#//Already considers himself as such for the Traveler; but if they do much as joke about it

[dutybcrne]

Referring to Taru as your knight is a surefire way to make sure he will Center His Entire Personality Around It in regards to his views of you

[tremendum]

Mr. Miller

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader (afab, use of she/her, use of the word girl)    

rating: explicit. (18+. mdni.)    

word count: 6.8k requested: yes. here and here :) 

summary:  “six months before you ran yourself into any trouble with somebody - that's no easy feat, considering your track record, so you like to call it a win anyways. but boy, talk about a rocky start with someone. Tommy's goddamn brother, no less.”

warnings: Jackson era, mentions of marijuana use, age gap (unspecified), sliiightly dub!con, smut (PiV, unprotected), creampie, overstimulation, pussy spanking, choking, spit kink, slight knife kink (do not look at me), dom!Joel (brat tamer!Joel if you squint), slight sir kink, so much dirty talk, lots of begging, degradation kink, dacryphilia, mean!Joel, this is just shameless smut i am horrible  notes: okay i kind of modified these asks but I thought it’d be fun to write it like this!!! as always reblogs/asks/comments are always great motivations :’) this is not reread because i am INSANE! xoxo

(  read the sequel other Joel fics:     fever       landmines    )

★  

to be completely honest, you never would’ve guessed you’d move to Wyoming. 

of course, in this world you didn't really have much of a choice of where you end up; it was hard to travel, yes, but there was some guiding hand that invisibly pushed you upon Jackson in the middle of a really rough winter. 

a girl, lost and on her own through the dangerous sprawls of what's left of the United States - of course Tommy and Maria had accepted you into the community; you were resourceful, willing, and strong-headed. 

most of Jackson was nice.

the people were good, the community functioned, and you were finally safe - you found a job working partly as a patrolman if an extra hand was needed, but mostly as a gardener.

it was a beautiful basin valley with sprawling mountains that glittered in the snow even during summer. 

you'd only been there for - what, maybe half a year? six months before you ran yourself into any trouble with somebody - that's no easy feat, considering your track record, so you like to call it a win anyways. but boy, talk about a rocky start with someone. 

Tommy's goddamn brother, no less. 

you didn't particularly get off on the correct foot with Joel Miller. when he showed up in town, people were thrown off. you surely understood that - but it was Tommy's brother, and Tommy insisted he would be fine; he and the girl with him had already been 'round Jackson before, leaving just a week or so before you showed up, apparently. 

you'd definitely heard about him. 

coincidentally, you'd actually moved into the house that Tommy had wanted Joel to have; the house that had the spare girl's bedroom which Ellie came through to ravage once they came back into town. (apparently the towels at Joel's were too rough no matter how many times they were washed, and Ellie really liked that Tamagotchi you'd found in the bedroom she once slept in.) 

maybe that'd already put him off, the short time in which Ellie had found company in you. who knows. 

but unfortunately, your first impression of him was muddled by a very real lens of beer-goggles and a long week's aching exhaustion in your brain. he was large, a tall man whose disposition dripped of domineering power; he didn't trust anybody here and by the looks of it, they didn't particularly adore him. he kept to himself besides Tommy -  who unfortunately along with his wife were really your closest comrades in the community. 

you almost felt bad for him, because that's how many people saw you at first. but on that night, you were just drunk enough, as you greeted Maria and Tommy at the bar with smiles and a joke about your libido, that you didn't quite realize that Tommy's big brother Joel was sat there, eyes watching you with a glimmer of something lurking behind the rim of the beer bottle. 

to be fair: everybody in this life is unkind in their first impressions. that's just how the world is now - 'every man for himself' is an unfortunately ugly reality and those who are too soft to see that are rarely spared the gore.

but when Tommy introduces you to Joel with a huff of a laugh and a friendly slap on your shoulder, Joel's eyes are distrusting, judging. he doesn’t say anything to you.

you try not to be offended. 

"pleasure to meet ya, Mr. Miller." you nod with a grin, your cheeks hot with slight intoxication as his large, calloused palm slips into yours. his grip is tight - your wince is covered with your words as you momentarily shoot Maria a look, turning back to the man in front of you.

"I met your girl earlier. stormed into my house like she owned the damn thing. was lookin' for some stuff she'd found last time, I guess. I'm just glad she didn't find my collection of big-girl toys." 

okay. okay, yeah, maybe you are too drunk. Maria laughs, at least, and Tommy lets out a chuckle, eyes flickering to Joel. but he just hums, eyes glancing over you once more before returning to nurse his dark beer with a furrow of his brows. “right.”

and pathetic as it is, he was too damn irresistible; you’d imagined that stare -that brooding scowl- one too many times in the dead of night, hands down your pants or in a stranger’s bed. 

and it hadn't gotten better in the months following. 

it was of circumstances most unfortunate for you that Joel and Ellie moved into a house just a few down from you - as much as you wished to just never see the man and his censorious stare, it was unavoidable. especially when Ellie showed up nearly day-to-day with questions, excuses, or even just complaints of boredom to coax you into letting her inside your house. 

a week or so ago, you’d overheard Tommy in a hushed voice down at the dining hall trying to convince Joel it was a good thing, that Ellie was learning to garden, learning about woman stuff (yes, he actually fucking said that), and - god forbid- make friends. 

but you love Ellie.

she in't like Joel. she’s funny, and lively, and easy-going once you warmed up to her. in fact, you actually started to collect things from around town to show her on her ceremonious visits; books, tattered board games, once you even found a trumpet in the crawlspace of your old house. it was rusty and honestly probably still had dried saliva from whichever fifth-grader played it way back before the outbreak, but it was enough to entertain you and the fifteen-year-old girl for hours even if neither of you knew how to play it. 

and maybe it was after Ellie mentioned to you with a giggle that Joel complains about you calling him ‘Mr. Miller,’ or maybe it was when she said he’d always ask about you and what you’re like whenever she returned from your days together. 

no matter what the catalyst really was, you just know you have it bad for that man, in the worst way - because he is a fucking asshole. 

but the worst of it was when Joel and you get paired up to patrol together on the outskirts. it means hours together of breathing and awkward looks, silence from you because he was silent and clearly wanted nothing to do with you. 

you suffered through hours of Joel’s rugged sageness for survival, tugging you effortlessly through boulders, lifting yourselves high through dilapidated structures in the middle of the wilderness. he was strong and capable and fucking sexy, and that made it all the more unbearable when snide comments about your youth or your inexperience or your lack of punctuality would pass his lips. it was annoying how hot it made you. 

as the summer rolled around, the horde was growing ever-present at the lips of Jackson county, festering like the moss that spreads along the woodsy forests in the northwest - hence your increased activity with the others who patrol the area and keep the community safe. 

he was a many of almost no words, and though you were in no way the same when you were around people you trust, the man just brings out the skeptic in you - so for weeks, it was days of the two of you walking in silence, the only noise being weak impasses and jabs at the other’s self-esteem all veiled by a smirk or an eye-roll. 

and still, each day out passed with your untrustworthy gazes pinned on the horizon just as much on each other's trigger fingers.

-- 

you're at your wit's end on one Friday evening as you finally return into town from patrol with him. 

Joel is a man plagued by too many unnamed illnesses; the likes of which you so fondly call in your head 'can't-accept-help-itis' and 'stubborn-old-asshole-luenza.' part of his symptoms render him unable to say full sentences to you without a judgmental look or a skeptical scoff, and sure you're not always the best judge of character, but you're confident that Joel has his eyes on your backside every single time you bend over to move your marker on the trail. he’s thought about it, too. 

but right now, you’re so tense you’re about to snap. 

his gaze hasn't left your profile for - you swear to god - almost thirty fucking minutes. like, nearly the whole walk from the first outpost. he’s been staring at you like you’re a ghost, or a second head sprouted from your neck. 

the heat of the summer night is unsullied; though you’re high in elevation, the warm wind blows a gust over your bare knees and ruffles your hair, coaxing a damp feeling to settle between your thighs under his gaze. 

"if you stare any harder at me, you'll get a fucking nose bleed." you sneer, keeping your eyes ahead as you grit your teeth. his gaze is burning into your side and with your words, they maintain their heat. 

whatever he was thinking, he keeps it to himself. you glare at his own profile, thick thighs, sturdy chest, hair that blows gently in the warm air. his jaw, glinting against the lights that guide you back into town. at least he’s looked away from you. good.

your victorious smirk is wiped off of your lips with his next words, the first in several hours from him besides grunts and directives. "d'you have the logs on you?" 

you look at him with revelation. "shit." you sigh shaking your head, "they're- they're at home." 

his face slides into a look of disdain, deep vexation at the task of now going back with you to your own house to sign the logs and confirm your findings for this patrol. "great." he mutters, feet kicking into gear to hightail it up the street, towards your house. 

the heat is swirling around your legs in the darkening evening as you finally enter your house, sighing into the empty air. the lights flicker when you switch them on, and you'd bring yourself to be more embarrassed about the disheveled state of your things if it had been anyone else with you. 

it doesn’t even matter, after all; his sights are set one one incriminating little piece of evidence in the corner of the living room. 

the small nub that sits on the tray by your windowsill seems to be more salient for Joel than the hurricane that threw your belongings across the space. 

your hands fall onto your hips, sighing as he accusingly lifts it from its ashy grave, eyes furrowed in irritation. your flannel sticks to your sleeves in the heat as his eyes meet yours. 

"is this- 's this marijuana?" he's incredulous as his fingers pinch the burnt-out roach, and you screw your brows at him; is he serious? you ignore the dwarfed look of the small old joint in his large hand, instead rolling your eyes. "yeah, some folks call it weed. you can smoke it and it makes you feel real good. you ever heard of it, Mr. Miller?" you snark, the sarcasm spilling from your lips deliciously; Joel eats it up like a man starved, his jaw ticking as he tilts his head. 

you know he secretly loves when you taunt him with the honorific; yes, it gets on his nerves, but there’s a secret air about him that suggests he likes it that way. it is easier to blur the lines between hate and desire than affection and desire, after all. 

"Ellie comes over here every day." he hisses, eyes sharp. you blink slowly at him, trying to fight the laugh that creeps up your throat; his gaze is dark, furious - did he think you were smoking weed with the girl? she's, like, thirteen. (fifteen, she corrects you in your mind. but still.) 

"that’s correct." you confirm, turning from him to search the kitchen for the log you'd forgotten in your haste to leave. his footsteps ring angry onto the floorboards. "if you're worried about that, I’d never smoke around her. 'm not that disrespectful." you defend, avoiding eye contact as you shuffle through your drawer of junk. 

"doesn’t matter. she won't be coming round much more." he threatens it - tests the waters. as if he has the authority to punish you.

you lift a brow at him, "don’t you think she should be able to make that choice?" you throw back at him, tossing your switchblade onto the table to your right as you sort through the miscellaneous items with both hands. 

uh oh, that struck a nerve in the man. 

his eyes sharpen as he breathes harsh at your words; "don't talk about things you know nothing about, girl." he snaps, crossing his arms, "now find the fucking log so I can leave." 

you glare at him, gesturing in front of you; your eyes scream no shit, Joel, I’m looking. 

it's silent as you search through the drawer, gritting your teeth in the tense silence of anger, thicker than molasses. 

you click your jaw, refusing to let it go, let him think he won. 

"I do have self respect, y'know." you pipe up, lifting a brow as you finally stumble upon the log, pulling a dying pen from the drawer and scribbling notes as you plop down on a wooden chair at your kitchen table.

Joel stays standing; it does not go unnoticed when his eyes take in the contours of your body, the clothes that stick to you in the heat of the summer; a pair of jean shorts, torn from years of use, and a thin tank top, covered with an unbuttoned flannel. his eyes sear into you at your words.

wow. fuck him. 

(no, not like fuck him, but- fuck him.) 

"never said you didn't, darlin'." he mutters condescendingly, the pet name leaving his mouth bitterly. any form of backlash you were going to unleash on his dies in your throat quickly when he leans over your shoulder to sign his own name next to yours. your eyes widen to search his face as his own skim over your account of the patrol. he's- wow, he's closer to you than you would have expected. 

holy shit. smoky swirls of gunpowder, pine, and dark amber whiskey. they fill your nostrils, dizzying your mind as you let out a stuttered breath - it's hot in here... your eyes glance as a small lick of sweat trickles down his neck. your throat is dry, heat swirling in your abdomen as he hums, "jus' think Ellie should start hangin' around with others." 

"why's that?" you snap, daring him to say it. fuck, your heart is pounding in your chest. oh, if he just admits it; that he thinks he's better than you, that he thinks you're pathetic - lord, you yearn for it, you’d have a fucking field day. you want an excuse to hit him. or bite him.

fuck Joel Miller, and- okay, fine. fuck him, too. 

his brows are furrowed as he glares hawkishly at your stubborn form; his gaze is serrated with disdain, jaw clenching with the words you're just begging him to admit.

"she's been cussin' and speaking...vulgar." he mutters, eyes flickering away from you. your jaw unhinges as you huff in surprise; he has the audacity to accuse you for teaching her to be foul-mouthed? hadn't she traveled with him for, what, a year? she’s a teenager - that’s what they do. 

"oh, please." you snap, "that girl was far from a princess when you showed up here, you know." you mutter, tossing a look over your shoulder up at him, the buttons undone at the top of his shirt staring at you, mocking you. 

"I know." he dismisses. his hand falls to stable himself on the back of your chair as he leans down towards you, "but you ain't helping. don't need her gettin' into any more trouble." 

you narrow your eyes, "trouble?" you parrot, accusing. 

the air is warm, thick as you cross your arms, the windows open and flowing the outside summer air into your nostrils. "how could I be trouble? you hardly know me." you snap, offended. you swirl with irritation. 

"because I listen. people think you're harsh. untrustworthy." he spits, smirking down at you as if his words are poison that'll dissolve your whole being into a small puddle of regret. but no, it's gasoline; his words are enough to incite your flames, lick you alive with ardor. 

he doesn't like you? oh, big fucking deal. you don't like him. 

"you ever heard of the pot calling the kettle black, Mr. Miller?" you drawl, lifting an accusatory brow. “what if you’re the bad influence? it’s not like you have any more manners than I do.” 

his jaw sets and his nostrils flare from his sharp exhale; you let your eyes swipe over the splattering of freckles that peek out from under the scruff beard that grows; a scar jags across his skin, frown lines creasing his scowl in a dark, terribly attractive way. you’re tip-toeing a line here, you can feel it. 

he can feel it, too. 

his eyes dip down, though you try hard to hold his heated gaze; they trail slowly over your shoulders and down, down to the dip of your collarbones and then over your breasts, heaving slightly with the proximity of the man. his gaze nearly melts the tank top that stretches over your torso and a flood of excitement rushes through you, pooling in the seat of your underwear. a smirk creeps onto your face at his wandering stare - resentful, loathing, heated. 

something in you snaps, and you can't deal with it any longer; not with his proximity, leaning over your shoulder and staring you down, with half-rolled sleeves. his forearms, they’re thick- goddamn, he's so-

"-I can't tell if you're looking at me like that because you want to kill me, or you want to fuck me." you snap, breaking his spell as you snap his attention back to your own eyes with your bold choice of words. "either way, it'll have to wait. I got shit to do, Mr. Miller, and for some reason, you're still in my house giving me fuck-me-eyes." 

"-you better watch your mouth." he snarls, chest heaving as he leans forward menacingly, his jaw clenched. 

you let yourself smile up at him, "or what, Mr. Miller?" you ask kindly, voice dripping with perfidious innocence. 

he sneers, eyes raking over your form, jaw ticking. your body flushes with warmth under his scrutinous gaze; one of your bare legs slides up to rest on the chair next to you, on full display snd illuminated in the light of the kitchen as you smirk at him. his dark chocolate gaze slides over the skin revealed; your skin tingles in excitement under his watch. it makes you chuckle. 

"what, you don't like the way I speak?" you hiss, glaring at him. "chastising me for shit that you do, too?" you mutter snidely, pulling your leg back down as his eyes glare into yours. "I'm an adult, you can't tell me what to say. fucking hypocrite."

your hand presses into his chest, standing to your full height. his chest is firm, hot, but he lets you do it easily, moving back out of your space; giving you an out, offering you a chance to say this-isn't-what-I-want. but you won't take it. no, instead you slide up closer to him, until you're too close. 

"why so quiet now, Mr. Miller?" you almost purr, your hand still toying with your switchblade, the glint of it reflecting in his eyes. slowly, you lift the blade to trace it gently, softly over his jawline, as you’d do with your fingers. he watches you like a damn hawk, breathing heavy. 

the scratch of it against the facial hair is enough for him to snap; suddenly snatching the blade from between your fingers in one quick motion. 

“you’re testin’ my patience.” he growls, shaking his head as he holds the handle of the knife in an iron-like grip. you shake your head, “yeah, well, you’ve taken all mine.” you counter. “so…” you start, raising a brow at the knife in his hands, the way your legs are turning to putty, “you going to kill me, Mr. Miller? or fuck me?” you whisper it into his ear, up on the tips of your toes as the peppering-gray curls at the base of his ear tickle your lips.

a sharp exhale - almost a surrender. then, a rough hand pushes you down against the table, hard. your body is pliant, willing, excited as his force brings you to thud against the wood, his hand flying down quick just to your right in a loud thud.

your head snaps to your right, eyes wide and jaw open; your switchblade pins your own flannel to the table, stabbed down and holding the material and your arm in place. christ, it barely missed nicking your skin.

“depends on if you can learn some goddamn manners.” he growls, leaning over you, his hips slotting between your thighs.

maybe it’s the look on his face, or just how damn long it’s been since you had someone, or just because it’s Joel – but your facade falls so quick and you’re soon keening up towards him, arching your back so your chest sticks out.

“I’m a fast learner.” you promise; at that, he merely hums, his hips grinding slow over yours. you let your eyes squeeze shut, groaning lightly at the bliss of his rough denim sliding against your shorts-clad cunt, throbbing with desire.

you’re breathless; shivers cascade down your spine at the press of his hips against yours, licking your lips to wet them; “fuck, Joel-“ your breath is strangled, “please. I can be good for you.” you try to convince him, blinking your eyes up at him. his smirk is downright evil as his hands fall to your top, skating over the tops of your breasts before one hand grips your jaw in his large palm, squeezing hard onto your cheeks and forcing you to stare into his eyes.

his grip is unforgiving. “y’think you can jus’ bat those pretty eyes at me?” he sneers, his breath hot and fanning over your face. you’re overheating- god, it’s so fucking hot in your house; your hand raises to grip his forearm, swallowing your pride for the sake for finally getting to feel him inside you, “’m sorry, Joel.” you mutter, cheeks squished by his hand.

his brow furrows, shaking his head. a chastising tutting noise escapes his throat as he rolls his hips, grinding sloooow and smooth against your dripping cunt, aching with desire.

“no, you’re fucking not.” he spits, pushing you harder against the table. your throat is dry, a whimper of desire escaping your throat. his lips brush the shell of your ear as he leans more of his weight on you, your legs wrapping around his hips and your own surging up, up in search for some friction, “say it. say you’re not sorry. you like it, I can tell.”

shivers spill down your spine as you bite back a moan, cheeks alight with heat at his teasing. Your eyes lull over towards the blade that holds down your shoulder, pinning you against the table. a hot rush of arousal floods your underwear as you swallow, eyes rising to meet his in a lidded gaze. 

