#I can’t even look at it without losing my shit how did I manage to draw him so hot-

[katashikat]

*draws some spicy Jax* …damn it’s getting hot in here….

[wintrwinchestr]

an overture of indulgence (joel miller x f!reader oneshot) 18+

summary: it's been a long time since you've seen joel, and some things have changed, but a lot has stayed the same. namely, how quickly he can still get you on his knees for him, ready to show him exactly just how much you like what has changed about him.

warnings: 18+, smut, post-outbreak, jackson joel, d/s relationship dynamics, pet names (baby, babygirl, sweetheart, sweet girl, etc), body worship, belly kink, talk of weight gain, belly riding, m/f masturbation, lil bit of humiliation kink, lil bit of edging, reader is an adult but age otherwise unspecified, reader is shorter than joel and has hair long enough to grab, let me know if i missed anything :)

word count: 4.3k

a/n: just fuckin outing myself left and right these days huh. idk what came over me with this one. started this late last night and here it is now. belly enjoyers rise!!!!!!! nice comments/reblogs appreciated if you enjoyed <3 you can't kink shame me bc i like getting bullied so now what. also i avoided daddy kink for once in my life please clap. i know i’m spoiling y’all this weekend don’t get used to it.

divider by @saradika

“...Joel?!” you shout, your leisurely walking pace quickly turning into a hurried jog as you leave Tommy behind, making a beeline toward the man you would swear on your life is Joel Miller. A small handful of years ago now, he was kind of your boyfriend, kind of not, kind of something else more complicated and unlabeled, because who can afford to put a label on anything in times like these?

Joel’s head turns in your direction at the sound of his name, and as soon as you spot that crooked scar across the bridge of his nose, you’re certain it’s him.

“Holy shit, I can’t believe it,” you half-cry, throwing your weight into him as you wrap him in a tight embrace. He’s much taller than you, but you still managed to knock him off his balance a little. He envelops your whole body in one of his signature, all-encompassing hugs, and it’s like no time has passed at all.

The two of you had ended whatever it was you had on good terms, no hard feelings or animosity shared between you. It was just hard to maintain any kind of relationship in a world like this, and trying to nurture romance in the Boston QZ was much like trying to grow a rose garden in toxic, radioactive soil. You can put as much care and effort and something like love into it as you have in you, but the circumstances will just never allow it to reach its full potential. The end of your “relationship” was mutual, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. Especially when he had disappeared one day without so much as saying goodbye.

When you had stumbled upon Tommy and a group of patrollers in the snowy forest outside Jackson just earlier today, you were alone, tired, and losing hope that this rumored safe haven even existed at all. You had heard crackles through the radio in the QZ about the community, and even though it sounded too good to be true, what else did you have to lose anymore? After months of travel and survival and pain and hunger, you’d never been so happy to meet a bunch of strangers in the woods in your whole life. You didn’t hesitate to get on the back of Tommy’s horse, and let him lead you to the sanctuary they spoke of.

As he was giving you a tour, proudly showing off their electricity, running water, fresh food, and clean houses, you had started to look forward to what the future may bring, for the first time in a long time. You could never have imagined you’d ever run into Joel again, that this is where he had ended up, of all places. And now here the both of you are, bodies pressed as tightly together as possible, breathing in each other’s familiar scents and never wanting to let go again.

Joel is the first to break the embrace, grasping your head in his large hands and frantically searching your face for any sign that he could be dreaming, that fate hasn’t really brought you back together again after all.

“Jesus Christ, it’s really you,” he breathes, and you swear his voice breaks just a little bit as he presses his lips to your forehead, closing his eyes as he does.

When he blinks them open again, he meets Tommy’s gaze, who’s standing quietly a few yards back from where you’re having your sentimental reunion. Tommy gives an understanding nod, and gestures that he’ll be waiting inside the community’s dining hall, gathering that whatever this is happening between his brother and some girl he only just met, he shouldn’t interrupt. Joel is grateful for many things today, one of them being the rekindled bond he has with Tommy, the other being how you somehow miraculously found your way back to him.

Small groups of other Jackson residents follow Tommy into the dining hall shortly afterward, and as the sun begins to set behind the mountains, Joel realizes it must be about time for dinner to be served.

He detaches his lips from your forehead, brushing some of your hair away from your face as he takes you in again. “You poor thing, must be starvin’ I bet,” he wonders aloud, giving you a sympathetic look.

“Kinda always am, just as a rule, but yeah,” you reply, trying to make light of your situation. Though, Joel doesn’t seem to find the humor in it the way you do.

“Long as you stay here, ain’t ever gotta worry about that again, that’s for damn sure.” He runs his tongue across his lips as he finishes his sentence, already knowing that whatever meal they’re serving tonight, it’ll be some of the most delicious food he’s had in a long time. He suspects you’ll feel much the same. “C’mon, let’s get you inside. Get you warm and fed for once in your life.”

–

Your heart, your stomach, your soul, all feel full as you relax into the comfortable couch in the living room of Joel’s cozy home. He wouldn’t even entertain the idea of you staying in an empty house all by yourself tonight, insisting that if you’d like some company while you settle in, you were more than welcome to his. He had let you spend as long as you wanted to in his shower, and he didn’t mind if there was hardly any warm water left by the time you were done. He sure as hell wasn’t paying the bill, and you deserved to feel truly clean. He can remember clear as day how he felt after his first Jackson shower, like he had stripped off a layer of grime he hadn’t been able to scrub all the way clean in twenty years. He had gone to Maria to get you some clothes and underwear while you were bathing, and set them silently on the sink counter for you to put on whenever you were done.

And now here you sit, feeling full and clean and satisfied and comfortable and safe, watching Joel stoke the logs in his fireplace as it casts the whole room in a honey orange glow. You take a moment to admire him while he isn’t looking, and even in the dim and flickering lighting, you can see he’s just as handsome as he was the last time you saw him. He looks older, with more gray in his longer hair and meat on his bones, the latter trait likely due to years worth of the hearty cooking you both indulged in tonight. He looks… good like this.

“It really is nice to see you again, you know. You look…” you start, not being able to help the way your eyes wander to his soft lower belly, the way it pushes taut against his tucked-in flannel shirt and just barely spills over the edge of his jeans.

He turns his head away from the fire to face you. You’re not very subtle in your staring, and he knows what you’re referring to right away. He huffs a light chuckle, trying to brush off the way he thinks you’re poking fun at him.

“I know, I know,” he acknowledges, placing a hand on his stomach. “Been tryin’ to get Maria to give me some more patrol shifts, see if I can get some of the weight off. But hey, you try havin’ three square meals a day for the first time in twenty some odd years, see what it does to you, huh?” He pivots his attention back to the fireplace, and he seems to turn his body further away from you on purpose, so that you can’t see the round profile of his tummy as much.

“No! No, it, um… It suits you. I was gonna say you look good, actually.” You’re quick in your reply, trying to make it clear that you didn’t mean to offend him, without letting too much on. 

He scoffs. “C’mon, you don’t gotta flatter me, sweetheart. I know I don’t exactly look the way you remember–”

“Joel, will you stop?” you interrupt, your voice laced with exasperation. “I’m being serious. Do I look like I’m making fun of you?”

He cranes his neck to look back at where you’re perched on the couch, and gives you a once over. “Guess not… Look a lil’ like somethin’ else, though, if I'm bein’ honest,” he says with a teasing smirk. And there he is again, the same quick-witted Joel you remember from back in the QZ.

You choose to engage in his banter, just to see where he’s going with it. “Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

He shrugs, beginning to mindlessly poke at the firewood again. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you look like you might like it.”

He’s just kidding around with you, trying to rile you up, you’re sure. But when he gets silence in return instead of the sound of you jumping to defend yourself with another playful jab, he turns to face you once more, and is met with your stunned expression. 

“Oh…” Joel looks down at himself, then back to you again, just in time to catch your eyes flitting from his middle back up to his face. “What, you like ‘em big, sweetheart? ‘S that it?”

The truth is, you do, you always have. It was never a requirement, of course, as the guys you’d been with before Joel all had varying body types. But you’d be lying to yourself if you said that your eyes didn’t linger just a bit longer on guys with a little more to them, with wider arms and thicker legs and a softer middle. You’ve never admitted your preference to anyone before, and Joel calling you out on it now has your face running hot, skin feeling prickly as he sees through you like you’re made of glass.

“I-I don’t– I mean, I do, kinda, but not like that… Well, it is like that, I just mean–” You stumble over yourself, fearing you’ve revealed too much, wishing you could rewind the conversation and just tell him it was nice to see him again, plain and simple.

Joel lays the fire poker down on the granite ledge of the fireplace, approaching where you’re sitting and cupping the side of your face with his calloused hand. 

“Sh, sh, stop, baby. ‘S alright if you do, nothin’ to be ashamed of,” he comforts, and it takes all the willpower you have left not to let your eyes drift down to his stomach, so close you could kiss it, if he’d let you.

“It’s just… I missed you. I thought about you all the time, wondered what ever happened to you after you left. Didn’t even know if you were alive until today. I’m just happy to see you… doing so well. To see that you’re healthy, and everything.” You swallow hard, hoping you sound convincing enough that he’ll let this go, forget all about your little admission just now. But of course, Joel is as stubborn as he’s ever been, and he doesn’t plan on releasing you from his trap now that you’re ensnared in it. 

“That’s sweet, baby, ‘s real sweet,” Joel says, softly, stroking his thumb across your cheekbone as he speaks. “Thought about you too, all this time. Practically every day…” He rakes his eyes over you, noticing the way his touch has you starting to melt already, how you’re looking up at him with your wide, needy eyes. “Why don’t you show me just how much you missed me, hm? How much you love seein’ me healthy, as you put it.”

You’re stunned into silence once again, jaw slack and pupils wide as you search his gaze for proof that he’s just messing with you, making fun of you just to watch you squirm. But you don’t find any.

“O-okay,” you agree in a half-whisper.

Joel smiles down at you, satisfied. “All these years later, still just the sweetest thing, ain’t you? You still just as obedient, too?”

You nod without even thinking, words catching up with your instinctual response a second later. “Mhm, yeah, I am…” You had forgotten how easy it is to submit to him, how good it feels to let the hypnotizing tone of his voice carry you somewhere far away from yourself, when you need it the most. Whether it was after a shitty day of working for shittier rations in the QZ, or after a harsh trek in harsher weather to a forested oasis, Joel always knows how to make you feel like submission is your most natural state. 

“Good… Kneel for me please, sweetheart,” he commands, and you obey immediately, his hand slipping from your face as you slide from the couch onto the woven carpet beneath you. Like second nature, your hands automatically fold themselves on your lap, remembering how you were never to touch Joel until he permitted you to. He takes note of this, and praises you accordingly. “Look at that, didn’t even have to ask. Such a good girl.”

He’s so enamored with you, he almost forgets where he was going with this until he watches your eyes flash to the growing bulge in his jeans, then back up to him. “Not tonight, sweetheart. Was thinkin’ you could put that pretty mouth to use on somethin’ different this time, hm?”

You knit your brows together, not sure what he means, but he doesn’t let you wonder for long. Slowly, he starts to unbutton his flannel shirt, starting at the top and working his way down. He tosses it onto the ground, then pulls his undershirt off over his head, adding it to the other discarded clothing. Without the confines of his slightly-too-tight button-up, you can see how much he really has filled out. Everything about his upper body is just a little more plush, with petal pink stretch marks adorning the soft skin in various places. You want to make it your personal mission to kiss each and every one of them, commit their exact coordinates on his body to memory.

There's a deep scar, you notice, to the left of his belly button, that has almost successfully disguised itself as one of those pretty marks. It’s definitely new since you saw him last, and it looks like it hurt, especially with the evidence of how crudely it had been stitched back together.

“What happened?” you wonder aloud, worried eyes glued to the healed injury.

He has to peer over the curve of his belly to see what you’re looking at. “Long story. Happened on my way out here, after I left Boston. Nothin’ for you to worry about, sweet girl, hardly even hurt. Forget it’s even there, most of the time,” he answers, still with a dominant edge to his voice that does a mostly good job of convincing you it’s the truth.

“Can… Can I?” you ask, waiting to receive his permission before you move your hands from your lap. 

“Yeah, baby, go ahead,” Joel allows. 

You reach out a small hand to gently trace over the raised scar, then press your lips to it with your hands splayed out on either side of your head, just barely pressing into his belly. He releases a soft groan, cradling the back of your head with one of his hands, applying the lightest amount of pressure to let you know this is where he wants to keep you. 

“Why don’t you keep goin’, sweetheart? Gimme some more lovin’ like that, know you wanna,” he encourages, and you think you get the idea now, what it is he wanted to put your pretty mouth to use for.

With his explicit permission to continue, you don’t need telling twice. You move your face to hover just in front of his belly button, admiring the dense salt and pepper happy trail that sprouts from where his jeans push into his soft skin. You drag your tongue along the hair, nipping at the soft curve of where it disappears into the divot in his stomach. He makes a noise in response, half pained and half pleasured, but he doesn’t stop you. Just for good measure, you place a kiss to the little blushing mark where your teeth had scraped him.

Almost of their own volition, it seems, your hands begin to knead at his stomach as you make good on your promise to yourself to kiss every single one of his stretch marks. You allow your tongue to dart from your mouth on the last one, and Joel sucks in a breath.

“Oh, fuck. Forgot how good that wet lil’ mouth feels on me, sweetheart. Keep goin’,” he says, voice coming out strained. His fingers curl tightly into your hair, and he begins to maneuver your face around his belly. You lave your tongue over his skin as he does, slicking him with wet, sloppy kisses. “Yeah, baby, you fuckin’ worship it, show me how much you like me like this.”

