#this isn’t even the weeks theme but whatever whatever fuck you

[holy-loki]

so i’m sure someone might have mentioned this before and i’ve just missed it, but. i just noticed something .

so of course we remember the prelude to the circus scene, where everyone in brian’s entourage (+ curt) form this beautiful royal-esque gaudy portrait (pictured below):

but upon reexamination of the orgy scene… (pictured below):

obviously it’s not the EXACT same furniture (and this shot is much less vibrantly lit) but. the red and gold furniture is similar enough to suggest to me that… that the orgy is still a performance in the same (or at least similar) way the circus prelude was.

which is why brian and curt leaving the performance space and going into a private, intimate moment seems illicit. at least in the circus, the press and the people get to take part in the ‘strange’ intimacy, and make a commodity of it. but in the orgy scene? when curt gets up and goes to another room, and brian follows??? they, essentially, are leaving the stage entirely. they exist as only they will ever know, and not even us - the secret 4th wall audience - get to experience that.

[mind-empty-just-fictional-people]

Lost Comfort

masterlist

summary: dean hurt you when he was a demon, now it’s hard to sleep next to him

paring: dean winchester x female reader

rating: R for language, violent themes

word count: 1.1k

warnings: please read! talk of serious sexual assault, demon!dean being worse than he was in the show, (he wasn’t even that bad in the show, but he’s bad in this), language

“Dean, stop, this isn’t you!” you shrieked, pushing the demon’s arm away. It was no use. Dean was stronger than you when he wasn’t a supernatural being, but now you didn’t even stand a chance.

“C’mon, sweetheart, I know you love me,” he laughed, black eyes staring at you.

“Of course I do Dean, but I know you love me too and this isn’t love! Please get off of me!” you sobbed.

Your eyes flung open, a thin layer of sweat coating your forehead. You blinked away the dream and took in your surroundings, before realizing Dean’s arms were wrapped tightly around you.

“Dean, let me go,” you said. It came out as barely a whisper. Even if he was awake he wouldn’t have heard you. “Dean, please- fuck, let me go!” you repeated, but you were still barely speaking. “Dean let go!” you screamed, which woke him up.

“Y/n?” He furrowed his brows. “Hey, you okay?”

“Dean let me go! Now!” you cried. He flung his arms open and you hurried out of the bed. “God fucking damn it! I told you to let me go and you didn’t!”

“I- I’m sorry, hun I was asleep I swear I didn’t hear you,” he said quietly as he sat up.

“This was a mistake, I can’t sleep next to you! What was I thinking?” you scoffed. “I’m sleeping in the Dean Cave, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Wait, no don’t go! I’ll go sleep on the couch, you stay here!” He got out of bed but didn’t miss the flinch you threw when he walked towards you. “I’m so sorry.”

Sam suddenly burst through the door; gun in one hand and holy water in the other.

“What happened? He a demon again?” Sam asked you, his eyes wide.

“Just a bad dream.” You shook your head. You brushed past Sam and walked towards the Dean Cave before stopping in your tracks. You hurried back to yours and Dean’s room.

“I still love you, Dean, I just need a bit of time, okay?” You smiled sadly, noticing the tears now on his face as he nodded.

“I love you, take all the time you need,” he replied.

With that you left.

“Dude, what the fuck happened?” Sam asked, putting his gun and the holy water down. “She’s never left you after a dream before, has she?”

“I- I think the dream was about me,” Dean whispered. “Fuck, I really hurt her this time Sam. I- I don’t think she’s gonna be able to forgive me.”

“This is Y/n, Dean,” Sam started, “she’d do anything for you. I think she just needs time.”

“But you don’t know what I did.” Dean let silent tears fall as he thought about what his demon self had done to you.

“I mean, it couldn’t have been that bad?” Sam scoffed a little then Dean looked at him. “Right?”

Dean bit the inside of his cheek and shook his head, looking down. “I r-ruh—god, I can’t even say it out loud.”

“Oh god,” Sam muttered, internally jumping to (correct) conclusions. “It’s been like two weeks, Dean. Of course she can’t stand to sleep next to you.”

“But it wasn’t me!” Dean cried. “I hate myself so fucking much for taking this stupid fucking mark and letting it consume me.”

“Dean-”

“Don’t get me wrong, I do not blame her if she doesn’t wanna ever see me again, but fuck! I’d do anything to fix this.”

“Just give her space.” Sam shrugged. “I think that’s all you can do right now. Whatever future your relationship with her has, is completely up to her.” As he turned to leave, he added; “But also be prepared for her not to forgive you for this. I don’t think she’ll be able to.” With that Sam left.

**

“Dean please!?” you screamed. “Dean, I love you! I know you’re in there somewhere, please stop!”

You woke up alone in the Dean Cave, beads of sweat rolling down your temples.

“Shit!” you mumbled, letting tears fall.

You sat up on the couch and tucked your knees into your chest. You checked the clock and realized you’d only gotten about forty-five minutes of sleep since your last dream.

You tried to go back to sleep but every time you closed your eyes you were met with the horrid memories; Dean hovering over you with his demon eyes.

You tossed and turned for a while before you realized there was only one person in the world who could make you feel better and he was the one person you couldn’t stand to touch right now. You huffed to yourself as you got up and left the Dean Cave.

When you opened the bedroom door you were met with Dean crying softly into your pillow, facing away from the door.

“Hey,” you said quietly, your voice laced with trace amounts of fear. His eyes flung open and he slowly sat up.

“Hey, uh- what’re you- what’re you doing here, uh, Y/n?” He stumbled over his words and wiped his tears away with his hands. He put his feet to the hardwood to stand up but you backed away and shook your head. You didn’t want to be that close to him.

“I- I’m still scared of you, I’m sorry,” you whispered. “But I love you,” you added quickly. “I love you so fucking much and I know I can’t sleep next to you, but I can’t sleep properly without you. So, I uh, I’m just gonna sleep in here… on the floor.”

“What? Honey you can’t sleep on the floor,” Dean said. “I’ll sleep on the floor, you can have the bed.”

“No, cause then I’ll feel bad about kicking you out of bed,” you mumbled, causing Dean to smile a little.

“How about this; we both sleep on the floor by our sides of the bed. That way neither of us feel bad about the other, we’re far enough apart, and we can see each other from under the bed.”

“I’d like that.” You smiled softly. “Can I maybe use your pillow though, looks like you soaked mine,” you laughed a little, causing him to do the same.

“I’d actually prefer to use yours,” he replied and tossed you his pillow. “Smells like you.”

You took a whiff of the pillow now in your hands. “Is that the aftershave I bought you?” He nodded with a smile. “Perfect!”

You waited until Dean was on the floor of his side of the bed before you went to your side and laid down. When you put your head to the pillow, you were met with Dean’s soft smile a few feet away.

“Is this okay?” he asked, you nodded.

“I love you, Dean,” you whispered. You reached an arm out under the bed so Dean did the same, your fingers touching in the middle.

“I love you so much, Y/n.”

[undercoverpena]

home and the ghost mug

simon “ghost” riley x reader (cod)

this is unedited, and born from a random thought as I put away dishes and cleaned my kitchen at 1am. warnings: none. themes: fluff, cute mug moment, ghost and a non-military partner. just toothrotting 1am thoughts.

you don’t like to think you live alone, but you know you spend more time waiting, than you have with him.

this time it’s been months. the last contact weeks ago. it’s normal, but it doesn’t lessen the frustration you feel—or how it balls and clumps with worry.

you know you signed on to this. married yourself to the wondering and standing by when you bought the house with him. it’s why you’ve perfected the art of keeping busy, remaining distracted.

today, your mind slips. falls down on the job, scrapes the skin from your knees and bruises your heart. thoughts appearing, the faint sound of his gruff voice echoing in the walls. unable to unsee the shadow of his last time here—how broad he appears in your door frames.

it’s the slip up that means you unconsciously make a tea for yourself in his mug. a no-go, a thing you never do. the cup sacred, forever off limits unless he’s here. the one you’d bought as a joke, wrapped it in paper and watched him stare at it when he unveiled the skull on the side with the bone handle.

“this bought for me?”

“well, it’s not for next door, simon.”

suddenly, you don’t fancy tea. your heart aching, all heavy and downtrodden in your chest. so you pour it away, washing it out and putting it away quickly. because you know it’ll sting seeing it on the drainer in the morning. practically punch you in the gut—because your mind will trick itself into thinking he’s home. that he’s back. for whatever time he can spare.

by the time his car pulls onto the drive, the house is coated in darkness. the moon full, high in the sky. shimmering a luminescent glow on everything and anything it can touch.

you must be tired, shattered. no murmur of his name or quickened footsteps when he slides his key on the lock, when he takes his boots off. he does do it with precision, care—almost mouse like for a man that’s more mountain than man. shoving them away in the contraption you bought sometime between the two of you moving in and him coming back to you.

and because the house is quiet, silent. a pin being dropped sounding like a shout, he begins his routine. the one where he shoves the things away he doesn’t need to have. not needing reminders of what he does as ghost when he’s trying to focus on being simon.

his routine concludes with a shower in the downstairs guest bathroom, watching the places he’s just been slide down the plug hole, all out of sight, out of mind. you know this routine, keeping some of his casual clothes—sweats and tees in a drawer, for moments like this.

even if he should expect it by now, he still smiles as your genuineness. your kindness. the one that comes ti you with ease.

it’s why he craves being next to you, being able to hear your breaths—close his eyes and allow the evidence to bury the niggling worries he amasses when he’s not with you.

but, joining you isn’t possible. discovering you star-fished, snoring lightly—one of his t-shirts covering and concealing you. practically burying you. and so he closes the door, heads back downstairs. running a hand over the back of his head, feeling clumps of long and short hair from his bad diy cut you’ll undoubtedly have things to say about.

but it isn’t until he’s walking past the kitchen, does he notice the mug and glass cupboard ajar. a thought appearing, his hand retrieving his mug and placing it on the side. a sign, he hopes—a bold exclamation that he is home, in case you wake before him.

you don’t wake before him. simon and fucked up body clock, as usual, wakes at the first break of sunlight. only rising from the guest bed when he hears the floorboards above. your feet eventually coming down the staircase, all slow and heavy, his mind imagining you rubbing your eyes, softly sighing at another day.

he waits in the doorway—the one connecting the guest bedroom to the kitchen—watching you come to a standstill, eyes blinking as you stare at the mug.

simon doesn’t know the error you made yesterday, that you’re going through a crisis of whether you’d put it away or not. whether you’d lost your mind from missing him so much.

he just knows you’re not reacting. not whispering, never mind shouting his name. so he clears his throat, loud, purposeful.

and your head spins—he’s even pretty sure he hears it crack—and then the reaction he expected lands.

it erupts over your face. an explosion of confusion and joy, tear-filled eyes and a large smile, before you’re in his arms, face buried against his chest as he feels you shake with sobs he hopes are because you’re happy.

“take it you’re happy i’m home?”

“more than you think.”

his chin comes to rest on the top of your head, fingers stroking up and down your back.

the mug becomes a sign, a beacon.

it only ever used to indicate he was home—a trophy that remains on the side, until he gets the call that he has to go.

then he is the one to put it away, hating how he turns to always find your lips being chewed by your teeth.

“it’ll be back out before you know it.”

“it better be.”

simon doesn’t promise. because he knows—as do you—that there’s none he can keep in the games he plays. he comforts you without words, his mouth slanted over yours.

I’ll always fight to get home to you.

[notjustjavierpena]

His

A/N: This has been on hiatus since July. I have finally decided to finish up another chapter. I have no idea where this is going but I am just going with it at this point. They’re fun! Enjoy part 4 of mean!joel ❤️💖

Summary: After Joel kisses you, something shifts. You find out a hard truth and take matters into your own hands.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader/You (No y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, a mishmash of feelings, dubcon-ish themes, a hint of sub!joel (?!!!!?!!??) but he is not happy about it, a hint of edging, handjobs, degradation, humiliation, riding, unprotected piv, slapping, dirty talk, empty threats

Word count: 3.6k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48179338/chapters/135617983

His

Something shifts after Joel kisses you and leaves. Especially because he did it in a way that made it seem like he was bolting out of a burning building, leaving you inside for the walls to come tumbling down around you. You hardly blame him for reacting like he did that night; he is the most emotionally unavailable man you have ever had the (dis)pleasure of meeting, and you doubt that he even has the vocabulary to put words to why he fled your bed like it was the scene of a crime. It isn’t like you’re going to ask him though, not even despite being curious about his reasoning and intentions. 

For you, it is not a mystery what the shift is. The arrangement between the two of you used to be anticipation, fury, and lust. Now it’s a gentle tug at your heartstrings when you catch a glimpse of him in the streets and he doesn’t look your way, knowing you should not want him in the way you do. 

How you want him is harder to pinpoint. It’s not wedding bells, it’s not children padding around on the wooden floor of your home, it’s not doing laundry for him and watching him do the dishes after sharing a meal. It’s something less complicated than love. You don’t want him to love you, but you wouldn’t mind being his only and his favorite. 

Though irony would have it that it turns out you are indeed not his only source of whatever fucked up thing the two of you exchange once in a while. 

During a short break from a late-night meeting of your patrol group (Joel had decided last week to switch to another), one of the newcomers to Jackson snickers girlishly as she tells the rest of you about how Joel Miller had made her come four times last weekend. It makes something uncomfortable swirl in your stomach, makes it drop as you feel foolish about thinking you were special. Additionally, it takes all the willpower in you to not blurt out that he had made you come seven times during one of the nights you’d spent together.

To your surprise, It isn’t that he has slept with someone else that hits you. It’s the little piece of information that your new patrol member lets slip with a giggle. 

“Such a gentleman,” she says, basking in the attention of the circle of women standing around her. Their collective sigh makes you wonder what they’d say if you let them know that Joel forced you to suck him off the first time you were together. A part of you suspect that she is lying as she continues, “They don’t make ‘em like that anymore, girls. He was just so attentive and sweet.” 

After the meeting, you feel like you’re about to suffocate if you don’t leave the building quickly. The tightening in your chest makes your heart feel caged, desperate to come out into the open and bleed all over the place from making its way past your ribs. Desperately, you push past anyone who does not jump out of your way immediately. 

Once outside, you find a quiet spot behind the community center where people only come to be alone. You rest your forehead against the side of the building, breathing deeply in through your nose and exhaling shakily as you suppress the tears that threaten to roll down your face. 

“Fuck,” you say bitterly as a droplet still manages to escape from the corner of your eye. You wipe it away with a quick swipe of your hand as if to hide the evidence from the world and yourself, “Fuckfuckfuck. What the fuck are you crying over him about?”

However, the single tear seems to have opened the floodgates because you find yourself properly crying a few seconds later. It is ridiculous, you know this, but you cannot help the shaky breaths that leave your mouth as your cheeks stain with tears. 

Joel is not anything special. Joel is rude and arrogant, bordering on narcissistic and psychotic. You’re not even sure if he can smile, if he’s funny, or if he’s capable of not ruining things when touching them. He sure has ruined you, ruined both your nights and days because they’re spent wondering about him. 