“I like it,” you admit in a shameful gasp, hand sliding up to explore his chest, “I’m- I’m not sorry. I like it, ‘m not sorry.” you mutter, voice desperate, pathetic; you’re swallowing a whimper as he grinds slowly against you again, his hardened cock straining against his jeans.

 his hand snaps to pin yours down to the edge of the table; your eyes snap up to his, meeting the swirling lust within his deep eyes, searching your face with a dangerous smirk. “you aren’t sorry?” he asks, voice dripping with condescending cockiness.

you shake your head no desperately, searching his eyes to see if he’s pleased.

he smirks at your desperation. "you will be, darlin’." he mutters, his own eyes exploring your chest as it heaves, breasts barely spilling out the top of your tank top’s hem. you smile up at him despite your desperation; hunger curls in your chest as you move your hips up against him and his face falters, a groan escaping his throat. his eyes swirl with the dark shine of a man who is nothing less than dangerous. 

the hand that isn’t pinned by the blade creeps up his arm, brushing the thick cords of muscle that rope his bicep and shoulders; soon, though, one of his hands is gripping your wrist and slamming it down against the edge of the table.

you gasp from the roughness, biting your lip as your fingers curls around the edge and hold tight under his grip.

“don’t move your hands,” he mutters as his lips dip low to trace over the seam of your top, breath brushing over the soft skin of your breasts. “or I’ll leave you here, pinned to this table.”

arousal floods you at his words and you nod silently, swallowing as his teeth bite roughly at your pressure point. “d’you hear me, girl?” he grunts, his hands moving to pull out one of your breasts from your top, your peaked nipple instantly tugged between his prying fingers.

you let out a yelp at the sensation and he huffs against your skin, biting again. “fuck,” you whimper loudly, bucking your hips as your hands grip tight against the edge of the table; one arm is pinned with the knife anyways, but your heart thunders as his tongue peaks out, brushing hot against your sweat-sheened skin.

A hand snakes to your throat and you can’t stop the moan you let out, air sucking through your windpipe at the light grip he keeps; you’re obsessed with how all-consuming he is.

Joel’s everywhere – his smell, his eyes, his hands, tongue – you want him to be inside you, you want him to be in you forever, ever, ever.

fuck Joel Miller. fuck him, and fuck him.

“I asked you something. answer me.” he squeezes your throat as he emphasizes, as he demands you; you buck up against him, convinced you’re soaking through your goddamn shorts, leaving disgusting proof of your sick, twisted arousal as you move against his crotch.

his dominance causes your face to flare with heat; you weren’t expecting him to seduce you into submission - you love it. “y-yes, yes, sir. I he-heard you.” you gasp, face flushing hot as the words leave you. he smirks darkly as he pulls away from you, danger lurking in his eyes deliciously as he nods, seemingly pleased.

he nods. “good.”

his hips are gone from you in an instant and your gasp is choked – but he wastes no time in popping the button on your jeans, sliding them and your underwear off of you in one long motion.

his pupils somehow blow even wider as he stands in front of you, palming his thick cock through his jeans, watching you pant hard.

you’re exposed in front of him – your pussy is swollen with need, pulsing with desire as one of your breasts rests exposed to the air as the knife pins you down by the arm of your flannel; you’re fucking exposed and you love it. he’s intoxicating.

 “you’re soaked.” he says after a moment of silence so long that you barely register his gruff voice. you blink, bringing your eyes back up to his from where he’s begun to undo his belt.

you can’t help the light smirk as you stare up at him, “maybe I happen to like it when you’re vulgar with me.”

he glares at you but there’s a hint of something more that flashes through his eyes; adoration? no, it couldn’t be. Joel Miller can’t adore anything.

but then out of nowhere his fingers delve through your velvet, slippery folds in a fervor; your breath chokes yet again in your lungs as you tense with the sudden stimulation.

a low, guttural moan falls from your lips as the pads of his middle and ring fingers rub tight, slow circles on your clit, “bet you taste so good, don’t you?” he murmurs, his teeth finding purchase upon your neck, sucking a mark so hard you’re sure you’ll have it for weeks. christ. “y’want me to taste you, pretty girl?”

fuck. images flash through your mind of him on his knees, tongue unraveling you, drowning in you while your thighs close around those thick greying curls.

your moan falls from you fast, nodding quick, “yes, yes, please, please, use your mouth.“ your whines are downright embarrassing – you’re not a wide-eyed virgin teen, for fuck’s sake – but Joel’s stirring you just right, making you purr with pleasure.

but instead of his tongue, a harsh swat falls onto your aching cunt and your hips jolt at the stimulation, your clit throbbing and the sting making you groan his name. you can’t help the moan of disappointment.

“well, isn’t that too bad?” he snarls, his voice mean. you feel tears of frustration spring in your eyeline as you huff a sigh, his fingers slowly, torturously moving over your clit yet again. “bet you’d love if I ate your cunt. probably dream about it, don’t ya? d’you think about me when you touch yourself?”

Christ, you’d never expected Joel-don’t-fucking-talk-to-me-Miller to be so fucking dirty; but you learned your lesson last time, so you nod quick, eyes lidded through the euphoric, teasing pleasure from the pads of his fingers.

“all-all the time, J-Joel, fuck, think about you all the time.”

and it’s true.

“that’s right. my slut, thinkin’ about me.” he spits, mouth peppering bites over your throat. “gonna have to make y’cum fast, baby. Maria’s probably waiting for us t’turn in the logs.”

the possession in his voice brings you even further towards the edge, catapulting you, sending you frustratingly close as your body tenses, puckering hole clenching around nothing as he slowly works you.

you nod your head, unable to open your eyes as your legs close around Joel’s fingers; in anger, his hand tears your thighs apart, swatting the soft skin of your thighs in punishment. you yelp at the sting, biting your lip as a new gush of arousal leaks from your neglected hole and drips down onto the table.

fueled by frustration and adrenaline and some desperate fire of attraction that’s been burning between you since he first showed up in Jackson, you nearly scream, “please, fuck me now, Joel, please I’ll do anything-“

his hand leaves his ministrations quick, his glare sharp as his fingers glisten with your desperate arousal; they’re soaked. you feel yourself flush in embarrassment until he smirks darkly, tugging himself out of the confines of his jeans. “there, see? learnin’ some manners.”

his cock is heavy and thick as it slides through your wet, slick folds. your breath, panting out and puffing as you watch in awe. his: stuttering as the tip of his dick notches at your clenching hole, teasing.

“Jesus, you’re trying t-to swallow me, darlin’.” His hand reaches out, grabbing a palm full of your tit as he rocks his hips, once again nudging your leaking hole.

your whole body shivers in anticipation; you will your eyes to not reveal how fucking turned on you are about his size - you’re more wet than you’ve ever been in your life and his cock is - well, it’s thick, long, bigger than you’d like to admit. 

“greedy fuckin’ pussy.” he grunts to himself as you hold yourself as still as possibly, one tear escaping as you your eyes clench shut in desire.

“’m ready, Joel.” you whimper, eyes opening to find his hot gaze already searing through you; he just smirks, nodding slightly. “yeah, bet you are, pretty girl.”

he can’t thrust all the way into you, not fully- his cock is too thick, your cunt slick with arousal but still so goddamn tight. the rumbling moan he lets out as he inches in slowly is fucking heavenly.

a strangled gasp leaves your lips when he starts to slide into you, inch-by-inch, stretching you open and filling you full of him. your fingers twitch at your sides as you yearn to card your fingers through his thick curls; his head falls heavy against your chest as he mutters, “s’tight, baby, fu-fuckin’ tight.”

“so much,” you whimper, fingers tight and shaking as you restrain from grabbing his arms to stabilize himself, “‘s too much.” you mumble, tears stinging. he hums, the ghost of a kiss over your cheek before he’s in your ear, whispering, “am I too big for you, baby? gonna hav’ta work you open on my fingers first next time, yeah?”

his dark grin grows as you nod your head dumbly, “fuck- yeah, yes.” you agree, nodding,

his voice is starting to slur, accent getting thicker as he soon splits you fully, speared and sheathed deep, deep into you. you’re fluttering around him as you accommodate to his size, the feeling of him nearly breaking you open as he starts to shallowly thrust.

you let out a loud moan, his thickness stretching you and sliding deeper than expected, kissing against a spot that has you keening. your toes curl and your head falls back as he pulls out, thrusting back into you slow, grinding, deep.

all you can say is his name; it falls from your lips like it’s the only word you know, his hips soon pistoning into you with fervor, chasing the feeling coiling in your abdomen. 

his hands roam. 

they explore every part of you they can reach, his teeth marking every inch of your throat and painting you into a beautiful piece of art. for him. 

the noise of your pussy swallowing his girth in is downright filthy as it echoes through your kitchen; your head lulls to the side as you let out a languid moan, the spot he's hitting making your eyes roll back. you can feel stray tears leak down your cheeks, hot and heavy as you whimper in desire; you're so goddamn close, already, you know he can feel it. 

“y’gonna-“ he grunts, eyes screwed shut in pleasure as yours leak down your cheeks, body shaking with desire, “-gonna take my cock and say thank you, ‘s that right?”

a shaking rush of arousal just slickens you even more; the sounds of his body rocking into yours wet and loud in the room as you nod frantically, the pleasure coiling dangerously fast. 

but it seems you weren’t quick enough with your response: Joel’s hips slow, then stop completely. 

you’re left gasping, eyes wide as you stare up at him in shock: “wh-why?” you whimper, his pulsing length half out of you, teasing you. 

Joel’s eyes meet your own and he sternly swats your tits, eyes watching as the breast exposed to the air moves in recoil. 

“do you want to cum?” he asks, as if he’s asking what 2 + 2 is. your face fucking burns as you nod, “yes-“ 

but he grunts, hips too agonizingly still as he leans forward, “then take my cock, fuck yourself on it. and use your fuckin’ manners.”

you blink at him, spurring into action only after a very brief short-circuited moment. your hips stutter and shake at the angle, unable to move in a way that stimulates yourself enough to bring you back to the edge.

you shutter, muttering, “th-thank- thank you,” but you can’t do it. you glare at him as you move your hips, hands shaking, muscles straining, but you can tell he’s not pleased: brows drawn, a swat to your exposed breast that stings and spurs your hips quicker.

“come on, this is pathetic.” he snarls, fingers gently pinching your clit. the yelp you let out is dry, starved. “why so quiet now, darlin’?” he throws your own words back at you deliciously. 

he stands stationary, eyes judging you, focused on where your cunt tries to swallow his cock, your movements choppy and weak. tears spring in your eyes; he feels so good, but you just can’t get it right. 

“please.” you nearly whisper it, but it’s exactly what he was looking for. he rocks his hips shallowly, your body rocking gently with the slow, deep force of him splitting you open. 

“please, what?” he whispers into your ear, teeth scraping your jaw. resentment and arousal flows through your veins as you let out a strangles, “please, s-sir-“ 

with the words, Joel’s hips cant up into you, the slight angle making your legs coil and your throat burn. 

“please fuck me, y’feel- I can’t do it, need- you feel so good, fuck me hard, please, I want it.” you let go, begging and desperate to give you what you crave. 

his hips pick up a brutal pace. your back is pounded into the wood below you, the cool blade of the knife cold against your flannel as one of his large hands moves you until your legs are thrown up, over his shoulders.

the stretch is unimaginable and he doesn’t give you any time to adjust; his hips are unforgiving, fucking you open and letting your juices of arousal spill over the skin of your thighs and onto the table. 

“such a foul fuckin’ mouth on you.” he spits, one hand gripping your jaw until it opens for him, your mind clouded with the chase of your highs. 

he spits into your mouth, saliva warm and intoxicating as you swallow it happily, nodding in a daze. “gonna fuck you stupid, aren’t I? you won’t think about anything but me for weeks.” 

he’s right, and he fucking knows it. 

you nod at him, unable to form full words as he hits the spongy, delicious spot inside you that nearly makes you pass out. your hands fucking ache from the grip on the table, but you hope he’s pleased that they haven’t moved a damn inch this whole time; even as he splits you wide open and takes you apart. 

you’re so close you might actually start to sob as the crest of your orgasm tingles your thighs, your toes curling and legs shaking. 

he's close, too. his thrusts are getting slower, sloppier. 

“whose pussy is this?” Joel grunts, his movements soon desperate and deep; his tip kisses your cervix and your body jolts up the table with each movement of his pubic bone against yours.

the pain is fucking euphoric, delicious as you grip the edge of the table so hard you’re unsure they’ll ever relax. his finger pinches your nipple and you yelp, sweat sticking to your forehead, “-y-yours, fuck, Joel- yours, a-always.” you whimper, breathless.

you feel his smile grow against your neck and the butterflies that grow in your chest seem out of place with the bruises that will soon blossom on your skin from his teeth, his fingers.

you smile, too.

"god, you're perfect- f-feel fuckin' perfect around me, baby. need you to cum." as his sentence ends, his head jerks up, one hand rising to grip your jaw tight. your eyes snap to his and the anger boils, festering with the desire and lust within his eyes, "know y'can't help it, can you?" 

you shake your head fiercely as your orgasm nears. he hums deep, a rumble from his chest, “what do you say if you want me to let you cum?” 

fuck. fuckfuckfuck you’re too close- your muddled mind spits a barely cohesive babble of pleads, “please, p-pleaseplease I-I’m sorry I’m sorry-“ 

“you’re sorry?” he presses, hips not giving up; your whole body burns as you wait for your orgasm, knowing in any second it’ll be ruined. “look at those pretty eyes. did y’learn your manners? y’gonna say thank you?” 

you let out a sob of pleasure, his thrusts so deep you can feel them in your throat. “yes, Joel- please- let me cum, please-“ 

his hand slides to your throat. “cum now.” 

you swallow around his grip and let out a near scream of his name as his other hand snakes between you; a finger brushes against your abused clit, the combined stimulation pushing you over the edge. 

you see colors. 

your orgasm explodes as you gush around him, pulsing, begging, unraveling around his touch. your voice is broken, mutters and whimpers of his name followed by thank you, thank you drifting through the room.

your thighs are soaked with your own spend and he feels you grip him like a vice; he can't help but kiss the tears from your cheeks as he milks you through your orgasm, muttering soft grunts in your ear. 

"that's it, baby. there y'go, cum on my dick when i fuckin' tell you to." he kisses the column of your throat as his thrusts slow to deep, long thrusts. "atta girl." 

you scream at his words and the overstimulation. he shushes you, thrusts slow. "'m gonna cum." he sounds almost desperate, his body so close to yours it's almost like he's trying to smother you.

he groans your name in a broken sound; his grip tugging your hair. he moves back, frantic to pull out and ride his high- but you panic. 

"w-wait!" you rush, hands springing without thinking to push his hips hard against yours. you can't bear to imagine him pulling out of you so soon - you need to feel him, be full of him. "cum in me, Joel- I need it, j-just- fuck!" 

his hand slams over your mouth, effectively silencing you with a loud grunt of his own, "shut the fuck up," he growls, sounding too close. “jesus, girl- gonna wake up the whole n-neighborhood-“ but even his shamefully dirty mouth falters when he chases his orgasm.

soon he thrusts shallowly into your pulsing cunt before he's moaning, spurting his seed into you. 

hot, thick ropes of cum paint your walls as you flutter, whimpering as you breathe heavy, hands skittering up his back despite his earlier orders. 

his lips brush over your skin as he lies on you, heavy; "jesus christ." is all he mutters, pulling out of you with a slick sound and tucking himself into his jeans. 

you can only stare at the ceiling, the light above the table you’re laid upon swinging with the residual force of your bodies colliding.

a hand falls in a sharp thud to your right, pulling hard to dislodge the knife from its home against you; the notch it leaves reveals the patrol log; speared in the middle with the evidence of you and Joel's digressions. 

oops.

you're wrecked. you're a trembling frame of a structure after the hurricane of Joel Miller took threw you, stripping you to your bare bones. a ghost of lips over the inside skin of your knees as they fall, weak, off of his shoulders. and then he stares at you as you shakily sit up, setting your clothes right, swallowing on a raw throat. 

“‘m sorry about the flannel.” he gestures to the rip in your arm where the knife had pinned you down and something about it makes you chuckle, smoothing down your hair. “are you- are you okay?” he asks suddenly, hard eyes looking almost soft under the glow of the lamplight.

he hands you your underwear and jeans and helps you slide back into them in a surprisingly sweet turn of events.

“more than okay, christ. if you make me cum like that again you can do anything you want to my clothes.” you wink with a deep breath, smiling gently at him when he helps you stand back up on shaky legs. he actually sends you a half-smirk at that, and it flutters along your chest. 

the nighttime air is not so suffocating as you and Joel make your way towards Maria, his hand grazing over the small of your back as you walk on Jell-o legs, faces flushed and sweat slicking to your skin.

it’s awkward.

“I-” he starts, swallowing air as you stare up at him. sweat trickles from his brow and you itch to trace it with your tongue. 

“I actually think you’re not too bad,” he finishes, turning to walk up the steps to Tommy and Maria’s. you blink, heat fluttering in your chest as he admits, but soon whirls around to ensure you hear him, “for Ellie. just- don’t do that shit around her, right?” he clarifies.

you grin at his reddened cheeks as he tucks the log into the box set near the door, filing it under the western outpost for the date. 

“yes, Mr. Miller.” you mock-salute him, smirking to yourself as his flush deepens, the scowl ever-present on his face softening slightly at your smile. 

“christ.” he shakes his head, “you’re gonna get me into a lot of trouble.” you don’t miss the smile that creeps on his face as he starts to walk you back home. 

--

read part 2

requests open

--

[ilovetoxicfictionalmen]

MR. AND MRS. SMITH RIPPNER

KINKTOBER DAY 9 - MR AND MRS SMITH AU WITH JACKSON RIPPNER

Pairing.| Jackson Rippner x fem!reader

Summary.| You live a double life, but you’re willing to give it all up to devote yourself to your husband. With one final mission, you learn that your marriage is based on a lie.

Warnings.| Dubcon, noncon, manipulation, physical fighting, blood, blackmail, bondage, choking, breeding, head f!receiving, p in v.

Word count.| 7.6k

Notes.| This story KILLED ME. It was not intended to be this long and kinda angsty? Will probably make more sense if you've seen the movie. Idk kinda hate it but that's okay.

The warm sun caressed your skin through the open blinds. The birds were tweeting outside at how much of a beautiful morning it was. However, those peaceful sounds were drowned out, your ears too busy being filled with your husband’s lovely loud moans. With your naked bodies tangled in the sheets, the both of you blissfully cried out in unison, your body pinned underneath his as his hips snapped in and out. As you tug at his roots, you screamed out in ecstasy, your hips rocked against his as you rode out your orgasm. Your husband followed shortly after, finishing deep inside of you. Quickly your bodies stilled, his head buried into the crook of your neck as he inhaled your scent. 

“I don’t want you to leave…” you giggled, holding tightly onto your husband with your legs wrapped around his waist, his cock was gradually softening inside of you. 

Your husband groaned out softly, he kissed your skin ever so tenderly. How you wished you could stay in bed with him for eternity. Whilst massaging his scalp, he sluggishly raised his head as he puffed out. 

“I know baby, I don’t want to leave either” he agreed sweetly as he pressed his lips against your heated forehead. 

Your bodies were entwined together like snakes. It almost seemed too easy for you to be able to flip him onto his back. He huffed out as you straddled him, your drippy bare region rubbed against his member in a teasing manner. As he chuckled out, he felt himself twitch ever so slightly. He took your head into his hands. 

“How long will you be gone for again?” you asked softly. 

Both of you knew you knew the answer to that. Sometimes you just thought that if you repeated the same questions over again he’d change his answer to satisfy you. Considering how often you both traveled, the distance felt hard at times. When one of you was walking in the door, the other was heading out. 

“Five days at most” he whispered. 

He gave you a reassuring kiss. It wasn’t too explicit or plain. His touch was all you ever needed to relieve your dreadful thoughts. Five days wasn’t that long. You’re complaining as if you don’t already have a job to do in between his trip. But you would forever hate to see him leave. 

“I suppose I can handle that” you murmured as a grin grew on your lips. 

“When I get back, I’ll take you out to our favorite little restaurant” he hummed as he left a trail of kisses over your heated face, his hands caressed around your neck. 

“Yes, John” you sighed. 