It’s a little humiliating, but just enough that you like the feeling. You’re breathing hard and fast, letting out little whimpers as your fluttering cunt begins to soak your underwear. He brings your face to a stop at the most tantalizing part of him, the part that truly evidences how much more he’s allowed himself to indulge since settling in Jackson. The ample curve of flesh that just barely conceals the waistband of his jeans, the part you’ve wanted to get your mouth on since you first saw how it strained the lower buttons of his shirt. You latch onto it, massaging the skin around it as you use your teeth and tongue to suck a mark into him.

A growl rumbles from deep in his chest, and he curses under his breath. “Like it that much, huh? Fuck, naughty thing, look at you.”

You’re so fucking turned on, you’re shivering, rocking where you kneel and squeezing your thighs together in an attempt to get some kind of relief. You let one of your hands drift to the hard shape in Joel’s jeans, and it seems he’s enjoying this as much as you are. He spots your pathetic little squirms as you rut against nothing, and then he’s using his grip on your hair to pull you up from the floor.

“Got an idea. Up,” he commands roughly, and you detach your lips from his belly to obey his order. “Get these off, there we go.” He pulls down your sweatpants and underwear, helping you step out of them. “Christ, you’re soaked,” Joel teases, eyeing the sizable wet spot in your panties as he tosses them aside to join the other forgotten clothing. He reaches a hand toward the apex of your thighs, teasing your wet pussy and gathering some of your slick on two of his fingers. You let out a tiny yelp, but let him play with you, and then he’s bringing his fingers in front of his face and examining the sticky strings of your arousal when he spreads them apart. “All this just from lettin’ you worship all this, huh?” he taunts, patting his stomach once for emphasis. “Who’d’ve thought? Not that I’m complainin’...”

He quickly rids himself of his jeans and briefs, then reclines onto the couch with a quiet groan, stretching out his body along the length of it. Your mouth waters at the sight of his cock, hard and leaking as it bobs against his belly, his precum adding to the dampness still there from your tongue. “Come sit, sweetheart,” Joel says, softly, motioning with both of his hands for you to come closer.

You grip a hand onto the backrest of the couch to balance yourself while you move to straddle him, prepared to sink down onto his length for the first time in way too fucking long. “Uh uh, not there, baby,” he instructs, smirking when he sees how you hesitate in confusion. “Take a seat right here for me.” Again, he pats that most tempting area of his lower belly, and you just about fall apart at the sight of how his flesh ripples in the wake of it.

“Yeah, there you go, good girl,” he praises, both hands gripping your waist as he helps you settle your weight onto his soft abdomen.

“I dunno, don’t wanna hurt you–” you start, but he cuts you off swiftly.

“You won’t, baby. I’m a big man, ain’t I?” he teases, flashing you a devilish and knowing smile. “Go on, sweetheart, ride it.”

You inhale a shuddering breath, then place both of your hands on his shoulders to hold yourself up. You start an experimental buck into his belly, and that trail of dark hair tickles your clit so perfectly. It takes a few tries for you to get the positioning and pressure just right, and then you’re truly riding him, using his full stomach to get yourself off while he watches. 

“God, that’s good. Use it, baby. You love me bigger, love that I’ve been eatin’ so good, prove it to me, c’mon,” Joel goads, and it spurs you on to grind against him harder, faster, as incoherent mumbles and curses tumble from your lips.

“Love it, Joel, you look so good, fuck. So fucking–mmh–so big, makes me so… so–”

“I know it does, sweet girl, I know. Makes you fuckin’ soaked is what it does, god damn. You gonna get my belly all messy, hm? Gonna rub your lil’ cunt all over it, get me all fuckin’ wet?”

“Uh huh, yeah, gonna… I’m gonna–” you whine, eyes shutting tight as your hips pick up their pace. You move your hands from his shoulders to place them on his stomach instead, grabbing at handfuls of his tummy in an effort to create something more solid to rub yourself against. 

You’re already embarrassingly close, the humiliating edge to your earlier worship having gotten you most of the way there on its own. So swollen and sensitive it almost hurts, you won’t need much more to reach your high.

“Not without me, you ain’t. Gonna be right there with ya. You remember how we used to do it?” Joel asks, as if you could ever forget. He’s referring to your many late nights, early mornings, in his bed or in a back alley or wherever in the QZ, where he liked to make sure you both finished at the same time. You’d always be the first one to reach the edge, because he’d focus all his attention on getting you there before him, just to make you wait. It was never something punishing, just something he liked to do as an extra bit of control and dominance, and he knew it always made your orgasms that much more powerful and satisfying when he would finally permit you to let go.

With your eyes closed, so focused on your own pleasure, you hadn’t noticed that he had reached behind you to start fisting his cock some time ago. But you can hear it now, the wet schlick of his hand moving up and down his shaft as he works himself. “Hold it for me, sweetheart, I know you can. Keep rubbin’ your pretty pussy against me, jus’ like that, almost there…”

You mewl, screwing your face up as you force yourself to slow down your thrusts, muscles tense as you try to keep your orgasm at bay for as long as you can. 

Thankfully, he must be worked up enough from seeing you fall apart for him so easily for the first time in so long, that his permission comes just a few minutes later.

“Come for me, babygirl, soak my fuckin’ belly, c’mon,” Joel growls, and you fall forward immediately, twitching and spasming and crying out into the soft muscle of his shoulder as you ride out the shuddering shocks of your orgasm. He groans next to your ear as he comes, and you can feel the warm ropes of his own release as some of them land on your lower back. You’re both wet, heaving messes, as you embrace each other for the second time today and work on catching your breath.

So exhausted from the day you had, you must’ve fallen asleep against his chest as you laid there, because then you’re being woken up by the dull scratch of his fingertips against your scalp and his familiar voice working its way through the thick fog that clouds your tired brain. 

“You alright, baby?” he asks, and you can hear that he’s smiling, amused at this sleepy little thing he’s got clinging to him.

“Mhm, jus’ tired,” you answer, a barely-there mumble of a sentence.

“I’ll bet… You wanna get cleaned up? Get all tucked into bed?”

You shake your head against his neck, and he chuckles.

“No? Whatcha wanna do then, hm?”

“Jus’ lay here. Missed you. Don’t wanna let… go…” 

Your sentence drifts off into silence before the temptation of sleep allows you to finish it, but Joel gets the idea. He smiles to himself, kissing the top of your head, and hugs you closer. Both of you are still sticky and damp, but satisfied. And together again. And that’s a hell of a lot better than the alternative.

So he agrees, and you stay like that for the rest of the night. Joel doesn’t worry about whether or not he remembered to set his alarm clock for his extra patrol shift the next morning, or if he’ll even hear it all the way from his bedroom upstairs, because it doesn’t matter anyway. He has you, and you made it very clear tonight just how much you like him exactly the way he is. 

Maybe, your rose garden can finally begin to bloom, now that the pair of you have somewhere safe and comfortable and healthy to try your hand at nurturing it again.

tag list: @beefrobeefcal @iamasaddie @rebel-held @dilfgestivo @zliteraturehoe @joeldjarin @kamcrazy123 @hellowoolf @rexamongthestars @stevie75 @luxurychristmaspudding @noisynightmarepoetry @mewantpeepaw @pedritoferg (if your name is crossed out, it won’t let me tag you!!)

[fadedmunson]

rose blood | r. sanchez

pairings ; rick sanchez x gn!reader (no use of y/n)

summary ; MAJOR SPOILERS ending of 7x05 (unmortricken) when you try to be there for rick's numb state

genre ; insanely sad angst ;( bit of fluff at the end, established relationship (?) no labels on it but you're close

notes ; i've loved this show for quite so i'm quite surprised i haven't written for r&m sooner. use of curse words

wc ; 0.7k sooo pretty short

"morty, you can’t come! evil morty, stay out of my way! gonna kill my nemesis! rick out!"

that's all you manage to hear as you get down to the basement a couple second too late.

you pause right as you opened the door to his lab.

"wait did rick say he was going after prime?" your eyes widen and you began to tense up at the thought of rick no longer thinking with his head.

you pause your thinking when you see two morty's, your morty and one with an eye-patch.

"-oh hey evil morty, didn't think i'd ever see you here." you simpered

his eyes narrowed, "trust me, theres alot i would've done to avoid being here in the first place."

"you’re an asshole." your morty grumbled

"well, yeah. I’m not “good” morty."

he opens a yellow portal to follow rick you assume.

"come or don’t. i don’t care."

you get snapped out of your haze

"actually, fuck this. if he wants to go out there and get himself killed he can be my guest." you quickly turn you head and leave the basement sublevel.

you're not his babysitter, but you're still a little worried for the old man. It's not everyday you finally find the person who killed your daughter and wife.

you quickly head up to his room and try to collect all of your thoughts

you begin pacing around the room as your heart rate picks up

rick found prime, morty and evil morty followed him, is evil morty going to kill prime or rick?, why is evil morty even there?, and is this all a trap?

to distract yourself, you take a nap on his bed cot to just put a pause on everything for now.

sure it's uncomfortable, but it'll do

your quick 30 minute napped turned into three hours and you wake up in a sweaty, thirsty daze.

you walk into the kitchen, greet beth and grab a bottle of water

you walk into the garage in time to see rick and morty just back from their battle

morty smiles and waves at you

"crazy fucking day today haha, jeez."

you gave him a light smile and ruffled his hair

once he was out of the room you got a good look at rick and your smile immediately dissipated.

he look disheveled, covered in a shit-ton of blood (a mixture of his and prime's) a broken nose, black eyes, and scratches littering his body

that didn't phase you, what did was the emotionless look on his face

he turned to you, but it didn't look like he was fully there.

"rick," your voice is tight

you don't even know how to articulate yourself, you've never seen him like this.

"that's a lot of blood." you awkwardly chuckle.

"yeah," his voice is toneless.

you quickly reach out to hold his hand, but the quick flinch withheld you.

"well, what are you gonna do now?"

he just looked up from the floor and shrugged his shoulders.

"i can stay, if you want."

he stays silent

you quickly move to sit on the floor against his counters and you pat the space next to you.

he moves to sit next to you and closes his eyes in the comfortable silence.

you move to rest your head in his chest and kiss the parts of his hand without any blood on them while intertwining them with yours.

"i'll stay right here with you, rick. you don't have to be alone."

you hear his body shake as he tries to quietly but violently cries into your hair.

you turn to hold him in your arms as you let the sobs turn into sniffles and then into stuttering breaths.

he grabs onto you like he'll lose you at any moment, and you kiss his tears away while whispering "we're okay," and "i'm not going anywhere."

"can we stay like this for a little?" he quietly rasped out

your mouth curved into a smile "of course, but after this we should get you cleaned up." you open your eyes to stroke his cheek and lock lips.

[rotthepoet]

Theodore Nott and The Late Night Smoke Breaks

or, The time Theodore Nott realized he fucked up.

Theodore Nott x gn!Reader

Content: Modern AU, Language, No use of Y/N, drug use/smoking in order to cope(Nicotine/Weed), angstish to fluffish, Theo has daddy issues, a jealous Theo is a sad Theo, they make up in the end. Not my best work by a long shot, and I hate it actually, but stories are stories and I want to put mine out there.

The breeze high above Hogwarts was cold and Theodore Nott, a seventh year nicotine fiend draped in green to honor his prideful house, sat on the balcony of the astronomy tower. The castle stone pressed against his back, digging past the thick sweater he wore and into his shoulder blades. Theo didn’t bother to adjust himself, just opting to fumble with the joint between his fingers. His third of the night to be precise, but no amount of smoke in his lungs and fog in his mind could undo what he had done mere hours ago.

A simple question. That’s all it had to be. That was all it was supposed to be. Just a quick question to quell the burning anxiety in his stomach. Just a friendly question. Of course that wasn’t how it played out. He was never quite able to communicate with you.

Theodore’s fingers itched towards his phone, and he cursed under his breath. A glimpse of twelve new messages did nothing to ease the licking flames of guilt burning in his chest. He had really fucked up this time.

Perhaps he was higher than he had initially thought as he picked up his phone, allowing muscle memory to unlock the screen and let him view his missed messages. Although, missed isn’t the right word. ‘Avoided’ might be more fitting in Theo’s circumstance. Long paragraphs blurred together, simple phrases like “wtf is wrong with you?” and “you do this every time Theodore!” Stuck to his mind like flies in a glue trap; or maybe a rabbit in the jaw of a wolf. You were the wolf, weren’t you? Or had he been the predator the whole time?

He had his father’s tongue, this fact was quite familiar to Theo, who spat vile words and insults in fits of rage before he could fully process what he was saying. It often led to physical altercations, bloody knuckles and bruised eyes. He hated the way you looked at him afterwards. Ashamed. Embarrassed. Disappointed.

He sent the text without even thinking, the burning anxiety twisting in his stomach. “K” was all he sent. All he could manage. He shut his eyes, cursing himself aloud. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t just avoid you. It hurt.

One missed call. Two, then three.

One new voicemail.

Curiosity- more-so an intense desire to hear your voice- clawed at his mind, and with a simple press of his fingers he closed his eyes and listened to your words. Angry or not, he missed the way you talked. He missed you.

“You can’t keep doing this, Theo!”

Guilt twisted at his stomach. You sounded like you had been crying, your voice raw and cracking.

“You keep shutting me out, you get so angry when I tell you about any of my friends, or any of my plans! You ask, I answer, and then you lose it. Every single time. You threatened to beat the shit out of that Gryffindor after they asked me to help them study-“

Untrue. He threatened to beat the shit out of that Gryffindor after they obviously hit on you.

“-then you claim that I’m ignoring you- or that I take your friendship for granted! You talk to me like your friendship is some privilege I don’t deserve. You just… You dangle it over my head like it’s a prize! I don’t understand why you’re so mad at me. I don’t know what I did wrong.”

Your voice cracked. It made his own heart shatter. He hated it when you cried. He hated the long breath you took to steady yourself. He hated that he wasn’t brave enough to look you in the eyes and tell you he was-

“Draco said you stepped out for a smoke. You’re always avoiding conversations like this.”