Then again, surely he must know this because he looks at you from across the room the way he does. He must know what he is doing to you, and it makes you fucking furious because how did he ever think that he had the right to pursue you? Make you want him? And, to top all of it off, how does he think he has the right to not appreciate you? 

Rage slowly builds in your chest. Your heartbeat is threatening to make you pass out with how fast it is going, but you ground yourself by taking a few deep breaths that eventually stop your tears as well. 

I’ll fucking show him, you think, and it’s the white-hot fury in you that is talking.

You stalk across the streets of Jackson, earning a few concerned glances but no warning words. It’s a relief that you look angry enough for people not to bother you, because you wouldn’t be able to articulate your reasons for wanting to implode with how furious you are. 

Your legs take you all the way to Joel’s house. You stomp angrily up the porch’s stairs, but it’s only when you burst Joel’s front door open that you realize that you actually haven’t been in his home before. It’s also only then that you realize that you have no idea what you’re going to do now that you are here, too angry and out of your damn mind to explore the many pictures on the walls, the wooden carved figures on the shelves and… is that a guitar? 

You mentally shake yourself.

“Focus on the task at hand,” you say quietly with exasperation, and then the search for your betrayer begins.

You walk through the house with determination, but you soon realize that he is nowhere to be found downstairs. It doesn’t surprise you that he hasn’t locked his door (nobody in Jackson does), but you still feel disappointed that you can’t make a big dramatic scene of throwing a plate in the kitchen or a cushion in the living room. You feel slightly like a rage-filled balloon that’s slowly losing air. 

So you decide to go upstairs whilst still clinging to your rage, planning on waiting in his bedroom for his return but realizing that Joel is already in and sleeping in his bed. It’s late enough, you suppose, and you know he has a series of hard labor tasks on certain days.

You try your hardest not to feel too intoxicated by the smell of him on the sheets, need your head clear as you slowly start to undress right in front of his sleeping form. He looks so peaceful and so unlike his usual stoic self, and so vulnerable that the opportunity is too great to miss. 

You freeze the times he stirs slightly but he never wakes up, and soon, you are down to your underpants and nothing more and you are so wet with the anticipation of both sex and power in the room, even more with Joel being so unaware of it.

The bed creaks as you crawl onto it. You manage to straddle Joel before he wakes up fully, immediately lifting his arms to grab you and defend himself but when he realizes it’s your body on top of his, he falters.

“What’re ya doin’ here?” His voice is filled with sleep but he is nowhere near panic as you had hoped. 

You lean down over him and grab at his chin with the hand that’s not holding you up. You smile down at him but Joel is already staring down at your chest as you hover above him. You shake his head slightly, “Eyes up here, you bastard.”

“Shouldn’t look so pretty then,” he retorts. 

“Heard you were screwing around with that new bimbo. I thought you liked a challenge,” you tighten the grip on Joel’s jaw, push him back into the mattress, and catch the way he is connecting the dots in his head but the time it takes him makes you realize that there has been more than her. You growl, still hovering over him, and leaning down to ghost your lips over his whilst your eyes roam over his face, “It’s a damn fucking privilege to be breathing the same air as me.” 

“Cute,” he says quietly and brattishly. 

You push down briefly before letting go. Your eyes look down at his lips but you don’t kiss him like you want to, don’t want to give in when it would seem so vulnerable to give in to that temptation. 

Instead, you reach up to hold your palm in front of his mouth. You smile innocently, “Lick it.”

“What?” He chuckles in disbelief.

“Go on. Do as I say.”

Joel lets out his tongue and wets his lips. He gives in faster than you have anticipated, licks a long stripe from the start of your wrist to the middle of your palm, and coats your hand in disgusting, hot, and dirty saliva. 

“Did she do that?” You ask. You feel behind yourself to slide a hand down into Joel’s jeans and then past the waistband of his underwear, “Put you in your place because she knows how disgusting you are?” 

Joel is already half-hard as you take him in your slicked palm, and his cock comes alive fully not a moment later. He gasps into the bedroom but still looks cocky as ever, “Which of ‘em?”

“Fuck you,” you stroke him slowly and his breaths come out in small puffs that hardly make him seem calm and composed. You realize how much you’ve needed, craved, to put your hands on him. 

“That can be arranged,” he says, trying to catch a glimpse of what you are doing to him. He starts to move, makes an effort to flip you around but you catch him before he can follow through. You tighten your grip around his cock, squeezing him around the base until he gasps softly. 

“No one but me,” you say, “Okay?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, sweetheart, what is this?” He rolls his eyes and moans when you stroke him once and then twice. 

“Are you going to behave?” You ask with a harsh grip again. You let your lips touch briefly now. 

“What?” Joel looks slightly disgusted. 

“I asked,” you begin and now you start to stroke him properly, mimicking what you have seen him do to himself when he has wanted to come on your face, “Are you going to behave, Joel?”

“No,” he teases. 

“Don’t make me ask once more, baby,” you move your hand up and down quickly, almost forcing him to near orgasm before you squeeze around the base to edge him. He hisses, neck blushing with how his heartbeat must be on overdrive. 

“Fuck,” he groans, throbbing in your hand, and with his snark, you almost just want to spend hours tracing the vein along his length with your fingertip, “Whaddaya want? You want me to be your little boyfriend or somethin’? Don’t be dumb, it don’t suit ya.”

“Listen,” you say, scooting back slightly and leaving a stain of your slick on the bottom of his t-shirt, “I’ll stick your big cock in me right now and let you come in me if you say I’m your only girl. You’ll never need another pussy than this.” 

He says your name as you straighten on top of him again but you let him know it doesn’t mean anything to you. Your free hand reaches to pull your panties to the side, and then you hold his cock in place as you slide down onto it and let it stretch you by bottoming out inside of you. You try your best to look motionless but he has a girth that stings.

“Say it,” you demand, slightly out of breath at the feeling of sitting on his thighs now. 

Joel is silent. He stares up at you, looking as if he has won because he is already inside of you but when you don’t hear an answer, you start lifting yourself off of him again. Joel grabs your hips in protest, holds you down, “No.”

“Then say it,” you reply, “Now.”

“You’re my girl,” he moans helplessly as you reward him with a roll of your hips. You make a noise as well, something closer to a tiny cry for him but you aren’t going to give in just like that.

“The only?” You inquire when you regain your composure. 

“My only girl, even if she’s a fuckin’ pain in the ass,” he groans. You flex your thighs to grip him around the middle and then you squeeze his length, letting your walls clamp down and it sends his eyes rolling backward. He bucks up his hips and you moan. 

However, you still have more to say and do. You don’t move yet, “I don’t believe you.”

Joel rolls his eyes, his grip on your hips tightening but he still doesn’t force you to ride him, “Jesus Christ, what the fuck now?”

“I think you’re a liar,” you inform him, trying to ignore how much every instinct in your body is telling you to use his dick for yourself. You squeeze around him again, “I think you’ll say anything to get pussy.”

“No one’s got a pussy like yours, sweetheart. You think I don’t know that?” He bares his teeth like an aggressive, cornered dog and he groans at the feeling of your soft, wet walls, “You’re like fuckin’ cocaine. Need more each time or I’ll never recover.”

“Don’t go finishing in me, Joel,” you scold. 

“I ain’t gonna,” he bites back, “I do have some self-control.”

“With the way you’ve been whoring around?” You tut, experimentally rocking your hips forward to feel him slip almost all the way out of your cunt. You move back to let him bury himself deep once more and whine, “Riiight.”

“Watch it, we’re only doin’ this because I allow it. I could break ya spine like a fuckin’ toothpick,” he breathes, hands going up along your thighs until he lets them glide up your back as if he is going to make truth of his threat, “Don’t forget who has the upper hand here.”

You relish in his rough hands on your lower back and finally start up a pace to ride him properly, not caring about how your thighs start to burn as you seek out pleasure. It’s a fun contrast to what Joel has just told you because his eyes glaze over in a way that shows you that he wouldn’t even know how to snap you in half if he wanted to. 

His breath has quickened, each intake and exhale becoming airy, whilst he holds your soft sides in his calloused grip. You rest your palms on top of his forearms, undulating your hips until his eyes roll back. He seems like he might lose his mind this time around, so submissive in his own way now that what you are doing to him has hit him by surprise. 

He shamelessly groans your name. Its roughness spurs you on, making you lean forward a little further to give him more. You ride him as if your life depends on it until something burns delicious in your belly and his pelvic bone grinds into your clit. 

Your first proper moan leaves you, high and squeaky. The angle has you baring your teeth, your breathing shaking, from how his cockhead stabs at your front wall repeatedly. You start spitting filth to not sound pathetic even further, “Fuck, Joel, your big cock is enough to make a girl lose her sanity. Makes my eyes wanna roll back.”

But Joel says nothing as he seems pissed off by what you have made of him. Instead, he breathes hard through his nose and occasionally lets a moan fall from his mouth. It pisses you off too. He had such a smart mouth just moments ago, and now he has resorted to being spiteful. 

You make a rash decision then. You move steadily on his cock, rhythm not faltering once, whilst reaching down to his face with your dominant hand. You smack his cheek hard enough to make a point and a noise, eyes narrowed, “Snap out of your ego tripping.”

Joel responds not with words but by curling his hand around your wrist and yanking it away, and then he takes hold of your smaller body once again and starts snapping his hips upwards, crashing them into yours until you nearly topple off of him after crying out. He tightens his hands on your body whilst you hold his forearm with one hand and have the other firmly planted on his chest, and suddenly you are working together towards a crescendo. 

“Give it to me!” You yell with your eyes screwed shut from the pressure against your clit and g-spot. Joel is swearing and his chest is glistening with sweat but he gives in to your command, making you bounce in his lap until he throws his head back and yells with you. 

“Fuck, honey,” he grits out, “Gonna make me come inside ya tight pussy.”

“Oh, it talks?” You quip, trying to hold back a pathetic string of cries but to no avail. Joel smooths his hands up to cup your body just below your breasts, digging his thumbs into your rib cage. 

“Shut the fuck up,” he retorts. 

“I’m gonna come,” you say instead and furrow your brow. 

“Yeah?” He mocks but then his face goes slack and you feel him twitch inside of you, impossibly close to the edge too, “Fuuuck, I can feel ya. Choke my cock real good, Doll.”

You come hard, unable to catch your breath as you keep moving back and forth on his length. Your whole pussy pulses, tight walls gripping him even further. The fingers holding onto his forearm make little indents and your nails on the other hand scratch into his chest until red lines form. And you cry. Oh, you cry and cry for him whilst singing his name.

The clenching of your cunt around his dick makes him reach his own point of no return a moment after. He does a sharp intake of breath and when he exhales even sharper, a groan follows, and his cock releases come inside of you. 

You use your last bit of energy to ride him through it. Your delirious mind, hazy with pleasure, makes your mouth run as you slowly drag your hips to match each twitch of his length, “See? She can’t love you like I do. Is that really what you want, Joel?” 

Joel pants underneath you. He tenses up when he hears those words but instead of pulling away, he grabs the back of your neck and pulls you down, “What the fuck did you just say?”

Your eyes widen slightly at the realization. In your chest, your pulse beats rapidly, “Just ‘cause I said it, doesn’t mean that I meant it.”

Joel tightens his grip briefly but then lets go. He sighs, then reaches up to rub his forehead in frustration, “I don’t have the strength.” 

“What’s so bad about it?” You ask, figuring that you might as well jump into the conversation now that you’ve been stupid enough to start it. 

“Don’t,” he warns, letting out a noise as he moves to pull out of you. Your panties move back into place, causing you to shiver.

“Please,” you know it is weak of you.

Joel says your name, mimicking the tone of a parent who is tired of hearing their child pestering them about something. He finds your eyes but doesn’t say anything else. 

“Just let me try something,” you continue and earn a raised brow. He stops trying to move. You swallow thickly but decide to be brave. 

Carefully, you curl your fingers into Joel’s chest hair and reach for his cheek with your other hand. You close the distance between the two of you, finding his mouth with your own and kissing him with a lot less vigor compared to what you have just done.

Underneath your palm on Joel’s chest, you can feel him exhale in something resembling relief. He doesn’t fight the kiss, no, instead he moves his arms and holds your waist. He kisses you back with closed eyes and soft hands, and you try not to ruin it by becoming eager. 

A few moments pass. When you finally pull away, he looks like a deer in the headlights of a car but you talk before he can, “Go to sleep. It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything; I can see you’re exhausted.”

You move off of him to lie down at his side instead. Besides you, Joel closes his eyes without hesitation as if he needs to escape any conversation but when his breathing slows down further and you realize that he is drifting off, he looks mostly like a tamed beast. 

Ever so gently, you run a hand over his hair. He shifts only a little bit, so you do it again and suddenly you’re stroking the salt and pepper curls repeatedly.

To think that he had been ready to fight if someone touched him just half an hour ago. You continue for a few minutes before leaving the bed, heading for his bathroom to get cleaned up, and when you return again, he doesn’t react this time either.

The next day, you’re back in the same patrol group. 

.

.

.

FOLLOW @notjustjavierpena-fics AND TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS 💖❤️💖❤️

[rowretro]

Yandere Sunghoon ex plss

✧warnings: yandere/toxic themes, violence, death, forceful kissing, blood

 ♡synopsis: Park Sunghoon is y/n’s ex boyfriend. People assumed that you were at fault given how seemingly perfect he is, he’s good at everything he does, and he’s extremely handsome who wouldn’t fall for Sunghoon. It was a shame really, you loved him and he loves you too… maybe a little too much…

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1 year of dating and y/n broke it off just like that. It’s only been a week and people have already spread all kinds of rumors as to what could’ve happened. Perhaps Sunghoon realized Y/n wasn’t all that some’d say, maybe y/n herself cheated on him. Whatever the rumor was, it was always putting you in a bad light. If only they knew why you broke up with him, if only they knew Sunghoon for who he truly was.

Not even the law itself cared for Sunghoon’s crimes.Y/n had walked into him hiding one of his crimes very well. Taehyun, who had asked her out quite recently, not even bothered by the fact you were dating Sunghoon at the time, was lying there cold and bloody. Sunghoon, dragging his body into the deep ditch. “This is nothing babe… he had no life anyway, no siblings, neglecting parents, and he was in a street gang…” he simply said as he dumped the somewhat damp soil on the man’s body, the ditch gradually filling up. 

Not even the police cared to take the case, why would they when the Park Sunghoon is the culprit. So she broke up with him. After a tense argument with him Sunghoon left the building to cool off, that’s when she decided it was best to leave. Most of her stuff was already at her old apartment, she simply breached his security system and left leaving a note saying that she’s breaking up with him.

Only been a week since then, just y/n and her thoughts alone in the cozy little apartment. She felt a little fear, wondering if he might kill her, or kidnap her, or do one of the most dark, sinister things she could never be able to think of. A little heartbroken because she loved him and he’s all she could ever ask for. She just wanted to move on though it was easier said than done. Heaving a sigh, y/n made her way to the kitchen, pouring some hot water into a pan, and boiling some ready-made tapioca pearls. 