John stilled, his blue eyes narrowed at you, while the grip on your cheeks tightened. You couldn’t help but to smirk mischiefly. 

“Hey” he warned softly. 

“What?” you laughed. 

“You know I don’t like being called that” John mumbled. 

“What? Your name?” you taunted in a joking manner. 

“Yes” he huffed. 

As soon as you used nicknames like honey, sugar, sweetie pie even… John insisted that you stick to it. He’s always claimed that John was such a common, plain, boring name. It was his belief that his parents named him that to spite him. It felt a bit dramatic, but you kept your mouth shut and kept him happy by calling him a variety of sweet names, however honey just always felt most fitting.

“You’re so theatrical” you snickered.

“It makes me feel like you’re mad at me” John almost talked under his breath.

Sometimes he acted like such a child, you rolled your eyes and rubbed the back of his neck in a reassuring manner. “Okay honey, is that better?” you slightly mocked. John hummed as he kissed you on the lips. 

“What are you going to get up to?” he asked, his face blank but eyes eager to know. 

“Oh I don’t know… House duties I suppose” you lied perfectly. John blinked coldly to you, but the expression quickly vanished as he smiled and planted another soft kiss on your lips. “I’ve been thinking…” you trailed, debating the topic on your hesitant mind.

John’s brows frowned in curiosity underneath his loose locks of chestnut hair as he shifted his hips into a more comfortable position. “About?” He inquired eagerly, head tilted like a cute dog. 

You sighed out, your fingertips ran over his bare chest, John exhaled in relaxation as his eyes studied yours. The silence was short yet impactful. 

“This house is so big” you pointed out, the implication rested on the tip of your tongue. 

“Do you want to downsize?” John tilted his head in confusion. 

The both of you loved this suburban home. There were plenty of spare bedrooms for guests, as if either of you had visitors lining up. Neither of you had much family, the only relationships you shared were the fake ones with your wealthy neighbors, always engaging in their social gatherings to keep up appearances. Thou shalt love their neighbor. 

But with every month that passed of you living here, the more your neighbors seemed to pressure you into having a baby. Most of them were on to their second or third. The ladies would always warn you that the honeymoon stage wouldn’t last forever, so you might as well create your love child before you both despise one another. 

“I was thinking of bringing another in” you said unsurely, unable to keep eye contact with him for once. 

“Like a dog?” John asked softly. But when he noticed your anxious expression, he sighed lowly.  “Oh…” he gulped lightly, eyes widened. 

“Yeah” you mumbled, you brushed his chestnut locks to the side. 

“But I thought we discussed this before we got married” John commented, a neutral, calm expression painted over as he gently rubbed your lower back.

“I know, I know… But I’ve been thinking about it for some reason” you answered as you smiled hopefully at him. 

“We can discuss that possibility better when I get back, yeah?” John reassured you. “But yeah maybe, the idea of filling our home with a baby just may be fulfilling. A baby Smith… Maybe you wouldn’t have to travel so much?” John cocked a brow, a gleeful look on his face. 

“Likewise to you” you snickered as you smacked his chest gently. 

“Wow, I plan one business trip after months of being locked up here and now you blame me” John joked, he pulled your face closer to his. 

“You were gone for weeks on end” you huffed. 

“Six weeks isn’t that long, is it?” Jackson snorted, a mischief grin locked on. 

You kissed him, his arms wrapped around your back as his hips pushed up to yours. The friction built up in you both, again. Sometimes you wondered if you’d reverted back into a teenager, you never seemed to have this high of a sex drive until you met him. John’s length was like a forbidden fruit that you were addicted to. 

“Come on, join me in the shower” he ordered kindly, his baby blue eyes sparkling. 

“I need to cook you breakfast” you objected with a cheeky grin. 

“I’ll eat at the terminal” John grinned back, his newly formed erection pressed against your bare skin. 

As you arrived at the drop off zone - because John always insisted you never wasted time and money to walk him to security- you kissed him passionately before he quickly exited the vehicle and grabbed his small suitcase from the backseat. 

“I love you” John smiled. 

“I love you too” you smiled back. 

John shut the door, took a step back and blew you a kiss as you drove away. Once he disappeared from your rear mirror, you changed the radio station and slipped off your ring. Likewise to your flash SUV vanishing, his gleeful smile formed into a sinister stern glare. 

Whenever you were away from John, your double life crashed on top of you. They always warned you, this job was a deadly commitment. No one could make it work with the white picket fence with a sniper underneath your bed. Before you met John, you loved being an assassin. It gave you a constant rush of adrenaline that no other drug could. But the moment you met him, you could feel the switch begin to flick over. 

It was almost a suffocating burden to be married to John Smith. Yet, his love felt like a drug. Don't get it wrong, John was a terrific husband. If you were having a gloomy day, he’d come home with your favorite ice cream and a new rental for you both to watch that night. Date nights were always over the top with him. Even though you both traveled frequently, you always managed to squeeze in a romantic getaway every now and again. Puerto Rico was the next spot on your list, but he didn’t know that. For John burns, not tans.  

The thought of retiring grew larger inside of you by the day. You could easily fake your job experience for a more conventional profession. You wanted to be honest with John, this profession just wasn’t it. Sure, the pay was great, benefits were out of this world. But it was always so time consuming and moral reckoning. Not to mention your life was always at risk. Every mission you took, the more you worried for John. What if something did happen to you, how would he cope? Even worse, what if something happened to him? You've hidden him from your workplace, but what if. 

John Smith was charismatic, confident and intelligent. There wasn’t a day that you’d catch him in a faded pair of sweatpants and an oversized shirt, he always dressed proper. He’d always be able to read the room, it was impressive with how easily he could mingle into the conversation, as if he was the one that started it. It felt like he knew you completely from day one. John Smith was mesmerizing, alluring and fulfilling. He was the fantasy you never knew you craved. 

You sighed as you arrived at your headquarters. The elevator ride up was dreadful as you could only think of him. The doors dinged open, you blinked back your swelling eyes as you waltzed through. Your second identity quickly painted across your expression as you approached your desk. As you plopped at your seat, you opened up your resignation file, your fingers nervously tapped on the wood as you considered everything. Your finger hovered over the print button. With a firm push, the printer roared to life. After neatly laying it on your desk, you opened up your mission report once more and scanned over your next and last target. 

‘Jackson Rippner’

- 

The missions were all the same, always to terminate bad, horrible men that polluted the world. You liked to tell yourself that you were more of a vigilante than a cold blooded killer, that your jobs were somewhat for the greater good. But who were you to think that you were any better. This was no justice system, nobody would learn. Maybe you were wrong about this whole baby idea, how could you raise a child knowing you’ve killed many others? Especially with a beautiful man like your husband. 

But this was the last one, you had to keep on telling yourself that. It would all work out, you’ve done your time as one of their soldiers. It was time to live a normal life.

Quickly, you slipped your handheld mirror from your purse and applied one final layer of gloss. As the elevator dinged open, your stiletto boots went silent on the carpet flooring. The rough security guard stood in front of the room entrance, his thick arms crossed over his broad chest. With him looking you up and down, you batted your lashes as he started to pat you down over your coat. He tried to untie the coat but you swatted his hands away, glaring harshly at him. The guard huffed at you and checked your handbag, the handcuffs dangled from his thick finger. All you could do was shrug at him. After three slow knocks, the guard let you in.  

The room was decorated in a seductive red. You strolled carelessly, your thighs crossed over one another as you pretended not to notice your target in the corner of the room. Jackson smirked at you in his hotel provided fluffy white robe, his blonde hair slicked back as he twirled his whiskey on rocks. He stalked over to you, his tongue rolled over his lips. As your eyes lingered over to the closed bathroom, you stepped towards it, but he stopped you by raising his hand.

“I just wanted to freshen up” you batted your lashes, tone soft. 

“No, no, you look perfect” he gave you a toothy grin. 

You resisted your impulsive huff. The handbag is dropped onto the cabinet as you slowly untie your coat, revealing your shiny, leather, exposing catsuit that made your tits look perfect. The knee high boots tease at the limitation of the skin of your thighs. You unclasped your claw clip, your luscious hair fell onto your shoulders. 

“Mr Rippner” you purred, your hands dipped into your bag for the cuffs.

His dark eyes ate you up completely, his mouth almost drooling at your beauty. As you approached him, you unrobed him, revealing his toned muscular tan body. With a seductive smirk, you pushed him to his knees and quickly and certainly tightly, cuffed his hands behind his back. You teased him by tugging at the roots of his blonde hair. 

“Are you a naughty boy, Jackson?” you whispered as you squatted in front of him. 

“Mhm-hmmm” he hummed, his eyes piercing into yours. 

“Do you know what happens to naughty boys?” you murmured, your lips inching from his. All he wanted to do was kiss you. 

“No” he whispered back. 

You stood up and slipped behind him, your hands ran up and down his broad back, your lips pressed to his ear. “They die” you whispered darkly. 

Before he could even react, your arms locked around his head and you effortlessly snapped his neck. To stop him from thumping to the ground, you held onto hair, carefully laying him on the soft carpet. You exhaled out and stood up, you picked your phone from your bag and sent the confirmation text to your boss. You then slipped your wedding ring back onto your finger, you hated having it off. 

“Damn baby, you’re such a sexy killer” the voice of your husband echoed behind you. 

Your body spun around towards the bathroom, you stared at him like a deer caught in headlights. This wasn’t possible, how was he here? You stumbled back and blinked hard, expecting this all to be a guilty figment of your imagination. He was wearing one of his ordinary suits as he smirked devilishly as per usual. 

“John” you gasped. 

“I really thought you were gonna kiss him for a second” your husband tutted, his eyes full of mischief as he approached you. 

You were frozen in place. Every thought in your mind bounced at a high speed, you couldn’t grasp onto anything. All you could do was murmur his name again as he closed the distance. 

“Baby, how many times do I have to tell you I hate it when you call me that?” John lectured teasingly. As he tried to wrap his arms around you lovingly, you shoved him back. 

“What is going on?” you hissed like a viper. Then, it all clicked, all of the pieces fell perfectly into place. Your eyes darted from the dead man on the floor back up to him. “You’re Jackson Rippner” you mumbled, your expression drained in shock and defeat. 

“...Yes…” Jackson answered, his eyes widened for a second as he tried to hide the grin off of his lips.

“Who’s that guy?” you questioned. 

Both of your eyes drifted to the carpet but returned back to one another. 

“My decoy, obviously” Jackson shrugged carelessly. 

“I-I don’t understand” you stammered, trying to keep your emotions on track. Jackson rubbed your arms to comfort you, stupidly you allowed it. “But- But I had your profile checked” you argued, shaking your head at this situation. This possibility wasn’t, well… it wasn’t possible. 

“I’m a great ghost baby” Jackson gloated. 

When you fell silent, pouting a lot harder than you realized, Jackson pouted back. He hugged you tightly, his lips pressed to your heated cheek. 

“John!” you gasped, you tried to push him off but he wouldn’t budge. 

“Baby, my name isn’t John!” Jackson chuckled, his lips continuing to kiss your skin. “It’s Jackson…” he whispered somewhat flirtatiously. 

Jackson was soft with his words, but a brute with his actions. He held you against his chest as you squirmed like a fish out of water. It was amusing for him, watching you get all overwhelmed over a little detail. 

“Baby… I have it all planned out, okay? I need you to trust me” Jackson spoke a lot more firmly this time. Your eyes pointed up to his. 

“John-”

“It’s Jackson!” he snapped, his words hissing in anger. You flinched and blinked hard, your lower lip began to wobble. The hold he had on you tightened shortly. He exhaled out and loosened his grip. “Anyways, you killed my decoy, they’ll think Jackson Rippner is dead. And I’ll happily stay in the shadows far away from your work so we can continue playing happy husband and wife” Jackson proposed, a gleeful expression locked on. 

The seriousness in his eyes was frightening. “Jackson, you’re scaring me” you gulped.

“I know, fuck- I know how much this can be for you” he sympathised in a highly condescending tone, his head tilted down to yours. “It certainly does change things…” he mumbled lightly. “But baby, you can’t judge me. We work in the same profession” he chuckled, hoping to bring light to this. 

“You’ve known all along, haven’t you?” you whispered, eyes turning all glossy.

“Of course I did” Jackson snorted. 

“Who are you?” you dared to ask. 

Jackson stared at you blankly, analyzing every single sign you were throwing at him. He breathed out and let go of you, he turned his heel and walked towards the mini bar. “Let me get you a drink first, okay? You’re currently in shock, you need to calm down a little bit first” he clicked his tongue. 

You watched his back as he pulled out two glasses. He opened the whiskey bottle and filled them, sneakily sprinkling the small plastic bag of powder into your glass. Returning to you, his expression was blank as he held out your glass. Reluctantly, you took it, you stared at the liquor. Jackson downed his glass, placed it down next to your handbag and cocked an eyebrow at you, his foot impatiently tapped on the carpet. For someone who was supposedly stalking you, he was stupid enough to think you were an idiot. Your face scrunched in anger, before Jackson could react, you splashed the drink on his face. 

“Baby!” Jackson spat the liquor off of his lips. 

You punched him in the nose, he stumbled back and snarled out. Reactively, he tried to swing at you but missed as you leaned your upper body back. You swiped his feet and he crashed onto the floor. Repeatedly, you kicked him in the stomach until he latched onto your calf and yanked your leg up into the air. You fell onto the carpet with him. 

The door swung open and you leaped into the bathroom as shots were fired in your direction. You pushed your body weight to the door and you could hear Jackson screaming at his guy. 

“Don’t fucking shoot her!” Jackson roared, a vein popped out of his forehead. “Give me the fucking gun and get out!” he commanded.

The silencer was on, meaning hotel security wouldn’t be paying you a visit anytime soon. You needed your damn handbag to get out of here. Running your hand through your hair, you tried to summon up your game plan. Adrenaline ran through your blood as you heard the door shut once more. 

“Baby… Come out and let’s talk” Jackson projected kindly as he approached the door. He emptied the gun and dropped it to the ground, ensuring that you’d hear it. “I don’t want to fight with you, okay? Come on, let’s be civil with one another before somebody gets hurt” Jackson attempted to convince you, that familiar persuading tone on his tongue. . 

He was right, somebody would certainly get hurt and you’d be damned if it was you. You cursed to yourself, stood up, brushed yourself down and opened the door. That non wipeable grin was on his lips as he stared you up and down. His devilish blue eyes locked onto your band. 

“Put it on already, huh?” Jackson murmured, his hand dared to reach out to you. 

You smacked his hand away, swiftly twisting his arm around, he grunted out as you kneed him in the stomach. He is charged into the wall by you, you repetitively throw blow after blow into him. Jackson tried to counter you, but failed miserably as you smacked his head into the plaster. 

“I’m going to slice you to pieces” you threatened, your rage uncontrollable. “You fucking cunt!” you screamed as you threw him into the side of the bed. 

As you stomped towards him, Jackson hurried to his feet and pulled out the blade from his jacket pocket. The tip is pointed directly at you as his fingers rubbed over his cut lip. 

“You fucking bitch” he snarled but had this crazed smirk on his lips. 

This wouldn’t be the first time you’ve fought at a disadvantage. So you courageously raised your fists at your husband. Jackson laughed smugly and called out for his guard. You scoffed, picked up Jackson’s empty glass and hurled it at the man as soon as he entered the room. The glass scattered over his skull and he tumbled to the ground. Jackson cursed loudly as you reached for your handbag and coat before you flew out of the room. 

You ran across the terrace as you swiftly slipped your coat on, Jackson was hot on your tail as easily unclasped one of the rings from the bag, a metal rope connected to it. You clicked the ring onto the lamp post, held onto the other handle of the bag and dived off the balcony. The rope protracted down the high rise building, the drop slowed down as you watched the sidewalk grow closer. As your boots clinked onto the cement and hand let go of the handle, you hailed the next taxi, not giving a damn who stared you down. As you sat in the back and the adrenaline drained from your blood, you broke down into tears as you ripped off your wedding ring. 

Jackson heaved as he planted his hands on the cement edge. A grin formed on his lips as he watched you gracefully fall. He couldn’t help but to be proud as you shrunk smaller and smaller. You go into the next taxi and disappear into the concrete jungle. He slipped his phone out of his pocket and held it to his ear.

“Yeah, commence through. Kill them all” Jackson sighed.  

-

The truth was, you were originally Jackson’s target. Your firm had information his desperately needed. The security on your system was too good for his team to hack, he needed access from the inside. As soon as Jackson saw your profile, he felt some kind of draw towards you. As he stalked you, this attraction quickly turned into an obsession. His patience thinned every week, he craved some taste of you. 

When you booked a last minute red eye flight, he jumped at the opportunity. He was surprised with how easily he caught your attention, you seemed to crave it just as badly as him. It would be your downfall without even knowing it. You could almost have him fooled, you didn’t seem like a killer, you had morals, ethics, care in the world. Everything he didn’t possess. You silently screamed for domestic life, but you just didn’t know it yet. Before the plane landed, Jackson realized that there was no possible way he’d be able to fire the gun once the job was over. 

When he took you on your first date, he expected to fuck you, not to make love. My, he knew how cheesy it sounded, but it was a sleepless night of passion and sensuality. Jackson had never felt more emotionally, physically and spiritually raw and intense. It was like he had an outer body experience that night. He could have sworn he felt the exact moment that he fell completely in love with you. You craved him too, felt the exact same thoughts he did. It was like you were both one that night. Now Jackson was never a romantic, but he knew he’d marry you when the sun rose in the morning.  

You quickly turned sloppy around him, you really thought he was as innocent as he looked. Jackson accessed your system so effortlessly. It really was a pie waiting to be taken. He partially felt bad betraying you, but it was better than eliminating you. As if to reward him for his hard, continuous efforts, you fucked him that night until he saw pure bliss. 

He covered his tracks perfectly, you were robbed blind. There were no leads, no suspicions, nothing. He saw it in your eyes the next time he saw you. Jackson’s heart fluttered, you were in the shitter and you wanted him to be your shoulder to cry on. Not that any physical tears were shredded that day. But Jackson comforted you, held you as you both talked sweet nothings to one another. You told him you loved him that night, he felt no shame in returning those blissful words. That night, you truly believed everything would be better. That Jackson was your silver lining. 

The porch lights were still on even though it was past midnight. As Jackson’s Mercedes pulled up the driveway, he took in the last moment of silence, peace. A devilish smirk grew on his lips as he casually got out of the car and almost skipped to the door. It was risky, you could have eliminated him at any moment, but Jackson knew you, a public execution was not your style. 

You had no other option than to come here. Jackson had annihilated your firm before you could bring yourself to contact them. All agents were now dead one way or another, your director included. This reckoning was all due to you. Jackson Rippner was the virus in the system. It felt like you were in the fallback scene of a spy film. This was now a suicide mission, all from your stupid blindness of love. Why did you always have to trust him? You should have listened to your instinct and kept someone on his tail whenever you were gone. 

“Honey! I’m home!” Jackson called out as he viciously slammed the door shut.

The interior was dead silent, he knew you were somewhere, hidden in the dark as you awaited the perfect moment to attack. Checking the hidden security cameras would be too easy for him. Jackson wanted a challenge. The masculinity inside of him demanded to show you your place, as a woman and a devoted wife. 

Jackson flicked on the dim lights, he slid the pistol out from his hostler as he cautiously stepped over the oakwood floor. His footsteps were light as a feather as he almost hovered over the ground. When he reached the turntable, he chucked on one of your favorite jazz records and turned up the volume through the amplifier. His chestnut hair shagged over his forehead, he could sense you, because the pungent perfume you always wore filled his smell. 

“Babygirl… Come out, let’s play!” Jackson grinned as he picked up a photo frame down the hallway.