You stopped talking for a moment, letting the microphone pick up your soft breathing and light footsteps.

“I can’t keep doing this Theodore, I can’t be your friend if you just keep treating me like this. I don’t know what to do to make you feel better.”

The voicemail ended, and Theo wished the stone of Hogwarts would fall upon his head and crush him. Tears welled in his eyes, and it took more than a minute to will them away. He stood, slowly and shakily. He fucked up. He couldn’t lose you, not like this, not now.

His feet carried him without a second thought, breaking into a sprint down the darkened hallways of Hogwarts. He raced down and up stairs, listening to the annoyed groans of paintings he disturbed. He didn’t even bother to avoid the ghosts patrolling the halls, sure to rat him out. He’d take a year’s worth of detention just to have a moment with you.

He was at your door in mere minutes, fist rapping against the heavy wood of your dorm room.

It wasn’t you who answered, but your roommate instead. Their “Can I help you?” was ignored, and their body was shoved out of the way and out of the door. He slammed the door behind him.

Your eyes met his. They were sad, red and puffy. He reached for your face, and you pulled away. The nerve pulsating through his veins dissipated. He fucked up majorly.

“You shouldn’t be here, Theodore.”

“Not Theodore… please. Just let me talk to you.”

You shook your head, but ultimately scooted over in bed and allowing Theo the space to sit down. He looked at you, desperate to see your face, to fix his mistake. You didn’t look back again him, instead picking at the dead skin around your nails.

Theo’s heart raced faster as he inched his hand towards yours. He couldn’t formulate the words. This was all wrong. He wasn’t supposed to tell you like this, not when you were crying. Not when you were angry at him.

“You’re my everything.”

“Are you serious?” Your eyes blew wide with rage. “You tell me that I’m a waste of time, then avoid me, and you come in here to tell me that I’m ‘your everything’? Have you lost your mind?”

Theo had in fact lost his mind. Everything he said made it worse. Every move he made caused an avalanche of consequences.

“I can’t lose you.”

“Why? So you can yell at me to feel good about yourself? Do I fuel your ego, Theo? Do I make you feel special? Is that all I am? Just here to make the ‘oh high-and-mighty Theodore Nott’ feel powerful.”

He gripped the loose fabric of his pants. He couldn’t do this anymore. He lost his nerve.

“No…”

“Then what am I to you Theo? Am I a friend because it sure as hell doesn’t feel like it. You make me feel like-“

Theodore didn’t let you finish your sentence. His lips pressed against yours in the blink of an eye, and while he closed his eyes, yours stayed wide open in shock.

Theo moved one hand to your cheek, barely letting the skin touch. You could feel him shaking. You could feel the heat radiating off of his cheeks. You could taste the cigarettes on his lips and the smell of pot was overwhelming.

He pulled away, opening his eyes, watching your face. His heart sunk when you wiped your mouth, declining to speak.

“I need you.” He whispered, voice cracking with the words. “I’m sorry. I was so…” he couldn’t even find the right words. “I just needed you to be mine.”

You stared at Theodore. A blush crept up to your cheeks, and the rage boiling inside of you slowed to a simmer.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?”

Theo gripped your hand, “I wanted to- I just couldn’t…” he paused, “I just couldn’t find the right way to say it.”

“So you threatened to beat up everyone who talked to me?”

“Only the one’s who were interested in you.”

A small laugh left your lips, and it made Theo’s heart swell.

“I’m still angry at you.”

“How can I make it better?”

You thought for just a moment, the blush pushing up to your ears. “You could start by asking me out.”

“Will you go out with me?”

“Maybe.”

And that was all Theodore needed to hear.

[cultofdixon]

You do what you can

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • Grimes’s Sister!Reader • This group desperately needs a home, and you need help. There’s only so much the archer and leader can do • ANGST/SFW • TW: Pregnancy / Excessive Nausea & Vomiting / Malnutrition

Requested by: Anon

NEXT

Hyperemesis Gravidarum, or severe vomitting is what Hershel said. It’s excessive nausea and vomiting that results in being unable to eat and drink because you can’t keep anything down.

Of course I had it.

Finding out I was pregnant in the prison, during the good times was of course bittersweet. Daryl, my partner, was worried about losing me like Lori but reassured that everything would be fine. Then the illness came through and he thought I had it with how intense my morning sickness was.

But Hershel reassured us and well scared us about a lot of the reactions that come with not being able to keep anything down.

“Please, what can I do?”

“Some just have this, Daryl. I’ll keep an eye on her. You gotta help the others”

While Daryl helped get medicine for those suffering the prison illness, he managed to find IV bags of fluids and that helped keep me hydrated when I couldn’t even take a sip of water without my throat burning.

Then well…a lot happened after that

Days have passed and again, a lot has happened. The prison collapsed, the group splitting, Beth’s disappearance, The Claimers,…Terminus, and now the group found themselves in the forest after barley escaping that hell they claimed as a “sanctuary for all” but it wasn’t.

After the small reunion, the group started to walk to…somewhere that wasn’t there. Eventually finding the chapel and the priest that almost lost his life if they didn’t arrive.

Before she even stepped foot into the small chapel, Y/N gripped Daryl’s arm indicating she needed to throw up again and step away to do so. Least she’s trying to inform him instead of disappearing for a few minutes to vomit in the woods. Not a pretty sight or…a pleasant sound.

Rick noticed the two coming in last as Y/N pulls away from Daryl to sit in a pew before ultimately laying down in it. He frowns trying to think of what he could do, she is his sister after all.

“How she doing?” He asks the second the archer approached him after checking on her once more.

“We better have a plan soon” Daryl frowns crossing his arms. “Doubt we’ll run into another hospital but the IV shit helped. Gotta find something like it”

“Or try to get her to drink. Just. Shit, I don’t know what else to do. Lori never had this shit”

The archer was sort of lost in his own mind, trying to plan something out that could help his partner. But every end is a dead one.

“I’m gonna keep watch, holler if?”

“Yeah, go ahead” Rick frowns watching Daryl go back to the pew Y/N was currently laid in, informing her of where he’ll be before stepping out of the chapel and Carol following behind him.

A few hours passed and Y/N jolted awake from an anxious thought only to feel the jacket draped over her which belonged to her brother. She eventually brought herself to sit up and put the jacket on entirely feeling the dryness of her hands, especially after not being able to have nutrients.

“Hey, how are you doing?” Michonne brought herself to sit with Y/N as she instantly rests her head on her friend’s shoulder. “Rick is taking watch and Daryl still isn’t back yet, just thought—-“

“He’s looking for Beth”

“How do you—?”

“Gut feeling…” Y/N frowns bringing her hands onto her small bump, feeling the anxiety bubble up inside her. “Michonne?”

“Yes?”

“…I…I’m afraid of losing my baby” She did her best to keep the tears from coming even if her body fought her against it and worsened her headache by bringing on the tears. “or of them losing—-“

“We will find the help you need. To keep you both alive and well”

But the worse kept coming, and we kept losing.

Bob was the first because of a bite. Then it was Beth at the hospital because of a cop with a trigger finger. Then Tyreese from blood loss because of an amputation caused by a bite. Sasha lost a partner and her brother, Maggie lost the last of her family. The two were on edge, Daryl felt like he failed, and the group was slowly weakening the more they continued on this blind path given the real news about Eugene came out. So no more hope for a cure. It will always be survival for those living through the apocalypse.

Maggie grew extra attached to Y/N given her state and the group can’t take another loss if it happened. Every time Y/N had to throw up or take a breather while the others kept walking, besides Daryl, Maggie was always there glued to her side which included Glenn glued to hers.

“Rick” Maggie called out for him with a bit of venom in her voice as he gave her a concerned look while handing Judith to Carol. “We need a break”

“It’s barely midday, we have to keep walking”

“Y/N can’t keep walking any longer. She needs a break” Maggie frowns pulling him to look directly at Y/N who was struggling to keep herself up even with Daryl’s help.

“Alright…Alright!” Rick nods directing people into the tree line, out of the road, to set up camp for the rest of the day and night.

Abraham took care of checking their surroundings as Sasha retraced their steps making sure they weren’t followed by anything or anyone. Carol got Noah and Glenn to help her set a few trigger lines for those who want to sleep. As much as Daryl wanted to help secure their surroundings, he felt as if he’d leave Y/N, that she’d decline. She’s already doing so but he thought he’d accelerate the process the moment he leaves.

“Can yea try for me?” Daryl frowns giving the last of his water to his partner as she nods, accepting his help with drinking from his canteen. He noticed a bit of a skin reaction on her neck from scratching the dryness as it was the same on her left arm. “Try not to scratch anymore…”

“Hard not to…” Y/N frowns leaning against the tree as Daryl sets his canteen down with his stuff bringing himself to sit against the tree. Gesturing with his eyes for her to lay her head in his lap. “We’ll find something…right, Dar?”

“I promise yea, sunshine” Daryl reassures brushing the hair out of her face watching Maggie approach them draping the blanket Rosita gave her to give Y/N over her body. The poor girl had already fallen asleep after being still long enough. “We’ll find somewhere right?”

“If we have to take it from somebody, then yeah. We’ll find somewhere” Maggie reassures him with a smile but hell, he knew she was anxious about her state.

The night was rough.

While she was exhausted more than the others because of being pregnant and having to be a part of less than 3% of pregnant individuals with hyperemesis gravidarum, she couldn’t control her anxiety jerks that would wake her. Freaking out Daryl every time and him waking resulted in Rick and Maggie waking given they stuck close to the two. Then the almost every hour to vomit. It’s gotten bad that Y/N started to dry heave and that would wake the rest sleeping. But every complain resulted in either her partner glaring at them or her brother snapping.

“My head hurts…” Y/N whispers to herself as the group started walking again the next day, this time she was with Carol while Daryl searched around for anything to have a longer stay in. Away from staying outside.

“Is that it?” Carol’s worry came out of her tone as she brought her arm around Y/N’s waist when she noticed her sway slightly. “You’ve got the last of the water…not like it was enough…we need a miracle or something”

“Kids first…Jude needs it. Carl needs it—-“

“You and your baby do too” Her tone shifted to strict immediately. She remembered how Y/N sacrificed a lot of her things in the past to keep everyone else afloat and she wasn’t about to let her do it again when it comes to her health.

It felt like fate or a foreshadow given after that conversation, everyone surrounded a cluster of water bottles in the middle of the road about an hour later.

“Someone has to test it” Eugene went to grab one and it was immediately smacked out of his hands by Abraham. “What!”

“It could be a trap” Rosita scoffs at him. “You think we’d give a pregnant woman poisoned water”

“Not like I can keep it down” Y/N whispers as she stares at the cluster before flinching to the touch of water. Water?

The storm that Rick expected to come days later, decided to come sooner and thank Mother Nature for that. Few started to empty to bottles and fill it with rain water as it was the next best thing, then those who’ve lost so much took the “peaceful” moment to take it all in.

As Y/N looks up at the rainfall feeling the heat expel her body for a moment and a sudden wave of uncertainty take her. But before she could even be audible about such, her body had enough.

“Y/N!” Maggie yells the second her body hit the floor as Daryl instantly dropped to her aid checking her person for any injury.

But it was just her body shutting down and that thought triggered Daryl.

“I saw a barn a few yards inward. We gotta—-“

Rick didn’t hesitate another moment as he quickly picked up his sister in his arms while Daryl led the way to the temporary shelter he found.

After another rough night and sort of rude morning, Daryl protectively held Y/N close to his person the second she woke around the time this Aaron guy was discovered.

“Hey…hey” Daryl fought back tears watching her wake as she didn’t say anything but rest her head against his chest in a sense of reassurance. “You’re gonna be okay, okay? Please” his voice cracked trying to say more.

“Our community can protect her, your daughter.” Aaron tried to sell this unknown community as he glances to the situation happening behind Rick and directed toward that. “Can save her from dying—-“

Watch your words.

Rick instantly grabbed his collar forcing the man against the nearest wall glaring into his soul. “She ain’t dying and how do I know you wouldn’t kill her in this place?”

“B-Because we won’t! You don’t have to trust us right away b-b-but we have an infirmary. A-A surgeon that knows his stuff”

If his sister wasn’t in this condition, he wouldn’t have give in so easily. Not like he wouldn’t watch this total stranger like a hawk when checking her person.

Which led them to giving about five percent of their trust to this stranger and following him with his partner to Alexandria, the community he talked about. A few residents that helped with the infirmary tried taking Y/N on a gurney but her family was close to killing a few people for trying to touch her without warning. Soon Daryl along with Maggie followed the few that pulled Y/N away on the gurney they brought out after Aaron’s partner Erin radio’d in.

“If you keep glaring, it won’t let me work faster” Peter states, getting the IV into Y/N’s arm after he asked Maggie to help her out of her clothes and into a new change of clothes enough to show some of the skin lesions she had so he could take care of them.

“Don’t do anythin’ without informing” Daryl glares keeping close to Y/N’s bedside on the other side. Peter looks at him with a blank expression, tensing a bit every now and then.

“She’ll stay here until she’s hydrated enough, or least til your group gets placement.” He states hanging the bag after taping the IV on her arm. “Y’all said she’s pregnant?”

For an anxious reason, Daryl gave Maggie a worried expression thinking…yeah…when Peter was simply asking to confirm it or not.

“Yeah, she’s pregnant. Why?” Maggie frowns watching Peter’s every move as he stepped away to one of the storage closets for equipment they have and or get from runs.

“We don’t have an ultrasound machine. Just tests and one of these things I forgot the name of” Peter held a device that could detect the heartbeat of a fetus, as for checking the conditions they’d have to go full old school for that and he’d need to find a book in their library, if they have one on pregnancy. But for now they have this.

Right before Peter even moved the blanket to lift her shirt to put the wand on, Y/N flinched pulling herself away given she woke once more in the middle of all that. Daryl frowns, relieved though, as he brushes back her hair catching her worried expression.

