

If case if you got access to Occult notes: With whom Luisa will reunite first? Isabela and Dolores or her parents? Or a secret third option?

Luisa took a breath, staring at the new front door of her home. The walls too had been redone, it makes the house look more modern and the technique of the brick layering is everything - before everything happened, she loved construction. She had plans to start an apprenticeship in that field, but then of course…

Even now, she’s still scared and nervous and feels like she is going to be sick all over what is surely a nice new carpet. She hasn’t seen her parents in ages. They must think she’s dead, it’s been so long. She has to do this though. If she’s learnt anything from her time away and staying within a wolf pack, it is the importance of family. And hey, if they don’t accept her, sure, it will suck and she’ll probably hate herself forever but Camilo has promised her a home there. Not to mention, she now has friends in Isabela and Dolores, and the most precious angel in Mirabel.

“Maybe… we should go?” Mirabel suggested, quietly. She shifted her eyes around the neighbourhood warily, pulling the cape tighter around her wings.

She shook her head though. “No,” she said. “I need to do this. They are my family. They love me; they won’t do anything to harm me.”

Mirabel didn’t argue with her but looked away in discomfort. Luisa didn’t know what had happened to her, when she was a living person and not an angel, but it hadn’t taken her too long to realise it was something relating to her birth family. Whoever they were and whatever had happened to them. She’s sure they must be proud of such a wonderful daughter.

“I mean, what’s the worse that could happen? They kick me out?” She tried to laugh, ignoring the way her eye was beginning to twitch with the nerves she was failing to conceal. “I’ve already done that myself! And I’ve made friends, they will let us stay if we need a place.”

Without wasting any more time, she reached for the doorbell.

“Wait!” Mirabel squeaked.

“What is it?” She asked.

Mirabel glanced from her to the house, swallowing a little. She looked pale and briefly Luisa wondered if angels could get sick.

The younger shuffled on her feet, “I am not going to go in.”

“What—”

“I’ll stay nearby, in case you need me. But I will not go in.” Mirabel turned on her heel and left.

Luisa watched the girl walk back down the street, until she disappeared out of sight in confusion. She scratched her neck, awkwardly alone, before shrugging it off. She can’t blame Mirabel for not being keen on meeting new people, the last few ones hated her at first sight and the others decided she was food.

To be fair, it would probably be a lot to dump on her parents in one sitting anyways. They will already have to come to terms with their daughter still being alive and having been turned a werewolf by her supposed friends…

She pressed a sweaty finger against the doorbell.

It wasn’t the chime she was use to hearing. This one was more like a loud buzz than a melodic bell. She didn’t like it, it made her ears sting. Was it possible to get a doorbell that sounded like a dog whistle? She nervously fiddled with the zip on her jacket, her mind plaguing her with ideas of different dog torture devices lining the hallway.

The door opened with a sigh, “Sorry, I’m not looking for a new window cleaner today—”

“Papí? It’s me, Luisa.”

[quanticowrites]

Surf (Kate Whistler x Reader)

•• First Whistler fic! For anon, I hope you enjoy! ••

“Ow! God damn it!”

“If you’d stop moving, this would be less painful!”

“You’re putting too much pressure! It’s going to start bleeding again!”

“I’m certified in this shit, (y/n).” She said, tightening the bandage some more around your waist. “I know what I’m doing.” You winced. Well, you had no one to blame but yourself for getting shot. You’d hesitated because the shooter was so young. Kate leaned back on her knees and sighed. “You never should have been there in the first place.”

“I was doing just fine until-!” You stopped and took a sharp intake of breath through your teeth. Yelling did not help the pain that blossomed from your torso. “Fuck.”

“Don't strain yourself.” She stated, getting off the bed and helping you get leaned up against some pillows at the headboard. “Tennant knew I would object to this. That's why she was sure to get you out there before I could say anything.” She paused as if she wanted you to say something. Maybe tell her she was wrong. Unfortunately…she wasn't. Jane knew how Kate would feel about you going into deep cover, so she rushed you out of the building as fast as possible before Kate’s FBI team could catch wind of her plan. There was a new chain of dry cleaners popping up on the island, but it was a front for a drug ring trying to establish itself here. Jane wanted to nip it in the bud before it could get out of control. So, she put you on the inside. You'd been under for two weeks before this incident. Meaning you had two weeks of Kate ranting to go before she got over it. “Are you going to object?” She asked, crossing her arms. You scoffed.