He pressed his back against the plaster, the winder staircase on the opposite side of the wall. His face pointed towards the edge as held the photo of the two of you towards the stairs, the glass’ reflection painted the staircase on the glass as you came into sight. You aimed the shotgun in your hand as you squatted in the midpoint of the staircase, your barrel pointed right to the edge of the wall. The frame was shot to pieces as he hissed out. 

“Careful honey, I don’t want to shoot you” you spat, tone dripping with deception.

“Oh no, no more pet names, I only want to hear my proper name off of your lips!” Jackson laughed. 

Intuitively, Jackson dropped down as you shot straight through the wall. Another shot was fired for goodluck, the dust and darkness blinded your vision, the moonlight and dim lights wasn't enough. Jackson groaned out dramatically as he dropped his pistol, an inch from hands reach as he plummeted to the floor. You gasped as his head came into view, you lowered the shotgun as you slowly stepped down. 

His left eye peaked open as he saw you off guard. Swiftly, he picked up the pistol and fired in your direction. You grunted as you hurried back up the stairs, firing a few shots for good measure. But when Jackson’s magazine ran out, you jumped at the opportunity to attack. He strode down the hallway, his face content as blasts splattered through the walls just short of him. Turning the corner, Jackson reloaded and took the next right to do a complete circle around the floor.

But you bet him to it, your knees sliding on the floor as you fired in his direction. Unfortunately you missed your target. Grunting to yourself, you reloaded and spun into the open. The coast was clear, you stood silently, the barrel switching from every possible open exit. Your brows furrowed when you saw his pistol slide over towards you. 

“Come on now, guns are overrated baby! Take your anger out on me a bit more passionately” Jackson called out. 

Silently, you followed the sound of his voice. As you sharply turned the corner, the room was empty and you muttered soundlessly. 

“You think I’m an idiot!” you shouted back. 

“Kinda, given the fact that I’ve had you wrapped around my finger this whole time!” he bellowed. 

The urge to prove him wrong, to get your revenge the righteous way took over. You emptied the shotgun and threw it to the floor. You pulled the bullet off of your black midi dress.

“Come out then baby, give me your best shot!” you mocked. 

“Gladly” Jackson smirked as he turned the corner and leant against the hallway wall. 

Cracking your neck and rolling your shoulders back, you brought up your fists and strided towards him. With a wicked grin, Jackson slid off his jacket and carelessly raised his own fists. The first punch you threw had your full force. But Jackson ducked and jabbed into your knee. You winced and kicked into him with your free leg. Jackson wrapped his arms around your lower body and forced you to the floor. 

“How could I be so stupid” you whimpered softly as Jackson tried to pin you down. 

“Because you’re in love with me baby” he smirked, his ego so full you almost felt it drip onto you. 

Your hand slipped free, you punched him in the jaw. Jackson groaned out, his mind dazed momentarily, you shoved him off of you. With a shake of his chestnut hair, Jackson chased after you. Ending up in the kitchen, you picked up multiple objects and flung them in his direction. Jackson managed to dodge most. As your hand wrapped around the expensive fine china vase Jackson adored, his eyes widened. 

“Now! Don’t throw that!” he ordered as he shoved his finger at you. 

Scoffing towards him, you hurled it towards his head, he had no other option than to duck. The material shattered against the wall. Jackson’s head snapped back, his blue eyes wide as he stared at the red pieces scattered over the floor. Snapping his eyes back onto you, he gave you a smug look. 

“You really are a petty bitch, ain’t you baby?” Jackson scolded. 

“Don’t call me that” you huffed. 

“Baby” Jackson pouted.

A wave of anger crashed over you, you flew over the island in the middle of the kitchen and crashed into him. The both of you threw jab after jab, kick after kick. Your nails dug into his skin and Jackson hissed out harshly. You’re banged up into the fridge, the back of your head making first contact. 

“You lied to me” you mumbled as Jackson held you against the fridge. 

Jackson pointed a finger at you. “Shut it… You lied to me just as badly” he countered. 

The denial was planted deep in his mind. In his justification, you were both as bad as each other, you both lied and deceived one another. Despite him always knowing, the ignorance was bliss for as long as it had lasted. 

“You used me!” you yelled. 

Jackson rolled his eyes as you flipped his back onto the fridge. 

“I know, but does it make you feel any better if I say that I was supposed to kill you initially?” Jackson chuckled softly. 

You slapped him across the cheek and let go, your chest heavy as you tried to keep your overwhelming thoughts at bay. Jackson hated to see you cry, to see any negative emotion in you. You were his to protect, to look after, he hated how badly the truth was hurting you. You could handle the physicality, but not this, not those dark emotions that no one can train you to block out. Jackson reached out for your hand. 

“Don’t touch me like that” you warned. 

“Baby, let’s talk” Jackson urged as he tried to touch you again. 

It snapped inside of you, you opened one of the drawers and pulled out the first knife you could wrap your hand around. The blade is pressed against Jackson’s throat, his jaw clenched as he glared at you. The edge of the bench dug into his lower back, his hands clawed down beside him. 

“I’ll fucking kill you!” you threatened, your body trembling immensely. 

“Do it baby, rip my heart out” Jackson grinned. “It’s not like you’d make it out of the fucking door, they’re watching us…” Jackson snorted, his eyes flickered towards the window. As you looked out, you saw the red laser flicking through the darkness, right onto your forehead. “Til death do us part” he whispered into your ear. 

“I don’t care if I die” you whispered back, accepting your fate. 

“Sure, but I bet you would if your sister did, yeah? Oh but you had no siblings didn’t you? Yet my accomplice reports that she’s alive and well in Tampa, now isn’t she?” Jackson spoke casually. 

Your eyes snapped onto him, eye twitching. It was impossible for him to know that, you’d hidden it so perfectly. Impulsively, you attempted to drive the knife through his hand on the counter. But Jackson slipped out, the knife clanked against the marble, you hissed out, your grip loose. Easily, he stole the knife from you and pointed it at you. You were stumbling back as he followed you. 

“Do anything to me, and I assure you, she’ll be dead before you can reach her” Jackson spat. 

It angered you, you should be fighting him to the death. Trying to rip his skull in half. But all he needed was a little threat to keep you at bay. You found yourself climbing the stairs, ignoring him completely as he stalked you. 

“Where are you going baby?” Jackson mocked arrogantly. 

As you reached the second floor, Jackson flung your body to the wall, his hand slipped around your neck, a gentle warning squeeze followed. Your glossy eyes snapped onto him, a dirty glare painted your beautiful face. 

“Don’t act like this. You made vows to me, remember?” Jackson reminded you harshly. 

As if vows were meant to mean anything at this point. You could counter him with plenty of his own vows. It made you sick in the stomach with his attempts of manipulation. He was sick in the head with some foul disease.  

“I don’t know who you are, you disgust me” you insulted. 

“Well… Get over it” Jackson shrugged his shoulders. 

“You’re pathetic Jackson. What makes you possibly think I could forgive you, love you? You’re an insecure little boy who can’t take no for an answer” you cruely countered. 

Jackson’s expression was blank and dark. As if all humanity drained from his body, he flung you backwards. Before you could even process it, you felt your back hit the thick edges of the stairs. You tumbled down, hitting your head intensely multiple times as you rolled to the floor. A slow groan escaped your lips, you whined out as you tried to focus. But your mind was dazed, your body felt numb and your eyes blurred. Within a blink, Jackson appeared beside you, how long were you out for?

“You okay?” Jackson whispered as he kneeled down beside you. His tone was full of concern and care. You mumbled out gibberish and Jackson chuckled, gently he caressed your heated cheek. “Come on then, let’s get you to bed” Jackson breathed out. 

Easily, he threw your body over his shoulders and carefully headed up the stairs. Beelining straight to the bedroom, Jackson flicked on the lights and thoughtlessly dropped your limp body onto the bed. You bounced on the soft mattress, your eyes squinted as you tried to piece everything back together. Putting up a small helpless struggle, Jackson stripped you bare. He texted his men to stand down and closed the blinds. The sound of the wooden draw pulling out caught your attention, but you couldn’t decipher what Jackson was grabbing. 

“Up for some kinky shit baby?” Jackson smirked snugly as he held up the rope. 

“Fuck off” you groaned as you tried to crawl off the bed. 

But Jackson straddled your hips and roughly pulled your wrist to the bed frame. After tightly binding you to the bed, you squirmed like a dying fish out of water. Jackson leant down to your ear, his warm lips pressed to your lobe as he inhaled your scent.

“I don’t wanna hurt you anymore baby” Jackson made known. “Don’t make me do it anymore, it hurts me too” he said through a soft tone. 

“Then untie me” you grumbled. 

“No, no… I need you baby, so badly” Jackson moaned lightly as he pressed his clear hard onto your stomach.

Your eyes widened, how long had he been erect for? How was physical combat a major turn on for him? Surely he’d never take advantage of you in this sense. Jackson was always a gentleman, kind, and thoughtful. Never would he pressure you into something that you had to consider. But yet again, this was Jackson, you didn’t know Jackson, you only ever knew John. 

“Jackson, don’t do this to me” your lip wobbled, eyes heavy. 

The pounding headache didn’t help. Hopelessly, you tugged at your binds, Jackson smirked darkly at the sight. The soft touch he always gave you made your legs squirmed. He’d only be rough with you if you wanted it that way, you prayed he’d stick to that. 

“Shush, you’re gonna have to comply with me baby. I know everything about you, every single person you’ve ever even smiled at, I will have killed if you continue to piss me off. You've sacrificed enough for your job, so surely you can still sacrifice a little bit for me” he grinned. You opened your mouth to counter, but Jackson was quick to press his finger to your lips and hush you. “I know I’ve lied to you from the beginning, but you have to know that I’ve always loved you” Jackson spoke truthfully, rawly.

It felt like a rip to the heart, because you knew his words were honest. That look in his eyes was too hard to stare at. No, this doesn’t change anything. Jackson was a horrible person, you were not the same as him no matter how badly he tried to persuade you. 

“You took advantage of me” you huffed, blinking back your tears.

“I know, I’m sorry” Jackson exhaled, almost looking guilty at his actions. “Baby, we’re not normal people, you can’t possibly hold this against me. Now, you can go around and think that what I did was unforgivable. But can’t you just be happy that you are completely accepted by somebody? No one will ever love you the way I do. What we have is real, you’re mine and I’m yours, always” Jackson confessed. 

All you could do was laugh weakly. The insanity of this man was wild. The sweet look on his face dropped. 

“You’re fucking crazy” you insulted. 

“Don’t piss me off” Jackson said coldly. A stare off commenced, slowly a grin grew on Jackson’s lips. “You want a job with me? I can get you in easily” Jackson laughed softly.

“I was going to quit for you” you snarled. 

“Made it easier for you then” Jackson shrugged. 

His eyes lowered to your stomach. Instantly, you knew exactly what he was thinking. Your body tensed as his hand traveled closer to your bare skin. You flinched as his fingertips rolled over your hardened nipples firstly. 

“Now, let's talk about that baby” Jackson licked his lips, his hand pressed to your stomach. You were speechless, shocked that he could think of this still. “A baby Rippner, now doesn’t that just sound fitting?” Jackson sniggered with a smug mouth. 

Slowly, he stripped himself bare over you. All you could do was watch in a mixture of fear, intimidation and arousal. His body was always so perfect in your eyes. You hated how badly you subconsciously submitted to him. As your skull thrummed, you squeezed your eyes shut. All you wanted to do was stop thinking completely. 

Jackson whispered your name as he pressed his lips to your neck. It was soft, everything he was doing was so fucking perfect. The way his hands rubbed your trembling skin, how the top of his head rubbed against the side of your face. Those sweet whispers of his made you squirm, the pleasurable ache in your core tormented you. 

His hands squeezed your tits, as he gradually lowered himself to your cunt. Sometimes Jackson wished that he could die by suffocation from in between your legs. The smell of your musk was intoxicating. You whined, your mouth clamped shut. Everything was hurting you, breaking you, yet your body demanded to accept the pleasure all too easily. 

“Yeah, gonna put a fucking baby in you alright. All fucking mine, fuck you’re so perfect, I love you so fucking much baby” Jackson praised, his fingers rolled over your sensitive flesh as he admired you. 

This was too much to handle. You broke down in tears as your body trembled from a mixture of reactions. Quickly and carefully, Jackson climbed up your body, his lips pressed to the side of your mouth. 

“Hey, hey, you’re okay baby… I’ll look after you, always. You just gotta give me a shot, I’m still John… Still the man you married” he assured quietly as he tried to wipe your tears away. 

“Jackson- please” you sobbed. 

“Shush, I’m always going to take care of you. I made vows to you, I refuse to break my word” Jackson spoke more firmly this time.  

“Jackson” you whispered as he aligned his tip to your entrance.

“My name sounds so beautiful on your lips baby, keep on saying it” Jackson softly ordered. 

After whimpering his name one more time, he crashed his lips against yours. Your mouth fell open, you were too tired to fight him anymore. His eager member slipped deep into your welcoming walls. The pleasure was too relaxing for your state. You were losing consciousness. All you wanted to do was sleep, it was the quickest way you could get away from him, even though it was only temporarily. 

“No, no, stay with me. Keep your eyes open, you’re fine” Jackson commanded. 

When you didn’t listen to him, mumbling and whimpering to yourself, he slipped his hand around your throat and squeezed hard. You wheezed out, your bloodshot eyes flashed open as you searched for air, bound wrists fought against the rope. Jackson coached into your ear, his hips slowly pumping his cock in and out of you. He released his grip enough for you to ruggedly breathe, his lips attached onto every bruise and cut on your body to assure you that he meant no harm. You tried to hide it from him, but it was pointless. He knew your body inside out, it truly was his to own. 

“Jackson I’m… Gonna…” you gasped as you felt your walls pulsate. 

“That’s it, let all of that tension go, get rid of all of that bad energy” Jackson smirked as his free hand rubbed your sensitive bud. 

Shortly, you screamed out hoarsely, he let go of your neck to hear your sympathy. The clenches vibrated down his length. Right after, Jackson felt his dick ready to spurt out. His hands pulled your hips up as he buried himself completely inside of you, your body trembled immensely as he finished inside of you. Your body slumped, completely exhausted as you gasped for an easy breath. Right before you finally could escape him, you heard his dark voice echo through your mind. 

“Goodnight Mrs Rippner”

[bump1nthen1ght]

A Very Monstrous Kinktober: Day 3 (Bukkake)

Kink: Bukkake

Pairing: Male!Orcs x Fem!Reader

Other kinks: Gang Bang, Spit Roasting

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 1197 words

Kinktober Masterlist

If someone had told you this morning that your night shift at the tavern would end with you in the bedroom of a traveling adventurer, you wouldn’t have believed them.

If they had told you it would end with you in the bedroom of several adventurers, you would’ve thought they were insulting you.

If they had told you 're relatively boring tavern shift in your fairly boring town would end with you in a bed, surrounded on all sides by sexy orc adventurers, you would’ve slapped them atop the head and told them to stop reading so many dirty novels.

And yet-

“Fuck, you’ve got a good mouth on you, barkeep.” The orc, who you think is named Thrak, mutters.

“A good pussy too. Nice and tight.” The orc behind you, Parod, gives a hard slap to your ass. It makes your throat clench with a whine, something Thrak clearly appreciates. He runs his hand down the side of your cheek, giving you sweet caresses that don’t match his hurried thrusts, his balls smacking against your chin.

“Plus, look at that ass. I could watch that ass walking around this bar all day.”

The bard, Kog, slaps your ass too, his other hand still preoccupied with playing with your clit. Despite already spending himself in your ass his cock is rock hard. His musicians training must come in handy, as he easily navigates circling your clit and stroking himself at the same time.

“Maybe we should take you along with us, darling.” Sitting in the big chair nearby, fat cock in his scarred hands, remarks Hagu, the band's leader. You remember his name the best, despite a brain addled after orgasm and orgasm. He had made you scream it, over and over, when he bent you in half in a mating press to start this whole night off. “Become our personal cum dump.” Hagu stands up, erection bobbing against his stomach as he walks to you. He runs his knuckles along your sweaty face, not even perturbed by his bandmate’s cock thrusting in and out of your mouth. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

When you first approached the band to ask for their drink order, you’d have never guessed Hagu had such a filthy mouth. He seemed the perfect, stone-serious leader for the raucous group, left in charge of the coin and easily silencing the boys if they got too rowdy. With his deep voice, that tantalizing half broken tusk and scar across his lips, he seemed the perfect brooding stranger. Even before they had propositioned you for a night in their room, you had considered hopping into Hagu’s bed.

Not that the rest of the boys weren’t gorgeous. Kog was the smallest, with a smile built for charming and long piano fingers. Thrak and Parod made a perfect duo, one barbarian and one rogue, bouncing off each other’s laughter and sly comments with ease. If they hadn’t seemed to love adventuring as much as they did, you’d think they’d thrive as a traveling troupe. Everyone would swoon.

Not to mention their giant cocks. That helps too.

“Still breathing, sweetheart?” Thrak half-jokes, patting your cheek when your eyes roll back. You give an unsteady thumbs up, moaning again as Parod pummels your g-spot. You’d think two cocks would have been enough to stretch you out, but Parod is girthy, and the pleasure burns.

“You didn’t answer my question.” Hagu says, rubbing the back of your neck. “Do you love all these dicks ruining you? Don’t you just want to forget about all those silly responsibilities, and just live as our cum slut?” Your addled mind, half wondering if he really means the offer, nods enthusiastically. It gets you a congratulatory pat on the ass, though at this point you can’t tell from who. “That’s a good girl.”

Just those words are enough to send goosebumps down your arms, an urge to prove him right making you throw your hips back and to slather your tongue all around Thrak’s dick. Nails dig into your hips and shoulders, Parod’s grunts humps stumbling just a bit.

“F-fuck, I’m close.”

“Me too.” Thrak pants, squeezing your cheeks. “Where do you want it, pretty girl?”

“Her face, she wants it on her face.” Hagu commands, languidly stroking his cock. “She wants us all on her face, don’t you?”

Thraks pulls his cock out your mouth, drool dripping down your lips as Hagu grabs your chin again. The emptiness burns as Parod slips out of your pussy, resting his pulsing cock on your ass cheeks.

“Well?” Hagu squeezes your jaw, a slight tinge of pain as he yanks you to look up at him. His cock blocks your view, veins pulsing up his shaft. The other boys are uncharacterisitcally silent, all deferring to their leader's commands.

“Yes, c- cum on my face, please!” Your voice keens, whiny and desperate. Once again you think back to the beginning of your shift and how vastly different you thought this night would go.

“You heard her, boys. Pretty girls who ask nicely-” Hagu tugs on his shaft, moaning in between words, “-get what they want.”

It’s a cacophony of breathes, groans, and the slapping of skin as you're surrounded by 4 orcs, tips leaking with pre cum as they furiously jerk off. Your battered pussy, still a bit sore from being stretched open, grows slick nonetheless. The anticipation is killing you, licking your lips as your stomach grows taut.

Hagu, always the leader, starts everyone off.

“S-shit.” He growls, hands twitching as he aims his cock right at your open mouth. A hot stream of cum shoots across your lips, more and more spurts following to coat your tongue. The other boys are quick to follow, falling in and unloading all over your face. Thrak and Parod aim for your cheeks, giving the courtesy of avoiding your eyes. Kog is a little less controlled, whiny moans leading him to shoot his cum all over, some even reaching your forehead as his cock spasms.

All in all, it's just 15 seconds of pure bliss, hot cum warming your skin. The salt of sweat and semen has your mouth watering. You’re happy you had the wherewithal to tie your hair up when you guys started, or else it’d be coated by now.

Thrak and Parod collapse into the big comfy chair behind them, while Kog sinks into the bed beside you. Their green chests heave, skin dark with a furious blush as they all catch their breath. Even Hagu, ever composed, seems to take a moment. He wipes a palmful of sweat off his brow, before brushing a thumb across your face.