“He’s gonna check on the peanut, Y/N. Just let’em. I won’t let him do anythin’ else” Daryl reassures as Y/N nods slowly letting the man work but kept her eyes on him while he turned the device on and guided the wand to the right spot.

Heartbeat

A surprisingly healthy heartbeat

“That’s good. Strong” Peter states pulling the wand away before fixing the blanket over her and putting the device away. “I’ll come back in an hour or two to give her more fluids. Want me to tell your leader you’ll be in here?” He asks Maggie given the two watched Daryl drop to his knees hugging Y/N tightly her in her laid out state.

“Please.” Maggie gave a small smile letting the man leave before bringing herself to the other side of her bed resting her hand on her leg. “We’ll make this place work. To keep you both safe”

The two held onto one another and Maggie kept an eye on them for Rick before leaving to give them a minute. She kept close to the infirmary in case either of the two needed anything as she watches Rick practically run his way over to her with a worried look.

“She’s going to be okay. They both are” Maggie smiles watching the tension leave Rick’s shoulders for a moment as he instantly went for a hug with his friend.

When they parted, before the retired sheriff went in to check on his sister himself…the remaining Greene stopped him.

“Yeah?”

“We need to make this place work, Rick”

“I know…but—-“

“You can be cautious. We all are gonna be a while…but we all need this to work. For us, your kids, for them. We need this place for us”

“You do what you can for your family, and I’ll always protect mine”

[pterodactylterrace]

“The Blacks won because it’s Rhaenyra’s bloodline that continues on.”

Ok, first of all, Aegon II made Aegon III his heir. Rhaenyra was dragon chow by then. Rhaenyra wanted the iron throne more than anything else, and she only held power for 6 months before the small folk had enough of her bullshit. Six months. She managed to rule for half a year before she was overthrown, not by a usurper, but by her own people. Clearly, not a good ruler if you can’t even make it a year without getting chased out of your castle.

Second, Rhaenyra’s bloodline managed to fumble the ball two feet from the finish line. It started with Aegon the Unworthy and it ended with the mad king being overthrown just before the long night. Just one more generation was all they needed to last, and they fucked everything up so bad it put the entire world of men at risk. That… that takes skill. You have to actively TRY to fuck up that much.

After the conquest, there was noted to be one “good” king, and that was Jaehaerys. Between conquest and dance, Jaehaerys was noted as being a good, wise king. Aenys managed to have a mob trap his oldest two children in a distant castle right before he died. Then Maegor stepped in. He may have been decent if it weren’t for the brain damage. Most of the things he did before the battle on the hill were either rumors or just not that bad. He was also very against Kinslaying. Imo, one of the worst things he did was punish everyone involved in the Kinslaying in The Eyrie. Seems kind of strange he would dole out such a harsh punishment only to then kill his nephew in a very one sided dragon battle. That was the first thing he did after he woke up, though. Considering he had such a drastic change in personality, we can’t say how his rule would have been otherwise.

After Maegor’s death, Jaehaerys steps in. You know what made him a good, worthy king? Not the fact that he was a male, or could fight, or held the bloodline, or even that he rode the bronze fury. It was because he listened to the council of his queen. Alysanne was the real MVP of his reign. She did more for women’s rights than any other queen. She listened to her people. That is the mark of a good ruler. Walk softly, but carry a big stick. Know when to speak and when to listen.

People who know they have power and control don’t need to constantly remind others. They know. It’s not necessary to maim or murder people for speaking the truth, yet Viserys and Rhaenyra do just that.

When Saera majorly fucked up, they handled it. Not the way Alysanne wanted, by the way. She was sent to apprentice with the Silent Sisters just for sleeping with men while not married. Yet Rhaenyra can have 3 obvious bastards, insult the house with the largest naval force and prove to the entire kingdom that her words mean nothing, and Viserys still declares anyone who calls the strong boys bastards would lose their tongue.

Sorry, what? The Valaryons are one of the richest houses in the realm. They control most of the naval fleet. Maybe don’t make their son a cuckold?

“They had an open marriage!”

NO ONE ELSE KNOWS THAT. To the court and the small folk, Rhaenyra promised to be faithful to Laenor in front of the eyes of the gods, and she very obviously didn’t keep that vow. Why should they trust anything she says as Queen if she can’t even do something as simple as not birthing bastards? That’s what most people don’t realize in the bastard debate.

Whether you can prove it or not, the strong boys don’t look like either of their alleged parents. Like, at all. Even Aegon’s drunk ass could tell shit didn’t add up. Commoners are not going to be any different. They are going to know, and whether they can say it or not, it will still affect how they feel towards her. Can’t keep your marriage vows, why should I believe that you have my best interest at heart?

Because she doesn’t. She is a horrible ruler that lasted less than a year before the small folk rose up and drove her out. She feasted while they starved. It’s that self centered mentality that taints the bloodline and leads to The Unworthy.

Clearly no one learned about not having bastards, and this mofo decided to legitimize them on his death bed. Wasn’t going to be his problem, now was it? He died, someone else has to clean up his mess.

Hmm, not knowing how to clean up your own bastard mess, sounds familiar… oh, like Rhaenyra forcing her father to crawl from his death bed to make sure no one said mean (and true) things about her.

So I’m sorry, what were people saying about her being a good ruler? ‘Cause everywhere I look, I see another reason she should not have ascended the throne.

[sanjoongie]

Bet!

❦ Pairing: Vampire Hunter! Reader (f) x Vampire! Jake (Enhypen)

❦ Genre: modern vampire au, co-workers to lovers? (think buffy and spike)

❦ Warnings: oral (f receiving), bite kink, exhibitionism, public sex, mentions of blood, hypnosis, death

❦Word Count: 1,195

❦Rating: 18+ MDNI, smut

❦Summary: Jake makes a bet with you. If he can manage to make you cum then he gets to bite you too

❦Dedication: @mejuii & @downtoamagicalland because they’ll always read what i write, no matter the cost :3 AND @beomgyusbabygirl for listening to me talk about it 😭

You were desperate to keep your hips from twitching upwards but it was almost becoming an impossible mission at this point.

“What’s wrong, Miss Vampire Hunter?” Jake drawled from between your legs, “I thought you said I couldn't possibly make you cum?”

How did you end up in this particular position, you may wonder? Jake was a vampire who was also your informant. If you needed to pursue a rogue vampire or investigate some questionable hypnosis situations, Jake was your go-to guy. Charming with his good boy looks but with a mouth dirtier than a whores, it was an easy choice to keep him an arm's length away. Especially considering the both of you were on two different sides of an on-going, underground war. But then Jake decided to take your distant attitude as a challenge.

“Have you ever been bitten?” Jake asked seemingly nonchalantly as he wrote down an address for you. Seems there had been sightings of a vampire who was luring a girl by pretending to be her dead boyfriend. 

You sent him a look of disbelief that he couldn't possibly see, with his neck bent over the paper he was diligently writing on. “No? Why would you ask?”

Jake shrugged and handed you the paper. “It could have happened while you were staking one of us. I was just curious.”

You rolled your eyes. “Puh-lease,” You drew out the word into two syllables, “Like I’d be dumb enough to let myself get bit.”

Jake cocked his head curiously, tongue playing over his lip piercing. “You’re not even a little bit curious? Don’t you think you should know? To sympathize with the people you save or just to be aware of your profession?”

You shook your head. You moved to take the paper from him. “I don’t think half those vampires know how to bite without tearing your neck apart. Just like most men can’t perform oral.”

Jake frowned deeply. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He hasn’t let go of the paper yet.

“It means,” You frowned back at him, tugging at the paper, “Why would I let some bloodthirsty creature bite me when I can’t even trust a man to--JAKE, GIVE ME THE DAMN PAPER!” You shouted in frustration.

A teasing smile pulled at his charming features. “How 'bout we make a bet then? If I can make you come, I will bite you.”

“I don’t fucking think so,” You said without even contemplating it.

Jake’s smile widened. “What’s wrong? Think you’ll lose that bet?”

“No! Are you even listening to me? If I don’t trust you to bite me, I certainly don’t trust you between my legs!”

Jake nodded resolutely. “I can do it.”

“Sir, you are getting on my nerves,” You growled, shaking a finger at him in warning. 

Then, the bugger had the audacity to capture the tip of your finger between his teeth, his canines showing now. And your pupils blew wide in reaction. Shit.

“Fine! And if you can’t, you will never make another pass at me,” You vowed.

“Scouts Honor,” Jake held two fingers up but they were crossed, not put together. 

Jake escorted you into a nearby alley, where you could still hear the murmur of the crowd and the traffic but far enough that no one would know what was going on unless they walked down the alley itself. Your head hit the brick wall behind you, trying to quell the cord of lust that was winding tighter and tighter in your stomach. 

Jake’s eyes swirled below you and you knew he was triggering a power of his: telepathy.

Go ahead, moan my name, no one can hear you

“I don’t feel the need,” You said through gritted teeth.

Jake’s tongue swirled around your clit lazily, leg still over one of his shoulders. He started to work his middle finger into your hole and you slammed your fist against the brick, hoping for some pain to clear your head. 

Come on, admit it, Jake’s words swirled inside of your head. His tongue was working up your clit and he was already pushing another finger inside of you. You’re enjoying yourself

You tried to think of every poor girl that had ever fallen victim to a hypnosis from a vampire and lured back to his kiss to get sucked dry. You tried to think of the two puncture wounds that had long dried up on a corpse. Anything to keep your impending orgasm from exploding over you but it was starting to become a lost cause.

Make a mess of my face so I can bite you

That was the last shred of sanity you had left. You cried out desperately, loudly and with enthusiasm as pleasure raced through all of your nerves. Damn, Jake knew how to give head. And just as your orgasm washed through you, Jake moved his mouth to your plush thigh and bit down delicately. Tiny streams of blood pushed from the small holes he created and he licked those lines like you were a melting popsicle. 

"Oh my god," You exclaimed, breathing heavily.

"Jake, actually. Thought you'd have learned that by now," Jake quipped. He daintily licked the holes to seal them and sat back on his heels, letting your leg down.

You pulled down your short skirt quickly. You always dressed like a slut on the hunt for a vampire fang bang, just in case anyone was suspicious of a lonely human wandering into the vampire section of town. You were starting to think that figuratively was biting you in the ass.

"Are you satisfied?" You grumbled, "Our working relationship is ruined now, you damn vampire."

Jake slammed an open hand against the brick, cracking the stone and allowing a poof of dust to fall around you. "That's Mister Vampire to you, Miss Vampire Hunter."

You rolled your eyes. "Is my blood that invigorating, Jakey?" You cooed, not intimidated in the slightest.

Jake was back to his charming self. "To answer your question, no, I'm not satisfied. I'm high on your blood and I have a raging hard on."

Your eyes moved down to his slacks and the clear dick imprint against them. Your eyes moved back up to meet with his brown ones, swirling with red. "I did not sign up for that."

Jake started to play with his lip ring again. "So you're fine with me finding relief with someone else then?"

You narrowed your eyes at the vampire who was suddenly even more cocky, or was it borderline confident? "Jake, I told you, I never want to hear about what you do as a vampire. I just need your information. I don't want to muck about in that gray area and have to hunt you down."

Jake looked smug now. "Well, apparently you need my tongue and fangs now as well."

You visibly winced at his remark. Fuck. 

Want to bet that I can't make you come again?

"Get out of my head, Jake," You growled. Your fingers inched towards the stake you kept firmly between your breasts.

"Only if I can get between your thighs again~"

You sighed. "Who needs who again?"

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Dang we need some more Hellsing love ❤️

I’d like to request a headcanon of Alucard realizing he’s falling in love please

Yes, we do <3 And now I want to work on my Alucard fic damn xD

Shit, no, go back, no way, that can’t be possible.

Alucard hates it.

He can’t fall in love, he’s a monster.

The last thing he wants is to put more people that he cares for in danger.

Someone please rip his heart out and kill him - Permanently this time - He just can’t take the pain of developing feelings.

He’s gotten to the point that he can’t even look at you anymore without wanting to rip his hair out and set himself ablaze.

And if that’s not enough, although he never had the urge to drink anyone’s blood while it spilled, yours was attracting him like a bee to the honey.

Why in the actual hell did fate have to play such an awfully cruel joke on him, an immortal, doomed to eternal agony... To develop feelings on someone as perfect of you?

He’ll keep his distance as much as possible from you, and he’ll even act spontaneously cold, distant and mean to the point that you were sure he hated you, but little did you know, it was the exact opposite.

Without even realising, he finds himself appearing in front of you defensively and protecting you, and with a quick peek to see if you were alright, he’d disappear just as quickly.

If you ever get injured, however, hell WILL break lose, and he will be more violent and aggressive than you’ve ever seen him before.

When you’re sleeping, he’d occasionally come over and sit by the window, reminiscing the awful fate that had befallen him, but seeing you sleeping so peacefully, he managed to come to terms with the fact that he has feelings for you.

He’d never pursue you though, and if even if you were to share feelings for him, Alucard would push you away, for your own good.

It isn’t until your life is in danger because of a stupid mistake - Mistake that meant protecting him and getting injured in the process - That he starts yelling at you for being such a dumbass...

And he unintentionally confesses his love for you while at it - And he doesn’t realise it until you fall quiet, and a silly smile starts forming on your face.

From there on, you get more confident in trying to convince him to accept his feelings for you, and see how it goes on further.

Still, Alucard, for as long as he’s going to be walking the Earth, he will have fright, concern and dread that he will lose you... And though that may happen at some point, he ‘prays’ every day that he will die before you.

He doesn’t think he can take the pain of losing you. Ever.

[appocalipse]

just you — steve harrington

summary: you and steve shared a kiss at a party, and it was supposed to be just that: a meaningless kiss. but now that you've got a date, steve is starting to see things a bit clearer... prompt: "tell me what you want" "you" ♥

—

“Steve?” you say, unable to hide your bewilderment.