The girl cleaned up the house a little before adding a little sugar to her now- ready tapioca pearls, using a spoon to dig right into it. As she took a bite out of her little sweet snack, she heard the doorbell suddenly ring, making her flinch. She wasn’t expecting any visitors… Sunghoon on the other hand, was still looking for her while remaining under the radar. Then it hit him, he had the perfect item to bring her back…She was hesitant, her hand on the door handle, a frying pan in the other, she peeked through the small gap as she opened the door. She opened it widely, a smile painting her face when her eyes laid upon the male at her door. “Jay!” she exclaimed as he smiled, hugging her.

“Y/n~ long time no see huh, what brings you back home?” he enquired as Y/n sighed. “I broke up with my boyfriend so I moved back home” she said as Jay nodded.The two conversed for over an hour before leaving the building in his car, the two driving to one of her favorite restaurants. “Jay- isn’t that the road?...” Y/n asked as Jay glanced at her in the mirror “Yeah, but I’m taking you to a different one, it’s way better” Jay reassured as she nodded, trusting his word. Then everything felt familiar… the road, the signs, the tattered billboard sign and that god forsaken house…

“Nice work Park Jongseong…” Sunghoon smirked his dark eyes now on you. How could he fucking betray her?! Park Jongseong? The Jay, your best friend for 5 years lead you back to her boyfriend’s hell. “Anything for you bro… also don’t forget mom’s birthday party” he simply said as he left the building. Of course. How did she miss it? They’re brothers. “Back home?... what is this about some break up sweetheart?... who talked you into it?...” Sunghoon asked as y/n just glared up at him.

“I fucking hate you.” she seethed through gritted teeth as he slapped her “No no silly… you don’t hate me… you love me. You love me like crazy but you just don’t know it yet” he explained in a sickeningly sweet tone that made her stomach feel like it was being squished in the claws of a demon. Sunghoon’s fingers softly threaded through her hair, his finger twirling a few strands of her dark hair.

 “There’s something you need to learn sweetheart… you’re mine. That fucking means you’re stuck with me forever. We WILL date. We WILL get married and we WILL die together. So no we haven’t broken up we never will you FUCKING UNDERSTAND?!!!” he asked, yanking her hair painfully harshly all of a sudden. “Y-yes… I do…” she trailed off, hating every word that left her word. Hearing her words, the male planted his lips on her, forcing his tongue into her mouth, a hand still gripping at her hair as another snaked around her waist. She was stuck with him forever.

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[nosesitter]

Wedding Dress.

| father in law! Joel miller

1.8k words

a/n: Not going to lie this seemed longer as I was writing it then the word count hit me in the head like a brick. I’ve missed FIL Joel this isn’t me rushing honestly, this is just what happens when you have good pussy and good personality. The inevitable happens, it’s life.

⚠️: infidelity, recorded sex, mention of onlyfans, one mention of ankle kissing(don’t worry no feet stuff),pussy drunk Joel milller 🫶🏻, fingering, pet names(darling, baby, beautiful bride), squirting (it’s a common theme), unprotected p in v, and one unreciprocated I love you.

“Could I fuck you in your wedding dress?”

It sits in a box in the back of your closet. A white box wrapped in a white bow that’s barely gathered any dust. Your wedding dress. It’s only been a couple years but it should still fit. Walker is out for the weekend, work conference. He’s been working so hard to make sure you maintain your housewife status and you’re grateful for that.

Joel had texted you a couple days ago asking for a peculiar request. Could he fuck you in your wedding dress. At first you were hesitant. Your dress was special to you — it obviously held sentimental value but how can you say no? So here you are searching for the white lingerie you wore on your wedding night to wear underneath your wedding dress.

You can’t help but remember what it was like seeing Joel on your wedding day. A scruffy, everyday man who barely wore a smile on his face but now there he was standing outside the church —in a crisp white shirt, fitting black slacks that hugged his ass and prominent bulge, trying to navigate the people inside.

Even with the limo windows tinted he could see you behind the glass. Hair pulled up, the few pieces falling out the bun accenting your face, glossed lips pressed together. As beautiful as you looked that day all he could think about was the honeymoon you’d have. Getting railed for a week straight in a beautiful cabana, overlooking the beach.

He can’t deny he was a tad jealous. Having a shotgun wedding with Walkers mother, because she became pregnant pretty quick into their relationship and this was back in the day when you needed to be wed first to have a child. So you couldn’t blame Joel for his perverse decision of wanting to bang his beautiful bride.

—

You had about thirty minutes before Joel came home, his home. The place you were staying at for the weekend. In his guest room you had set up everything you needed. Your dress laid out on the navy bedspread, your makeup and hair done just like it was two years ago. And in the next room, Joel’s room, the camera. Ready and set up to capture the entirety of the sick perverted act the two of you were ready to commit.

As you finished zipping up the dress you could hear his truck pull up. Nervousness setting it just like you were outside of the church again, ready to face the man you’d see everyday for the rest of your life. Just outside his own front door, sun kissed skin from working hard outside, the smell of his musk and faded cologne you saw him put on this morning before he left and his hands, dirty with the day he had, ready to grab and stain the porcelain white lace you were wearing.

Your right hand reached to your left to twist off the wedding ring and set it on the kitchen counter. You were ready for Joel and he was ready for you.

Front door opening up this was it, no going back now. Crossing the threshold his eyes couldn’t break away from the most beautiful bride he’s ever had the pleasure of seeing twice now.

“I must’ve died and gone to heaven, darlin’, dropping whatever he had in his hands on the coffee table, Joel beelines over to you. His hands shaky with nerves. His kiss is powerful against you, glossy lips sticking to his, he can’t help but pull away and savor the vanilla flavor now stained on him.

“I can’t deny the request of such a hard working, handsome man. So after some thought I decided yes, you can fuck me in my dress.” His rough hands grab both sides of your face pulling you back close to him to seal the deal. Your hands grabbing each button trying to pry his shirt off him. Hands touching his hot skin. Once his shirt was off he wanted to move this to the bedroom.

“Not to be corny but,” he kneels down and put one of his strong arms behind your knees sweeping you up and into his arms. Your hands come to his neck as you hold on, giggling like crazy as he walks the two of you to the bedroom.

He sets you down on the edge of his bed, his head turns to notice the camera. He walks over and switches it on, the little red light coming alive to record the act. Joel comes back to you, kneeling down grabbing your foot to slowly remove the white heels you’re wearing.

“You look like a princess. So gorgeous.” Your face is hot and there’s no doubt a blush on your cheeks. Pulling your ankle close to your face he gives it light kisses, slowly working his way up under your dress. His thick fingers grab at the white garter pulling it forward and snapping it back against your skin. His beard scratches at your leg as he bites onto the lace and pulls it down your leg and out from under the dress.

The garter rests between his teeth as he grabs your hands pulling you back up to stand infront of him. He turns you around and starts to unzip the dress. Pushing the dress shoulders slowly off, his nose trailing down your neck, inhaling your scent. Things feel different this time. He wasn’t ravaging you the way he had been for a month now. He was taking his time, taking you in. Enjoying himself and you.

“Joel please,” you felt breathless, his fingers scratching at the nape of your neck grabbing the bun you had your hair in. Teeth sinking into your shoulder as your dress puddles onto the floor. A bundle of white lace sitting atop his dirty work boots.

“When you left for your honeymoon all I could think about was you getting fucked day in and day out on a beach.” His hand coming around your front to feel the tightened corset, pretty white panties with a pretty bow right above your pussy.

He’s not completely wrong. Walker bent you over anything that was bolted into the ground. It’s when you started your onlyfans. Recording a video of you giving him head then riding him on a private beach. Walker loved it, loved the wild woman you are. Walker loved you.

You turn quick to face Joel. Finally worried that this is going to far but he’s quick to push you back on the bed crawling up between your legs. He looks like a cartoon wolf, tongue falling out, eyes with hearts in them as he was practically drooling over your clothed cunt.

He wants to rip the lace and dive his tongue right in but he refrains from that and just begins to suck the wetness from the cloth. His tongue pushing through the barrier right against you. He was going to savor this. He wanted to remember this. As sick as this sounds he wants to imagine him fucking you on your honeymoon.

Your hands grab at the salt and pepper curls as you slowly try to grind up into his face. Clit rubbing against his prominent nose it sends goosebumps all over your body.

“Please baby, don’t tease.” As you try to wiggle out of your panties, hips grinding against the bed as they begin to slip down. Joel’s quick to slap your thigh with his large palm.

“Stop that squirmin’! Lemme enjoy this darlin’.” Pussy drunk Joel had his accent coming out more than usual. But he obliges you and slips the panties off. Pushing you further up the bed he lays on his stomach to enjoy himself more. Cock bulging through the zipper he grinds it into the mattress. As much as he wants to just fuck you and bust in you he just pushes two fingers into you. His saliva, your wetness create a squelch that makes Joel smile big between your thighs as his tongue kitten licks your clit.

“You made me an amazing lunch baby. Thank you, but all I could think about was the dessert, this dessert. Sweet-sweet cunt served so beautifully.” Sucking at the bud his fingers push inside of you faster. Moans getting louder you can’t help but chant his name as your stomach tightens. You can feel your orgasm coming, and it’s coming quick.

Adding another finger in Joel seems determined to make you squirt. Hands release from his hair worried that you’ll pull it out and just yank at the comforter underneath you.

“Baby look at me.” Deep brown eyes, practically black are all you see. His bottom lip is between his teeth. He wants to watch your face as you fall apart under him. His hips grinding against the mattress. He’s a mess of a man. You might be about to cum but so is he just from watching you. The coil inside you snaps, the sound of liquid splashing against his hand has you throwing your head back into the bed as he keeps pumping his fingers inside you having you spray everywhere. Quickly he removes his fingers not giving you a moments rest as he shuffles onto his knees and grabs at his own belt.

Grabbing your thighs he pulls you closer to him and pushes himself inside of you. Fucking you missionary has to be the most intimate position so far for the two of you. Joel leans down arms resting by your head as he pushes the hairs sticking to your face back.

“My beautiful bride, the most wonderful woman.” As good as this feels Joel’s losing himself in you and you know it. Worried for anything else he might say you pull him deep into a kiss, tasting yourself and vanilla lipgloss all across his lips.

Headboard smacking repeatedly against the wall, Joel’s creating a rhythm between your hips with each snap of his. Your legs wrap around his waist pulling him in deeper. Joel breaks away from the kiss and moans. He straight up moans, and it’s loud. No shame in the pleasure your tight fluttering hole is giving him.

“Ah, I’m going to cum!” His eyes shut, his mouth falls open and he’s in pure ecstasy as he shoots ropes of his seed into you. Your arms wrap around his neck, a layer of sweat all over his body as he twitch’s above you, slowing down his thrusts. His arms falling from their position to full engulf you with his body.

Not wanting to crush you he wraps his arms around you and rolls over pulling you with him. Now that you’re on top Joel’s completely relaxed. He’s in nirvana as you just lay together in a comfortable silence. Your head resting against his chest listening to his rapid heartbeat slowly regulate. His hand strokes your hair that’s fallen out of its neat bun. His breaths get deeper as he drifts asleep right under you.

“Love you darlin’. “ and there it is. That’s what you were worried about. Sex is no longer the fun thing the two of you were just doing. Joel’s in love. He’s in love with his daughter in law.

[takotakigum]

intentions — itoshi sae.

characters: itoshi sae × gn!reader

warnings: implied smut/mature themes, no nut november, reader is lowkey a tease, no nut november as a warning itself, and touch deprivation.

word count: 600

synopsis: when itoshi sae found out what no nut november is about, he didn’t care about it one bit. that is until you tried getting him to participate.

aged up characters | please read at your own risk!

itoshi sae who tilts his head at you blankly when you ask him if he’s going to participate in no nut november. he asks you what the hell that is, and what it’s about. and even after you do explain it: that he can’t cum in by any means in the month of november—he doesn’t bother giving a response because he still doesn’t understand.

itoshi sae who—even days after—ponders on your explanation on what no nut november is, but inevitably thinks it’s stupid and immature. why should he not cum when you’re his and he’s yours? it’s utterly idiotic.

itoshi sae who notices that you haven’t been engaging in anything sexually intimate with him in this month. he doesn’t receive your hefty grinding on his lap, your tongue overly obsessed with his when making out, or even your sneaky touches to anywhere over his body. for days, he gets none of that. slowly, it bothers sae, and when he confronts you about it, you’re showing him a shit-eating grin that is sly enough to be considered innocent.

itoshi sae who starts to get sexually frustrated because he seems to catch on to what you’re trying to do. and because of your subtle teasing and unspoken encouragement to make him take part in no nut november, sae seems to crave for you even more.

itoshi sae who now gets hard whenever he thinks of you, all because his body and yours hasn’t made sexual contact in a week. during practices, he’ll exert twice as more effort into his routine to get his hazy head to stop thinking about you—and to stop his hardening dick to create a bulge through his rather tight sports shorts.

itoshi sae who starts to get so needy that he’s trying his best to have his crotch touch you and grind on you. sae holds you still when you’re trying to make him feel edged of anything that could lead him to cumming, his grip so tight that you feel the frustration and impatience run through the heat of his body against yours. he’ll whisper in your ear that this isn’t funny and that it’s getting annoying; to which only fuels your desire to tease sae even more.

itoshi sae who tries to relieve himself by pumping his cock in a steaming shower, letting low grunts echo within it but with no avail. despite different scenarios of you, despite how gentle or how rough his hand jerks him off—nothing seems to be working. his body can’t fucking cum when you’re not physically there. he looks down at his neglected dick with utmost frustration, his teal eyes barely being seen with such a from on his face; yet he can’t do anything about it.

itoshi sae who hasn’t cummed in three weeks, and decides that he’s had enough. he tells you the most sinful things he wants and wanted to do to you: from fucking you right when you wake up, when your mind is still unable to process anything to fucking you the moment he’s back from his shitty practice even if his body is lathered with sweat. sae pins you somewhere and whispers everything in your ear, grasping your hand sternly and dragging it from his tense abdomen and all the way down to his aching dick. and when you decide that your fingers will caress his twitching cock, sae only tells you that you have to fix it. everything his cock desires of you—you will comply.

itoshi sae who almost fucks you stupid on some wall in his apartment when you continue to palm his clothed, fully erected dick yet say that he can endure it for another week; no nut november is coming to an end, after all.

itoshi sae who—by god knows what miracle—agrees. all because you promise him that you’ll let him do whatever sexual fantasies he has the moment november has passed completely.

© takotakigum | do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works.