“Let's get you cleaned up, beautiful.”

Hagu easily sweeps you off the bed and into a bridal carry, leading you over to the small bathroom afforded to tavern rooms. The other boys, still in a post-nut haze, follow their leader anyway. Kog gathers up your strewn about clothes from the floor, making sure to keep them away from his sweaty skin.

What a way to end the night.

[stardustdiiving]

Wanderer doesn’t hide the fact he likes Nahida

I totally get Wanderer being snarky is a funny punchline but sometimes I see Wanderer portrayed as being super snappy and mean in response to Nahida trying to be nice to him and I can’t help being like no!!!!!! He wouldn’t do that to her!! :(

Often people seem to think their dynamic is Wanderer being grouchy & mean & telling her to screw off all the time because he doesn’t want to admit he ~actually enjoys Nahida’s company~ but man like. Wanderer isn’t some edgy moody teenager that Nahida has to keep on a leash and scold regularly whenever he acts out—he’s a grown man who’s actually pretty emotionally perceptive/intelligent when he wants to be in my opinion—he’s just very blunt and cynical and often rude/harsh as a result

Wanderer hates sugarcoating his emotions & if him liking Nahida is majorly because he feels she’s proven it’s more or less safe to trust her, i don’t think he has any reason to hide the fact he genuinely respects her and as a result is regularly open about this when he interacts about her in canon. He may grumble about her requests or emotional earnesty because, well, it’s Wanderer, but imo if he were regularly snappy/mean to Nahida even in an “all-bark-no-bite” way we would’ve see them interact like that on screen already—but we don’t, and the fact that’s now how does treat her is a part of their dynamic I find very endearing and enjoy a lot—so I want to highlight it!

Like…look at how he talks to/about her even just going off of inversion of genesis alone:

I feel hes noticeably more cordial and cooperative with Nahida compared to say, Traveler & Paimon—he doesn’t try to intentionally provoke her for fun (or out of spite in the case of early IoG) the way he does with us/Traveler, both in Inversion of Genesis and Parade of Providence. He spends all of PoP intentionally trying to act suspicious/up to no good to mess with the Traveler & Paimon whenever we run into him—and then we get to the end of the event and find out Nahida just… asked him to monitor the event to make sure there wasn’t any trouble (+ wanted him to make friends LOL).

Like we literally see Nahida playfully tease him on screen and he doesn’t snap or get really grouchy with her…he just tolerates it like a mildly disgruntled cat

Which is…cute! I think it’s very endearing, especially when I don’t feel Nahida is usually playful like this unless she considers them an equal/friend—it feels like maybe she picks up on his energy a bit and adjusts her sense of humor/friendliness accordingly so it’s more intuitive/comfortable for both of them

Everyone jokes about Nahida dragging Wanderer into socializing and making friends right—which is true and something I think is very silly & fun, but again…while Wanderer may grumble about it I don’t think he’s actively mad or fighting with her about it even hyperbolically. Look at how he responds to Nahida telling him she wants to help him reach out to people in Parade of Providence:

This, combined with how he mentions feeling about Nahida not wanting him to isolate & be lonely in his birthday letter (“I can see that she was looking for a chance to make my life more fulfilling, but has she ever stopped to think about what an "experience" it is for others to meet me?”) gives me less an impression Wanderer is outwardly indignant and grouchy about Nahida trying to help him and more like…openly appreciative of the gesture but just doesn’t really think he’s worth the effort

I again think the specific way his responses to her trying to help him emotionally are always worded again show a distinct respect he has for Nahida as a person, and he seems genuinely grateful by the fact she gave him a second chance when, given how internally harsh Wanderer is about things and himself and how much he’s internalized expecting to be used or disregarded by others constantly unless he fights tooth and nail to not be, he probably didn’t expect any sort of grace at all post losing the gnosis, much less having someone seem to genuinely believe in him & want him to be happy/stable when he took said offered chance

I just think Wanderer is someone who cares a lot about being straightforward, especially about things that really move him emotionally, and think it’s really sweet he feels moved enough by Nahida’s encouragement & goodwill towards him to genuinely want to try with life. I get so sad when It seems like people think Wanderer is too like, emotionally immature or jaded to ever care to express how he feels about Nahida even in his own blunt, recovering nihilist way (when he explicitly does in canon IMO) and have him be snarky & grouchy to Nahida constantly, or believe he’d find her being good naturedly silly/childish annoying and scoff at her for it (people seem to think he hates children when he canonically does not and is quite fond of them!! I personally think some of that soft spot comes from finding childish earnestness + innocence kind of bittersweetly cathartic/comforting to see and would be something he’d actively like about Nahida!!) 😔

This is something I always try to portray in my own fanworks of them I just like it a lot, I want people to see the vision!!! Their relationship is very mutual on effort put in from both sides & Wanderer is more open about respecting Nahida than you may believe—which means he actively tries to acknowledge her kindness towards him and she doesn’t have to babysit him or drag him into cooperating with her all the time! And I find it very touching and sweet!

[yuri-is-online]

I love the Fyuuture kid au. Could I ask for Ace!yutu, the idea of Yutu getting second hand embarrassment at Ace's flirting attempts makes me laugh so much, just yutu standing there watching ace self sabotage himself when it comes to Yuu wondering how Yuu and Ace managed to get together in the future. (Yutu has definitely judged his father a few times in silence)

Another thing that lives rent free in my head when thinking of Ace and Yutu is when Ace finds out that Yuu is basically dead in the future. That has to be a crushing discovering for him considering that he's (and Deuce) very protective of Yuu

(also the idea of Deuce's future co workers deciding that Yuu is a danger and basically cursed Yuu to die has to make him feel uneasy about weather he'd want to work for a company that basically sentenced Yuu to die once everything is resolved but that's a conversation for another day)

notes: they/them used for Yuu, for context on the fyuuture kid au can be found here and here.

Slight bit of clarification, the Magical Marshall's appear to be a government organization, or perhaps a type of law enforcement that each government has?  The way Deuce spoke about it made me think they sound similar to a counter terrorism unit, but either way your point still stands.  While Deuce never gets the complete picture of what happened to Yuu, he still knows in his heart it was his office that hurt them, and it's extremely difficult for him to live with.  The office stands by it's decision to the bitter end, no matter what he says or how many monster attacks are reported.  And if he gets too annoying, well they already made you disappear.

And with that lovely thought let's talk about Ace!

Ace! Yutu is a fairly normal kid.  He doesn't really have friends, maybe a discord buddy or two who he plays games with, but no one he really trusts to talk with about his family situation.  And he does see it as a situation, Yuu might be doing their best to make things normal for the two of them but the entire situation just stinks.  Yutu knows there's something wrong with it but he can't put his finger on what…

Very smart.  He taught himself how to count cards and got in trouble at school more than once for running blackjack games where he took a bunch of money from his classmates.  Not his fault they suck at cards!  And sure he could just cheat like normal (he's just as good at cutting the deck as dear old dad) but it's much more fun to do something technically legal.  It makes people that much more mad, which he finds really funny.

He tries to not talk about his dad that much, though he might make a joke or two about fatherless behavior. Much like Cater! Yutu, he assumes that his dad is probably dead and while he's very curious, he's reluctant to poke at Yuu's memories for fear of causing them more pain.  When he does think about his dad he tends to romanticize things, Yuu's description of him makes their relationship sound really sweet.  Marrying his best friend sounds great to Yutu, his dad must have felt really lucky to have managed to obtain that.

Getting isekaid doesn't phase this Yutu at all.  He was already so convinced something was off back in your world, learning he was a mage and all about Yuu's adventures just confirms all of his assumptions. Getting placed into Heartslabyul and being told that was Ace's dorm thrills him, doubly so when he gives Crewel his first migraine and gets told he's just like him. That's not to say Yutu is completely happy about his situation; his father is dead (Yutu refuses to acknowledge the monster wearing his face as a person) and Yuu effectively died ages ago, the curse placed on them just drew it out for a cruel amount of time. Yutu's angry, and what's worse is that he doesn't really have one person he can fix the blame on. He wishes Yuu or Ace were alive so he could ask who they blame, who he needs to seek out to get them justice. When the others propose traveling back in time he leaps at it without a second thought.

Crewel does try to tell Yutu about his dad, but his descriptions sort of go over Yutu's head until he actually meets him. To be fair to Yutu, he's not completely off in his assumptions about how Ace felt about Yuu, it's obvious that Ace was smitten with his parent from the start but he doesn't fully understand the denial Crewel is talking about. The blot monster Ace became is very cocky, and excels at misdirection so why would he be shy about flirting with Yuu?

Well maybe shy isn't the right word for whatever he's looking at now. Ace is reluctant to leave Yuu's side, but he has so many excuses as to why that it hurts his soul, wouldn't it just be easier to say "because I'm worried about you?" Instead of insulting Yuu's ability to take care of themselves and joking about you needing him but only joking! It's not like he really wants you to! And don't get him STARTED on all the little excuses Ace finds to touch you. It makes him seriously reconsider his whole opinion on wanting to marry his best friend thing because god if this is level of pathetic what it takes he doesn't think he could cope.

He assumes (maybe correctly) that Yuu is the one who made a move on Ace and that's how they got together in his timeline, something that high-key offends Ace when he finds out and he encourages you to be honest with Ace if you ever open up about your frustrations with him. That doesn't mean he ever gives Ace a break though, Ace is already suspicious of Yutu's intentions towards Yuu but his constant dunking on him has earned him Deuce's respect, so now he's lost both of his friends! What the hell guys you're supposed to be on his side!

Ace's distrust of Yutu doesn't bother Trappola Jr at all. On the contrary he thinks it's a good thing, the more he interacts with the first year group the more he appreciates how solid of a head Ace has on his shoulders. It doesn't make up for him being cringe, but it does make Yutu think he could maybe trust his dad with the truth.

I don't think any of the boys take the reveal of what Yutu's future is like well, but Ace's is especially bad. He thinks about all of the close calls he has seen you have, how afraid he was when he got those messages from you over Winter break, the S.T.Y.X. attack, every overblot he has ever seen, and now his own child is telling him that you made it through all that and his bad attempts at flirting but didn't get a happy ending. He has the same set of emotions that Yutu does, anger and grief that he has no one to really blame for. Yutu is sad he doesn't have an answer but grateful he isn't alone anymore.

The reveal makes Ace's teasing actually insufferable, he's so fucking cocky now that he knows you liiiiiike him back. See that boy over there? Actually living proof that you're into him, kinda cringe actually! He bets you used to have a crush on him too (just turn it around on him if you're in public he will melt.)

They like to try and out play each other in cards, Ace can't card count but he is better at reading people and better at cutting the deck so they have a pretty even win loss ratio. Yutu isn't above whining to Yuu about how his dad is being mean if he's on a losing streak, something that makes Ace fold quicker than he'd like. Neither of them will ever admit it out loud but they have a silent competition for your affection, Ace thinks you should be cheering for him since he's your future husband and Yutu thinks that you should cheer for him because he is capable of being honest about his emotions. When Grim starts whining for attention they call a truce and fight him instead.

Speaking of Grim, he has a relatively good opinion of Yutu in general based off seeing him as Henchuman 2 but when he finds out Ace is his dad? Respect ended he always knew that Yutu kid was a loser... all those times he refused to get him tuna make so much more sense now!

Learning about the future makes Ace even more protective of Yuu, and he doesn't make it much of a secret either. There's something about learning that your partner is supposed to die that makes you care a lot less about what your classmates think. That protectiveness extends to Yutu, but Ace is a bit more subtle with that. He understands that he isn't the version of himself that the kid needs to hear from, that he might not be able to give Yutu the support he needs but he loves the kid so much it sort of scares him. He's really looking forward to getting to be with Yuu and Yutu in the future, and if that means he has to put a little extra work in then so be it.

[softtdaisy]

hellu lando with it's okay, just breathe.

I LOVE your writing, you deserve all the celebration love!

Pairing: Lando Norris x female!reader

Words: 1020

A/n: the fact i went over 1k words for a story i don’t feel confident about is crazy. I really hope you will like it, i’ve never write about Lando before so it’s a first try  

Dating Lando was like living in a new sitcom episode every single day. Even when he was away for the championship and you couldn’t travel with him, he found a way to make your day better. A call, a message, the stupidest joke ever or the cutest proof of love. 

There were some bad days, of course. But somehow, the sun always seemed to shine even in the darkest sky. 

You could write a whole book about your boyfriend. 

You really considered doing it these past days. Being away from him for too long was getting harder for you. It was really like missing a half of yourself when he was in another country or, worse, in another continent. No amount of calls was making for the lack of waking up with him by your side.

“You realize that one day you’re going to deal with me every day for the rest of your life? Shouldn’t you enjoy your free time while you can?” he told you on the phone after you admitted being sad about him leaving early for Canada. He hasn’t even been home since Spain and he was already leaving.

“Well right now, I miss you, idiot.”

“Well I miss you too, dummy.” 

It was probably one of the quickest decisions you’ve ever made. After waking up again feeling alone and sad without the man you loved, you booked a flight for Montréal during the afternoon to see him. You didn’t even tell anyone, except for Max, Lando’s best friend, to make sure at least one person would be aware of your trip. You wanted to surprise your boyfriend.

You had no idea that this would become one of the most stressful days for him.

When Lando woke up on the other side of the world, you were already up in the air. He didn’t question why you weren’t answering his texts. He knew that when you were working, you tended to be so focused that you forget about the world around you. He also knew that he could call you if he was worried because that was the only thing that would make you pick up your phone. 

Somehow, Lando felt like something was off. He could put his finger on what.

If he was a fan of media duties, he couldn’t focus on anything today. His laugh sounded fake, he wasn’t smiling as much. “If something is wrong, you can tell me.” Oscar reassured him after he had to handle every interview that morning.

But he didn’t say anything. Lando wasn’t the kind to cry on anyone’s shoulder for nothing. He didn’t want to bother his teammate for just a feeling. 

Then it became more than a feeling when he still couldn’t reach you. 

You were supposed to be home. Or heading home. Anyway, you would have answered Lando’s texts already. But you didn’t.

He tried to call you. But you didn’t answer.

He asked Carlos to call you too, knowing he was one of the few drivers to have your number. But you didn’t answer either.

“Something wrong?” Carlos asked him but he refused to say anything. If he kept it to himself, it wouldn’t be real, right?

So Lando did the worst thing he could have done, he knew that. He went to the practices with fear and stress. He couldn’t think about the race or the cars or his whole career. Fuck that. All he cared about was you. He did so many mistakes he couldn’t even imagine the number of comments on social media about him being done or whatever these stupid opinions were saying. The team was already giving him a hard time on the radio.

When Lando got out of the car, he felt like he saw a ghost. Expect it wasn’t one.

It was you. Standing in the middle of the garage.

It took him a few seconds to realize that he wasn’t dreaming, that it wasn’t his mind giving him what he wanted to see. You were here. For real. Not home. But here with him.

Lando then ran to you and took you in his arms. “Oh wow I didn’t expect that to be so welcoming.” you laughed in his ears. Knowing him, you were convinced he would make a joke about you being here at the same time as his mistress. Or that you should take a shower, when he was the one dirty after racing. 

Not that he would hug you that tight. You felt him bringing him to his room and you followed him, quite perplexed on why he was reacting like that. 

It wasn’t until you were alone that you noticed he was shivering against you. 

“Hey, what’s going on?” you asked him, moving your head to see his sad face. You barely ever saw him being that miserable around you.

“You’re here…” he replied, breathless. You took his face between your hands.

“it's okay, just breathe,” you put your forehead against his and felt him relaxed slowly. 

“You didn’t answer me and I thought something had happened. I couldn’t call you, I couldn’t reach you and I thought you were… I can’t imagine my life without you!” 

“I’m not planning on leaving you.” you replied with a sweet smile, giving him a soft kiss on his lips. Lando always said that your lips had some calming power. And he wasn’t wrong. You could feel relaxed after that, like it was the proof he needed to be sure you were really here.

You spent some long minutes together in the silence. Now that he was accepting that nothing had happened to you and that you were here, for real, he was enjoying your presence. You gave him small kisses in the hair, the one he loved when he had a terrible weekend. It felt quite the same for once.

“I’m taking notes that you don’t like surprises.” you whispered in his hair.

“Not the one where I think I’m losing the love of my life, dummy.”

“Love of my life and dummy in the same sentence? What a pretty love language, Norris.” 

[radlyradar]

How would the companions (minus longfellow) act with a Deaf/HOH Sole Survivor ?

I made this because silly and my sole survivor is half deaf :))

Preston

Preston already has a concept of signed gestures and hearing loss, from trying to communicate around artillery or in battle. He’s even met Deaf/HOH settlers before, but never before has he travelled with someone who couldn’t hear. It takes him a bit to get the hang of communication, learning conversational signs from Sole and making sure he’s in clear view when he talks if they lip read. That being said, it doesn’t change much, he still sees them as that leadership role the minuteman need. He ends up getting Sole to teach passing minutemen signs so they can communicate or trying to teach them all himself once he becomes more fluent.

Deacon

He’s hesitant at first, after all if you can’t hear yourself you gotta be loud as all hell. When Sole proves they can be stealthy though, he changes his tune. They both sign often to keep conversations more secretive and he’ll act as ‘interpreter’ on missions so he can pass by with less attention.

Hancock

Hancock has DEFINITELY met a Deaf traveler before, I mean it’s Goodneighbor. I think he would communicate with writing things, whether on dirt or walls or any available paper. Now that he’s traveling with Sole though, he’s trying to learn so he can communicate easier with anyone passing through Goodneighbor. (Though I think he’s definitely the guy who wants to learn curses and phallic words first).

Strong

He surprisingly doesn’t immediately hate them for it. But he will get frustrated when Sole don’t respond. he eventually figures out that they’ve been signing to him and their responses are all half guesses. He thinks about leaving but then remembers that they’ve lived this long without hearing ANYTHING (this is untrue, you may be able to hear something but he doesn’t know that). So he stays with Sole a bit longer, relying on gestures and lip reading if they can. They both learn that his big hands don’t make great signing and he gives up on learning anything expressive and slowing learns receptively by watching them.

Curie

Curie finds it fascinating, but not surprising that Sole can survive out here. She likes watching them and studying how they function in the world without hearing. When she’s still a nanny bot she very easily learns receptive sign, but when she gets her new body she’s ecstatic to use it for herself and quickly takes to signing back to Sole. She’s a quick stumbling kind of signer though so she can be hard to understand.

Cait

Cait and Tommy are super fucking confused when the person who killed every raider in the combat zone doesn’t respond at first. Her first impression is that they were stupid or playing a joke, she’s never met a Deaf person before. When she and Sole first travel together she finds the ‘what’s, ‘huh’s, confused faces, and or lack of responses extremely annoying. As they travel together though and she starts to realize they really view her as a person she’ll apologize. She never really gets good at sign but she’ll sign small things to you and struggle to understand when Sole signs back. 

Maccready

This guy also already has a concept of sign. But not conversational in the slightest, still, he takes to it like a duck on water. He’s probably ending up the easiest to sign to (other than like Nick) because he ends up focusing on learning sign for like a few months straight and is using it constantly after. He does tell Sole that he wants to teach Duncan when he sees him again or get word passed on to his old home since it could prove useful to Deaf and hearing kids.

Gage

He’s a bit confused at first, and in all honesty considers leaving them in that ratty ass bumper car room, but he remembers that they need a new overboss and it’s not like they haven’t had people with hearing loss in the raiders gangs before. He finds most of the things they do pretty normal, like lipreading and being extra vigilant, hearing can be hard, and words muddle together, it only makes sense that you’d watch someone’s mouth to know what they’re saying- wait that’s not normal? Huh, maybe the years of explosions and gunfire are getting to him. 