It's getting late and you have a date. Not with Steve Harrington, of course. But still, Steve Harrington is the one standing outside your door, looking as handsome as ever — bright eyes, dark jeans, perfect hair. It's some kind of punishment, it must be.

“Hi,” he says. "Can I come in?"

He looks nervous. On autopilot, you step to the side so he can come in and ask, “Is everything okay?” and, because it's Hawkins, you add, "Did something happen?"

Something equals problems from other dimensions, monsters, gates, planets in need of saving — the usual.

You close the door and Steve holds up both hands, a placating gesture. "No, no! It's okay- I mean…”

Your heart starts to race again. "Are the kids-"

"They're fine! That's not it."

About a week ago, you'd kissed Steve Harrington. It happened at a party — a stupid game, a couple of drinks, some unresolved feelings on your part…the damage was done.

You're thinking about it now because even though you both agreed to forget about the kiss, after that unexpected event all the silences shared with him took on a whole new meaning. It's an eternal 'is he thinking about the kiss?', 'did he like the kiss?' and the usual: 'did he regret the kiss?'.

“You look beautiful.”

You look at Steve and all you can think about is how your expression must look really, really silly right now — somewhere between embarrassment and nervousness, your inner teenager saying hello, I'm still not immune to Steve Harrington as much as I like to pretend I am.

He's looking at you as well, and your find comfort in the fact that he looks nervous too — you're dressed up for a date: you've chosen your best dress, your best jewelry, your best shoes. Steve has never seen you so lovely.

“I mean, you always look beautiful but-” he continues, scratching the back of his head, speaking very fast, “b-but tonight you're just, uh…stunning. Honestly.”

You bring your hand to the pendant around your neck and squeeze it lightly, lips parted in surprise, words a mess inside your mind and oh my God, here comes the awkward silence.

“Thanks.”

Thanks?

You try again. “You wanna tell me what you're-”

“Don’t go on that date.”

You'd sooner expect a gate to the Upside Down to open before your very eyes than this. “What?”

“I said don’t-”

“I heard you.”

“Then…please don’t go.”

Please? Is he real? Steve shouldn't be allowed to look like this and say please like that.

You fight the voice of reason in your head and try to keep your inner teenager from getting too excited with where this is going.

“Why not?” you ask.

“You know why not.”

I don't know shit, you want to say. The silence isn't even awkward now — it's overwhelming. The room seems way too tiny, Steve is too close, and you're feeling hot. And Jack could arrive at any moment —the icing on the cake.

“I- Do you-” pretty eloquent, you think, gesturing exasperatedly without even realizing it. It's a miracle you don't run your hand through your hair and ruin it entirely. “You can’t just-”

Steve wisely says nothing. He just stands there, slightly flushed, all too handsome. There's a small part of you that inexplicably wants to punch him in the face.

You sigh. “Tell me what you want,” you manage.

Steve responds as if he has the answer on the tip of his tongue, as if it's been there all along, as if it's obvious.

“You,” he whispers. There's a softness in his brown eyes, the usual gentleness, the usual affection, and you lose yourself deep enough that you don't notice the distance closing between you and him. He grows more confident, more sure of his words, his gaze never leaving yours, “You, I just want you.”

Steve takes another step and now he's close enough to touch you...so he does. He takes your face in his hands, firm but a little hesitating, testing the waters.

Your earrings dangle elegantly as you stare at him, dangerously close to short-circuiting. Steve watches as one of them taps against your cheek softly.

You could kiss him, you think. The heels you're wearing would make it so much easier. You could just lean over and...

Steve gently touches your lower lip with the pad of his thumb, eyes following the movement; a silent question. Your mind goes blank. You exhale through your mouth, lips now slightly parted. Your hands slide to his elbows, suddenly feeling the need to hold onto something as he inches closer.

Jack is a nice guy — he's always been kind to you, he's smart and very patient, handsome enough to attract a few glances now and then.

His only flaw is...he's not Steve.

And the only reason you agreed to go out with him is because you were trying to forget about Steve. Steve, Steve, Steve. It's always him. More unfair than standing Jack up would be going on a date with him for the wrong reasons.

You close the gap. To be honest, you don't think too much about what your doing; it kinda happens. And Steve certainly wasn't expecting it to happen like this either, because for a brief moment his entire body tenses up and he lets out a surprised gasp…but then he moves. You feel his smile against your mouth as he kisses you back, one hand leaving your face to move down to your lower back and bring you even closer, the kiss growing harder, more tempting, more certain.

You don't even notice you're moving until your back hits the wall and Steve presses you against it, chuckling into your mouth.

“Steve,” you gasp, the inexplicable urge to laugh suddenly washing over you. He tries to kiss you again but you're attempting to catch your breath, so you turn your head away and giggle. Steve kisses your neck instead, taking your waist into his hands. "I should call Jack," you remind him.

"Later?" he murmurs tentatively against your skin.

“It'll be just- oh. Ten minutes.”

One last kiss and he lets you go. You miss his touch right away.

But it's alright, you think. You have the entire night. Your entire lives.

[mewtwo24]

MAWS - An Allegory for Autism, too?

God like…there have been so many amazing posts about maws right now, and I don’t want to detract from any of them because I absolutely agree with how powerful an allegory the show is in regards to being an immigrant/alien.

But at the same time I just. I have been literally losing my mind at how autistic Clark feels. And at this point I can’t tell if I’m seeing things that aren’t there or he really is just so god damn ‘tism it makes his experiences of being othered two- and triplefold.

Like. Okay. He keeps acting on what he thinks is just or morally right in the moment, but sometimes struggles to see the social signals (or bigger picture) that might indicate somebody is deceiving him. If he does realize he’s being deceived, he does the right thing anyway even if it’s to his detriment--because he can’t accept looking away from a problem he might have resolved. Helping someone, no matter how difficult or unreasonable.

Okay.

When he’s trying to protect himself from Lois. He tells the truth in the most evasive way humanly possible, and because he thinks she’ll find him dashing from saving people he comes off as dissembling. He is convinced that he has charmed her to no end with his alter ego since he’s Such A Super Cool Strong Normal Guy as Superman, and that she couldn’t possibly be suspicious any longer because he told the truth. Lois wants to throttle him for lying. He has no idea as to why that is--and is openly surprised that she’s upset.

This is not even touching the fact that he lived for YEARS with Jimmy and literally destroyed stuff in front of him by accident, and never once thought Jimmy knew some shit was going on with him. Jimmy, being subtle and considerate, didn’t snitch because he was a homie. Clark does not notice in the slightest. ‘IT COULD HAVE BEEN THE SCREWS’ ASS.

This also not touching on the “How did you know you were bulletproof?” “I didn’t. I just knew you weren’t.” Despite pervasive signs that his powers weren’t operating as they should in that area. Despite knowing Lois was still upset with him and may not forgive him, could hurt him with what she knew.

Okay.

I'm going to put the rest under a cut because I never go on short tangents:

In a lot of New Age illegitimate medicine and psychological constructs, autistics are often conceptualized as people with ‘special powers’ or religious enlightenment in accordance with some manifestations of their disability. Clark’s superspeed and strength and heat vision can EASILY be seen as an extension of that. However, what I really want to talk about is the latest episode’s super hearing. 

Most autistics have sensory issues, both with textures but also with hearing. A very common surprise for undiagnosed individuals, for example, is that they use music and headphones to stim in a more socially acceptable way. Particularly loud noises or constant loud chatter can cause distress otherwise, and having constant meltdowns/catatonia reactions isn’t feasible for survival. 

Of all his powers that might be a weakness I think it is a fascinating--and honestly, deliberate--choice that speaks volumes (please pardon the pun). Because that’s the horrible thing about having sensory overload with your hearing; you don’t always have a choice as to what you’re subjected to. Ear-piercing alarms can flare at any moment, people can play what they consider harmless pranks, or day to day fighting to focus can make every sound feel like nails on a chalkboard from the overstimulation. 

While Clark is able to distinguish voices if he knows what to look for, lack of sleep and rest tremendously weaken his ability to focus. I noticed that as the episode wore on, there was a distinct and exponential progression. At first, when he overdid it and didn’t sleep for a day or so, he still managed to operate without hurting himself or risking others. But as he kept pushing himself without rest to answer every cry for help, he grew progressively and sharply overwhelmed. He quickly became overstimulated by the mounting flurry of oncoming stimuli (e.g. the truck about to hit someone, dodging people around him, the relentless super hearing flooding in) and began to react in ways that were careless and random. 

Though his powers appear supernatural and inexhaustible, we are forced to face the fact that he still possesses hard limits. Even if autistics seem more capable than NTs at points, there is a reason “high-functioning” became an obsolete terminology with which to differentiate people on the spectrum ‘who seemed to be above average’. Because just as we see Clark forcing himself to exert his superpowers until his body collapses to prove he is good, autistics also push themselves to be useful/helpful/amenable/inobtrusive in order to be accepted as something not other/monstrous.

(Please note, by the way, towards the end of the newest episode--his power comes out in a flash of blue, overpowering light as the last of his strength begins to wane. A surefire sign that he was truly at the end of his endurance before he’s knocked unconscious.)

The fact that Clark starts to learn how to listen in for people so fast, but also doesn’t think to tune them out (if he can) adds even more to the first point too. Because he can’t turn it off in full, it means he has no way to ignore people who are hurting no matter how small--and for him that places the cognitive burden of making a choice. And he can’t choose not to help people.

Okay.

Clark’s incipient refusal to discover more about himself, the sheer overwhelmed look he had as a child--but also as an adult--at the prospect of having to rewrite and re-evaluate everything he thought he knew about himself. There is no excitement, no positive anticipation. When he chooses to face it, it’s because he perceives a kind of responsibility to better understand/control his powers to help more people. And it’s because his friends support him that he ever finds the will to do it. He has no desire to acknowledge or define his otherness head-on. (Once again, he can only act with courage on behalf of others and/or to ultimately win their acceptance.) 

GOD. AND. AND how he tells Lois how much she made him “come out of his shell” and forced him to face the world, to stop living in his formerly simple bubble. How autistics instinctively hate breaks in routine and the unknown and the horrible ordeal of change, especially if they have trauma linked to it. But he was trying because yeah, as people we need new and varying stimuli to be happy and healthy. To be alive is to change, whether one likes it or not. 

How part of the reason Lois is so dear to him is because she makes him feel capable and safe when he has to face the truth of his difference and change. (THIS IN THE CONTEXT OF THE LATEST EPISODE. “CLARK, JUST TRY TO BE NORMAL”. I’M EATING MY SHIRT. THE ENDLESS OSCILLATION BETWEEN HIS DESPERATION TO BE NORMAL BUT ALSO STRIVE FOR MORE, AND HOW LOIS ANSWERS BOTH THOSE WARRING CALLS WITHIN HIM JUST BY BEING HERSELF.)

SCREAMS.

Okay.

The most recent episode being a direct result of Lois and Jimmy’s acceptance of his alter ego Superman. Because of course Superman is the preferred variation of himself. Everyone loves Superman. Everyone finds him cool and heroic and dazzling. Jimmy gets social media acclaim that he enjoys from it. Lois has a Cool Guy Boyfriend, and she told him outright she thinks he’s amazing in the last episode when he complained about being weird.

Why go back to being Clark? Under the unending burden of his new super hearing, he seems to be so drowned in voices that he forgets a very important one: Lois. She loved him as Clark long before Superman existed, the lumbering gentle giant who always treated people with dignity and respect was more than enough for her to fall in love. And that’s why it’s so poignant, but also so unbelievably devastating when she asks him to be normal in the newest episode.

Because what she was trying to say was “Please stop overexerting yourself, you’re hurting yourself. This is only going to end badly if you don’t rest and think about how you want to move forward. You’re enough as you are. You’re enough as Clark Kent.” She was trying to tell him that Superman isn’t all that matters, that Superman is a person with feelings and needs and vulnerabilities, just like anyone else. 

What makes this miscommunication so powerful to me is that it’s clear Clark’s ability to differentiate has become confused ever since Lois and Jimmy accepted him. How much of him is Clark, how much of him is Superman? Before, when he had decided Superman was too much for him to handle and something that needed to stay hidden, he knew how to behave day to day. But now that the aforementioned operating precept has been dismantled by their acceptance, what is his blueprint now? To be freed of his chains, but to be too afraid to leave the cage--he becomes so openly and rapidly lost. It was easier when he didn’t have to choose or think about it.

Okay.

Like. I can see how it could be construed as a result of his inexperience, right? He’s never met intergalactic beings, so how would he know? He only just unlocked his powers as Superman, so of course he’s clumsy about it. He wasn’t a born fighter or a trained one, so of course he’s going to be a little green when he’s in combat.

But that’s the thing for me. It’s not that he doesn’t always have the time to re-evaluate, or strategize, or notice he’s being deceived. He just has such an unwavering sensibility, this one-track sense of “I am strong. So I must protect. And to do that I need to act.” And a lot of times this is as far as his thinking goes. And if that isn’t the most autistic shit imaginable, I’m really not sure what is. 

The overshot clumsiness of his movements and occasional awkwardness, how he’s learned to smooth that over by being helpful to people or meek to be accepted. Like. I swear to god this show is going to kill me. 

So much of the reason he tanked so badly in this episode was because he was using a broken coping mechanism to its absolute extreme. And instead of listening to his bodily and mental signals that he could no longer sustain helping every single person in the world, he just forces himself to push through. He’s so desperate to prove he’s a good person and belong, he doesn’t notice that it’s literally destroying him from the inside. 

The mask that is Superman, and the unmasking that is the mindful and imperfect Clark Kent. That everyone adores Superman and wants him to fulfill their every need, no matter what it costs him to be that person. The fact that the moment they learn he’s an alien or see the raw extent of his power (pushed to unsustainable limits in desperation) he becomes a horrible, inhuman threat and a monster. The fact that it’s his friends and his family who see him unmasked as Clark and love him just as he is, that they care little for what Superman can give them because Clark is already enough. That they love Clark precisely BECAUSE he is somebody with weaknesses and flaws and imperfections, that adore his quirks and endearing fumbling.