[untoldstar]

rich! yandere x fem reader pt.1

warning: yandere themes, obsessive behavior, stalking, harassment, slight nsfw mentions

You let out an exasperated sigh as another gift lands on your desk from the hands of your coworker, you already know who it’s from, they have been coming non stop, they achieved the purpose of charming you the first few times but when you expressed disinterest in him and they kept on coming that’s when the charm was lost, like clockwork you phone rang, you stared at the name on you screen the conversation that’s about to play out printed like a script in your mind, each time you receive a present from him he makes sure to call you to check in, though your convinced it’s nothing more than his method of boasting for his own egos sake, you sighed and picked up raising the phone to you ear “did you get my gift, lovely?” is his immediate question as soon as you pick up, you stay silent, he very well knows the answer to his own question, it’s quite easy to get a delivery through to workers in your company and even if it wasn’t he’d go to lengths to make it easy for himself “hm why aren’t you answering me?” he asked after your lengthy silence, you rolled your eyes at his second useless question “because you know the answer, what’s the point of calling if you already know i received your gift?” you heard him chuckled and that only made you more annoyed with the situation “ah you’re right..well, love, do you like it? is it to your taste? I have faith in my choices when it comes to you so if trust my gift is to your liking” your desk had a variety of bags, smaller ones with rich perfumes that your sample because they were way too expensive to purchase, bigger bags with pieces of clothing that you didn’t even see in the store but instead liked pictures of models wearing them, even bags with the logo of a makeup brand you like were there, they were all things you’ve always wanted but not this way, not when the knowledge that all this is in fact what you like would paint a smug smile on his face, so you spoke in the most flat tone of of voice you could master “nope, your faith is flawed I actually hate it all” you ignored the judging look from a coworker that overheard you and listened in to his reply “ah really?..seems i’ve made the wrong choice then. No matter, life is filled with material goods I’ll make sure to find exactly what you like, what you’ll admit you like, that is.” you grit your teeth, he was being insufferable you didn’t bother with this anymore and hung up leaning back in your chair sighing, you had convinced yourself he’d stop eventually but each time you were becoming less sure of it.

It was the end of the week, finally you could rest, this week had really worn you out.

You reached for the keys in your pocket while walking up the steps to your house before stopping as you glanced up and saw a bag in front of your door, your shoulders sank ‘he’s sending them to my house now?’ you looked behind you, scanning the street, seeing nothing you walked towards the bag pausing for a moment before taking a hold of it and unlocking the door, you stepped in closing the door behind you and leaving the bag at the door, you were too exhausted you’d deal with that later.

You carried on with your night but every once in a while your thoughts would drift back to him, why did he sound it to your home this time instead of your office? why hasn’t he called like he usually does? it made you nervous, it was unusual, there had to be something different about the present for the entire setting to change, you had enough of the nagging curiosity so here you were standing in front the foot of your bed, staring at the thin black box in front of you, whatever was inside it it was definitely expensive that much isn’t different or new.

You reached for it and removed the top part of the books and your hands stilled as your eyes widened slightly ‘what the fuck?’ inside the box was a neatly placed navy blue lingerie set, you took it out and held it up in front of you to take a better look at it and your cheeks heated it up at the thought of you wearing it and how you’d look, it was a pretty set, the color complemented your skin tone, you loved it but that vanished when you remembered the source and it all clicked, why he didn’t send it to your office, why he didn’t call, he knew your reaction too well, a card was left on the box with elegant handwriting on it

“I hope this meets your taste, if it does we ought to make good use of it the next time we meet.”

[bigfatbimbo]

Hey boo hope your day is going well,

I was wondering if you have any his of Velvette dating someone who likes to cook?

(I'm trying to think of some Sage x Velvette content but I'm drawing a blank bestie :()

a/n — I lowkey have been wanting to sit down and write this for a long time because it was so close to being done for like.. weeks.

warnings — Mostly fluff, Velvette is her own warning, suggestive themes, gn reader, NOT PROOFREAD!!!

summary — Velvette x a cook!Reader

Let me just say, Velvette is someone who loves princess treatment. Like it’s truly expected, and incredibly appreciated.

So after a long day at work, her models were getting on her nerves, she had tons of shit to do

and she comes home, beaten, bitchy, and incredibly tired, and she smells something amazing wafting through the air.

Realizing where you were and what you were doing, she’d approach you from behind and rest her head on your shoulder as you cook.

You were making her favorite meal, and god that’s amazing after a long day.

She’d definitely ask you to cook whatever she was craving.

Like totally on the spot, too.

She’d see something that looks good on voxtok and just flash you a photo and be like “Cook this.”

Or out the blue she’d be like “I’d kill for a fucking pancake right now.”

And now you’re on duty, you better cook it up fast because the princess is waiting.

I feel like she’d be a picky eater too.

But in the sense where if it doesn’t look aesthetic, she isn’t eating it.

“I’m not eating that shit, looks like vomit on a plate.”

Like even if it’s really good.

But when it does look good, she is snapping photos of your food left and right, posting it all over instagram (voxtagram??)

And definitely bragging in the description like “look what a special someone cooked up for me. Love you babes xoxoxo @[y/n]”

Also definitely asks you to cook for fashion shows, maybe other of the Vees events.

She’s definitely boasting about how you pamper her like that.

Making snide comments to Vox like “When was the last time Val cooked for your sorry ass? HA, thought so.”

Princess treatment plays into it, but also appreciating her to a level that’s beyond skin deep.

Like everyone thinks, no, knows she’s hot shit, that’s obvious

but only you know the recipe for brownies that she really likes,

or how she has a soft spot for warmer meals like homemade biscuits.

Winding down after a long day, cuddling into you, and eating your special nacho recipe while watching tv.

Something about you cooking for her makes her feel like royalty, and rightfully so, in her opinion.

If you’re well known enough to actually work as a chef or have a restaurant, god knows where she’s spending all of her time.

Shes stopping by, more like bursting in, and harassing all the staff until she ensures she’s getting something cooked by you.

“Who made this shit? Chelsea? Chelsea can shove it up her ass, get me something from an actually competent chef.”

Rinse and repeat until it’s you.

Coming home to a warm meal from you always makes her feel appreciated.

She’s a terrible bitch, however, and she has the awful habit of trying to distract you while you cook.

She comes up behind you in a seemingly harmless hug, planting an innocent kiss on your neck like the sweet girlfriend she is and

and her hands are creeping up your shirt.

“Velvette, stop distracting me, foods gonna be fucked—“

”I’m not doing anything!”

And her fingers are toying with your belt buckle.

Depending on what you decide to do, it’s her fault if the foods burned.

[rileyglas]

The List ~Pt. 5 - Confrontation~

Alastor (Hazbin Hotel) x Reader

Summary: While out for a walk, you run into everyone’s ‘favorite’ Overlord, resulting in a brutal altercation. Recognizing the danger you put yourself in, Alastor is all too willing to offer another deal. 

Themes: The usual angst, mystery, sassiness, cursing, fluff, Valentino so yeah, mentions of blood and bodily harm, eventual smut (it will return), actual plot, slow burn, and of course 18+ MDNI

3.7k Words

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 (You're on it!) Part 6 Part 7 Part 7.A Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

**sentences in italics are internal thoughts of the reader

When you asked Alastor to prove himself to you, you half expected him to just continue ignoring you around the hotel. He seemed like the type to keep any personal interaction behind closed doors. Keeping some privacy isn’t a bad thing. Before the deal, he stuck to doing his job around the hotel, helping Charlie with whatever new idea or ask she had, and broadcasting his evening radio show. Every so often he might have a drink at the bar, making small talk with Husk and Nifty, otherwise he kept to himself in the shadows.

These last few weeks were slightly different. If he grabbed a coffee, he also poured one for you (always using one of his mugs). He made a point of being at every group activity, standing practically on top of you with a hand on the small of your back. He often offered to accompany you into town if you were going for a walk. “I just enjoy your company dear” he would reason. You’re far from complaining, however, the other residents were starting to notice.

“Alright what’s the deal?” Husk thumps your drink on the bar, his aggressive tone catching you off guard.

“What do you mean?”

“You and Al – what the fuck is going on there? I thought you had more common sense than associating yourself with his sorts.”

Fuckin ouch.

“I have plenty of sense Husker,” you hissed with irritation at what he was insinuating. Vaggie and Angel silently take their seats next to you, feeling the tension of the conversation. “– and if you must know we discovered we have more in common than we thought. You of all people should know keeping someone of his sorts on good terms is wise. Thank you for your concern though.” You throw back your drink, slamming the empty glass into the bar as you stand up.  

Husk tries to smooth over your venom, “Listen kid, you’re still pretty new to Hell…I’m just –“

“Thank you again Husk! Talking with you is always a pleasure.” You cut him off, putting on your jacket and walking towards the hotel doors.

Footsteps trail behind you - followed by a hand on your shoulder, “Hey doll, don’t be too upset with him. We all just….we worry is all. Smiles is still Mr. Mystery pants. Charlie seems to be the only one not worried about his intentions.” Angel offers you a cautious grin. His smile always seems to brighten your mood.

You place your hand on top of his, “Thank you hun. I’m not mad and I understand everyone’s… apprehension…. But I need you guys to trust that I know what I’m doing. You all have enough to worry about around here.” R̵͚̀ŭ̴͓l̷̥̓ȩ̷͒ ̷̢́#̵̧͌3̶̫̈́ ̴̬̾N̶̬͊e̷͇͂v̵̞̚ę̴̿ŕ̵̖ ̵̟̈́ḅ̶͂r̷̤̔í̸͜n̴̳͌g̴̫͐ ̶̢͠a̸̳͝n̶͕̐y̴̓ͅo̸͎̐n̷̚͜ȩ̷̇ ̸̪̑ẗ̶͈́ő̴͜o̷̺̊ ̵̛̬c̴̘̀ľ̴̹o̶͇͗s̸̠̾e̴͇͝

Needing some time to yourself, you decide to take a stroll through Pentagram City. The streets could be dangerous when traveling alone, but Carmilla was kind enough to let you leave with some…equipment. Like a nervous tick, you palm the carmine knife sheathed on your waist. You always hope there isn’t a need to use it but can never be too careful.

Heaven’s embassy clock ticked down, showing less than 100 days until the next extermination. You sigh at the thought, taking notes as you walk. Every year you mapped out places you would be needed most, where you could hide sinners, alleys you could use to corner or escape the Exorcists. Maybe Alastor could help me this time? He did say together we would be more powerful.

Lost in your plans, you don’t realize you’ve started pacing the streets of the V’s territory. It isn’t until you hear someone yelling down an alley that you become aware of your surroundings.

“Listen here, you little fuck – you’re our lowest earner this month and I’m in a bad mood so…” a large demon pins a rabbit-like sinner to the alley wall, pulling a pink and white gun from his hip. “I figured you could help me BLOW off some steam. Now, now, baby - hold still for me and don’t make too much of a mess hmm?”

You look closer and recognize the tall moth demon.

Fucking Valentino.

You see red and make your way down the alley. Hearing your footsteps he turns but not before you blindside him, body slamming him to the ground. The sound of metal echoes as his gun slides across the pavement. The poor sinner runs off without a word. You’re welcome, I guess. You bend over the disoriented Valentino.

“Tough luck being out here today Val – Coincidentally I’m also in a bad mood so let’s have a chat.”

With a gust of his wings Val pushes himself off the ground and towers over you. “Ohhhhh aren’t you CUTE. Ya know people would pay good money to see a spicy chiquita like you fucked into her place, however that little stunt just sealed a different fate for you.” Smoke floods around you, wrapping tightly around your body. Your feet leave the ground as he pulls you close enough to run his tongue across your cheek. “Hmmm…tasty. Maybe I shouldn’t kill you. I could do quite a bit with this body of yours.”

A cynical laugh erupts from your chest. “Oh please – set me down. Save us both the embarrassment.” He cocks an eyebrow at your demand and tightens his smoke’s grip.

Feeling the crack of your ribs almost knocks all the air out of your lungs, but your rage is stronger than any pain. I’ve watched him hurt Angel one too many times. 

“Wrong answer Val.” You concentrate your power, hands aglow as they conjure tiny, razor-sharp needles. With a swift flick of your wrists, they pierce and slice through Val's wings. “Cool thing about needles, they can help pull you together or tear...you…apart.” He howls from the pain, loosening his grip on you. With a little more room to move, you pull yourself back and headbutt him with so much force his glasses shatter. The blow makes his smoke disappear and you drop back to the ground. Time for some fun.

Unable to see clearly - Val frantically feels around for his gun. Pathetic. Crushing his hand with one foot, you use the other to deliver a full force kick to his chin, sending his gold tooth down the alley. “You little BITCH! Who the fuck do you think you are!?” he growls as blood pours from his mouth. You climb on top of him, pinning him down with a knee slowly crushing his dick. Screams of pure agony echo off the surrounding walls.    

You grab his face with one hand and pull the knife from your waist, digging the point into Val’s cheek, “You lay your hands on any of your employees again, I’ll make sure this knife gets buried into your chest. Now be a good boy and let me decorate that pretty little face.” You turn his head and hastily carve “spurc” into his cheek. He cries out with each attempt to move, feeling your knee dig deeper into him. “Shhhh you can take it baby, come on, we’re almost done. That’s what you tell them, right? NOW HOLD STILL.” Mocking his pain you turn his head the other way, slicing “issime” into his other cheek. Blood pours from his face, staining your hands and wrists. “Spurcissime – complete filth. Quite fitting I think.”

You stand up to admire your work and release the demon writhing on the ground. Time to go. Turning to leave, you hear Val call out to someone. What is he crying about now? Without warning you’re hurled against the brick wall - your head taking the worst of the impact. As you struggle to pull your body off the ground, a large, blue claw wraps around your neck to pick you up. Between the blow to your head and your now rapidly declining oxygen, your strength dwindles.

“Are you fucking kidding me Val –You got your ass beat by Carmilla Carmine’s secretary!?”

How the fuck does he remember me?

“No she’s not –“ Val tries to warn but is ultimately ignored.

“It’s okay sweetheart. She can replace you. Sucks though. I always enjoyed staring at that ass. Made the meetings less insufferable.” Vox’s grip tightens around your neck and his other hand slides up your thigh, starting to grope every inch of you. Your vision begins to tunnel as your body goes limp, his grasp controlled and unforgiving.

Just before complete darkness takes over, a familiar voice booms in your ears, “ENOUGH!” The hand around your neck releases and the world around you spins, fading out then back in. You pull yourself to your hands and knees and try to gasp. A stabbing pain rips across your sides with every attempt to collect the air around you. Any adrenaline your body had was long gone now. Oh yeah, cracked ribs. Ouch.

Looking up you realize you’re in Alastor’s room. Any other day you would have inhaled the soft musk filling the air, but right now you can barely take a breath. “Alastor?” you whimper, throat hoarse from being nearly crushed. “Hello? Alastor?” Still silence. You lay back on the floor to try to steady your breathing and wait for the Radio Demon to make an appearance.

It only takes a few minutes to see his shadow appear, followed by Alastor himself. The initial relief you feel is quickly replaced by concern. His jacket was ripped up, and blood trailed across his mouth. “Shit are you okay? What happened?” you try to move to him but double over.

He huffs wiping the blood from his face. “No, you don’t get to ask the questions right now.” His words were near inaudible over the static. He was livid. “I want to know what the FUCK you were doing out in V territory ALONE!?” He rather unkindly picks you up, prompting throaty cries of pain and protest.

Alastor brings you to the bathroom and sits you up on the counter while he digs through his medical kit. You finally gather enough breath to speak, “Last I checked, I don’t need permission to walk around the city. Have you forgotten who I am? I am not some stupid -”

“Well apparently you are.” He bites at you without making eye contact – continuing to pull apart the kit.

Tears well up in your eyes. Too tired to fight them back you let their warmth coat your face. They steadily stream down and drop into your blood-soaked hands. You try to squeak out an explanation, “He…he just hurts so many people. He almost killed Angel. If you ask – “

“I didn’t.” he cuts in.