He does end up learning sign and finds it a lot easier then verbal communication 

Nick

Nick is already fluent, he knows what Deaf people are from his past memories. He doesn’t even realize he knows sign until him and Sole are talking and he ends up enjoying travelling with them. Nothing much really changed about your relationship. The Kellogg case does become more difficult since they can’t hear him in the memory den

Codsworth

He was with Sole pre war and due to his programming he already understands signing but can’t sign back. He mostly just points and stuff. 

Piper

Thank god for Piper. Due to the speaker entrance chances are Sole wouldn’t get into Diamond City unassisted. But with Piper’s scheme they both got in with ease. She realizes there’s something up immediately and when Sole tells her about their hearing she immediately tries an interview. This of course does not go well. As they travel together she tries to pick up sign but never gets good at it. One thing Sole misses out on are her yap sessions. Don’t get me wrong, she still has them, but they both know that there’s no way in hell that Sole is understanding most of what she’s saying.

Dogmeat

Honestly, he probably won’t notice at first, he protects Sole the same and unless they’re nonverbal he’s probably gonna take awhile. He might just think they’re quiet. After some time though Dogmeat will start listening to and watching for signed command and instead of baking to alert them he’ll paw at their foot or jump and try to catch their attention if he’s too far away and still in view. They both work out pretty well, he’s a good dog.

Ada

Ada has never met a Deaf person and Sole cannot read Ada’s lips so it’s a struggle. They eventually get a similar relationship to the one Sole would have with Strong.

X6-88

What the fuck is this hand language, why is Father not like this? How is this person still alive? So many questions. He’s never met a Deaf person and no one’s told him, they’ve had broken synths who can’t hear, is that the same? He asks a lot of questions, some uncomfortable or kind of rude and honestly sucks at first, but once he gets to know them and realize he’s getting closer to Sole, he apologizes and tones it down. He ends up taking to sign pretty well and realizes how useful it is in day to day as well as battle. He ends up acting as an interpreter if Sole lets him.

Danse

At first he thinks they aren’t listening on purpose, then realizes what’s actually going on. He’s never met a Deaf traveler. Being already bad with people this makes him anxious, which comes off as aggression, but he realizes how much easier it is to be around them. He doesn’t take part in small talk and takes to sign pretty well. Similar to X6-88 he’ll probably ask a lot of questions, some being a bit rude. Though, at least he’ll have shame when asking these at least.

[wolfjackle-creates]

Bring Me Home Arc 2 Part 18

Welcome to another WIP Wednesday!

Story Summary: Tim and Danny are both neglected by parents who care more about their work than their families. They deal with this by spending too much time online and find each other playing MMORPGs. They keep up their friendship as Tim becomes Robin and Danny becomes Phantom and don't bother keeping secrets from each other.

Arc 1 AO3 Link

Arc 2: Part 1, Previous

Word Count: 1.7k

-----

From the radio station, the four traveled to the television studio for their next interview. The host had listened to their radio interview and helped summarize much of the information before asking further questions.

Tim and his teammates called into question the biases of the Drs Fenton and hoped their criticisms would bring others to think twice before taking their word as gospel.

When they were finally done, it was almost nine.

Tim shot off a quick text to Bruce for his morning check-in. He noticed Conner texting someone, too. “Who’re you talking to?” he asked.

“Sam. She says Danny’s still passed out. But her parents are talking about some sort of press release the mayor is planning on putting on at City Hall at ten.”

Cassie groaned. “Ugh, more reporters. Please say we don’t have to go.”

“We should,” said Tim. “But we can go in civvies.”

“Can we at least get breakfast first?” asked Bart. “It’s been hours since we woke up!”

“Yeah,” agreed Cassie. “I’m starving. Let’s get some food. I think I saw a diner when we flew to our second interview.”

Before Tim could consider protesting, Conner had him secure in his arms and TTK and they were in the air.

“Lead the way, Wonder Girl.”

Tim scowled to hide his smile. “Oh sure, don’t listen to your leader. Just do whatever.”

“You’d let us starve?” wailed Connor. “Then we’ll stage a mutiny!”

Cassie laughed. “Yeah, see how long you remain in charge of a hangry speedster, half-kryptonian, and demigoddess.”

Tim grinned. “Oh, but you forget I know you all very well. I can win you back to my side. Starting with Kon.”

“And how do you plan to do that?” demanded Conner.

“Easy. I’ll just bribe you with Alfred’s cookies and a great movie. If I add in a dash of ‘I need your help’ and my puppy dog eyes and you’ll be eating out of the palm of my hand.”

“That’s another square on my bingo card!” called back Cassie. “And look, we’re here!” She pointed down to a quintessential American diner with green glass windows.

The group met Bart a block away in an alley where they shed their gear.

“I’ll tell Sam what we’re up to.” Conner pulled out his phone to send the message.

“Quit wasting time! We’re on a deadline,” moaned Bart as he positioned himself behind Conner and tried to push him towards the street and breakfast.

Conner laughed and refused to budge, so Tim figured a demonstration of his power was in order.

He got in front of Conner and pouted at him. “I know I was joking about not allowing breakfast, but I’m the one who didn’t eat before the interviews. An omelet is calling my name.”

Conner groaned and ran a hand down his face. “Fuck you, Rob.” But he stalked forward out of the alley.

Tim and Bart exchanged grins.

“Seriously, Tim,” said Cassie. “This trip has been great for my bingo card.”

Tim stuck his tongue out at her and jogged to catch up with Conner.

Breakfast was simple but tasty and they devoured far too much food. Their waitress was clearly impressed with her first exposure to a speedsters appetite. Add in a super and a demigoddess and it was obscene.

All too soon, however, it was time to go to the mayor’s press conference. As they made their way there, they joined a growing crowd. Clearly many people were interested in whatever the mayor had planned.

In the crowd, he could hear comments about their interviews. It seems both had been posted online and already had thousands of views. Some people seemed to be sympathetic to them, but others were mistrustful of the “outsiders.”

“If they’re such good friends, why did it take so long for them to come here?” asked one man of his friend.

“I’ve a cousin in Central City. She says trouble always follows a superhero,” said another.

Tim exchanged a look with Conner. He’d be able to hear more conversations and could share his perceptions later.

Before long, they were entering City Hall. Already the seats were full, so they were forced to stand in the back. Jack and Maddie were sitting near the front. Jeremy and Pamela Manson sat on the opposite side of the room as them, but also were near the front of the room.

Tim exchanged looks with his teammates to make sure they saw both couples. Conner was glaring at Maddie and Jack.

“They’re complaining about our interviews,” said Conner. “Throwing around guesses that we are either possessed or have already been brainwashed by the ghosts.”

“At least we know they aren’t observant. Maybe they won’t notice us.”

Mayor Montez stepped up to the podium and everyone fell silent. “People of Amity Park, we have been faced with a threat the likes of which we’ve never before seen! And based on the events of this morning, it doesn’t seem like we’ll be able to rely on outside help to get us out of it.”

A stone sunk in Tim’s stomach and he exchanged looks with his friends.

“We only have one piece of business today: Defeating the ghosts that infest our town. And to do that, I'm calling for a vote to cede all ghost policing and security decisions”—he held up a photo of Maddie—“to Maddie Fenton.” As Tim watched, however, the mayor’s eyes glowed red and he winced. “I mean Jack,” he corrected, holding up a new picture of Jack Fenton. “The completely competent Jack Fenton.”

“He’s overshadowed,” breathed Conner.

Tim nodded and was already sending a message to Sam, Tucker, and Danny. “And who knows who else.”

Before they could say anything else, the mayor continued, “And we’ve located the ghost responsible for all the terror inflicted on our town.” He held up a picture of Phantom. “Whatever some outsiders may have tried to lie to you about this very morning.”

A gasp rang out among the crowd. Tim glanced at his friends. Conner was glaring at the mayor fiercely and Tim attempted to step in front of him, as pointless as their relative sizes made the action.

The mayor smiled viciously as a panicked crescendo rose from the crowd. Tim’s phone vibrated in his hand and he saw a response from Sam.

Sam: We saw Sam: Danny is on his way Sam: And we’re following as fast we can

Under his breath, Tim muttered, “Conner, you and Bart should go suit up. Cassie and I will stay and keep an eye on what’s going on. Stay close, but try not to be seen unless an attack happens.” Subtly, grateful for their places against the wall, he passed over the thermos he’d taken with him that morning.

Tim heard Conner’s sigh of relief as the two slipped away. He hated pretending to be a civilian in a crisis. Even more than the rest of them.

Cassie whispered, “I almost hate you for keeping me here.”

Tim just bumped their shoulders together.

The mayor, or rather the ghost inhabiting him, raised his arm and silence slowly fell. “We cannot call for outside help. Those who call themselves the Young Justice today proved that the so-called heroes of this world will defend our enemy over us. That they will spread lies to keep us subject to the whims of these ghosts.” The last word was spat. “So we must solve the problem ourselves. Jack Fenton, if the people of this town agree, you and those you train will be our defense force, will you do this?”

Jack near jumped three feet in the air in his excitement. “I’ve been training for this my entire life, Mayor Montez! I’ll be honored.”

“I believe we must institute martial law! The 9 PM curfew will remain in place. No one will be allowed on the streets alone. No loitering. The park will be closed until further notice. Same with the public pool and library and a number of other locations. Drs Fenton, will you be able to set up buildings protected by ghost shields where people can gather for safety?”

Whispering broke out among the public. Maddie stood tall next to her husband, though being continually overlooked in favor of him was clearly grating on her. “We can. Fenton Works is already protected and within two days we can have another shield up and ready. Within the week, we could have five.”

The whispered were almost loud enough to drown her out by the time she finished speaking

“Order! Order!” called Mayor Montez. “All in favor of declaring martial law, and allowing the completely competent Jack Fenton to mobilize a massive ghost hunt, please say—”

But cutting off the mayor, Danny, in his Phantom form, suddenly appeared in the air in the middle of the hall. “I might be too young to vote, but I’m casting one anyway.”

Around them, everyone gasped and people began backing away even as Danny shifted to look at them. Tim and Cassie both tensed and prepared to run.

“You people have to listen to me,” urged Danny. “I’m on your side.”

Mayor Montez took a step back as members of his security moved to stand in front of him. Jack and Maddie jumped up and glared at him.

“You’re not fooling anybody, ghost kid!” declared Jack. “You are going down!” He reached back and pulled out the Fenton fishing rod, the line was horribly tangled and Jack began messing with it. “As soon as I finish untangling this thing.”

Cassie let out a disbelieving huff.

Tim shook his head. “Apparently,” he replied to her unasked question. He pulled out his phone and shot a message to Bart and Conner.

Rob: get back here now Rob: All 4 of us are needed

Before he even finished typing his last message, Bart was at his side. Just in time to see Danny mutter something and shoot an ectoblast at his parents who were thrown back with the force of it, destroying the podium and leaving a burn mark on the ground.

“Shit,” muttered Tim. “Cassie, let’s go. Impulse, try to help where you can.”

“You’ve got it.”

----

Next

And so the best of intentions go awry!

I can almost taste the end of this arc, but for all I know, that'll take another 10k to finish. So we'll see what happens. Hope you enjoyed.

I no longer do tag lists, but please check out the Subscription Post if you want to be notified of updates.

[jasscheeks]

how they would…

act in a secret relationship.

pairings: megumi, yuji, inumaki, maki, gojo x f!reader

this. now this is self-indulgent.

warnings: no warnings but you might 💀 of fluff

m.list! | ao3!

MEGUMI* is just trying his hardest to hide it from gojo and anyone he believes will tell gojo. the two of you have been dating for maybe a few months now, and he's relatively good at hiding his feelings considering he hid them from you for a year straight. but it's his face, oh it's definitely his face. everyone can see the clear redness in megumi's cheeks, so much so he forces himself to wear a mask. but it doesn't do much as his blushing travels up his ears. he can't help it, he's always admiring you even when it doesn't look like it. although they’re small gestures, it makes his heart swell seeing the smile on your face. it's the occasional glance your way, checking what type of face you're making before he makes a face, when you move he's not too far behind you. it’s holding doors open for you, — which unfortunately makes him the designated door holder for everyone — or it’s him watching over you discreetly before gently moving you out of harm's way. his fingers brush over yours, and a shy pinky hooks onto yours when no one's watching. and when you two finally find some time to be alone, he's letting go of the breath he's kept in all day and melting into your touch. his hand caresses your waist as he rests his head in the crook of your neck, recharging himself. you're sweet, a literal angel in his eyes that he can't help but sink in his admiration for you.

but of course, you weren’t completely alone, as gojo was able to snap a picture in the small amount of time you two stood there.

—

“just one kiss, that’s all i need,”

you snort, “okayy,”

“…”

“..alright, maybe one more…”

—

ITADORI* is already so friendly with everyone that no one suspects a thing when he has his arm slumped around your shoulders. he's always somehow standing next to you, when you have something in your hands he's leaning down close to see, and when you're giggling he's the one who whispered the joke to you. no one bats an eye when he’s playing with your fingers, or you’re holding both his hands like nobara does to you when she’s excited. to everyone else, it's like nothing's changed between the two of you since he's like that with everyone. there are certain things he doesn’t do so they don’t suspect anything, like kisses, hugs, or holding your hand. he doesn't mind people knowing about the two of you, but until you're ready he's willing to keep it hushed. but he has to admit, it would feel so good to just bend down and place a little kiss on your lips or just sneakily hug your waist from behind you. of course he can't kiss you in front of everyone, but that doesn't stop him from pulling you away for just a second and kissing your lips like he hasn't kissed you in days. when the two of you step away, you truly take your time before coming back with red cheeks and messy hair.

sooner or later they’d pick up the clues and tie them together. and that just might be the reason why the two of you couldn’t keep your relationship a secret for too long.

—

"babe? is there something wrong? you've been quiet ever since lunch,"

"yuji...i think i'm ready to tell everyone,"

"...how about tomorrow?"

"slow your roll there, sir,"

—

INUMAKI* is so good at hiding it, they won't find out until maybe months into the relationship. he made up his own gestures to sign to you so neither maki nor panda would know. he'll tap your arm when he thinks you look pretty, link your index fingers for 'be safe', or he'll intertwine your hands together when no one's looking and gently squeeze your hand in his for 'i love you'. you realized that he taps your arm every time he sees you and he squeezes your hand whenever he gets the chance, making your cheeks burn. he's sweet in his quiet little way, and you can't help but want to kiss the life out of his face when shares his way of loving you. the only way either of you would give your relationship away was how the two of you stayed around each other, how your fingers would glide over each other's hands, and maybe how sweet you talked to inumaki. sometimes, panda and maki would catch him ogling at you with big hearts in his eyes, his attention solely on you alone. panda would catch him stuffing his pockets with candies that you like and by the end of the day it's all gone, yet inumaki didn't eat a single one. even if panda asked him for one, he'd immediately say no.

as you can tell panda took offense to that. digging a bit deeper, he caught you and inumaki cuddling in inumaki’s and panda’s shared room, wrappers of that same candy littered all over inumaki’s nightstand.

—

"toge, it's time to get up, panda's gonna be here in any moment,"

"just a few more minutes..."

"i promise we can cuddle all we want when he leaves,"

"...let's just tell him, this secret stuff is too much work now."

—

MAKI* treats you like a princess no matter if you're by yourselves or you're in public. she's a gentlewoman who's not afraid of holding doors open for you(but for no one else), keeping you out of trouble, and just all around being the best secret girlfriend there is. she has no shame in staring at you with the biggest heart eyes, and if someone asks why she'll just say she thinks some part of your appearance looks good today. although this just makes everyone think that she has a huge crush on you, they're not completely wrong. plus she never realized how cute you are when she teases you in secret. she loves to see the way you react to her blowing on your ears or holding your hand in the back of the group. when no one's looking she's winking your way, sending butterflies flurrying in your stomach. or she's pulling you in from your waist, quickly planting a kiss on your cheek before everyone looks back at her. while she's completely unfazed, you're a smiley mess trying to keep up a poker face. she apologizes in private making sure to give you all the hugs and cuddles you two missed out on.

and you can’t stay mad at her when she’s kissing you all over, promising so many cute picnics and lunch dates soon.

—

“you know i don’t mean to embarrass you! it’s just so difficult not to tease you,”

“maki, can you at least try? you’re killing me!”

“sooner or later they’ll find out our sweet and innocent (y/n) is with me.”

“i’d rather tell them than have them catch us kissing,”

“hmm, then should we tell them before that happens, don’t you think?”

—

GOJO* is surprised he hasn’t screamed from the roof tops that he’s dating you. if you hadn’t asked for your relationship to be private he would’ve already blabbed all about it. since this man can’t help but blab on and on, you’ve kept him on a tight leash. but he does have a habit of bringing you up on multiple occasions, even if the conversation has nothing to do with you. it’s always the “i wonder what (y/n)’s doing right now,” or “(y/n) would find that really cute, maybe i should get it?” or the “just wait till, (y/n) sees/hears this.” he can barely contain it, you’re all that’s on his mind 25/8. and of course his students hate when you’re not there because that’s when he talks about you the most. they all think he has a big, fat, one-sided crush on you with how much he gushed over you, with or without you present. and when you’re around you try to act as indifferent as you can when gojo openly flirts with you — even after multiple occasions when you told him not to. but even then you do let a few of his jeers and compliments get to your heart, your warm face and stutters making his chest fill with pride. although you say no, you know deep down you love the small gestures he displays and cute compliments his students quote. but if it wasn’t for the “no touching rule” you set — that of which he absolutely despised, he would’ve gave everything away with how touchy he is with you. with his lack of space, the secret relationship would be as transparent as glass.

and one day when he finally has you to himself in an empty classroom, itadori just had to walk in on him and you making out. although, gojo didn’t fret too much because now he could finally be open with his never ending affections for you.

—

“so, can i hug you in public?”

“pretty sure i said no touching, toru,”

“not even a hug? then can i call you nicknames? like swee—,”

“if they start with sweet and end with kikufiku, then no,”

“damn… that’s my only one,”

—

[biblio-smia]

the last thing i need — two.

warnings: twd content warnings, contains smut

pairings: glenn rhee x reader

[one.] [two.] [three.]

The ride back to your destination was a silent one, save for the occasional directions from T-Dog and the distant sound of the siren of Glenn's new ride.

Nerves prickled at your skin like needles as you considered your minimal options; you'd just gotten saved by this group. You thought it'd be a little rude to abandon them immediately. But the reaction of the group worried you the most; you weren't sure how welcoming they were of newcomers.

Seeing Rick reunite with his family was heartwarming - what were the chances he ran into people that ran with them? It was almost hard to believe Rick had been in the dark about the state of the world until recently. Part of you wondered how it'd take for him to lose his humanity. For all of you to lose it.

This new world came with new rules - though you didn't know how well your morals would hold up now.

The camp accepted you into their group with no argument, seemingly in a good mood after seeing a family brought together.

The campfire provided the warmth you needed and Glenn's body next to yours provided a warmth you didn't know you craved.

****

You weren't quite sure what to do with yourself once the flames died out, a reflection of the group's energy. You stood around, watching the embers of the fire die out as everyone packed into their tents. A cool breeze picked up, nipping at your skin tauntingly.

"You can sleep with me."

You turned around, surprised at the sudden voice.

"I mean," You could see the embarrassment on Glenn's face despite the pale moonlight. "I didn't mean it in that way."

You couldn't help the giggle that escaped you, prompting a small, awkward laugh from Glenn.

"Okay. I don't really have a choice, do I?" Your attempt at a joke came out much too dry. Too late. You could see, or more so sense, Glenn's face fall.

You stepped closer to Glenn, lowering your voice and drawing him in.

"I'd love to sleep with you. In that way."

Quickly walking past him, you climbed into his small orange tent, the embarrassment suddenly catching up to you.

Glenn followed shortly after, balled up flannel held stiffly in front of his legs as he took a seat as far away from you as possible.

You shot him a curious glance, only momentarily distracted by the tight t-shirt he was wearing.