“No, I'm not. I agreed with Tennant’s decision.” You saw her jaw clench. She wasn't happy about this new revelation.

“You what?”

“I chose to go undercover.”

“Why would you do that?” You blinked. She hadn't been informed of that part?

“Kate, I'm more than capable of taking care of myself. I've been with NCIS just as long as you've been with the FBI.”

“It's not that-.” She huffed. “I just…you couldn't find two minutes to tell me about it?”

“Not really.” You start, already not liking the answer you had to give. “With helping Ernie make the fake background and social media to Tennant running me out of there…my mind was scrambling.” Kate sighed again. But this one seemed more understanding. If that made sense. She gently sat on the other side of the bed. Doing her best not to jostle you.

“FBI Agents go dark in the field all the time.” She started to fidget with her fingers. Picking at her nails and peeling the nail polish off in chunks. “I'm used to that at work. But…I never thought that might happen with you.” She laughed. “I don't know why, you're an agent just like I am. It could happen to us at any moment.”

“Come on, Kate. It's late. Lay down.” You lifted the blanket and Kate sent you a smile before snuggling underneath and curling up close to you. “How about…we have a secret word.” She blinked, her lips twitching upwards.

“Like…for sex?” You laughed, before biting your lip. Laughing that hard did not help the pain from your gunshot wound.

“N-no. Not for s-sex.” You waited until you regained your composure before telling her your actual idea. “For if one of us gets called to go undercover.” You saw her eyes moving through scenes in her mind. She ultimately nodded.

“That sounds like a good idea.”

“I have good ideas.”

“On occasion.”

“I have good ideas all the time!”

“Tell that to the last load of laundry you did.”

“I genuinely thought adding bleach and detergent at the same time would wash both white and regular clothes.”

“Where did you hear that?”

“No one! I just thought of it!” You reached your hand out and held a finger to the tip of her nose. “Anyway, you're getting off-topic. We still gotta pick a word.”

“Alright. Fine.”

“How about…Aristotle?”

“The Philosopher?”

“Yeah.”

“No.”

“Okay. Cheetos?”

“Cheetos?”

“They're my favorite junk food.”

“I already knew that.” You moved your finger to her forehead. “Let's pick a word that can be easily moved into a conversation. In case we have to be quick about it.”

“How can you be so smart and so dumb at the same time.”

“It baffles the mind.” You looked her over with a smile. “Come on, that brain of yours can think of something.”

“Then….how about surf?” You nodded. That was a practical word for two agents that worked in Hawaii. Surfing was one of the most popular things to do on the island. It could work.

“That's perfect.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, Kate.” You sighed, feeling the constraints of your bandages. “Your bandage skills aren't perfect though.”

Tag list:

@stanathanxoox , @nikkiwierden , @malindacath , @havlindzk , @countrygal17a , @memyselfandmaddox , @octobersmog , @mizzezm , @diaryofafan17 , @emmitheacefangirl , @a-sad-excuse-of-everything , @marennnx

[xylaes]

The Cleaner Part 1 Following the events that happened in THIS STORY tw: Brief mention of child death

It didn’t take long for Xylaes to put two and two together after his various discussions with Ouro An’dar regarding this job he had agreed to help out with. Finding people that had fallen off the grid was the explanation he was given, not what would happen once they were found, or why Ouro wanted them found in the first place. It was best not to ask too many questions, nor get any straight answers from the arms dealer himself. That always led to way too many complications. That didn’t mean Xylaes couldn’t draw his own conclusions given the information presented, and he was fairly certain he was spot on with these assessments. A single name had been given to him to start with, as well as their last known location, an old physical description, and any other pertinent information that was currently available. It wasn’t much to go by, but it was more than enough to start, especially with the resources Ouro had provided Xylaes to use in any way he saw fit.

Rasen Cinderblade

Xylaes immediately stopped scrolling through the microfilm. It was the one and only time the name was mentioned that he had found during the hours spent within the Silvermoon Library. An article about a new, upscale restaurant opening in the Court of the Sun, Sage and Salt, owned by the very man in question. There was a faded picture of Mr. Cinderblade along with his head chef, Elrothos Sol’sil. He matched the description given, but this was also many, many years ago. People can change a lot over the years, and sometimes they even change themselves completely with the help of some magic. But perhaps not this particular man, he was vain and had one hell of an ego on him. That much was immediately obvious to Xylaes in the way he held himself in this photograph and in the way he interviewed in the following article.