“I didn’t know he would get Vox in –“

“I don’t care.”

“FUCK Alastor what is your problem!?” you snap, tears burning as they run down your cheeks.

He slams his hands on either side of your legs, caging in your body and leaning right down to your face. If he wasn’t pissed right now, this would be so attractive.

“My problem? What is my problem?” Alastor’s antlers expand and a red ‘x’ glows on his forehead. His body grows and looms over you as his grip starts to crack the countertop, “Do you forget who they are? Of course Vox got involved! And if I hadn’t stepped in, he would have done who knows what to you! His hands already started to defile you - Is that what you wanted? To die at the hand of a perverted, unscrupulous Overlord?” His words were like knives, and you despised every slice he made.

His outburst ignites your own rage, making your demon form flare, “No, Damnit, you don’t get it! Down here you’ve only ever lived for yourself! You’ve never watched someone you care about almost die because of some piece of shit! You’ve never felt the need to tear that person limb from limb for what they did! I wanted to make him suffer and I DID!“ you scream at him until your voice gives out and your body gives up. A deafening silence falls over the bathroom. The only sounds reverberating off the walls are your stifled sobs. Some from anger, some from pain. Ṟ̸̂u̸̫͂l̴̟̈e̷̩͛ ̸͖̽#̷̹̀4̴̎͜ ̴̰̇Ṉ̷̀e̸̲͌v̴̻̈́e̵̥͘ṛ̸͛ ̵̗̑l̴͍̃ė̶̠t̶͈̾ ̴̣̒y̷̬͋ò̵̭u̸̩̽ŕ̶̼ ̴̪̾ẉ̵̑ȅ̴̩ą̴̕k̵̗̐n̶̻̅ȇ̷̳s̸̢͋s̸͖͂e̷̡͛s̶̘̍ ̴͍̏š̴̢h̶̼̐ǫ̴͊w̷͉͝

 Alastor shrinks back to normal. He cups your face gently to clean off the dirt and blood – tending to the few scrapes across your cheeks. You keep your eyes down to avoid his stare. The last thing you want to see is pity from the demon, at least not right now.

As he kneels to clean your hands, his buttery voice finally breaks the quiet, “You know, had you said all of that yesterday, you would have been absolutely right.” He looks up, noticing your head tilt in confusion. “Seeing his hands on you triggered something in me, and I wanted nothing more than to rip apart that piece of shit for….trying to take you away from me. So yes, I do understand. But that doesn’t mean I’m still not cross with you for going by yourself. You’re lucky I had my shadow follow you.” A sly smile flashes up at you. In that moment a gnawing thought crosses your mind. Does he actually care for me? Or is he only afraid to lose the power I can give him?

Either way, he did save you, so you conjure enough strength in your voice to whisper, “Thank you Alastor,” and place a kiss on his forehead.

Once he finishes cleaning the cuts on your hands, he stands and hooks a finger under your chin, forcing you to look up at him. His red eyes dart back and forth between yours as if trying to read every thought you could have. A smile paints his face but you can see something more. Worry? Sadness? Regret? You want to question him but the intensity of his stare has you frozen.

“I want to make another deal.” he finally says in a whisper, holding his gaze. Your stomach drops. This is what you’ve been worried about. That he was going to try to break down your walls until you willingly promise him your soul, bounding everything you have to him. R̴̤͑u̵͓̒l̷͊ͅḛ̸̒ ̸̉͜#̴͉̓1̶͇̔ ̸̟͑Ṋ̸͋e̷̮̎v̷̼̾e̸̪͌r̴̥̈́ ̵̳̽t̴̩͐r̶̻͊u̷̘͝ș̴͒t̶͙̂ ̶̝͑â̵̩n̴̙̿o̸̡͗t̸͚̒h̴̯̓ë̸͓́r̶͎̂ ̸̙̎O̸̺͌v̷̧͠è̴̼r̸̹̓l̵͊ͅo̸̜͒r̵̠̂d̸͓̽ . 

“Wh-what?”

“I want to make another deal - you promise to let me accompany you every time you leave these hotel walls and, in exchange, I will teach you how to grow your strength and power so this never happens again.” Well that is not the deal I was expecting.

Relief replaces anxiety. You lean in and give a cheeky smile, “You do realize both of those things can happen without a deal - unless you’re just looking for an excuse to kiss me again.”

“Bold of you to assume I need an excuse, “ he purred, closing the last bit of space between your bodies, lips hovering over yours, ‘but do we have a deal?”

You can barely breathe out “Deal.” before his lips gently press into yours. A glow fills the room but you don’t even notice this time, too lost in his touch to care. 

He reluctantly pulls away, “You should probably stay here tonight. I don’t think it’s wise for you to be alone in this condition.”

“Oh no, it’s fine. I got it –“ hopping off the counter, you almost crumple to your knees. Alastor catches you with a smug chuckle. “I had a feeling you would fight me on that. It is completely up to you of course. However I will warn you I am willing to go to extreme lengths to convince you of the right choice.”

Once again, you’re lifted up and out of the bathroom. “Don’t threaten me with a good time -” You try to tease but lose your breath. A low laugh leaves his chest, “I believe we’ve had enough fun today my dear.” Every muscle in your body welcomes the soft bed as he lays you down on his silk sheets. 

Your eyes flutter heavily as you hear him move about the room, leaving briefly. Am I really going to stay here with him? Guess not too much of a choice now. I know he won’t hurt me, not tonight anyway. The door opens and you feel him climb into the bed with you. 

Turning to face him, you watch him lean back against the headboard, book in hand. “I thought you didn’t sleep.” you joke drowsily. 

“I don't need much but that just means I can keep you company while you rest.”

You prop yourself up on your elbow, looking up at him with half-lidded eyes, “We don’t have to talk if you don’t want to…but maybe you could tell me some stories about when you were alive? You can be my personal radio show for the night.”

A pleased hum leaves his chest, “As you wish, ma chère.” He wraps an arm around you and pulls you closer. Time might as well have stopped as he begins telling you about his life, his mom, his home, the old radio show. You practically melt into his chest while drinking in every drop of his sweet voice. It was nice to peel back a few layers of who the Radio Demon was.

You wake up in a panic the next morning. Sitting up, your tired brain takes a moment to catch up with your surroundings and you relax remembering the previous night’s events. The mirror across the room catches your eye, showing purple and blue bruises painted across your skin. “Uhhg I look rough.” you whisper to yourself. 

“Still beautiful as ever, my dear.” a voice cut in, making your heart jump into your throat. You didn’t even notice his shadow or him fading into the room while you tried to collect yourself. “Good morning Alastor, and thank you but these marks are not very flattering.” 

He sits on the edge of the bed and lightly traces his hand around your face and throat. His smile almost falters. “I loathe seeing the marks he’s left on you…but I take pride in knowing he won’t ever lay a hand on you again.” a snide grin crosses his face. That’s probably why he took so long to get back to the hotel. I don’t even want to know what he did to Vox in that alley.

“Now! You stay here, I will go grab us some coffee!” Alastor jumps up to rush out the door but you stop him. “No, wait – I want to come with you.” He nods and leans against the doorway, waiting for you to put yourself together. You only bother to run a comb through your hair. No use in trying to cover up anything.

He wraps his arm around your waist while walking down to the lobby. Plopping yourself on the couch, you look up to see Husk staring over a newspaper, eyebrow cocked. A gruff “Hmpf” comes from behind the paper as Alastor walks by into the kitchen.

You roll your eyes, “Don’t even start Husk.” 

He slams the paper down on the bar, “I ain’t startin nothin! But it sure looks like he tried to finish –“ “He didn’t touch me. I wouldn’t even be sitting here if it wasn’t for him – “

Angel bursts through the hotel doors roaring with excitement, abruptly ending your conversation with Husk. “Oh good you guys are here – you will not BELIEVE what happened last night and holy shit what happened to you!?“

He looks mortified at the marks across your face. “Tripped. Please continue.” you say dryly.

Alastor finally returns with coffee, taking his seat right next to you as Angel finishes talking about his shift and how bad of a condition Val was in.

“It’s crazy someone was powerful enough…or ballsy enough…to do something like that to him. He’s pissed and from what I heard, Vox wasn’t looking too hot either.” You shoot a look over to Alastor who huffs smugly, looking away as he takes a sip of his coffee. I fucking knew it.

You turn your attention back to Angel, “If someone knocked him around that much, he’s bound to want to take it out on someone. Are - are things going to get worse for you?” Anxiety grips your chest at the realization you may have only aggravated Angel’s situation rather than helped.

“Eh it’ll be weeks before he even gets back to working the studio, besides no one is going to take him seriously with those words on his face. Whoever got ahold of him CARVED into his cheeks. Fuckin deep too. Heard it was a carmine knife, so Satan knows it’s gonna scar.” The enthusiasm in his voice helps ease your worries.

Husk finally chimes into the conversation, “hmm and uh – what exactly was written on his face?” his eyes look straight through Angel and settle on you. There’s no way he thinks –

“I don’t know some Latin shit I can’t pronounce. I overheard some older demons say it ‘labeled him as dirty’ or something like that.” Angel shrugs it off and continues joking about how great the next few weeks were going to be for him.

You finish your coffee and stand to get more, wincing at how sore you still feel.

“You could have asked me, dear. I was about to get up for more as well.” Alastor motions for you to sit back down while taking your cup. When he walks away, Angel comes over and sits on the floor next to you.

“Soooo…you gonna to tell me who actually gave you those bruises? Did you get freaky with Smiles? I just knew he was into that kinda –“

“He didn’t do this Angel.” Your words are soft but stern. He looks up with worry in his eyes. “Don’t take pity on me like that. I am FINE…” you peek up to see Husk’s back turned. Leaning over Angel’s ear, you drop your voice to a whisper, “and uh, between you and me – the word is spurcissime. Roughly translates to ‘complete filth’.” R̴̗͠ǔ̷̮l̸͍͘ẽ̴̘ ̴̩͑#̴̙͆2̸̥̎ ̴̲͌N̸̰̒e̵͔͝v̴̯̆ë̸͙́r̴̬̀ ̸̩̏t̶̳̍ḙ̵̑l̴̥͝l̵̹̍ ̴͎͆ă̴̤ ̷͖̉s̴͕̕o̸̼͊ǔ̶̡l̶̝̿ ̷̺̓ẅ̵̟́ĥ̵̞a̶͖̿ṱ̵̏ ̸̢̕(̵͉̽ŏ̵̢r̵͚͛ ̷̘̈h̷̯̾ò̴̺w̵͉̑ ̸͔̀m̷̡̈́ủ̷̞c̶͂ͅh̷͇̋)̶̻̂ ̵͖̈p̵͍͒o̶̤̽ẉ̶́e̷̤̚ȑ̵̪ ̸̣̚ÿ̴̥ö̶́͜ù̸͎ ̸͇̑ĥ̸̤ä̷̙v̶͖͒e̶̥͛

You sit back on the couch haughtily, taking pleasure in the absolutely dumbfounded look on his face.  

Tag List (Let me know if you would like to be added!)

@rl800 @fairyv-ice @looking1016 @martinys-world @sirens-and-moonflowers @alastorssimp 

[seungkw1]

halloween night — ksy

⛧ pairing: kwon soonyoung x fem!reader ⛧ theme: strangers to lovers, nonidol!au ⛧ word count: ~2.5k ⛧ warnings: smut, swearing, praise kink, oral (m. & f. receiving), softdom!hoshi, petnames (f. receiving - baby, pretty girl, etc.), unprotected penetration (stay safe kids), tiny bit of fluff at the end

your halloween night is going pretty lousy — that is, until you meet a handsome, tiger-print-wearing stranger at a party

♡ moodboard by @myhimbomingi ♡

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“You look fine. Stop worrying, you’re gonna have a good time tonight!”

You stop fiddling with your skirt and look up at your best friend with a sigh. ”I can’t believe you talked me into wearing this stupid thing.”

Halloween is, in your humble opinion, the greatest holiday ever invented. You always love putting together your costume, something unique and creative each year – which is why you feel like a fucking idiot standing here dressed in a cliché sexy nurse costume. But, you needed to get your shitty ex off your mind – it had been two weeks since you found out he was cheating on you – and what better distraction than alcohol. Hell, you might even find someone to make out with if you drink enough. Not your usual M.O., but fuck it.

Now that you’re here though, you’re starting to have second thoughts. Your best friend Mina is bubbly and sociable, so she thrives naturally in a party environment – you, not so much. To make matters worse she’s the only person you’ll know here, so you’re now realizing how awkward this whole thing is going to be. Wishing now that you had worn something more comfortable, you slap on a fake smile as you step inside. Here goes nothing, I guess.

—

Mina spent about 15 minutes introducing you to everybody as you did your best to engage in polite small talk, but she eventually got absorbed in chatting with some old friends while you inadvertently joined a very boring conversation with some cryptocurrency bros where some guy named Chad or something was going on about bitcoin. You pretended to be interested in whatever Brad was saying, but you kept zoning out. Stifling a sigh, you went to make your escape. 

“I’m gonna use the restroom, I'll be right…”

Nobody even looked at you. Brent had moved on talking about stocks or some shit. You rolled your eyes as you walked away. Assholes.

The other room was too crowded for your liking, and so was the kitchen. Spotting the back door, you quickly made your way outside before anyone else could talk to you. 

—

The cool October breeze hits you as you practically burst through the door and out onto the patio. You know you’ll probably get chilled before too long, especially in this dumb miniskirt, but the crisp air feels delightful. The relative quietness is a relief too. Taking a few moments to breathe, you start to relax, but soon enough your mind drifts back to your ex against your will. It’s not like you miss him – you’re definitely over that jerk – but you’re still extremely pissed off about the whole thing. You feel tears starting to form as the anger wells up inside you – you hate that you cry when you get mad, which only makes you even more upset. 

“God fucking dammit,” you mutter under your breath as you go to wipe your tears away before you start full-on crying. You know bottling up your emotions isn’t ideal, but neither is having a breakdown at some stranger’s house.

You can have your breakdown later, you tell yourself firmly. Just not right now. Don’t make a fool of yourself, just hold on out for a couple more hours and then-

“Are you okay?”

You nearly jump out of your skin at the voice coming from behind you. Quickly turning around, you find yourself face-to-face with a ridiculously handsome stranger. The man is so striking it takes you a few seconds to process the horribly tacky, bright orange tiger-print shirt he’s wearing.

“Jesus Christ, you scared me,” you say as you collect yourself.

“I- sorry, I didn’t mean to…” he says, his sentence trailing off.

You both stand there for a moment in silence. You find yourself trying not to blush at how good-looking he is, but you notice him noticing your low-cut top but trying to act like he didn’t notice it. Yeah, that is not helping…

The man clears his throat. “You just seemed like you were crying or something and uh… sorry, I guess that’s not really any of my business…” he apologizes, turning red. “Sorry,” he repeats, “I’ll leave you be…”

“No no it’s okay!!” you blurt out, perhaps a bit too fast. “I mean, you can stay, I don't mind.”

“Are you sure? If you want to be alon-”

“No, I don’t,” you interrupt before he goes to turn away again. “I mean, I did originally, but uh…”

What are you doing?? You literally don’t even know this man.