The horrific reality that the more he leans into his masking out of desperation to be accepted, the more he estranges and incites violent rejection in the people around him. Even if he wants to do the right thing, he is so staunchly and too openly opposed to the malice of others that they hold grudges from the stark, exposing contrast. How choosing to be Superman can endanger and estrange the people who love Clark, isolating him even further. And yet when he is unmasked and acts like himself, he is hardly ever taken seriously or people take advantage of his meekness/willingness to help. 

The first episode. When he just keeps chanting ‘be normal be normal be normal’ and the more pressure he puts on himself, the more he hyperfixates and the less his actions align with his intentions. The way he can never do both and can only manage to sustain one at a time. The core conflict that’s ever present; the desire to be ordinary under the reality that you are extraordinary, with the agonizing knowledge that you never had the choice to live under so much difference and scrutiny.

The never-ending autistic battle of being socially acceptable to the detriment of your greatest virtues: your passion and your honesty. To be left feeling empty and drained despite your success, no closer to self-satisfaction or feelings of human camaraderie. The reality of being always forced to choose between one bad option and a worse one, that the only choice you have is what you’re willing to sacrifice. That people will toy with your vulnerabilities no matter how desperately you try to conceal them, how your weaknesses will be a game or a spectacle to the rest of the world.

How one has to wonder to what degree the Superman witnessed in Lois’ memory capsule was pushed to the very brink. Or the pointed lack of context: what brought him to such extremes, what could inspire so much indifference to the pain of others? How, while it is frightening, he is a person just like anyone else--who possesses the potential for raw good and raw bad. Why is it that everyone so easily believes that his potential will be negative? Why is it so difficult to have faith in someone who is trying so hard to be good?

The irony of Clark’s predicament, that the sincere fulfillment he feels upon helping others is precisely what inspires fear in those who insist on their comparative self-serving normality.

“What’s your angle!? What’s in it for you?” “Trust me, kids. Nobody puts on that big a show of being good. Unless they’re hiding something…All he wants is to pull cats out of trees? Yeah, I’m not buying it.” “He’s not normal like you and me….If he really wanted to hurt us, what could we do about it?...Just him having a bad day could spell the end for us…Well, not all of us share your faith.” “You want to be number one? You don’t get there by writing fluff. You go for blood. That’s something Perry never understood. Do you?”

The unbearable but inevitable fact that being autistic is a perpetual experience of loss. If you are not selfish or egocentric like the rest of the world, you are naive and weak. If you exhibit an ounce of self-centered desire or emotion, you are something that must be eradicated for the greater good. No amount of good that you accomplish can ever balance the scales of what has been lost or spent to sustain you, because at the end of the day your life is considered one without value. It is irrelevant that entire military regimes have collectively decimated and endangered thousands for their so-called “results”, because you as a sole actor are so much easier to blame and trample. 

The enduring fact, especially in a culture so absorbed in easy answers and harsh binaries, that the human mind does not care for the struggle of truth. 

Anyway if you need me I’ll be clawing at the walls thanks

[moonlight-prose]

#10 "why are you doing this?" "because I love you" with Joel from the prompt list? The angst potential is limitless but also the fluff ♥️🤌

THE WASTELAND OF A BLEEDING HEART

a/n: i took a small writing break for a few days, but i finally managed to churn out the end of this fic. it's not my best thing i've written. to be entirely honest i don't really like how it turned out, but we live and die by the pen right. i hope you like it babes.

summary: joel's fears began to interfere.

word count: 1.2k+

pairing: joel miller x reader

warnings: not explicit, angsty ass joel, stubborn joel + stubborn reader dynamic, miscommunication (cause...*gestures to joel* yeah), fluff.

You had every right to be mad at him. After what you two had gone through, the way he had been treating you, gave you enough reason. You should be mad at him. But then he looked at you, his lips pulling up into a barely there grin, brown eyes pulling you in, and you knew…the anger would never last.

Until now it seemed.

“Miller!” you called out, jogging to catch up with Tommy, his quick pace a little too fast for even you. “Where’s the fire?”

“No fire,” he smiled, his hands shoved in his pockets to stave off the cold.

“Good.” You should have grabbed your thicker jacket off the back of the chair. Although it never even occurred to you at the time. Not when your mind was going in a million different directions at once. “I’m looking for Joel—”

You stopped at the sight of his expression shifting, quickly being masked by another carefree smile. Yet you could see beneath his facade; caught the glimpse of worry in his eyes that darted away from you. That was the problem with Tommy Miller. He was too easy to fucking read. Which left you in a predicament such as this.

“What happened?” you asked, noticing how he barely even looked at you.

“Joel uh…”

Your brow creased. “Joel what?”

“Listen it wasn’t my idea and if somethin’ is happening between you two—”

“Tommy.”

He sighed, glancing up at the sunlight that seemed to be the only warmth in Jackson. “He told me to take you off the outdoor patrol shift.”

“He—” You felt your chest tighten painfully, that familiar feeling of loneliness settling back in your bones. “Did you…take me off?”

Tommy nodded reluctantly, his eyes never once meeting yours. “Said he didn’t want you to get hurt, and I…well shit I kind of agree with him.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” You felt the burn in your chest begin to spread—an uncomfortable sensation you always hated. “You can’t just take me off patrol when everyone is supposed to—”

Tommy’s eyes finally snapped to you, his lips forming a thin line. “I know you’re pissed, but think about it honey. If Joel loses you…there’s no coming back for him.” He sighed, dipping his head to glance at the icy covered ground. “I’d rather not bring back that version of my brother.”

Pain erupted throughout you, clogging every part of your body until you could feel your heart screaming. Though Tommy wore the face of a sorrowful man, you knew that he had simply taken away your initiative. He made the choice for you just as Joel did without bothering to let you in on any of it. Anger simmered beneath the surface of your pain; the mask you were wearing—clear and free of any emotions.

Somehow that made Tommy’s expression even worse. He would never truly know how hurt you were, because you wouldn’t tell him.

How could you?

“Have a good day Tommy,” you said, your voice void of any emotion.

“Wait—”

You didn’t give him a chance to say anything more, too focused on the fact that Joel had once again made a choice for you. Simply because he believed it was the best option. Part of you wondered where it stemmed from; why he was so adamant on keeping you in the town limits, unwilling to let you go. Except then you began to count. Each person Joel lost, each tragedy he had to endure, all added up to something in the end.

Hours later you found yourself still thinking about it as you attempted to engross yourself in a novel. One you read over and over again, too stubborn to let it go. Maybe that’s where you and Joel were the same. Two people who couldn’t find it in themself to allow change in a world that had already taken away so much.

The familiar creak of the front door brought you back for a brief moment, your anger flickering to life in your chest. Joel simply grinned at the sight of you curled up in a chair, one of his shirts adorning your body. A blanket so old he was worried it was unhealthy to be around, was spread out across your legs. 

Except that’s not what stopped him in his tracks. The glare he felt burn through his chest, plummeting straight down to his stomach, caused him to freeze. His eyes tried to search your steeled expression for an explanation.

“What’s wrong?”

“Tommy let me know today that you told him to take me off the patrol shift.” The ire in your voice surprised you.

His eyes fell shut, a breathy shit leaving his mouth. “I was gonna tell you—”

“He said you didn’t want me to get hurt.”

“That’s true,” he replied, shrugging out of his jacket and draping it over the back of his chair. “Can I explain please honey?”

You stood, letting the book and blanket fall to the floor. “No. You don’t get to make those decisions for me Joel. I’m more than capable of handling myself out there and you more than anyone knows that.”

The step he took forward coupled with the look on his face nearly bent your resolve, but you stood your ground. You were upset with him for a reason.

“I told Tommy to let me tell you first before doing anything rash. Apparently he still doesn’t listen very well.” He sighed, his hands falling to rest at his hips as he saw your guarded demeanor. “I just don’t want anything happenin’ to you.”

“That doesn’t give you the right to make that choice for me,” you said. “I just want to know why. Why are you doing this?”

“Because I love you.” The words were blurted out before he even comprehended them himself. His eyes widened slightly, mouth snapping shut as he waited for your response.

You let out a shaky breath, your hands falling to your sides limply. “What?” you breathed.

Two months ago you had said those exact words to him in the safety of your bedroom. The fear of setting them free continued to linger in the back of your mind. Yet there he was. Finally telling you the one thing he was most scared of—loving you completely…only to one day lose you. That alone broke off a piece of your heart.

“I can’t lose you like I lost her,” he said softly. “I won’t.”

“Joel,” you whispered, finally moving towards him until you were close enough for his hands to reach for you. “You won’t lose me.”

“You don’t know—”

Grasping his face, you pulled him close, his breath washing across your chin. “You won’t lose me. Okay?” He nodded, his lips brushing against yours. “But you have to let me choose for myself.”

“I will,” he replied, giving into your touch, allowing himself to be loved wholeheartedly for the first time since Sarah. “Just promise me you’ll be careful.”

“You got it cowboy.” You smiled, pressing a kiss to the corner of his lips as his laughter washed over you, settling deep in your chest and keeping you warm.

[babyyweebbitch]

The stupidest/dangerous shit they’ve done with you around them (dad/brother! Characters)

idk why i randomly thought of leon and y/n getting into a helicopter crash (surviving obviously) and here we are 😀 also this was made a long ass time ago, i just never posted it.

content warning : black female reader ; injuries ; RE characters being fucking stupid ; injuries ; bleeding ; fire ; hand burning ; being stabbed (aka carlos being an idiot) ;

Chris “big arms” redfield

Managed to break his nose doing a push-up 🗿

chris was on temporary mandatory leave from work after a mission he was on, he ended up getting hurt pretty bad and the past few months he was resting and sleeping in either the living room or the bedroom. you helped him with a lot of things like bathing, eating and even walking around the entire house while he held onto your shoulders. this was one of his worst injuries he’s had since you were born. recently he’s been starting to get back on his feet and do things on his own, obviously with a little bit of assistance from you. he felt so bad his daughter was helping him do simple things but you told him over and over you didn��t mind at all and that he’s helped you since you were born so you can help him now

“hey hon… do you think i should start working out again?” chris asked you from his bathroom. he was looking at himself and noticed he lost muscle and weight. you were in the kitchen when he asked that and you got up and went to him. you saw he was looking at himself in the mirror and how he kinda looked insecure

“i mean, you’re gonna have to work again in a bit so yeah. i can help you!” you said pretty excited as you did. chris nodded and he thought

“how about i try….. doing push-ups?” he suggested. you nodded in agreement and he went to the living room, moving to the center of the room to get down and do push-ups

“okay, do at least… 5 to start with!” you said, he got into push-up position and he started… 1….2…3….4…5…6…7….8…9…. he started doing more than you said to start off with and you can see his arms starting to shake a bit, remember he hasn’t worked out in months so he lost a bit of strength. after pushing himself up for 10 he fell down pretty hard, face fucking first into the floor. all you heard was

“ow fuck!” come from him and seeing him grab his nose, rolling over to his back to comprehend for a second what just happened and he sat up

“i just told you to do 5…..” you said, not even surprised he broke his nose. the broken noses between you two was a lot. chris opened his mouth to protest but then closed it after he realised you did say to do 5 “mhmm…. oh my god, do you want me to help you?” chris stood up and shook his head before going to the bathroom to take care of his nose.

while he was gone you kinda gremlin walked to the cabinets and climbed onto the counter to grab a snack. you were a fingertip away when chris cleared his throat behind you

“and i told you to stop doing that, missy” you groaned as you got down

“even with a broken nose you’re bossy….”

“not bossy — just worried”

Leon “can’t operate a vehicle without crashing it” kennedy

crashed a fucking helicopter 🗿

so since you were a kid you’ve practically been an agent, since you were a kid you’ve been in so many dangerous situations and dragged into so many missions that you can technically work for the goddamn government. and yet again you were dragged into a week long mission with leon. how you may ask? wrong place wrong time now you’re shooting mfs and fighting for your life

you and leon managed to get a helicopter and escape from a building where (mainly) you were trying to be killed at, you sat in the back while leon flew the helicopter and you sighed thinking it was over finally

“how the hell do i keep getting dragged into this shit….” you asked him, getting up to walk towards him and as leon was about to speak another helicopter hit yours from the side causing you to fall down and leon lose control for a second, after a few seconds of spinning out of control you finally stabilised and you grabbed the closest gun to you and started shooting at the other helicopter and the people inside

“Y/N! what—“ you shot the pilot in the head and the helicopter hit yours once again for a bit, the people who where there started shooting back missing horribly and shooting the back as they crashed. you looked out the helicopter to see what happened and leon lost control once again “fuck fuck fuck!”

“dad! pull it up!” you yelled as you made your way to run towards him but it was already too late as the helicopter hit the side of a building and the first thing leon could think of was protecting you as it crashed so he got up and tackled you to the helicopter floor, holding the back of your head and using his body as a shield just incase something happened.

the next few moments were a blur but the helicopter ended up crashing in the middle of a intersection in the city. you woke up and tried to move but you had a large piece of the helicopter in your thigh and glass in your arm. leon was knocked out cold so you tried your best to drag him to safety even with shit inside your body. you used what you can find in a BSAA truck to take out the stuff in your leg and arm and used what you could to clean the wounds before going to check on leon

he woke up about 20 minutes later to you sitting on the floor with a bottle of water in your hand and bandages wrapped around your arm and leg. he panicked and went to see if you were okay

“Y/N! ow…. fuck..” he grabbed his side and he crawled over to you “what happened?”