Printing out a copy of the article and picture in full, he tucked the papers into a folder before continuing to scroll. He didn’t find the name mentioned anywhere else, but he did come across another article that immediately caught his eye. ‘The Hallow’s End Massacre’. A well known mob family had been completely massacred by a rival family while they were celebrating the holiday all together. He knew the story, even while out on the field he had done his best to keep up with things happening at home, and that was one of the more brutal events he could recall hearing about - especially given the timing of it. While neither Pollux nor especially Ouro had directly mentioned this specific event, Xylaes had an extremely good feel for these things.

While Ouro was a man of few words and Pollux had not spoken much of his brother since he had discovered the truth, the context clues were all there if one looked hard enough. Xylaes immediately clocked the gunshot scar on Ouro’s head upon their first meeting, and there was always the general sense of this job being extremely personal. These people whom he would be searching for had disappeared a long time ago after being prominent figures in the criminal world. You only do that when you’ve done something very, very wrong, and you know that someone is coming at you for it. He knew the type well.

But the main reason why Xylaes paused on this particular article - this event had occurred on the exact same day that Pollux was met with his own near death experience after smothering a grenade with himself. It wasn’t just a coincidence, and Xylaes knew it even if he wasn’t sure how. While there had been a public claim that there were no survivors, Xy was certain that he was now working for the only survivor of the Hallow’s End Massacre.

This was a revenge story.

And honestly? Xylaes couldn’t blame Ouro for it. He would be doing the exact same thing; he did do the exact same thing but had been extremely public, quick, and loud about it. His anger had rightfully gotten the best of him after his 'brothers in arms' murdered his beloved wife Callia. And He. Went. Feral. They deserved it, and not just for what they did to her. They were traitors to their people and if he had not done what he had done, the outcome would have been much, much worse for their military as a whole. Ironic that he ended up spending ten years in prison being marked as a traitor himself, but someone had to be the scapegoat even if he did, inadvertently, do the military a massive favor whilst lost in that blinding rage.

He shook off the thought, returning his attention to the matter at hand.

This name that was given to him was most certainly one of the men that had aided in this massacre. While Ouro’s family in general could never be called saints, no one deserved that. He was also fairly certain there were rules set in place among the various mobs and cartels that would make certain people untouchable. This was a huge violation against that hierarchy, not to even mention that there had been children present, and ultimately lost. The more Xylaes read on and thought about the entire situation, the angrier and more pissed off he became for Ouro. He immediately knew why Pollux had suggested him; he was absolutely the right man for this job. He did not make a copy of the massacre article, Ouro could tell him about it in his own time if he so desired. For now, he had his lead. The restaurant Sage and Salt no longer existed, but there would be a paper trail to follow, and possibly a head chef to track down.

@ouroandar @polluxhale

[kirk-says-wah]

Hi, may I have a request.

Past relationship James/Cliff

James/Jason 1988 Justice era

Something to do with all this - Angst, Hurt, Comfort, Fluff

James and Jason have been dating for a while now. Jason thinks it's time for James to meet his family in Michigan. James isn't ready.

I was kind of hoping it would tie into Cliff and Cliff's family in some way for why he's not ready to meet Jason's family.

Thank you so much! And Happy Birthday! 🎂

Thank you so much for the ask! And so sorry it’s taken me so long to answer 💞

You can also read on ao3 here ❤️

“I think you should meet my parents.”

James chokes on his beer, splutters into a coughing fit. Jason’s hands warm his back, patting it lightly until he can finally suck in a breath.

“What?” he squeaks, cheeks burning. He clears his throat, watches as Jason gets up to flip the vinyl on the record stand.

“They’d love you,” Jason shrugs, closing the lid as Lou Reed starts to drone on in the background.

James has never been a fan of his music. He says as much.

“Why’d you put this pussy shit on?”

It’s petulant.

It changes the subject.

Jason sighs, deep with his shoulders, turns to lean back against the set of drawers.

Maybe not.