You ignore the voice inside your head. Fuck it, didn’t I say I wanted to find a hot stranger to make out with tonight? Here’s one right in front of me.

You introduce yourself and stick out your hand. His face turns into a soft smile as he takes your hand in his – he shakes it firmly, and you try not to think about how strong he feels. He locks eyes with you and holds on to your hand for a few moments too long. Your heart seems to skip a beat. 

“Soonyoung,” he replies. Letting out an even bigger grin, he finally lets go of your hand. “Nice to meet you.”

—

You don’t even know how long you two have been sitting on the patio couch talking. All you know is that not only is Soonyoung incredibly handsome, he’s also funny, charming, and easy to talk to – and, he’s clearly very attracted to you. Usually it takes a number of drinks before you get flirty, but the tension between you two is too strong to resist. It’s taking all of your willpower not to drop everything and kiss him – and the way he keeps stealing quick glances of your lips tells you the feeling is reciprocated. 

Despite how flustered you are, it is pretty chilly out, and eventually you start to shiver. Soonyoung notices and gives you a concerned look.

“Oh shit, we should probably get you inside.”

You glance back toward the chatter of the house party regretfully, not wanting to go back in and be amongst everybody else once again. But you are getting cold.

You look back to Soonyoung and you both sit there in silence for a few seconds. A sly smile creeps back onto his face, and he hesitates for a moment before suggesting, “Or… we could get out of here.”

You can’t help but grin back at him.

—

And so you find yourself on Soonyoung’s couch, straddling his lap, making out with him – the cheesy horror movie you had put on in the background long forgotten. Time seems to be at a standstill as you press your lips into his – softly at first, but more intensely with each kiss. His muscular arms tighten around your waist, pulling your body even closer to his, and a small moan escapes you as he pushes his hips into your core. 

Soonyoung stops kissing you momentarily so he can look at you. “You’re so fucking pretty, you know that?”

His low and raspy voice sends a jolt through your stomach. Your skirt has risen up over your hips, leaving your underwear as the only barrier between your pussy and the growing bulge in his jeans – you push yourself into him even further and this time he lets out a moan as you feel his cock twitch against your aching cunt.

Grabbing onto your waist he pushes you over onto the couch and rolls over on top of you. He kisses you again, his hand cradling your face, his body weight pressing down on you as you feel the blood rushing through your veins. He kisses you for a few moments more before he jumps up, pulling you along as he leads you into his bedroom. 

He stops right before the bed and pauses to look at you, his hand delicately tracing your neckline. “You know, I really like this costume, but I think I’d like it more off of you.”

You let out a laugh as you roll your eyes at him. You begin to unbutton his shirt as you reply, “Well I don’t really like it at all, so you can definitely help me get rid of it.”

He grins back at you. “You look incredible, but I will happily oblige.”

Grabbing the hem of your top, Soonyoung pulls it up over your head and tosses it behind him. He pulls his shirt off too, disregarding the rest of the buttons, and you have to keep your jaw from hitting the floor – to say he was toned would’ve been an understatement. 

He grabs you by the arms to pull you in for another kiss, and you place your hands on his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin. You slowly run one hand down the defined curvatures of his abs until you reach the waist of his pants. Your lips still pressed against his, you begin to undo his belt and unbutton his pants.

Getting down as you undo the zipper, you pull down the band of his underwear and his cock springs free. You run your tongue up his length, your mouth stopping to take just the tip in between your lips as you taste his juices before taking him in your mouth. Soonyoung lets out a groan, and you begin to slide his cock down your throat – slowly at first, but as you begin to pick up the pace he places his hand on the back of your head, making sure you take his entire length with each motion.

“Look at me,” he commands.

You look up at him, his cock halfway in your mouth still, your lips red and your eyes teary from choking on him.

“That’s my pretty girl,” he murmurs, his voice gruff and low.

He thrusts into your mouth a few more times before he pulls your head back up, his cock glistening with your spit. 

“Stand up for me.”

You quickly stand up – it’s impossible to ignore how wet you are at this point.

Soonyoung takes you by the hips and gently pushes you down onto the bed. “Get comfy baby.”

You rest your head against the pillows as he situates himself between your legs. He lifts your skirt up just enough to reveal your visibly soaked underwear. 

“Fuck, you’re already this wet for me huh?” he says he starts kissing your inner thighs, close enough to your entrance to make your clit throb but just far away enough to drive you crazy.

He teases you with one finger tracing over your clothed cunt, sending a shiver down your spine. Not giving what you want just yet, he reaches his hand behind your back and unclasps your bra, taking it off of you. 

“God, you’re so hot,” he says as he begins to kiss your breasts. You let out a small whimper as his hand makes its way back down to your clit, his thumb circling over the fabric gently.

Finally, he reaches his hands under your skirt and slides your panties off, his face resuming its position right in front of your cunt. You let out a hiss as his tongue makes a stripe over your folds, slowly taking in your wetness – you cry out suddenly as he begins to suck on your clit. 

Soonyoung goes down on you for what feels like an eternity, only stopping here and there to shower you in admiration.

“You taste so good, baby.”

“Fuck, you’re so hot.”

“Pussy so pretty for me.”

Just as you feel the heat welling up inside your body, he slides his fingers inside of you. The vibrations of his mouth moaning on your clit combined with the pressure against your g-spot nearly sends you over the edge.

“Fuck, Soonyoung – I’m gonna cum…” you cry.

“Cum for me, baby.”

Your orgasm rushes over you as you grab him by the hair, cumming hard on his mouth. Out of breath and seeing stars, you start to come down and your body relaxes into the bed – you run your hand through his hair as he delicately kisses your soaked pussy, his mouth and chin covered in your juices.

Soonyoung comes up to give you a few soft kisses on the lips. Wrapping your arms around his back, you pull his warm body into yours. His erection presses up against your still-throbbing core – you try to position your entrance right on top of his cock but he teasingly pulls away and starts kissing your neck instead. 

“Please Soonyoung,” you beg.

“Please what baby? I wanna hear you say it.”

“Want you to fuck me.”

He kisses you on the neck once more before slipping his cock inside you, making you gasp at the sudden sensation.

“Mmm I made you so wet baby, you’re so perfect for me.”

He slowly starts sliding his length in and out of you, but before long you find yourself trying to ride his cock, trying to make him go faster – which only makes him slow down even more. He smirks, locking eyes with you – undeniably addicted to how much you need him.

“Such a little slut, you want me to fuck you harder?”

You nod, looking up at him – desperation in your eyes.

“Use your words baby.”

“Harder,” you plead.

“That’s my good girl.”

Soonyoung thrusts into you, picking up the pace this time, until he’s fucking you senseless. Your cries fill the room from the overwhelming pleasure, and much to his enjoyment you start to whimper out his name. 

“That’s right – say my name babygirl.”

You repeat his name as every inch of him continues to pulse into you, stronger with each stroke. 

“You’re taking me so well. My cock so good to you baby?”

You cry out something, presumably some form of yes, but you don’t even know at this point. You feel yourself start to climax once more. 

“Fuck, Soonyoung – I’m gonna cum again.”

“Cum with me, pretty girl.”

Electricity rushes over your entire body as your walls tighten around him, and you feel his cock pulsating as his cum fills you up inside. You both lay there for a few moments, his strong arms wrapping around you as you breathe heavily together. He slowly removes himself from you and rolls over to pull you into an embrace – him as the big spoon. You giggle as he holds you tightly and gives you little kisses on your cheek. 

“You know,” you admit, “I didn’t even want to go to that stupid party.”

Soonyoung laughs. “Well, I’m sure glad you did.”

“I am too,” you say as you begin to yawn. You are completely worn out in the best way possible.

He nuzzles into your neck, clearly also getting sleepy. He pauses a moment before he asks.

“Stay here with me?”

You can’t help but smile. “Okay,” you reply softly. 

You drift off to sleep in Soonyoung’s arms – blissful and content.

[end]

you can also find me on ao3 ♡

[thecuriousquest]

‘Tis the Fucking Season!

Happy holidays to all my readers. Whatever you celebrate, I hope it’s awesome for you!

Yandere!Satoru Gojo x Fem!Reader x FuckBoi!Suguru Geto

Tag List: @issamomma @repostingmyfavs @murderofravens

Warnings: Yandere themes, NSFW, heavily sexist themes, I think this verges on more dub con because reader doesn’t get an explicit say, bondage, nudity, vaginal sex, light spanking, pussy spanking, vaginal fingering, oral sex (giving and receiving), patronizing tones, public humiliation

Note: College AU (no sorcery), everyone is 18

—————————————————————————

Suguru walks into his dorm room, surprised to find Satoru sitting on his bed. He’s lounging comfortably, ankles crossed, hands interlocked behind his head.

“What brings you here, Satoru?” Suguru smiles warmly as he shrugs off his jacket.

“I have your gift,” he explains with a salacious grin.

“The one you wouldn’t shut up about for the past two weeks?”

“The one and only. I really think I outdid myself this year. It’s gonna be tough for you to one up me after this.”

Suguru sets his book down on his desk and shakes his head, bangs swaying. “I don’t think Christmas is about outdoing each other.”

“Don’t be so philosophical now! It’s Christmas!”

“Alright, so, where is it?” Geto finally asks.

“I’ve hidden it somewhere in this room. I think you’ll be able to find it pretty easily.” He stands up from the bed and saunters over to Geto. “Have fun, Suguru. Use it well!” He pats his friend on the back before leaving.

“Thanks,” Suguru huffs humorously as he begins the hunt. Nothing out of the ordinary under his bed, nothing in the kitchenette cabinets, he even goes as far as looking in the attached bathroom. It’s a fairly decent sized dorm room, so the only place left to check is the closet.

And would you look at that. There you are all wrapped up like a candy cane with scarlet and cream silk bindings around your wrists and ankles. Silk, white panties with a crimson lace trim and a matching push-up bra adorn your body. There’s white silk covering your eyes while you drool around a scarlet ball gag. Sitting delicately on the top of your head is a red and white bow. Looking closer at you, Suguru can see there’s even a gift tag wrapped around your neck.

Merry Christmas, from Satoru.

Suguru rolls his eyes. He lifts you up by your hips, steadying you on trembling legs.

“Well now, isn’t this a pretty sight,” he brushes your hair back, taking in every single inch of you.

You face his general direction, never wavering, too afraid to even move a muscle. Everything Satoru did to you to get you here…and now this?! You’re ashamed to say that all you respond with is a tight groan.

“So, my little Christmas mouse, where should we start?”

Picking you up, he sits down on the bed, placing you on his lap. He rips the gift tag off of your neck, not wanting to see Satoru’s name while he’s fucking you stupid. Suguru decides to leave the silk binding around your eyes, making you feel unsure of where to look.

You shift, chaffing your wrists held snugly behind your back. Suguru can roughly make out that you’re attempting to say his name through your gag. He laughs while slipping his hand between your thighs, simply caressing the insides.

“I think I want to keep you like this for a little while longer.”

You feel his lips graze your neck as he fingers the little wet patch seeping through your panties.

Geto can’t understand a single thing you’re trying to say, but he really doesn’t care. Your panties are gone soon after, and your bra ends up being pushed over your tits to let them bounce freely. Suguru unties the bindings around your feet but leaves the ones around your wrists. He moves you onto the bed only so that he can rid himself of his own clothes.

He can feel how hard his cock is through his pants, can feel a tent being created. He loses his own clothes, trousers, shirt, everything. Nothing is left on him by the time he’s nuzzling his nose at the apex of your thighs.

Lapping at your warm and juicy pussy, he swirls his tongue around your clit, inserting two long fingers inside of you. He lets himself explore you, but you feel your body treacherously responding to his ministrations. Your hips wriggle as you lie on your back, and all Geto does is throw your legs over his shoulders, holding them firmly as he eats you out like a starving man.

He lets his fingers roam and rub all over your inner walls. He’s not just pumping in and out of you. It’s as if he’s trying to find something. You wish he would just pick a pace and leave it at that until his digits curl around the little beast stirring in your loins; the same beast that comes alive when Geto flicks his tongue against your clit. It makes your back arch, makes you mewl behind your gag.

Feeling his tongue dart inside of you with his fingers has you squeezing your quaking thighs. You’re almost there. You’re so close as you buck into him, trying to get his mouth to latch back onto your clit.

Oddly enough, his nose bumps your sensitive little pearl, but that’s all you need as you orgasm against his skillful tongue.

You can’t believe you just came on Suguru Geto’s face.

The man laughs as he uses him thumb to clean up the mess you left behind on his chin. He licks his finger clean, slurping up the last of your essence.

Standing up, Geto leans over you, nudging his way between your thighs as he undoes the ball gag’s latch behind your head. You stretch your jaw now that you’re free of the damned thing as you wipe the drool off of your chin with your shoulder.

“What’s the matter? Is your jaw stiff? Let me help you stretch it out.” He hums as he gently wraps a hand around the back of your neck, pulling you in close until he sticks his hard on in your mouth.

Your sloppy wet cavern from all of the built up drool creates a nice lubricant for him to pump in and out of. And fuck. You can’t help but think how he took out your gag only to stuff your mouth with something else. You’re not sure which one you prefer, but you try to relax, slightly choking each time he hits the back of your throat.

Suguru plays with your pussy as you suck his dick, having you lie down on the edge of the bed with your legs spread as you take his entire length. Black pubic hair scratches your nose, a masculine musk wafting in your direction with the friction he’s creating. At least he’s making this pleasurable for you as well.

His fingers pinch your clit, and you whine on his cock. The vibrations are so gratifying for him as he pushes your head farther into his base. Your lips place wet kisses against his scratchy patch of black hair, balls slapping you every time he gets carried away and slams his hips into you so hard that you end up gagging.

With your thighs spread and his erection down your throat, you cry while he slaps your pussy. Each sound you make, each failed syllable slithers along Suguru’s veiny shaft. He can’t help his own guttural moans while he fills your mouth with his warm seed.

You swallow it, forcing it down. You turn your head against his sheets, groaning as you feel your weak little slit throb from his sharp attacks.

———

You’re so wet for him, cunt dripping with delicious cream made so sweet for him. He’s slow moving you to straddle his lap as he sits on the bed, helping you adjust as you cry out from his cock slipping inside of your tight hole.

“Fuck, it’s so big! It’s so big! I can’t-”

But he’s shushing you and telling you that you can.

“You’re doing just fine.”

Ripping the damn bow off of your head, stripping you of your blindfold, he isn’t surprised to see your eyes scrunched closed. He really just wants to watch your expressions as he rails you.

You bounce on the fat head of his cock. Every word trying to escape your throat comes out clogged and broken.

“Please, please, so good, too much!”

You’re not even sure what you’re saying at this point. All you know is that your head is spinning faster with every piston of his hips. His thrusts are deep, and you can’t feel anything but his delicious cock hitting that tiny spot that makes everything feel so blissful.

Suguru smacks your ass, grabbing a handful of doughy flesh, making you rock into him. He spreads your cheeks so that he can go deeper and deeper. His penetration finally pushes you over the edge, and you slump against him.

You pant heavily as your chin hangs over the back of his shoulder, but you have no idea that he’s nowhere near done with you yet.