“you crashed the helicopter at the intersection over there, i dragged you over here and tended to our wounds” you explained, leon sighed and he looked down

“what happened to your arm…? it’s still bleeding”

“i woke up and there was a piece of the helicopter in my thigh and glass in my arm. i got out most of everything but i’ll live” you stood up and went over to him “can you walk?” he sat there for a second before nodding and you held your hand out to him, you helped him up “good, because we got shit to take care of and i dont wanna do it alone” you handed him his gun and you grabbed yours. leon kinda stood there watching you walk away

his daughter was so badass he felt like an imposter tbh…

Jake “shouldn’t have a motorcycle license” muller

burned cookies then burned himself with the pan 🗿

jake had just gotten home from the store, it was your birthday so he wanted to make you some nice things and decorate the house for you — usually on your birthday he was either on a mission or something so this was the one birthday he was actually home for it. he felt like a horrible brother but you knew he had better things to do. you actually liked being home with your dog and watching movies with him in the living room. jake would call you on your birthday so you didn’t feel like he forgot it and Sherry would even get you some stuff

you were out with your dog just at the park playing fetch with him and giving him treats. you talked to a few people at the park while your dog was rolling around in the dirt with the happiest look on his face. you decided you wanted to go home so you called him towards you and you both started walking home. you didn’t have to put him on a leash because one he didn’t leave your side, even if he saw something and two he was pretty well trained and where you lived you didn’t have to have a dog on a leash if they were well trained

jake was making cookies and frosting the cake he made you, he kinda forgot the cookies were in the oven because he was putting his art skills to the test with the frosting and he was drawing something on the top. the smoke alarm started going off and he turned around to see the cookies were on fire in the goddamn oven

“OH FUCK! OH SHIT!” he panicked and he grabbed the oven mit to grab the pan. he was so stressed tf out right now he kinda forgot he’s supposed to grab the pan with the oven mit so he accidentally grabbed it with his bare fucking hand and yelled out in pain. you opened the door to the alarm going off and smoke so you ran to the kitchen to see what happened

“Jake?! what happened?!” you yelled out to see what was happening, you saw the cake, the burned cookies and the house decorated and you put two and two together. you giggled a bit before putting a mit on and taking the cookies out for him, placing them in the sink and ran the water over them. “jake… you didn’t —“

“i know i didnt have too but i wanted to — ow my hand!” you laughed a bit and grabbed his hand to see what was wrong, you ran water over it and grabbed the first aid kit to tend to his burn

“i know…. thank you jake — it actually means a lot to me to be honest….” you said, keeping your eyes off him as you wrapped his hand with the bandage. you sniffled and then used one of your hands to wipe your eyes. jake saw this and thought he did something wrong

“hey… why… why are you crying, sis…?” he asked, a hint of concern in his voice as he did. he had a soft spot for you since you were the only family he had left so he only showed kindness towards you

“it’s just…. i love this so much… you’re the only person out of all the people i know that actually remembered today” you said as you finished wrap his hand and then you got a tissue to wipe your tears away. jake felt his heart break once you had said that

“did sherry not text or call you?”

“no…. but it’s okay — she’s probably busy or something, it’s fine. as long as i have you and my dog that’s all that matters” you said jokingly and then went to help with the rest of the cooking stuff. after the cooking was done you and jake ate and just chilled around the house. it wasn’t much but you loved it — a lot and you couldn’t ask for anything better

Carlos mop hair oliveira

stabbed himself with a knife he just sharpened like a dumbass🗿 (this is literally a few months after raccoon city, the year is like 1999 now-)

after the events of raccoon city Carlos told jill he had a younger sister that he had stay in the next city while he was in Raccoon city his entire mission, both you and carlos used to live with an old cop named Rob who ended up dying before carlos left for his mission so you’ve been alone in the apartment ever since. carlos called you before he and Jill came back to warn you that a new person was coming.

once they actually came you and Jill got close and carlos was very happy to see you happy so he didn’t do anything to intrude your relationship with jill. whenever jill was home she spent time with you, she even did some of her research with you and you even cracked some cases for her , not because she asked you to but because you had a tendency to not stop doing research about a specific thing until you were certain it was literally everything you can do, she’s said that you can work with her when you’re older and carlos even agreed

one day while Jill was out on a mission you and carlos were home alone just chilling, you were playing on a gameboy on the couch and Carlos was sharpening one of his knifes and humming along to a song that played on the radio, you were too involved in your game so you didn’t know what was happening outside of your gameboy until carlos stood up after sharpening the knife

“ah—ha! finally sharpened! Y/N check this out!” carlos was known to be quite the dumb ass at home so him waving the knife around like he was in a fight with a viking was normal behaviour to you, again — you were too involved in your game so you kinda just nodded and “uh-huh”ed. you looked up to see what he was doing and you sighed

“you’re gonna stab yourself with that….”

“i wont stab myself! i’ll be completely o—“ the upstairs neighbour had dropped something on the floor causing a loud noise, carlos jumped thinking it was something bad but as he jumped he let go of the knife and it stabbed him right in the side of his thigh. everything kinda happened in slow motion to you and once carlos screamed out in pain you finally realised the dumbass himself was wrong

“carlos!” you jumped up from your seat to go and help carlos sit down on the couch, carlos was hesitant about sitting on the couch because he was worried about the blood (and jill)

“why the couch!? why not the floor! fuck!”

“fuck the couch, carlos! your leg is more important!” you snapped at him, kneeling down to look at the knife in his leg. you were thinking about calling jill for a second before you remembered she was on a mission “okay…. uhhhh grab that pillow and look away” you said to carlos. he looked at you with a combination of pain and confusion

“what’re you—“

“just grab the damn pillow and look away, dumbass” carlos did as he was told and that’s when you grabbed the knife, counted from 3 to 2 to give him faulse hope you were actually being nice and yanked that fucker out. carlos who was fully convinced you actually had 100% love for him and was gonna go down to one screamed out in pain and punched the arm of the couch

“you fuckin— oohhhh that hurt! why didn’t you go to one?!” he said kinda muffled in the pillow he started biting, you put the knife on the table before you went to get the first aid kit with all the stitching equipment and cleaning supplies

“because you’re a dumbass — i told you that you would stab yourself with that….”

“so all those times i counted to one and took your bandaids off as a kid didn’t mean anything at that point —“

“all my injuries were accidents and me not having a peanut brain… yours was just because you’re a dumbass” you went back over to clean his wound

“that’s mean…..”

“it’s okay — not all of us have normal sized brains” you reached up to pat his head before going to get the stitching stuff ready. one thing carlos was afraid of was getting stitches and shots. once you had to hold him down while jill gave him stitches on his calf. carlos may look tough but he would rather let a cut get infected or raw dog a cut before he ever gets stitches

“okay, why don’t you slap a bandaid on it and call it a day? the stitches are a bit much”

“carlos, i will call the cops to hold you down, you’re going to the hospital or you hold the pillow and let me do this. either way, you’re getting stitches so pick one”

“call the national guard, bitch”

long story short you literally had cops come to hold him down while you stitched his leg :D

[atsadi-shenanigans]

What Shall We Become 14 - Kevin Bacon

Y'all talk about space dongs, before being rudely interrupted.

On AO3.

Your mouth tastes real weird when you wake up. And you’re more tired than you were when you went to sleep. Like that line from that Bilbo Baggins guy about being butter scraped too thin.

You lie on your stomach, numbed arm beneath your cheek (all of it crusted in drool), and the other arm twisted up all weird beneath you.

“Mgrghngh,” you say as you roll to your side.

You’re more tired than you was when Astarion pulled you outta the river he left you to drown in.

A voice lilts all pretty nearby. Speaking of. The man (elf vampire) sits a few feet away, needle in hand, working surprisingly quickly for a man with no sight.

Oh fuck. You lost your whole, entire corn-husking mind last night. And he fucking heard you do it.

“’M good,” you manage and reach for your bag for a dirt potion.

 And then wait for him to respond. Because he’s the type of asshole that relishes in the kind of barbed commentary that comes from watching somebody lose their whole corn-husking mind. Only he sits quiet. Sews a couple more stitches before tying off his work and snipping the thread with his teeth.

It’s your pants (trousers). He’s slit the sides and rigged them up with leather cording. It’s a real Mad Max kinda biker look, but it’s so much better then running around a refrigerator cave in a shirt and a fucking breechcloth (that shit was for summertime in fucking North Carolina, goddamnit).

“Try these on,” he says and holds it out. His back is mostly to you.

You stand all awkward. One knee cracks. And you shuffle over as pins and needles sweep up and down both your arms. Astarion sits all placid, tucking his needle into…is that a sewing kit? Man’s got a sewing kit? It even kinda looks like a goddamn cookie tin.

You slip one leg through, then the other. Gotta fiddle with them laces, and in the end, they really are side chaps.

“These’re great,” you say. You can even wiggle around without it pinching nowhere. It’s a little loose in the crotch, but that don’t even matter. Only thing it don’t got is pockets.

“I have something else,” he says. And reaches into his back and pulls out…

“Panties,” you say, in fucking Chondathan (at least he told you that’s what it was, this time).

He grins. “Well done. Now, I only had enough material for three, and you’ll need to belt them, but it should be more comfortable than stuffing that bundle into your trousers.”

That sounds like an innuendo. Shit, man made you panties. It’s the most weirdly personal gift you ever got in your whole life.

Great timing, too, if the general achiness curling low in your gut is any indication. Bitch is late. Not surprising, given all the fuck shit that’s happened. But still. She was gonna show up at some point.

What he made is kinda like ancient Roman bikini bottoms (which was a thing). Ties on each side and still a little baggy, but weird, old-fashioned granny panties is still panties that you didn’t have a minute ago.

You consider tapping his shoulder and thanking the man. Wonder briefly at how you’re more comfortable in your own head about like, physical affection with everyone else (imagining swooning against Karlach and frenching Shadowheart when she closes gashes you didn’t even notice). But when it comes to him, you just…can’t. Can’t even entertain the idea of joke kissing him, not even in your own head. It feels…weird. Like standing on the edge of a cliff.

“I did make a few hasty modifications,” he says as you start to unlace them trousers so you can slip on the panties. Which is when you catch his smirk. You seen that smirk before. That one’s goblin shit, right there.

“What did you do?” you say.

He waves a hand. “It’s merely cosmetic. And not my finest work.”

Did he leave one of them panties crotchless or something? Rig it to rip up the—

Nope. They’re all solid enough. And decorated with a simple piece of sloppy embroidery. Heat rushes up your face and you almost cringe away, until you realize that he wasn’t putting a dong on each one, but what you think is supposed to be a mushroom.

Because he’s a fucking goblin and is incapable of passing up an opportunity to poke at you.

“Cute,” you say.

“Aren’t they just?” He grins wide enough to show off his fangs. “I felt we should commemorate your first brush with hallucinogenics, darling. Consider it a souvenir.”

“And you thought the best thing for that was stitching them into my new drawers.”

“I had to contribute something.”

You stare at him for a long moment.

This all reeks of guilt. The whole “cutting you loose” thing. And goddamnit, it’s working. You still ain’t sure what you should be feeling about that. What the just thing is. Part of you thinks you should be pissed. Any maybe you are? But he’s also just…it’s difficult. It was a shit decision. Making it would have been a shit decision either way. And what saved you wasn’t him or even you; it was your bag getting caught up in some rocks. Ones you might not have come near if he hadn’t cut that rope. And then you woulda drowned for sure and been a bare-assed ringwraith in a fucking cave forever.

This might be him manipulating you. Making sure he does nice things so you don’t get mad—cause he ain’t fessed up on it. You noticed that.

Then again, he was acting all weird about this whole thing even before that cavern, when he realized he couldn’t see and you realized he’d have to rely on you. He really doesn’t like owing people.

What a fuck shit mess.

“Everything all right?” he says because you been quiet for a solid moment.

You wriggle back outta them trousers, pluck them up. Eyeball the tent. “I’m gonna go get changed, and then what’s say we get the hell outta here?”

***

You got three dirt potions left. You been down here, on y’all’s own for about three days already, you think. You should start rationing the fuckers. When you tell Astarion your plan, he starts speaking Chondathan at you. And he’s somehow even more pedantic about it than Gale makes you repeat yourself over and over until he’s satisfied with your inflection (fucking language rolls its goddamned r’s, which you was never good at).

After thirty minutes of you spitting all down your chin like a dumbass, he finally lets up.

He’s so quiet behind you, after that. Man’s got his pickup lines; can turn on the sleaze in less than a second. But casual conversation that ain’t complaining about something or imagining killing something or someone?

“So,” you say. Go for the tried and true, “You got any hobbies?”

“What, aside from murder and picking locks?”

Jesus, he ain’t never gonna let that go.

“Yeah,” you say.

A long pause. The cavern y’all are in now is lit up a little by them mushrooms. Y’all skirt around another bigass crystal somehow lit up from within. Probably some bullshit magic. It’d all be pretty if it wasn’t a giant cavern filled with fuck-knows-what hiding in the deep dark between the glowing fungi.

“No, not really,” Astarion says.

It takes you a second to connect it back to your last question.

“Huh,” you say. “That sewing was damn good for a man that can’t see. Better than most who can, I reckon. A fuck of a lot better’n what I can manage.”

“Considering your solution was to simply wrap a cloth around yourself, that’s not really high praise, darling.”

“Take the fucking compliment,” you say. “It’s good work. Even if them mushrooms look like dicks.”

His footsteps fucking trip. He sputters. “Excuse me? They look like what?”

“It ain’t really your fault. Technically, that’s what all mushroom is, anyway: space cocks.”

He makes a kinda muffled “ugh” sound.

And then a thought hits you. “Does your language have different words for genitals depending on the vulgarity? Is it even a vulgarity to y’all?”

“I…yes, actually.”

And the word he used translated to “cock.” Possibly the most vulgar, but also the least casual. Interesting. You do notice he don’t actually use hard swears (or whatever translates to hard swears). Combined with his fancy pants accent, you wonder what he was before that whole fuckface turning him thing.

“You know,” he says. “I didn’t expect this sort of conversation out of you. Though you do have a fine phallus of your own, so color me wrong.”