Glenn glanced away quickly, hands pulling the fabric closer against himself.

A small smile made its way to your face as you closed the distance between you and Glenn - though there wasn't much to begin with.

"Glenn." You placed your hands over his, trying to pry the flannel away.

"Glenn." Placing one hand on his face, you got him to look at you, to see the gentle smile on your face. "I was serious."

You tugged on the flannel again, all the strength leaving Glenn as he let you do what you wanted. You stared at Glenn's jeans, straining against his erection.

"I-" Glenn began, but you cut him off.

"Let me help you?"

Glenn audibly gulped, but nodded. That was all you needed.

You kissed Glenn gently, savoring the feeling of his soft lips against yours. His flannel had fallen out of your hand and landed somewhere on the ground nearby - your hand was now occupied with stroking Glenn through his jeans.

You tilted Glenn’s head back to deepen the kiss, increasing the pressure of your hand against Glenn’s jeans. Glenn moaned softly into your mouth and into your ear as you moved your lips to his cheek and down his neck. Your lips were running out of places to wander and so you removed yourself completely from Glenn.

"Shirt off." You ordered, taking off your own. It was a little funny to see Glenn clumsily do as you said, already missing your touch.

You took a moment to admire Glenn - his toned arms and stomach contrasted his soft face and demeanor. He captured your lips this time, hands messily traveling around your waist.

"Here-" you whispered in between kisses. You stripped yourself nude and Glenn became the brightest shade of red you'd ever seen.

"Shit..." Glenn's hands froze, unsure of what he was allowed to do.

You took his hands in yours, guiding them up to your chest. You let out a low moan as he began exploring the area, his gentle movements sending heat straight between your legs.

Your kisses became more aggressive as you moved onto Glenn's lap, needing more of him. Your bare chest pressed against his as your hands gently tugged at Glenn’s hair, wet kisses exchanged as lust completely took over. The heat between your legs was one only he could put out now that he'd ignited it.

You rolled your hips as Glenn's hands continued working you, moans slipping out of him as you moved against his still-clothed dick. His hard-on poked against you as you bounced on him, making you moan into Glenn’s shoulder. “Shit, I can feel you, Glenn.”

"God, please," Glenn whined, placing a hand on your hip. Glenn was going to stain his jeans if this went on any longer. "I- I need you."

"Fuck, Glenn." You muttered, shoving your tongue into his mouth.

Your hands moved down to unbutton Glenn's jeans, his hands coming down to help you in getting them and his underwear off.

You clenched against nothing just seeing him, almost unable to wait for the feeling of Glenn inside of you. He was already leaking in anticipation, eager for your touch.

Your hands wrapped around him immediately, messily twisting and jerking, small gasps and whines from Glenn making you drip.

"Fuck, you're good, you're so good," Glenn moaned quietly, head thrown back in pleasure. It wasn't long before he stopped your hands from working him.

"Wait," he panted. "I wanna..." Glenn's eyes moved down to your legs and you understood his wordless intentions. Slowly, you moved your hands off him and to your own jeans, slowly slipping your bottom layers off.

And, God, you were beautiful.

Glenn pushed a pile of clothes together to create more space between you and the cold, hard ground of the tent, laying you down gently.

"Is this good? Are you okay?" Glenn asked nervously, glancing at your eyes for any hint of regret as he hovered over you.

"I'm good." You ran your fingers through Glenn's hair, pushing back some that had fallen into his eyes. "I'm better than good."

"Can I... Can I touch you?"

"Yes," You nodded. "Please do."

"I'm not really good at this," Glenn warned. "So just tell me if I do something wrong, okay?"

"Okay."

Glenn felt your arousal, fingers slick as he entered them into you. He bit back a moan as he felt you, wet because of him. Glenn took his time fingering you, sweet and slow movements making you bite your tongue to keep from letting the entire camp know how skilled Glenn's hands were.

"Glenn," urgency filling your voice. "I need you in me, now."

"Shit, yeah, okay," Glenn nodded with only a moment's hesitation. "I don't have- I don't have a condom."

"Doesn't matter," Your desire dazed you, keeping you from thinking straight. "Just pull out?"

"Yeah, okay," Glenn nodded again, hands on your hips to keep you steady.

You closed your eyes in anticipation, though nothing could've prepared you for the sweet feeling of Glenn, filling you with something you'd never felt before.

You muffled your moans with your hands, which were quickly replaced with Glenn's lips, his own sounds of pleasure mixing with yours.

He lifted one of your legs, muscles flexing with strain as he pushed further into you. His thrusts started sweet yet purposeful, hitting you in exactly the right place.

"God, Glenn." Your back arched into him, his movements quickening. You knew you were done for as he moved his face to your shoulder in an attempt to muffle his loudest moan yet.

"Glenn, I'm gonna- " You were cut off by Glenn's swollen lips on yours, sloppy kisses exchanged as you came, sweetly and with nothing else to lose.

Glenn pulled out quickly, coming right after. His will had broken down when your high was reached, knowing he couldn't last long after the feeling of you unloading around him - knowing he had helped you reach euphoria.

Your chest heaved as Glenn searched for something to clean your mess up with, already missing the feeling of Glenn inside of you. It felt right - his body pressed against yours, filling all the empty spaces you were missing.

You shook yourself out of your thoughts, cleaning up alongside an equally winded Glenn. He laid down next to you, turning to face you.

"That was... amazing." Glenn whispered, cupping your face in his hand, mindful of your bruised cheek.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

He kissed you again, gently. This one, however, was full of hope.

****

The crunching of leaves under your boots seemed like the loudest thing in the world compared to the silence of the camp, the only persisting sound being a variety of bugs singing.

“Going somewhere?” A voice asked expectantly, almost out of nowhere.

Shit. You forgot Shane was on watch.

You turned around quickly. In the dim moonlight, you could make Shane out from a few feet away. You thought about your words before you spoke. Shane seemed like a reasonable man. A protective one, too.

“We both know it's better if I leave," you said honestly.

Shane scoffed. “For who? You? Because we both know it wouldn't be for the camp. Power in numbers, remember?”

Shane was smiling, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. His right hand inched near his back pocket - it was a subtle movement, but you had a good eye.

You laughed, demeanor changing immediately. “You're right,” you said. “I guess I was just... so used to being on my own. Don't know what I was thinking."

It was an obvious lie, but the break you forced your voice to take helped your case.

Shane’s hands dropped to his side and he smiled. “Glenn seems to taken a liking to you. Why don't ya get back to him?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, heading back to the direction of the tent you had left Glenn in. “Goodnight, Shane,” you said with a sweet smile as you passed the man, careful to keep your distance.

“Goodnight.”  

Your smile dropped as you turned around, rage filling you instead. You weren't sure if you imagined it now, the darkness of the night potentially messing with your eyes, but you made a note never to be alone with Shane again.

You entered the tent quietly, a half-naked Glenn sleeping soundly just as you'd left him. He'd fallen asleep with his arms wound around you, making your escape difficult and clearly in vain as you carefully placed his arms around you again. You turned away from him.

You didn't want to look at the face of the man you had planned on abandoning.

「 … 」

You made sure to get up first, unwinding yourself from Glenn for the second time. This time, however, daylight illuminated his soft features. You took a second to analyze them, his expression showing no indication of the world you lived in. He looked relaxed. Free. You wondered what he was dreaming about.

You left the tent quietly, still respectful of the peace Glenn was able to keep, even if it was just for a few hours. The sun shone over the small camp, the brand new day bringing new opportunities. You asked around for a purpose; you had originally planned on being miles away by now.

One lady, Carol, directed you to the laundry. You complied, the task being easy enough for you to plan your next move. You couldn't leave now, not when everyone was roaming around in broad daylight. You'd keep tabs on who was on watch tonight and run the other way. It was decided.

A quick-moving figure from the corner of your eye caught your attention as it approached. Your attention turned away from the laundry and onto Glenn, who seemed a little out-of-breath.

"You..." a breath, "were gone... thought something happened..."

You almost felt guilty at Glenn's concern.

"Nope. Right here," you remained expressionless, watching as Glenn's face faltered.

"Yeah, I see that now..." Glenn shifted from foot to foot. There was something he wanted to say, but he wouldn't.

Your expectant gaze and cold demeanor made him nervous, fingers bundling the fabric of his shirt.

"Last night..." Glenn waited for you to say anything; you did not. "I just wasn't sure if it... if we—"

"There's no we, Glenn. It was a one time thing." Your words were harsh, but they were true. The last thing you needed right now was romance. You were in an apocalypse! You had bigger things to worry about and so did Glenn. It was nothing more than a little bit of stress relief.

And yet, as you picked up a laundry bin and walked away from a defeated Glenn, you couldn't help but feel a pull at your heart.

The tug in your chest did not go away as the day went on. Not as you shadowed Carol, helping her out with any task you could. Especially not as you discovered the asshole on the roof had a brother.

Daryl Dixon was as much of a character as Merle. You could see the relationship between the two.

Your heart continued sinking as a plan unfolded — a completely stupid one — and the look Rick gave Glenn, asking him to come along. The nail in the coffin was Glenn agreeing to go.

A panic began to fester in you as Glenn prepared to leave. You weren't quite sure what made you approach him.

"You're seriously going back?" Your voice surprised Glenn, who jumped before turning to face you.

"I have to," Glenn said factually.

"Then I'm coming with you." You weren't sure where the sentiment came from; you did not feel strongly about saving Merle.

"No, you're not. We barely got out last time—" "Which is exactly why you shouldn't go." You crossed your arms, an annoyed look on your face.

Glenn sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"We left one of our own behind. I can't... as awful as he is, I couldn't live with myself knowing we just left him to die. He could still be alive up there."

You looked in Glenn's eyes, seeing the determination in his eyes. Although there was a hint of fear mixed in, it was almost the most passionate you'd seen Glenn.

And as much as you hated to admit it, you were in no condition to go back. You were tired and you were hungry. Your legs still ached from your escape and you weren't sure you'd be able to outrun another hoard of walkers.

And if you learned anything about Glenn other than his name, you knew he left no one behind. No exceptions.

"Okay," you said finally. Glenn hadn't been asking for your permission but a weight lifted off his shoulders regardless, a smile cracking on his face. "But I don't like owing people things. And as of right now, I owe you my life, Glenn. I need to repay you for that, so don't die on me out there."

Glenn's smile faltered and you held back a smile. After careful consideration and a little hesitation, you placed a soft kiss on Glenn's cheek. Glenn could only stand there, dumbfounded, watching as you walked away.

[cherrysweather]

Saw your requests are open! And love your writing so wanted to finally get the chance to send in a request!! :D

Can I get some platonic hcs or a small fic set during the events of justice for all with edgeworth and an adoptive daughter reader? Since that’s got some angsty possibilities!! Thank you so kindly if you choose to write this!! :)

Hi Anon!! I'm so glad you're happy about this opportunity and thank you so much for the support ;^; <3 I tried my best with this request, so I hope your expectations were met! Have a good read and remember to drink and eat something!

It was really challenging to write this, I don't know why I found it so difficult, so I'm sorry if it's boring or if it's not what you expected, I'll try my best next time :( -------------------------------------------

Miles Edgeworth with his adoptive daughter during JFA:

When Miles decided to leave definitely, the last thing he expected to happen was bringing in a girl as his daughter. It all started when Miles requested someone to help him with the new languages abroad. Quickly one thing led to another, and when she became his official assistant (-not so much for his happiness at first-), Miles allowed her closer despite her young age, but she deeply reminded him of Franziska.

Their alleged relationship as a "family" started as a joke among his coworkers, he enjoyed the time spent together but never found enough courage and officially adopt her. He could already hear people talking and his only good fathering model wasn't there enough to make him understand how to do it; his adoptive father? Not the best. All these burdens from the past made their relationship more than unsettling, and his final decision to adopt and help someone in the same condition he was in when little, delayed until the last moment.

Considering his constant traveling, the two of them tried to find an agreement on when she would follow him and when to stay at home, but sure thing was that she didn't want to definitely follow him home, if somewhen he was to return. Thanks to him, she found a clearer path in her life but also kept his path, duties, and must-do obligations in mind to be sure to never be in the way, but maybe help when possible.

Miles always remained informed on what was happening back at home since he left the prosecutor's office; from all the chaos and confusion that resulted from his "death message", the case with Lana, and lastly, the news about Franziska's arrival from Germany.

However, all he could do for his own sake was focus on his career, find himself again and detach himself from his adoptive father definitively. This new experience, against all odds, was what helped him the most; he stopped pushing others away when in need of help and improved his interpersonal skills, stopped backing up from emotions he deemed useless and learned to be vulnerable in front of others.

His daughter reminded Miles so much of himself; luckily, she didn't see any of her parents killed in front of her eyes, but they weren't exactly cut out for the job, neglecting and leaving a child on their own too soon for her good. He surely isn't one to judge, never knew how parenthood worked and will probably never understand it entirely. Miles couldn't process having to grow up quickly and leave behind the few familiar things while still in touch with von Karma, but now that he's facing it all over again with her, he can easily help out while realizing a lot of his childhood.

Slowly, in his head everything was easier, and he could see himself finally going forward.

During the circus case, Gumshoe contacted Miles again and updated him on Wright, Franziska's work and the cases they handled. He decided to help remotely with the investigations, but soon understood it was time for a trip back home.

She was aware of Miles' relations and situations with both his adoptive sister and "best friend"; the news of his departure probably shook their lives and him being Miles Edgeworth doesn't know how to handle the circumstances created emotionally, other than being the usual stoic robot that he is. Furthermore, returning with a daughter added more trouble explaining everything. Still, Miles wanted to bring her along and find a solution together, as in all their investigations.

Phoenix's and Franziska's reactions were more than foreseeable, so he was ready for their disdain, especially Franziska, fearing his brother was back prepared to overshadow her again in her most important case. It didn't even cross their mind to question who the girl with him was; only when Phoenix came to Miles' office to discuss the Engarde case that everything hit him, in the worst way ever. But it's also in that specific moment that he understood how the "death" of his friend he experienced so poorly was in reality all he needed to turn back to when he was a child, more carefree and human. Soon they both realized how Edgeworth resolution was what Phoenix needed, too, to move forward.

If this situation wasn't hard enough, Miles lost years of his life when he had to forcefully drag Franziska to the hospital after being shot. He didn't even have time to collect what was happening and not panic that he was called to court to cover for his sister.

And once again, the von Karma curse hit again. He was lucky enough to have gotten rid of it, but he knew Franziska too well, and before she could leave her father and all the expectations his career passed on to her she had to be awakened with different realities from the one his father fed her for all their lives.

Edgeworth worked to find de Killer very soon in his career, because of this after the dispute with Andrews during the trial he spent all the time available investigating to locate him and Maya.

In all this chaos, he could luckily count on his daughter. Even if she could be the mirror of Franziska, her engagement with his father's work and relations was what put his mind at peace that she wouldn't take that turn. When she was allowed to investigate, Gumshoe by her side, together they worked their double best to help Edgeworth, but, as nothing helpful for the case could be done, she remained in the hospital with Franziska, helping her recover and not go out. That's when the two started to know each other, and Franziska began to see his brother's changes, or at least tried to.

She was able, at the end of this case, to see beyond the little corners Miles kept hidden; his sister, their father and this much-discussed best friend. Gradually, Edgeworth became easier and easier to crack open from his shell, and, like the good niece she was, the next one was Franziska and her whole armor.

[plum-pitt]

Holy shit. I just realized i’ve never even yapped about my headcanons for the rise guys. This is a criminal offense on my part! Must be rectified immediately!!

Disclaimer: Don’t think there’s a lot of hot takes here, but feel free to disagree and talk about your own interpretations if you’d like!! Headcanon is fun and i love discussing it. it’s all fictional and since the text doesn’t give us much concrete shit on these topics we’re all free to make our own, equally valid readings of it. :3

Leo- Transmasc He/Him, gay as fuck who here could’ve guessed, ADHD haver, definitely smokes weed. Fluent in spanish from watching telenovellas as a child. Wants to be a flirty whore/aff so fucking bad but whenever he sees someone he’s legitimately attracted to any charisma he might’ve had gets thrown out the window and into a woodchipper in favor of helpless stuttering. His portalling mishaps early in the series have led him to silly sidequests all over the world that he just,,,, doesn’t really talk about. This won’t come up until they’ll end up in some random ass place and find out just how well travelled and connected he actually is. He’s also got a job at Hueso’s for fun and extra cash to fund his addiction to pot and ordering stupid shit he doesn’t need online. He’s a server, wears rollerskates to “move faster” on the job, just ends up running into shit more often than not. Great with the kids tho, performs little sleight of hand magic tricks and tells jokes to make them happy, never had a fussy kid he couldn’t calm down in a snap. Calls himself Hueso’s nephew and nepotism hire, ignoring the fact that he’s actually a decently competent and well liked employee outside of the several skating related accidents. Shell was cracked badly in the invasion, when they sealed it up, he asked Mikey to paint the healed cracks gold, mimicking the japanese practice of Kintsugi.

Mikey- Definitely queer but not into labels ;3 He/Him is what he defaults to, but any pronouns work for them. Semi fluent in italian, don’t ask me why, just feels right, let chef boy speak italian dammit. One of those mfs on instagram who insists on posting pictures of the food he makes, except his actually looks good and not painfully mediocre so they get a pass. Has been tagging walls in hard to reach spots all over the city for years at this point, after Raph confronted her abt it, fearing that he’d get caught someday, he told him that he’d stop. Yeah, that was a lie he kept doing it, just sneakier now. Makes money off of art commissions, still broke as hell tho cuz he spends it all on bougie ass ingredients and art supplies. Post canon definitely delved more into mystics and spirituality, trains with draxum but also took up meditation in his free time. Fucks with weed and the occasional psychedelic when working on art, says it helps get the creative juices flowing. Considering asking donnie to forge some documents for him so he can attend college online and earn a psych degree. His speech patterns flip on a dime between vague, wise fortune cookie therapist man and typical gen-z slang so abruptly it gives anyone not already familiar with him total whiplash.

Donnie- NonBinary They/He Bisexual but i can’t decide if they’re the kind that can’t stop pulling or can’t pull to save his life. Fluent in several languages, ASL, French, Russian, Japanese. Actually one of their few acedemic endeavors that he doesn’t typically show off and gloat about, makes it all the scarier when his siblings hear him muttering vaguely threatening sounding shit in russian when shit doesn’t go their way. Has tried most substances for “research purposes”, ultimately decided he doesn’t like the feeling of their big ol brain being hindered under the influence, this has a few exceptions tho, mainly when it’s with Leo. Has John Bishops IP address and threatens to drop it on 4chan to “see what happens” every time he tries messing with their family or stopping him from “borrowing” material resources from the US government. Almost considered bs-ing his way into college before they used a cloaking broach to shadow april at school for like 2 days. It was there they learned that the education system fucking sucks and he probably knows more than most professors about his topics of interest anyway. Does freelance work for cash, as far as their brothers know they’re not building and selling anything dangerous (which is code for probably arming both sides in a far away military conflict with deathrays). Spends his free time cyber bullying children on roblox and twitter, and caring for their greenhouse of plants that all have names. (yes he grows weed. his GeniusGrown™️ zaza is known far and wide for its consistently excellent quality. and no, Leo does not get a family discount. Mikey does tho.)