He humps into you, slow and hard, taking all of the time in the world to enjoy such a precious and beautiful gift. Gojo was right. His best friend really outdid himself this time.

———

Everything is a mess. The bed. Suguru’s hair. You most of all. By the time he’s finished using his gift, he unties your wrists. He lets you adjust your bra and put your panties back on. Lighting up a cigarette, Suguru guides you out the door with a light smack to your bottom.

Yipping from the slight sting, you turn around in time to see Geto shut the door in your face. Shaking your head, you cross your arms over your breasts.

Stupid Christmas lingerie Gojo forced you into, and fuck Geto for not letting you at least borrow a shirt.

You turn to head back to your room, but you’re stuck in a state of shock as you’re faced with not only the man who put you in this situation, but at least a group of thirty students in your class.

“Merry Christmas, guys. Isn’t she a real beauty?”

They’re all chattering quietly behind the white haired man, and you know all too well that they’re talking about you. Some of them are even hollering at you, cat calling you, demanding you strip right there in the hallway.

You can’t believe he’d humiliate you even further after making you a gift to Suguru Geto. Tears fill your eyes, and you choke on a breath. You’ve had enough. The dam breaks, and the tears flooding your eyes spill over.

You don’t remember how you got on your knees, but you try to cover your body with your arms. One over your padded bra and the other between your legs.

Satoru stands above you with both hands in his pockets. He looks down on you mightily.

“Bet you wish you never rejected me now, huh?”

You look up at him with brows pushed together and slightly parted lips. Is that what all of this has been about? Is that why he put you through so much humiliation?

“You want me to make them go away?”

Your desperate nod causes your hair to sway.

“Say you’ll go out with me then.”

And now you really don’t want to go out with him. If he’s willing to put you through all of this just because you told him “no”, then what else is he willing to do? You’re going to be the laughingstock of the university now.

But a hideous voice in the back of your head tells you that things can absolutely get so much worse if you reject him once more.

With no other option and not wanting to become another “gift” to all of your classmates standing behind Gojo, you whimper past dry lips, “Okay…I’ll go out with you, Satoru.”

“Great!” The next thing you know, he’s picking you up bridal style and carrying you down the hallway to your room. “Guys, get lost. We’ve got a date to get ready for.”

[peachesofteal]

School pick-up

Sassy series - takes place between chapter 2 and 3 of Alone but can be read as standalone. Simon Riley/female reader - soft dad Simon Riley

You’re late. Not for Theo, who doesn’t get out for another ten minutes, but for your spot, the one grainy square of concrete that you always stand in, day after day, on the sidewalk in front of the school. It’s where you always wait, ensuring you keep the routine exactly as it’s always been, a pathetic attempt at ensuring your son has some consistency in his life, even if it is a fleeting and feeble attempt. 

You’re so pressed about being a few minutes behind schedule that at first, you startle when you spot your husband standing by the fence, hands tucked into the front pocket of his jeans, black civilian mask covering the bottom half of his face. 

You step back around the curb before he sees you, heart thundering in your ears, mind wildly confused. What day is it? Did I get the wrong date? Why is he here? You usually pick up on Tuesdays… what’s going-

Oh. It’s Wednesday. And on Wednesdays, Simon picks up, unless he’s working. 

“Hey Mr. Riley!” A sing-song voice spits out, and you frown, leaning over just a tad to spot a tall blonde casually sidling up to Simon, her shiny Rapunzel-like locks spilling down her back like some golden spun thread. Your stomach sours when you recognize her as one of Theo’s classmate’s mom, the one who always volunteers for field trips and bake sales and PTA bullshit, the one who hosts perfectly themed birthday parties and wears perfectly pressed clothing. Perfect. Her hair, her skin, her nails, her teeth, her clothes. Everything about her was pristine, gorgeous, clean. She’s not like you, not weak like you, not pathetic or dirty or- 

“Hi Sarah.” Simon answers her, and the blood in your veins turns to ice. Sarah? He knows her name? He knows her? 

“We’ve missed you at pick up these last few weeks.” She croons, and takes a half step closer, the movement something Simon casually watches from the corner of his eye. She reaches for his forearm playfully, and he shifts just so that her fingertips only graze his skin before pulling away. Rage colors your vision and your nails press to your palms as you clench your fists tight. “I’ve been meaning to ask; we should get the boys together for a play date.” Your stomach tries to come up through your throat while you hold your breath, every muscle in your body tense with fire as you watch this blonde heathen step closer and closer to your husband. Simon nods and says something you can’t quite hear. 

Sarah laughs. She giggles like whatever was said, is the funniest thing she’s ever heard. You watch the sun reflect off her shiny strands of hair while she lowers her sunglasses past the bridge of her nose, looking up through her lashes at Simon, coy smile on her lips. He glances at her, like he’s cataloguing her reaction, and then he does a sweep of the sidewalk and the road, the trail of his vision eventually his leading his eyes to land on… you. 

Fuck. White hot embarrassment heats your skin, licking up your spine as you give him a grimace. You wanted to separate. He’s free to do as he wants, isn’t he? He tilts his head in your direction and you fight the hiss that nearly leaves your mouth, instead choosing to step out from behind the corner and make yourself known. 

“Oh, hey Mrs. Riley.” Her face twists like she’s eaten something sour and the warm feeling of satisfaction oozes around your heart, your eyes never leaving hers. 

“Hey Sarah, how are you?” You exchange pleasantries, keeping your hands at your side just in case. You’re not sure how well it would be received if you scratched her eyes out. When she bids her goodbyes, her eyes linger longer on Simon, and you can’t help but clear your throat. 

“Sass?” He questions while you watch her get farther away, hair flouncing against her back. 

“I uh, got the days mixed up. Sorry.” 

“It’s alright. ‘m sure Theo wouldn’t mind walking home with both of us.” His eyes crinkle at the corners, like he’s smiling, just a bit smug behind the mask and you give him a halfhearted scowl. Caught red handed. 

The bell rings, and Theo comes skipping down the front steps, face wild with happiness when he sees the two of you, standing side by side waiting for him. 

“Mum! Daddy!” He sprints towards the two of you, Simon bending at the waist to scoop him up and half toss him in the air, little shrieks of excitement echoing through the air above the general chatter of the other parents and their kids. 

“Hi baby.” You say, and Theo huffs when Simon puts him down. 

“Not a baby mum.” Simon chuckles, and holds his hand out for Theo, who takes it quickly, his little legs working to keep pace beside the two of you. 

“You’re not a baby, that’s right. I’m sorry.” Theo nods, and then pauses, body slouching like he’s exhausted before beaming up at Simon. 

“Daddy, carry me?” Simon sighs with fake exasperation. 

“Thought you weren’t a baby, eh?” He teases before pulling Theo from the ground, shifting him around so he’s sitting on Simon’s shoulders. He sighs happily from his perch, and your heart swells, watching them together. It’s so right, feels so good, to just be here, walking home with them, like nothing is wrong in the world or your head. You slow to a halt, just watching, memorizing the two of them together until Simon realizes you’re not beside him and turns with a furrowed brow. 

“Hey, you coming?” He cocks his head, hand half extended towards you, and Theo cranes his neck to see where you’ve gone. 

“Yeah mum! Hurry up!” They’re both waiting for you, watching you with faces full of love. 

Your boys. 

"Yeah, sorry. I'm coming."

[weirdmageddon]

💿⚛️ davejade headcanons

sorry for leaving you guys waiting on this for like a week lol i kept being like “tomorrow for sure” but falling asleep but anyway here it is. i might add more to this if i think if anything but reblogs might not reflect the up to date source version so you can always find it here

most of these are pointing out stuff thats basically canon anyway but whatever lol. basically canon headcanons

dave tries to impress jade to get her attention because he likes her

this ones for you *misses hoop by 5 feet*

he doesnt mind jade’s inane riddles honestly. he isn’t perturbed by how she just knows things like rose is, because he doesnt think into it too far. he trusts her

he spends a lot of time indulging in her interests and showers her in his music and poetry

they draw things for each other a lot <3 jade has the pictionary modus and seems pretty good at drawing and of course dave sent her sbahj as furries in the mail. sending jpegs over the internet is BABY NONSENSE. real boys send their childhood friend/crush pictures they drew for them through the INTERNATIONAL POSTAL SYSTEM to an unspecified island in the middle of nowhere, pacific ocean that gets packages dropped by plane so the recipient can tangibly hold it and hang it in their room

actually i was going through the commentary and hussie addresses it as such:

“Also notice her SBaHJ furry poster, which was clearly a very thoughtful gift from Dave”

aww

jade would give dave a "cool" plushie of a tiger or something nd he keeps it on his desk . froot’s beautiful idea

he loves her plushie sensibilities. so much less unnerving than his bro’s phallic puppets. they're still soft but no cognitive dissonance this time about the softness coming from foam puppet ass hoorayyy

theyre still reading homestuck on act 4 but they understood them instantly

jade humors dave’s ironic cool facade because it makes dave feel more comfortable without feeling too exposed, but it’s because of this that he feels like he can open up to her because she isnt prying. (im still not over the smile here btw. only jade could make dave smile after a fucked evening where he spilled juice on his turntables and accidentally skewered an innocent crow with his sword and broke his window this mf is TYPING. also getting a bit of joy out of the fact that the only visible suit on his cards-themed bedcover in this panel is a heart)

but he knows that jade is not unaware of what he's hiding. couldnt even refute her lol

from the knight’s perspective, it’s “i’m not as [blank] as i appear. i want you know that about me if i know you well and trust you, or i DON’T want you to know that about me if i DON’T know you well. the reason is that i want to know that i can trust you to avoid turning my insecurity into a Whole Thing”

basically she allows dave to take initiative when HE feels comfortable and confident in sharing the things he’s self-conscious about. this really helps him be comfortable and form a strong bond with her

dave would wrap his arms around her to “ironically” imitate a pair of tangle buddy squiddles (while actually concealing genuine affection basically unbeknownst to himself) but he winds up looking just a little too into it for just an “ironic” bit yall……

jade is slower to realize her deeper feelings since she shows love to everyone (so long as theyre deserving of it!!!) it just hits her one day that she actually Likes him in a special way, while for dave it is more dynamic and gradual but very on the downlow, expressed in creative acts and services

once dave actually recognizes he’s really caught feelings for her down the line, dave and jade happily do the tangle buddies hug all the time. its like their handshake. its their weird couple thing

these two when together as a unit they do not give a shit about what other people think of them

this shit lol:

Creative Fucking Powerhouse the two of them

davejade ass song to me

jade is quite spacey and super appreciates dave’s level-headedness and steady pragmatism while at the same time not being a rigid stick in the mud about it. for example when they were acting as each others’ server players dave was advising her but it was appreciated by jade

sorry its just literally socionics duality LITERALLY THIS IS THEMMM (also i spent WAY too much time making these graphics and integrating texts from multiple sources please appreciate it)

fittingly with that, as ouroborista writes about the opposite space-time aspect dichotomy,

Space and Time are the fundamental Aspect pair. Their job is to make shit take place. To create novelty. Between them they span not only all of existence but also the inseparable twin approaches of any creative project. Space goes for breadth, for ideas, for expansive, holistic input, while Time goes for needlepoint focus and a rapid-turnover ability to pull through on the prompt. There’s a reason why these are the two Aspects necessary for any successful session of SBURB.

jade is literally always having a little giggle about him. dave is a funny guy. lame court jester ass boyfriend

he’d draw his post-ironic fursona and show it to her with the usual deadpan expression on his face, eyes obscured by his shades. but jade will look at it and when he sees her smile and laugh it makes it all worth it. his cheeks feel warm and he’ll smile slightly like “heh heh”. dave the type to smile like an idiot over anything jade does like his mouth keeps making a thin line and hes trying to fight it but . Jade

dave thought jade looked absolutely stunning in her 3 in the morning dress his mouth probably stupidly hung open the tiniest amount seeing her after swapping into it

of course she only wears it for what she considers "very special occasions"…..spending time with dave seemed to be a very special occasion :)

jade think dave looks sharp in his suits!!

imagine jade adjusting daves crooked bowtie and lapel and his palms start to sweat and he darts his eyes from behind his shades and chews the inside of his cheek she making him nervous bro 💯

jade is definitely the teaser and dave is the teased. still i dont think jade teases dave as much as john and rose which is why he feels more comfortable opening up to her about his shit. her teasings are much lighter and inconsequential

despite how funny and informal he is dave is a classy well-put-together romantic. he is responsible and harmonious in how he choses to present himself. remember when he got secondhand embarrassment from rose when she was drunk before her date with kanaya and he suggested to her and kanaya that the two reschedule? … he’d NEVER do something like that. sober. suit is ON. hair is neatly combed. he is right on time, not too early not too late, and his first words are “yo whats up”

dave has this designated driver energy about him

after dogtiering jade’s dog ears can perk and flatten, adding even more expressiveness

jade has so many hobbies and interests i think she’d get dave into horticulture somehow unironically

theyre both the kinda mf to ask “would you still love me if i were a worm”

dave’s hands are warm

jade’s skin can be cool to the touch in some places like the back of her arms or shoulders and dave places his hands there to warm them. or by rubbing them or something

idk just some associations space is cool and time is warm to me. the vaccuum of space is cold and time is associated with gears which are associated with generating heat and dave’s classical element is fire and jade’s is earth and her planet is initially covered in snow and daves is covered in lava idk…. just makes symbolic sense i guess but its also cute in its own right

dave would love going to the beach with jade on earth c cause the ocean is so boob i mean boob i mean boob i m,ean boob i mean SHIT . blue. blue

this Fucking animation bro

she infodumps about science and he sits his ass down to listen

jade does this (excuse the fact that the url is roselalonde)

[atinylittlepain]

June - Part One

joel miller x f!OC

series masterlist

warnings | 18+ dark themes surrounding suicidal ideation and attempt, eventual smut, angst

a/n | well, I'm a bit nervous to share this one. as I mentioned before, this is going to be quite different than anything I have put out before. Each part is going to be much shorter than my usual fare - anywhere from 2K to 2.5K. Again, please take care reading this, I am touching on very tender topics. I also need to thank @wannab-urs and @jksprincess10 and @beskarandblasters for supporting me through writing this, so much gratitude for you both.

....................................

Cheer up, honey, I hope you can

There is something wrong with me

My mind is filled with silvery stars

Honey, kisses, clouds of fog

"Radio Cure" by Wilco

....................................

She’s a difficult woman. When she wants to be. And he supposes she does. He supposes she’s angry at him. She had made that clear enough. He had taken something from her, a choice, an escape, a way out. But she had taken it from him too. They hold each other’s lives between their teeth, waiting for the other to bite down, to show mercy, to bleed out.

They won’t let her go outside the gates anymore, no patrol shifts. And they have her staying with one of the doctors in town, a watchful eye. From what he’s heard, it isn’t going well. From what he sees, it isn’t going well. Joel isn’t sleeping these days because she isn’t either. He follows her, a shadow, not daring to get too close lest she decides to snap at his presence. 

Most nights, she circles her cage like a despondent animal, fingertips running along the wall that keeps her from doing it again. And he follows after her, willing her to turn over her shoulder, to look at him, to offer him anything. He would take anything she’s willing to give. 