“I’m serious, James.”

His eyes are wide, makes him look younger. James takes a long pull of his beer, Jason’s expression doesn’t flicker.

“So am I”, James says, adorns a lopsided grin, but Jason just sighs, again, and James wonders how long it’ll take before he’s sick of him.

“Look, I know it’ll be hard, especially because of the situation with your parents -“ understatement “-but I think it’ll be good for you.”

James bristles a little at the mention of his parents, eyes darting to the floor. There’s a stain in the very middle of the rug. Looks like piss.

“James.”

It’s probably piss.

“James, man. Talk to me.”

He blames Lars. He makes a mental note to make him slug it to the dry cleaners.

A hand comes to his jaw, softly tilts his head up. He holds his breath.

“We’ve been together a long time now,” Jason says, face soft, eyes kind.

And well.. James wouldn’t say nine months is a long time. But he’s not counting.

“I know,” he says anyway, just to placate the concern etched into the lines of Jason’s face.

Jason thumbs at his jaw a little before leaning down, catches him in a small open-mouthed kiss.

“You’ll be fine. My parents are nice. And we’ve got a weekend off coming up.”

James doesn’t like that the subject isn’t being dropped.

He fidgets.

“If Lars lets us,” he says, though he knows full well if he commands, Lars will always obey. Most of the time. The little fucker’s always been more bark than bite.

Jason rolls his eyes at that, he knows James too well to buy that shit, moves to plant himself on the couch next to him.

“It’ll be fun,” Jason says, wriggles his socked feet onto James’s lap. “And we’ll be back here for your birthday.”

“Whoopee-doo.”

Jason doesn’t mistake the sarcasm but intends to ignore it anyways. James wonders how he’s ended up with someone so fucking optimistic.

“I can call them later, let them know. My sister’s probably home too; she usually is in the summer.”

James really isn’t in the mood for this. He pokes at Jason’s toes, grinds his teeth. Jason’s eyes bore into him but he’s feeling a bit too uncomfortable to meet his gaze.

“James,” Jason pleads.

James wishes he would just take the fucking hint. He’s really not up for this right now. He downs the rest of his beer, crumpled the can in his fist.

“I know it’s gonna be.. err- hard because of what happened with Cliff-“

“You don’t know shit,” James snaps, tosses the can to the floor. Jason takes his feet from his lap.

“No I know. But it’s gonna happened sometime, dude. And unless you wanna talk about it I don’t know where he fuck I stand.”

Jason has a point. For once.

James wipes a hand over his face. The reminder of Cliff just sours his mood, makes him feel hollow with guilt and grief because he just misses him so goddamn much.

He’d met Cliff’s parents, back in ‘84, and he remembers how his mother had hugged him as soon as he set foot in the door, had fed him into next week and was more concerned for his health than anyone had been before. And his father had clapped him on the shoulder when they’d talked about their upcoming tour, had called him son. It’s the closest thing to a family he ever felt.

But then Cliff died.

Mrs Burton still calls him, checks up on him and the boys because she worries, but he can’t stand to keep a relationship with a family that’s not even his; doesn’t want to accidentally step into Cliff’s shoes.

So the idea of being - hopefully - welcomed into Jason’s family almost feels too much, like they’re reaching out a rope of security and love that he just knows one day will be pulled loose.

He doesn’t want the wool over his eyes if it just means he’s gonna lose more people.

Jason’s shifted to get closer to him now, rests his arms on James’s knees.

“Hey, it’s okay, y’know, to let me in. I’m not a mind reader.”

James just shrugs because he doesn’t have the words for the indescribable feeling of fitting into a family that will never be yours.

They sit in silence.

Then, Jason says, “We don’t have to.”

James feels like an idiot now.

“I know,” he murmurs after a moment, finally glances at Jason, feeling something akin to guilt settle in his chest.

Jason moves to lace their fingers together, squeezes his hand gently.

“Too soon?”

James’s throat feels like it’s suffocating him from the inside, but he manages to chokes out, “it’s not- im not-“

“You don’t have to explain,” Jason interrupts, earnest now, and James has never felt more grateful.

Jason pulls him in then, warm arms enclosing around him, and James hides his face in his neck.

“I’ll think about it,” he mumbles amongst Jason’s curls, and Jason just nods, kissing his temple gently.