Raph- Someone please send the big man some help😭 he/him(?) Definitely queer in some way shape or form but refuses to confront any identity crisis because he’s just so busy keeping his dumb ass siblings outta shit. Tried weed once and will never touch a substance again, makes his anxiety spike real bad when he doesn’t feel in full control of himself. Runs around with Cassandra and sometimes Jr to do vigilante justice on the side of he and his siblings�� usual patrols. Living garbage disposal and i mean that quite literally. He has and will eat anything, rocks, toys, silverware, sometimes on accident, sometimes on a dare, and sometimes just because he wants to. He grew up gnawing on the legs of furniture, rusty sewer pipes, really any nonliving thing that he could fit his choppers around (unlike donnie who just bit any living creature within a 5 mile radius of his location). Since the invasion made Leo step up as leader Raph has been able to step back a little bit and not have everything in a chokehold, he has a mini crisis about his place in the family and his sense of identity without being a leader. Tries to hide how much it’s affecting him but ofc, living with mikey, this does not last and his ass FINALLY gets chucked (very lovingly) into therapy. Loves to knit, definitely in some kind of old lady facebook group centered around it (he has so much nursing home gossip floating around in his brain hehe)

Alright that’s all for the teetlez. lmk if yall wanna hear about my thoughts on the rest of the main cast, or some of the side cast! Can’t promise i’ll have this much to say on all of em but i’ve definitely got thoughts lol. I might even make a post diving into different character dynamics. idk tho, my fingies are tired typing all that shit😭

Anyway i hope u enjoyed my ramblings, have a lovely day :3

[artistsfuneral]

The Road to Kaer Morhen - p.3

“Well some of us decided to make use of the daylight and get supplies,” Jaskier answered, proudly holding up their new belongings. The Cat Witcher frowned at him, head cocked to the side, “Rope? What on earth do we need rope for, it's a mountain path not a cliff climbing exercise.” Jaskier rolled his eyes and – pointedly ignoring Aiden – knotted the rope to the side of his pack. He'd keep the charm in his belt pouch for now. “I mean seriously, Jaskier. Wouldn't food have been better? It's not like I can help a lot in that department, given the overall,” Aiden stopped himself from continuing and waved at himself with a sour face. Jaskier sighed.

He really couldn't phantom when he had developed the habit of running into half-dead witchers in need of heroic rescuing, but at this point it had happened too many times to still be considered a coincidence. Much like it had been the case with the other three Cats, the Viper, the Griffin pair and who afterwards had insisted on being called his Crane Wife, Jaskier had found Aiden just on time. After the failed assassination attempt in Yspaden and a horrible week spent hiding in the alleys and basements of Luton, Jaskier had collected enough coin and courage to head east, towards Kaedwen. Then, when traveling through the forests of Gelibol, he suddenly came across a merchant's cart and a man with amber eyes who introduced himself as Roland Treugger. Despite the fact that the man was an excellent liar, more so than the backstabbing cretin Valdo Marx himself, Jaskier almost instantly understood that there was something off about the merchant. Lo and behold, Jaskier wasn't being paranoid and the noise he heard coming from the inside of the wagon was not some caged animal to be sold at the next market, like Treugger had insisted, but Aiden bleeding onto the floor. Jaskier remembered very vividly how after that particular discovery he had turned back around and looked at the other man with a look so dispassionate it made Treugger stumble backwards. What Jaskier – despite Aiden's constant insisting – did not remember was the fact that Treugger had straight out stumbled into Jaskier's blade. Sixteen times. It certainly was a nice thought, but alas Jaskier was nothing but a humble bard and the short sword he carried with him was mostly for decoration. Aiden didn't believe him for a second.

Nevertheless the damage had already been done and while the Cat Witcher was lucky enough for both of his broken legs to heal properly, the same couldn't be said about his left arm or eye. In the passing day he lost both. Over his many years of travel the bard had to witness countless heartbreaking fates, but watching Aiden wake up only to realize what gruesome things had been done to him would stick with Jaskier for a long time. Aiden, like any witcher, was saved by his astonishingly strength and tough heart. His humor helped a lot too, as Jaskier was quick to learn.

Spending a fortnight hidden away in the forests had given them enough time to get to know and befriend each other. So when a troop of nilfgaardian soldiers found their camp, splitting up wasn't on the table anymore. Now Jaskier was stuck with a new travel companion and around a hundred horrible jokes on his mind about how Aiden was all-right, even if there was hardly anything left of him.

“No need to worry, sunshine, you forgot that I've been following Geralt around for around a century or so, I know my outdoor survival.” The bard chimed in, trying to lighten the mood again. Instead he watched how Aiden's right eye tightened. “Yeah, about that-” the witcher started, but was promptly cut off by him again. “Figuratively! Of course I meant it felt like a century. I was exaggerating, I'm a bard!” The deadpan look Aiden gave him was more than telling.

“Anyways! I think we really should get going. We've been pretty lucky so far, so I guess it's probably only a matter of time before someone comes looking for us.” The bard said, looking out the window of their small room to make sure that his fears hadn't become reality yet. “Need a helping hand?” he asked and watched with amusement as Aiden's face turned from disbelieve to being outright scandalized. “Fuck off!” He laughed and flipped Jaskier the bird, before finally getting out of bed. “You are going to end up in hell, bard,” the Cat Witcher tsked at him and went to collect his clothes from a stool nearby. “Oh shush, don't even pretend we don't share the same humor, pussycat.”

“Never said I was going to to meet Melitele either.”

“Ugh, sunshine, you're so dramatic!” Jaskier sighed, well aware of the irony behind his words. He watched, out the corner of his eyes, how Aiden slipped into his shirt, pants and coat. He struggled to secure the green sash around his waist that was supposed to keep his pants up like a belt. Aiden fought for a moment before managing to tighten the knot by holding part of the sash down with his elbow. Jaskier quietly thanked the gods for the small success and shouldered his pack and lute, checking the room twice for things he might have forgotten, while Aiden put on his boots and silver sword. He knew the Cat knew that he was watching like a hawk, but neither of them braced the topic of Jaskier's over-protectiveness.

Aiden was about to shoulder his sea sack when the two men were stopped mid-movement by loud voices coming from outside. Their eyes met and Aiden, closest to the open window, dropped to the floor just as quickly as Jaskier pressed himself against the far back wall of their room. Jerking his head towards the window he silently but sternly told Aiden to check out the commotion. After all he was the witcher, not Jaskier.

Aiden made a face at the bard that could we equally translated as 'Duh.' or 'Fuck you.' but dutifully inched closer to the window and listened. Not a moment later the witcher's pupil thinned into a predatory slit that fixated on Jaskier in a way that unmistakably meant trouble for them. “Redania,” Aiden mouthed without making a sound and then proceeded to make his way towards Jaskier, crawling on all... threes, in a way that he would've found hilarious if it weren't for their dire situation. “Soldiers,” Aiden whispered once he had reached the bard, “looking for a bard and his witcher in the name of the crown. They probably think I'm Geralt.”

“Fuck,” Jaskier cursed underneath his breath, his heart hammering inside his chest as he willed his brain to think of a plan.

“There's a back door!” he suddenly remembered, having seen one of the innkeeper's daughters enter the house through the kitchens. “If we make it downstairs in time, we can escape through the yard.”

Aiden bit his lip. “Too risky. We don't know if any of the soldiers are already inside the house and the courtyard could be closed off. I say we climb through the window in the hallway and down the balcony, then make a run for it. Through the market and straight into the forest.”

“You want to jump off a balcony with two freshly healed legs and then get us separated in a crowd, are you mad!?” Jaskier hissed and slapped his hand against Aiden's shoulder. “There's no way the courtyard is closed off! And even if, we can just climb up and out.”

“Oh, but that's not risky at all. What happens if they surround us?”

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✨🌿🌼✨

How do you pronounce Kaedwen in your head? like Cat-Wen or Kate-Wen? I've always said it like cat-wen, but I started watching the nightmare wolf movie thingy and I'm pretty sure they said kate-wen. and I didn't like it.

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[prettyboykatsuki]

warm-ups | sfw + kunigami + sofa

✭ tags ; implied nsfw at the end, coming home / re-uniting, established relationship, gn!reader 18+ | ✭ wc ; 1.4k (?????)

✭ a/n ; me when the random prompt generator gives me a random prompt and i have no clue how to execute on it. never written him before ever so Sorry

Kunigami thinks he should get to fight an airline service at least once in his life.

It'd be one thing if this incident was something happened once in a while. National traveling is already a pain in his ass thanks to customs. He's doing it so constantly - he's used to the strain. Waking up early, packing his things neatly, going through a million checks.

If he were a less ethical person, he'd take a page out of other pro's book and just get a jet for himself because frankly he's fucking sick of it.

This is the longest he's been completely out of the country before in his life. He's been gone for around 6 months now, training with the Brazilian National Team. It was a reward experiencing he'll admit, despite kicking his ass nearly everyday. He made good friends and the people were welcoming- someday he'll make plans to go visit with you.

But he's homesick beyond reasonable doubt. He misses his family dog. He misses Japan.

Most of all, Kunigami misses you.

He really considered not leaving because the idea of long distance didn't sit right with him. You (being the unfortunately considerate lover) you are encouraged him to go. He's thankful you support his dreams. You even surprised him with a visit because it fell on his birthday.

Which was thoughtful and he was so glad to see you but not helpful in quelling the ache of your absence.

Kunigami Rensuke loves you habitually. Maybe that's just how he operates (how he has after becoming a wildcard, that persists into his pro-career) but there's something about it that he never fails to act on. No amount of calling or texting has been able to scratch the itch, the need to love you.

You've been dating for the better part of three years and your anniversary is a few months away. Kunigami wants to marry you but he has to make more money first so he's been hustling.

(Not that you care about stuff like that. But as a pro and a man with pride, he's not really comfortable giving you any less)

It's a typical story for a lot of athletes but you were there before all the fame and publicity. You put up with all of it, all of his dedication and all of his frustrated feelings. Soothed him with gentle hands and a warm meal and a house that felt lived in.

To say Kunigami is grateful is understatement of the century. More accurately, Kunigami can't be without you too long. His life feels incomplete if you're not next to him. He's gotten heat for being soft but he doesn't care.

A wild card, a soccer hero - Kunigami has a lot of self-imposed expectations. But you? Not once have you ever made him feel bad about any of it. In a career where nothing is guaranteed, Kunigami is assured by your love. It makes him want to work harder.

You, of course, are nowhere near as clingy as he is. People often joke that you've got him wrapped around your finger. You laugh and disagree but Kunigami knows it to be true. Anything and everything, Kunigami wants to give you the world.

So six months has been a nightmare. Frankly, he never wants to do it again. His mood is infinitely worsened now because of all the delays. You have a tight schedule and you're not going to be able to come see him because of it.

So he's seething a little, despite it all. He really wants to make it someones problem because he misses you just that much. But alas, he already knows he shouldn't. He can practically hear your voice already.

("A day isn't gonna kill you, Rensuke.")

But it really feels like it will. He's moping the whole way home, even as his driver drops him off at his apartment - Kunigami doesn't feel like his life will start again until he sees you.

So, unlocking his door and coming into his abandoned apartment feels unceremonious at best. His first reaction is that something is a little off when he enters.

There's a noise coming from the living room and everything smells good. The house smells like linen, more precisely. His first reaction is that there's someone who broke in.

But upon entering further, traces of you start to appear like magic. Your coat on a hanger in the closet, your shoes on the rack and your house slippers missing. He doesn't want to get his hopes up, so he holds his breath as he walks into the living room.

Like some kind of miracle, Kunigami finds you asleep on his old beat up sofa. Now the new one, but the one he's had since he's first apartment. You're cozy in it too, hidden under a pile of blankets and wearing his stolen clothes.

The T.V. is playing an old comedy movie and there's a glass of water and all your things next to you. He's so happy for a minute, he really doesn't know if he should wake you up. Picking you up and plopping you into bed with him (maybe trap you there for a while) seems best.

But you stir awake before he even has a chance, eyes blinking up at him blearily, muffled under the covers.

"Rensuke?" You say, yawning aloud "That you? Or am I seeing things?"

What does he even do with his feelings?

"Not seeing things. I'm home."

You laugh pleasantly, sitting up rubbing your eyes. Your socks are pulled up to different degrees. Kunigami wants to marry you immediately.

"You're home," You say, happy with it as you open your arms up dramatically - inviting him in "Welcome home,"

It takes every ounce of restraint not to tackle you as he drops his bags on the floor and kneels between your legs to hug you. You're warm and soft, and Kunigami has missed you so much it's inhuman and cruel.

You let him nuzzle into the crook of his neck, palms soothing on the nape of his neck as you rub your cheek against his hair.

"How was the flight?"

"Pretty shit but it doesn't even matter," He says back, pulling away to really look at you "Doesn't matter at all,"

"You missed me that much?" You tease. He laughs out loud.

"Don't do that to me," He says, unable to stop smiling "You know the answer to that. I thought you couldn't come see me?"

"My boss' son is a huge fan of you, would you believe?" You say, yawning a bit as you lean forward to press your forehead to his "So I promised him a signature. He gave me 3 whole days off."

Kunigami laughs.

"Are you serious?"

"So serious. I thought it'd be better to surprise you at home. If I did it in the airport the paparazzi was gonna get pictures of you losing your marbles,"

He laughs at that, cradling your face in his palms.

"Yeah. Pretty sure I woulda tackled you,"

"You would've knocked me unconscious. You're so big,"

"You think I got a little bigger?" He prods. You laugh and Kunigami thinks it's his favorite sound in the world.

"Fishing for compliments five minutes in? Really? You did get bigger, your arms feel good. Very much wanna get crushed in them, so good work?" You say, squeezing his bicep. He grins.

"And the rest of me?"

"Guess I'll find out about your core 'n legs in a bit, huh?"

Kunigami laughs at that, the stupid wiggle of your eyebrows and the warmth of your body. He feels fucking giddy, in a stupid way since he's a grown ass man. But who cares, really? His life is good. He's never been so happy.

You make room on the couch for him and Kunigami hurries to join you - taking his shirt off and leaving him in his briefs before you climb to lay on top of him. You hug his chest.

"I got 20 minutes before I can't hold it in," He replies, his hands around your waist.

"Maybe I should stretch or something."

"I can help you with that," He offers.

You laugh, pressing a kiss to his mouth.

"No you can't, you fiend. Give me 20 minutes of cuddling before you render me useless to walk without assistance,"

He feels blood rush to a place it shouldn't go.

"Might have to cut it to 15,"

You laugh and hit his chest and Kunigami squeezes you even tighter. He loves you more than anything else in the world.

[redheadspark]

Could you do number 1 and 2 with Jack Russell from Werewolf By Night? 🥹🐺✨

A/N - This is great! I loved writing this for Jack, thanks for requesting this!

Give Them Hell

Summary - You shook up Jack's chaotic life

Warnings - Mostly fluff!

“Amor, I’m about to head out!”

“Make sure you have everything in your bag before you go!”

Jack snorted from the tone you were using with him: Authoritative and yet nurturing.  He was grabbing one more jacket from the closer before waltzing back over to the bed in your shared room, seeing his spare clothes folded and on the side of the duffle bag that was already open and ready for him to look in.  He knew it was your handy work, seeing some of his toiletries packed away in small bags and his placing cubes that were already filled with other clothes he would need.  He paused and smiled, considering himself a lucky werewolf to have someone like you in his life to help him organize his own chaotic mess of a life.

Jack was not an organized person, he never was really and it never really was an issue.  Being a werewolf and monster hunter at the same time didn’t call for normalcy and an easy-flowing life.  In fact, it was more clustered at times and more of a mess, but Jack could live with it.  He had to, and thankfully he survived and was able to be assertive and in survival mode for as long as he could.

But that changed when you came along and literally shook up his world.

You both met on the job, being a fellow monster hunter with a decent reputation and a cocky attitude about what needed to be done and what needed to be eliminated.  You were a practical hunter, no-nonsense, and had things for a reason.  No wonder you two gravitated to each other so well since opposites attracted one another.  Even your best girlfriend saw it when you were describing Jack to her after meeting him for the first time.  You were ranting about his clustered organization and his naiveness, but you also admired his easygoing attitude and his positive view of life.  Your friend eyed you, a smirk on her lips.

“You’re gonna fall for that boy,” She warned you.  And you did

Now, a few years later and married, you shook his life up to the core.  He loved that you looked after him and adored him, so much so that you were getting him into better habits.  From the food he ate down to what he was using for his bedsheets, Jack could tell you wanted what was best for him.  You joked that he was utter chaos, but handsome utter chaos in the end.  Jack didn’t care, he still saw it as the sun and the stars rolled into one for loving someone as untidy and messy as he was.  You never saw any of that, you saw a good and tender heart in an unforgiving world of monsters. 

The main thing you helped improve with Jack was his transformations and how to prepare for them.  Before you came along, Jack would wing it.  Maybe take one change of clothes for the morning after and a towel or two in case it was a bit messy (something he learned the hard way in the past).  So when he told you what he did, you looked at him in utter shock.

“No, absolutely not!  This will not happen, come on!” You huffed, lacing your fingers together and dragging him with you out of his apartment.

“Where are we going?” He asked in shock, seeing that fierce look in your eye as you looked back at him.

“We’re going to get your shit together, literally!”

You got him a duffle bag big enough for a set of clothes, travel-sized toiletries and drug store medicine, dry food and electrolyte powder for water, a new water bottle with a built-in filter, running shoes, and coffee packets to brew his coffee in the morning along with a coffee travel mug.  Jack was amazed at your shopping and handiwork as you assembled his bag in front of him, or organizing tricks kicking in and making things fit where they shouldn’t.  When you were done, the bag was filled to the brim with all he needed and more beyond that.  He felt his heart well, knowing fully well that you weren’t just doing this because you wanted to, but you were looking out for him and showing him you loved him.

So Jack did the one thing he could think to do: he swept you up in his arms and kissed you deeply. 

Since then, you both would either work together on a job, or at least know what the other’s job was in case things went south.  You were building not just a relationship with one another but a partnership too, which Jack knew he needed all this time too.  Not that he didn’t mind working alone, he was used to that for years.  But it was safer for him to have another ally on his side or someone who would help him if he needed it.  You were just as independent, but you figured out quick that Jack had a protective side that would come out when you were in danger.  It was rare, but he wouldn’t play with your life since you were too important to him now.  

You both were a match made in heaven, domestic monster hunters if you will.

Jack folded his bag and tucked it inside the bag, then nothing a small parcel that was against the side of the bag and he cocked his head at the sight.  It was routine now that he knew what to pack or not to pack, a great habit you taught him and he picked up right away. So for him to now see a parcel with your name on the top on a folded piece of paper, he was now intrigued.  It was your handwriting, and while you were cleaning the kitchen from your thread breakfast together, Jack took out the parcel from the bag gently and then opened the folded paper to see your writing inside.  

“Jack-

I love you to the moon and back, and even beyond.  Be safe and come back to me in one piece.  Enjoy the treats, and make this world a better place.  It already is with you.

~Your love”

Jack’s eyes misted from the note, seeing the cursive in your writing and feeling the love seep out from the ink into his heart.  He poked his head into the parcel, a massive smile on his face at the sight of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies.  

Jack knew he had been dealt with unlucky cards all his life, and he was sat peace with it since he knew life was not fair for those who would work the hardest.  But you were the one piece of his life that changed everything: you brought him light from the darkness, you brought peace from the chaos, and most importantly you brought him love when he didn’t feel it for himself.  

Jack walked out of the bedroom and saw you placing the last dish on the drying rack.  He immediately stood behind you and wrapped you in his arms, peppering your neck with kisses and small love bites as you giggled and leaned into him.

“I take it you found my note,” You teased, though Jack grinned against your skin.

“I’m one lucky wolf to call you mine, Amor,” He hummed, squeezing you a bit tighter, “I love you, so so much.”

You turned in his arms and cupped his cheeks in your palms,  You saw the love in his bright eyes as you pressed your forehead against his and smiled.  He taught you how to be soft and kind to yourself, showing you to let your guard down and be more vulnerable when needed. 

“I love you more,” You hummed to him, kissing him on the nose as you gave him a stern look, “Take care of those monsters and come back in one piece to me,”

“Always,” He vowed as you smirked.

“Give them hell,” You added, seeing his smirk right back at you.

And he did, knowing the love of his life would wait for him to return.

The End.