And then he does something to upset her even more. It comes up between him and his brother on patrol. The doctor she’s staying with is at her wit’s end with her. Coming and going at strange hours, silent and snarling. So he offers up the spare room in his house and suddenly she’s stomping up his porch with a backpack and a scowl.

“What exactly are you trying to do?” He has to admit, it’s a good question. One he’s not sure of the answer to.

“You need somewhere to stay, and I have the space.”

“Because your kid doesn’t want to live here anymore?” 

“She ain’t my kid.” 

“Yeah right.”  He’s just content to have her looking at him again, even if she is trying to dig her claws in. But her eyes flicker away fast.

“It’s only for a month. Then they’re gonna let me have my apartment back.” “Whatever you say, June. Your room is upstairs, second door on the–” 

“It’s not fair, you know.” “What’s that?”

“The only difference between you and I is that I got caught. And now I’m stuck in a fucking cage. You may have played hero, but I know why you were out there.” She doesn’t give him a chance to respond, shouldering past him into the house and trudging upstairs. 

For the first time since Ellie left, he starts cooking. Mostly because she’s not eating. Or at least he never sees her eating, no trips to the dining hall, and she only passes through the kitchen to get upstairs. So he starts cooking, albeit simply, leaving plates outside her closed door, happy to see them cleared in the morning. His pants start fitting better again, belt not done on the tightest notch anymore. And he’d like to think she starts looking different too, a little brighter after a few weeks of square meals. 

She doesn’t wander at night anymore. He’s always waiting on the porch to see her come home. She’s even started to mutter a low goodnight when she passes him to go inside, something beating and flickering inside his ribs when she does. 

He knows from Maria that she’s started working at the garden, and one night she comes home with a basket, a few ears of corn, pale and silky in their husks, and strawberries bright enough to make his mouth water. She sets the basket down at his feet, her eyes not meeting his, though she gives him a curt nod before going inside, the light click of the screen door shaking him out of his stupor. 

Sliced into bleeding slivers, how Sarah liked them, with a drizzle of honey where he would have sprinkled sugar, how Sarah liked them. But instead of setting the bowl down outside her door, he decides to knock, and she decides to let him in. 

They sit on the edge of the bed, close enough to hold the bowl between them, their fingers staining sticky from the sweet syrup of the treat, saccharine singing down their throats. And when all the berries are gone, they pass the bowl back and forth, lapping up any remaining sweetness, mouths smacking with want. Her lips are red, swollen from the way she licks at them to chase up what’s left of the taste, and his eyes dart from them to her temple, a much darker red, still healing, still raised and scabbed. 

“Stop looking at it.” 

“I’m not.” “Yes, you are. Everyone does.”

“You wanna look at mine?” Her eyes widen, and he’s already turning his head, running a finger along the sliver on his temple.

“You–”

“I missed, just like you.”

“But you weren’t gonna miss this time, were you?” 

“No, I wasn’t. I’m glad you did though.” It’s the exact wrong thing to say, and he can see the way she shuts down, furling back in on herself, turning away from him, covering the side of her face with her palm.

“Goodnight, Joel.” A long sigh, slipping through his fingers.

“Goodnight, June.” 

…

At the end of the month, she doesn’t leave. There is no conversation about it. She simply doesn’t leave. And Joel has to swallow down his elation at that. 

Soon, her baskets laid at his feet turn into her helping him in the kitchen. They settle into silent rhythms, hips bumping as fat sizzles in the pan, the dull chop of vegetables and the savory sear of meat cooking. They eat together on the back porch, sitting side by side, taking in the lingering light of summer as they fill their bellies. An act that promises permanence. Her scar is quickening, new skin, new, new, new. And when he reaches out for her, his fingers skating over that arced line, she lets him. 

“Can I see yours again?” A nod, a tilt of his head, and a shiver when her fingers press over his scar. 

“I’m glad you missed, Joel.” She kisses angry, her fingers curling in his hair, swallowing up his groan when she tugs too hard. All teeth, nipping, clicking against his, and he wants more, more, more. He goes greedy with it, hands pulling at clothes, pressing her closer, as close as he can, pulling her into his lap and she’s warm, sharp, softening her snarl only slightly when he licks into her mouth. But she’s gone in a flash, pulling away with a gasp, stumbling down the porch steps, all but falling onto her ass as she wipes at her mouth with the back of her hand, eyes wild and wide. And Joel aches because he had her, he had her, and it felt so good and she’s already snapping back and away. 

“I– I’m sorry, June.” She doesn’t offer him anything else, darting past him and back inside. He sits there, slack, long after the sun dips down below the mountains, a shiver setting on him in the chill of the night. 

But she stays. She gets quiet again, cagey, no longer eating with him, only clipped greetings when they pass each other. But she stays. 

He’d like to say something, anything, but in the fleeting moments he sees her, he finds himself choking on words, his throat constricting and she’s already gone. So it’s a surprise when one day, she comes home and wordlessly sits down next to him on the porch. He doesn’t move, barely even breathes, a hummingbird beat away from her disappearing.

“Why doesn’t your kid live with you anymore?” 

“She ain’t my–”

“Fine, why doesn’t not your kid live with you anymore?” An inhale and an exhale, he has to clear his throat before he answers.

“I lied to her. And did a lot of things she didn’t agree with.”

“Why’d you do that?”

“I was trying to protect her.” 

“Did you?”

“Did I what?” “Protect her?” 

“I suppose I did. Reckon if this is the price I have to pay– for her to be safe– I’m fine with that.”

“Is that why you were out there that night?” 

“Yes.” She hums at that, the both of them still looking straight ahead. He can feel the warmth of her from where her thigh rests so close to his.

“Why haven’t you tried again?” He finally breaks, turning his head to squint at her, her eyes finding his.

“What do you mean?” 

“They don’t think you’re crazy. Not like me. Nobody would blink twice if you went back out there. So why haven’t you tried again?” It’s pure curiosity, no emotion behind her question, an honest and open desire to know.

“Because I’ve been busy keeping you from trying again.” It’s not the truth, at least not the whole of it, and he can tell she knows it, her lips curling into a smile. She’s just as good at this game as he is.

“Can I see yours?” Her hair has grown out more from where they had to shave it, and she has to tuck some of it back to show him the full line of her scar, still dark and jagged. He’s not sure if she’ll flinch, jerk away if he reaches out, but it’s a relief when she doesn’t, pressing her temple into the cup of his palm.

“I’m sorry, Joel.”

“Nothing to be sorry for, June.” He hopes that if he moves slower this time, only taking what she gives, that she won’t pull away. And she doesn’t, letting his lips brush against hers, a fluttering little thing. He swears he can hear it, something cracking in his chest, ribs breaking to make room for this new swell of warmth as she presses her lips to his again, a little more certain, a little more insistent. Her hand comes to rest at the collar of his shirt, fingers curling into the fabric when he sweeps his tongue along her bottom lip, a question that she responds to in kind, opening up to him with a sweet sigh. 

Sweet, sweet, sweet. No snap, no snarl, just a simple slip of her mouth pressed to his. He’s going to have to ration it, this sweetness, willing himself to pull away before she spooks. His hand is on hers, and her hand is on his, thumbs sweeping, back and forth, back and forth, tracing the secret they share. 

“You hungry?”

“Not really.” 

“Do you want to make dinner?”

“Okay.” 

She’s always not really hungry. He knows by now that it means nothing. And sure enough, he has to hide a smile when she pockets a perfect cherry tomato in her cheek as they start on dinner. 

“There's extra blankets in that closet if you need them. Since it’s getting colder at night and all.” Dinner had been a silent volley of glances, punctuated by long sighs. And now, standing in the hallway, somewhere between his own room and where she’s standing in front of hers, Joel feels completely adrift. 

“Okay, thank you. I think there’s a draft in my window actually. It’s been cold in there these last few nights.”

“I’ll trade for some caulk tomorrow. Get that fixed for you.” Something passes over her face, a quick fall that he finds his mind hurrying to figure out. Oh, oh.

“Would you– my room is plenty warm. I can take the couch.” 

“I don’t want you to take the couch.”

“Okay.” 

He’s already under the covers when she pads into his room, wearing a large sweater and a pair of leggings.

“Are you really that cold?” “I run cold.” He has to bite back a laugh at that, simply nodding, keeping his hands clasped over his chest as she slips into bed on the other side. She’s quick about it, rolling onto her side, facing away from him and tugging the sheets up to her chin.

He tries, he really does, his hands itching in resistance. It feels like a leap, a moment of freefall when he reaches across the mattress, settling his hand on her shoulder. But she catches him, bringing her palm to rest over his, fingers furling in a gentle tug. Come closer, I will not bite, I will not run, not this time. 

The gap is closed with a simple curl of his arm over her waist, his chest slipping snug against her back, rising and falling in time with her thrumming ribs.

“Your feet are really cold.”

“I’m sorry, I told you.”

“That’s okay, June. I don’t mind.” 

[fencecollapsed]

I love musical theater. I may not be a theater kid stereotype, but I always found it as an interesting way to tell a story. But despite the fact I personally don’t think it’s that big of a deal, a lot of my relatives seem to take me as “the musical girl”. My mother made my 17th birthday musical themed. A lot of my Christmas presents were musical related, I’m sure you’d get it. A couple of weeks back though, my cousin in Michigan, who I don’t really know, suddenly sent me a DVD with blue sharpie on it, simply reading “The Guy Who Didn’t Like Musicals” in all capital letters due to how much of a mouthful that name is, I’m going to refer to it as TGWDLM for the rest of this. The DVD itself was rather normal looking. She didn’t send me the box it came in, which is probably the reason why it was labeled in sharpie, cause without it, god knows what it could be. It could be a musical or a gore video, so thanks to her for that.

As for the contents... Well, it was a Pro-shot of a musical! The story was about a man named Paul, a guy who... didn’t like musicals! The opening song seems to portray this as a huge deal but to be honest, it isn’t. One day, on the opening night of a Mamma Mia! production in the real-life ghost town of Hatchetfield, Michigan (but populated, obivously), a meteor hits, carrying alien spores of a musical hivemind. One interesting fact is that the zombies are the only ones who sing, and dear god, some of their songs are so camp, but I guess that’s the joke. Also, I can definitely see an influence from Invasion of The Body Snatchers, hell, they even reference it. The musical itself had more laughs than scares for me, but the curtain call gave me fucking chills. The unusual parts though, come from not the musical itself, but what comes after it. There’s a behind-the-scenes, with a lot of content. There were audition tapes, director's commentary, easter eggs... I personally found it as fascinating as the musical itself! There was some mentions of a earlier version of the script, with some interesting parts that weren’t in the original, for example; Paul, Ted, Bill, and Charlotte all worked at a review site similar to IGN or Buzzfeed, or that Alice, in a strange trance, spouts out a bible quote. I began to feel like these random people, from an obscure theater company, were people I knew. But as fun as the behind the scenes are, that is not why I’m here. After the behind-the-scenes, there was just... A black screen. For like, 4 or 3 minutes… Then a blue screen with white text, with a font that looks like those fonts in analog horror, with one word. “APOTHEOSIS”.

There’s more after this too. The following is a very different feeling compared to the behind-the-scenes. It appears to be the night the pro-shot was recorded. It shows footage of the curtain call, when Emma was dragged backstage. Then, it cuts to security footage backstage. Immediately Emma’s actress, who I think I’ll just call Lauren, since that’s her real name, goes out of character. The others don’t let go of her, instead ejecting her out of the crowd. She lands on her ass and says “Ow.” in a tone that says “What the fuck dude? Why’d you throw me?”. The others are silent. Lauren gets up and after a moment looking at the others, decides to take off her bandage, revealing a real scar underneath. Lauren seems unsettled by this, but it’s made worse when everyone else approaches her, talking to her as if she IS Emma Perkins, despite her insistence. They then got closer, and closer. Lauren tried to back away, but they got closer. Eventually, Lauren was completely surrounded, and they... I... I can’t say it. I just can’t. All I’ll say is that audience members found the room covered in blood and mysterious blue goo. The blue screen appears again, the text now saying “THEIR RETELLING SUCKED ANYWAYS.”

After whatever the fuck that was, I kinda had to dig deeper? I had this mix of morbid fascination, horror, and an urge to somehow bring all this to light. Well... That and how at first I assumed it was a performance act, only to find out via a google search that it was all real, Lauren Lopez was presumed dead, and the rest of the cast are missing to this day.

So I talked to people who were at the closing night show. When it was recorded. They reported being genuinely convinced in some segments, like when Emma quote unquote “Looked at Ted’s eyes in horror, like she saw nothing there” and praised the “practical effects”. They also said that the few who lingered after the curtain call heard screaming. Those who checked backstage saw... Well, you know.

I didn’t find much about it though. Only this weird cult website when searching for random tag words related to the musical. It was talking about “His singular voice” or whatever and was saying that, like, all voices needed to be eradicated, for His is the only one that should exist, or whatever. Weirdly enough, there was musical theming in there. And... A page about the musical. I can vaguely recall the contents but it’s really hard to. It had a synopsis of the musical kinda biased in the favor of the zombies, with the implications that He caused the musical apocalypse over there. Me and my friends looked at the site once in a discord call and laughed at it. But then I found the actors' faces and how they all were brought to an “apotheosis”. Like... Like in the fucking musical.

It was just a rabbit hole I found myself in at the end of the day though. I easily tucked it into the back of my brain and went on with my life. But then stuff started getting weird. With me, I think. I’ve been more scatterbrained than usual, prone to zoning out for long stretches of time, wandering off conversations to talk about something else entirely, and I’m beginning to hate the sound of other people’s voices and I don’t know why, I was never a social butterfly but I didn’t hate other people talking... Everyday when I brush my teeth I notice my eyes getting... Bluer? I don’t know how, but my eyes have gone to a dark brown, to a light brown, to a hazel, to green, and now it’s getting closer and closer to blue. My friends online have been safe at the time from my sudden hatred of other voices but I can’t really go on voice chats anymore. And my fixation on musicals has only grown as of late. I can’t help but fight the urge to spontaneously sing a show-tune. I hate it.

I’d try to see a psychiatrist or something but I can’t bear to hear another voice, it’s so grating. And I know I should just grin and bear it but the last time I tried that I yelled at them. Not many people like me much anymore. I see why, I must’ve become an asshole to them, but they don’t get it. My eyes have become blue by now, and I think it’s glowing too.

I can’t help but play the songs over and over. I called it camp but I think it’s growing on me. I like Let It Out the most. I relate to Paul a lot right now. And then I noticed a split second shot of... His actor... Being... I can’t say it. I had to vomit. Why wouldn’t I? That was so fucking disgusting. And when I puked, I froze pale at what I just pushed out of my body.

It was blue, viscous sludge. It felt disgusting looking at it, even worse when you hold it. It smelled like ammonia. I ran out of the bathroom. I couldn’t stand to look at it any longer. And that’s when I decided to write this. I’m scared, to be honest, who wouldn’t be? I’ll most likely either be dead and have my corpse puppeteered, or go missing, for another poor soul to inevitably find the DVD and end up like me. I can hear the chimes and hymns of The Singular Voice. I know He wants me to become one with Him. He says it’s inevitable for me. And what choice do I have in the matter anymore?

I’m sorry, I lost.