“Back to them space cocks,” you say, in an attempt to cut him off before the teasing can creep back in. It ain’t fucking weird having a goddamn sex toy. You’re a grown ass fucking adult.

“Space cocks. Do tell.” He literally purrs the last part of that. If y’all wasn’t walking, you’re sure he’d prop his chin up on one hand.

“Pretty sure I was babbling about them last night. But the parts we see, the parts that grow above ground? That’s just the reproductive parts of the organism it grows from. Which I always thought was funny since a lot of them look pretty phallus-like. When they ain’t being a cosmic horror and all.”

“And this amuses you, being a connoisseur of cocks, does it?”

Ooh, he’s digging.

“I seen enough,” you say. You ain’t folding that fucking easy.

“Forgive me darling, is there a point to this topic of conversation, or did you just really want to talk about cocks?”

“I want to talk about how weird mycelium are. You don’t need to—”

The rope tugs on your waist and you turn. He’s stopped. Grin dropped. Eyes open and unfocused, staring hard out into the darkness.

“Do you hear that?” he says.

You do not. There’s the hollow echo of the huge fucking chamber, your own breathing, and y’all’s footsteps crunching about in what has turned into dirt (must be the mushroom’s doing).

But his head tilts, and you know he’s tracking something. Intently. And the shadows around y’all become real dark.

“What is it?” you say as quiet as you can.

He don’t answer. Just frowns. Head turns this way and that, eyes darting around. Until his frown deepens. And the man looks down.

“There’s something beneath us,” he says.

A hidden chamber full of albino orc people your brain throws at you because it’s a motherfucker.

Then Astarion’s face goes blank in a distinctive way that opens ever, single floodgate of adrenaline you got into your circulatory system.

“It’s coming up beneath us,” he says, right as y’all both reach for each other’s hands and you holler, “Run!”

You catch the sound, now. Thunder shimmies up your shins through the thin soles of your stolen boots. With a couple steps, the ground shakes so bad you stumble. Astarion’s iron grip is the only thing that wrenches you back up.

“There’s a rock ahead,” you pant. Your throat already burns. “Next to a cliff. Mushroom…big’un. Growing on the side.”

The two of you stumble sprint over. Hit the edge of the rock right as the ground six inches from your heel erupts in a spray of dirt that knocks you to your knees.

Astarion manages to keep his feet. Once again hauls you scrambling up to the top of the stone as something roars behind you.

You don’t look. All effort is focused on the edge of the rock and the leap you’ll need.

“Three foot gap!” you gasp. “Plenty wide—”

“I can’t—” Astarion starts.

And you shove aside all your cringing and grab the man’s shoulders and point him in the direction he needs to go. But it’d be terrifying to leap without seeing. You remember the cavern where he found you, all the times he touched something. He needs guidance.

“Gimme the stick,” you say as a roar rumbles the air so hard your ribs rattle. You finally glance back.

Something big with a huge fucking mouth.

You barely fumble the stick, barely manage not to drop it. Skirt around Astarion. Judge the distance and leap. And it’s only once you’re airborne that you wonder if that bigass shroom can take your weight or if it’ll snap clean off the cliff like a rotten tree branch.

You land hard enough to go down to one knee. The shroom is squishy, yet firm enough that it only shivers under your weight like a hard mattress.

“Eleanor?” Astarion says, voice sharp.

You whack the cliff with your stick, at foot level, just beside you. His face snaps to that direction.

“Three feet! Here!”

He gives a single nod, waits for you to tap again—the thing below roar and its bulk moves up the rock oh fuck.

Astarion jumps. Lands right next to that sound, and you reach out to steady him and pull him further onto the shroom. Right as the big fucking monster comes bounding up the rock after him. You all but drag the both of you back, fall on your ass (Astarion stumbles over you) and scoot further away.

Up until your hand hits the edge of your little platform.

“Fuck oh fuck fuck.”

Somehow, it did not occur to you that the fucking ground monster might, like, climb.

Now you’re gonna die. Torn apart by a fucking armored hippopotamus-mouthed fucking tank of a thing that snarls and snaps…from its perch on the rock. Three feet of air between y’all.

Astarion claws into your shoulder. “What’s it doing?”

Big fucking monster makes a low sound. Paws at the edge of the rock. Then its head twists left, then right. It’s got little, beady motherfucking shark eyes on either side of what’s actually a massive, fuck off beak. It leans forward, one stubby foot reaching…

But then it pulls back. Makes that sound again. Leans real far forward to…nibble at the edge of y’all’s shroom and then make what you can only describe as a disgusted sound.

“Well?” Astarion says.

“I…” you say. Watch the thing growl and snuffle around. “I think it’s afraid of the mushroom.”

“What? What is it?”

“The fuck am I supposed to know?”

And the blind man rolls his fucking eyes. “Yes, yes, you’re a yokel from another plane. You’re sure it’s not about to pounce on us?”

It fucking stares at you, is what it does. Stands motionless, maybe a total of eight feet away, just fucking staring with its dead eyes.

Every muscle in your body goes limp and you almost swoon.

“I think we should be quiet,” you whisper.

To his credit, Astarion frowns, but crouches down to whisper back, “What does it look like?”

Stumpy legs, thick body, all of it plated in some armor looking hide. Big bitch has a face halfway between a shark and an African hornbill. All of it about the size of a rhino.

Which you tell him, leaving out the animal names. And to which he swears.

“You’re of no help, dear,” he says.

“You fucking asked me—” And cut off as the birdshark snorts. Like a cat watching a squirrel and dreaming of murdering the ever-loving shit outta it.

“We should stop talking,” you say.

“And what would you,” he starts. Seems to reconsider. Then lowers himself to sitting pressed against you. You manage to contain your fidget away. Mostly. And you both settle in for the worst staring contest of your life.

***

Birdshark gets bored after what has to be an hour. Huffs and moans, and then ponderously half slides back down to the ground. It gives you another glare. Then turns nose down, makes a chuffing sound, and all them armor plates fucking buzz and the big bitch slides into the dirt like it’s a fucking cow pond.

“What was that?” Astarion whispers.

The ground don’t move again. The buzzing stops. The whole cave falls silent.

“It went back underground,” you say.

Then Astarion starts to stand. “Well then, we’d beset get out of here before the beastie changes its mind.”

But you’re still staring at the dirt. You grab the bottom of his leather armor to stay him. “Did you hear it leave?”

The man pauses a long moment. Then sinks back down, silent as a whisper. “No.”

It hunts from underground, don’t it. It’s got eyes, and it for sure saw you, but sound seemed to really set it off. And the fucker is down there, buried, and it’s mcfucking waiting for you, ain’t it.

“It’s fucking Tremors rules,” you say. “Fuck me.”

Astarion shifts. You turn and catch the most baffled expression on him.

“It’s a story,” you say. “Monsters show up in a desert town. Big worm things. Hunt from underground. We can’t get on soft ground without it knowing and coming up right between our legs, I bet.”

You didn’t even know the man could get any paler. Granted, it’s like the difference between eggshell and dairy cream at some fucking hardware store paint aisle, and you can only tell the difference by holding up them swatches next to each other under the glare of a noon day sun. But it’s still impressive for a guy whose complexion can, at best, be charitably described as corpseriffic.

“Perhaps your people’s stories aren’t as fictional as you think,” he says.

Which one: they got them the concept of fiction vs. non-fiction and you got to learn how to fucking read here, hot damn, and two:

“I’m really starting to wonder,” you say.

So tremors rules. Fucking waiting at the base of that rock. You scan around the expanse of gloom and flat ground. Them other mushrooms is too high to climb, and you ain’t putting it past birdshark down there to uproot the damned thing and bite y’all’s legs off when it topples over.

But then, off in the distance, the color of darkness changes. You can barely see it (can only see it by looking around it), but there’s a slash of black about a hundred feet to the right. Beyond that, the soft glow of more magic cave mushrooms, all about level with the floor here.

“I think that might be a crevasse to the right,” you say. Scan it again to try to tell if it’s maybe just a ditch. No, no, you think the light reflects off stone on the other side, like a sheer cliff. Goddamn, it’s too dark. Fucking caves.

“What of it?” Astarion says.

Birdshark didn’t wanna leave that rock. It was only a short hop to get to y’all’s tender ass meat, but it seemed nervous. It would make sense for a subterranean predator to be skittish of open air.

“I don’t think it likes being away from the ground,” you say.

You can feel the man lift an eyebrow.

“Or we can stay here until I starve to death. You can feed on me if that happens, and good luck after that.”

For just a second, he looks at you like you done slapped him with a trout. Then he’s back to his usual sass and an eyeroll.

“Fine,” he says. “We’ll have to run for it. I can’t see, and I’m rather sure it’s faster than the both of us. What’s your plan for that, darling?”

You think back to that movie, and remember some of the goodies y’all still got left over from that goblin camp that you are one hundred percent sure Astarion commandeered.

“You still got them bags of spark powder?” you say.

[banannabethchase]

weird little smut prompt: Matt needs help getting out of his very tight jeans and oh no now he's bent over with his pants stuck around his knees. (spin the wheel for who he's with or just go with whoever your heart desires)

Stuck

~

I finished this days ago and thought I posted it. I did not. WHOOPS.

~

Matt, he has to admit, is stuck.

“Nick?” he calls. He tries to wiggle his hand out, but even that is pinned. Stupid skinny suit pants. Stupid fan servicing. Stupid him, frankly, for reading the comments about his suits being too loose. Now he’s effed. “Jack? Anybody?” He hobbles, bent over with one hand pinned to his thigh. “Okada, are you out there?”

His humiliation quota for the year apparently isn’t over yet, because the person who walks by is quite possibly the last person he wants to see him so compromised. “Hanger!” he says. “How, uh. How are you?”

“What the fuck are you doing?” His frown is far more menacing with that absurd mustache, and it’s the one thing that has Matt hanging to his last thread of dignity.

“A new dance,” Matt says. “The kids are doing it. It’s a bit for BTE.”

Adam frowns and stares. “You don’t run BTE anymore.”

“I was joking!” Matt says. He thrashes a little, hoping the action is enough to dislodge his hand, at least. It backfires. He flings over and, without his right hand free to grab at the wall, he goes flying and crashes directly into Adam. “Very clearly, I’m stuck.”

“No shit.” Adam shuffles out from under him and there’s a rather rude thud as Matt goes ass first onto the floor.

“You could help,” Matt says, pretending he’s not pleading. “You know. A show of good faith.”

“A show of good faith would be leaving you here to be trampled by the crew after the show,” Adam says. He folds his arms across his chest. “The fuck are you trying to do, anyway?” He slaps at Matt’s hand stuck in his pants. “Looks suspicious.”

“I – I was not jerking it,” Matt hisses. “Help me up so you can help me with my pants in the EVP room.”

“I said I’d never set foot in an EVP room and you said you’d calm the fuck down, so I guess we’re both liars.” With a sigh, Adam squats down, gets his arms under Matt, and stands to bring him into the room. It’s – well, weird is the easy way to call it.

“Is this you seducing me or something?” Matt asks, trying not to sound too hopeful. “Because you could if you wanted. Look at me, all helpless and stuck with my pants halfway down my legs.”

“You’re fucking impossible.” Adam drops him on one of the couches. “You good?”

“Literally no,” Matt says. The movement managed to push the pants a little farther down, which is good for how the waistband was cutting into his skin, but now his hand is even more stuck, which is decidedly not good. “I think my circulation is getting cut off. I might lose my hand if you don’t help.”

“I thought I did help by bringing you in here.” Adam’s face is blank enough that it has to be intentional. It has to be.

Matt sighs. “Well, if you’re able to live with yourself, knowing that you could have saved me from amputation and possible gangrene and you didn’t, that’s on your conscience.”

Adam groans and throws his head back. “I can’t fucking stand you.”

Between the two of them, Adam gets his elbow into the suit gear pants and manages to pull the fabric Matt’s hand can slip out after about five minutes of arguing. Adam’s almost smiling through most of it, though. That feels like a win.

“Thank God,” Matt says. “I think I can get them off now.” He shuffles his pants and boxers off. His final hail Mary.

“Good,” Adam says. He walks backward toward the door, but his eyes stay on Matt. He hesitates briefly, glancing behind him and then back at Matt. Matt sticks his ass out a little bit more. Arches his back. Licks his lips.

“Don’t move,” Adam says. “Don’t pull the pants up.”

Matt grins, but tries to keep the smug glee in line. He doesn’t want Adam to change his mind. “I knew you couldn’t resist.”

[brinabees]

The Sleepover (Wild and Eager Pt. 4)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

2.8k words, dbf!Joel, Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Picks up right where part 3 left off. You missed curfew and are stuck at Joel’s overnight, completely at his mercy.

Content: 18+ MDNI! spanking, unsafe p in v

Notes: Not me realizing way too late that I forgot to have Reader clean the cum off her face at the end of the last installment. She’s just been cuddling Joel covered in it lol.

After cleaning yourself up, you flopped down on Joel’s bed, still wearing nothing but your unbuttoned shirt, propping yourself up with your arms stretched out behind you. “So, big man, you’ve got me all to yourself for a whole night. What are you gonna do with me?” you said with a sly grin on your face. 

Joel’s eyes darkened with lust. “Baby, I’m gon’ ruin you.” He stalked across the room towards you, like a predator closing in on its prey. “Gon’ ruin you for any other cock. Ruin your daddy’s perfect little girl.” 

“You don’t think you’ve already done that? I’m feeling pretty well ruined over here,” you teased him.

“Oh darlin’, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet.” Joel was now standing in front of where you sat on his bed. “Besides, I gotta teach my pretty girl a lesson, now don’t I? Can’t have you staying out after curfew again. Gotta teach you about a little thing called ‘time management.’”

“Woah, woah, woah there. Was I cuddling myself on the couch? It takes two to miss curfew, in this case.”

“Is that how you see it, eh? Well lemme tell you something sweetheart - I wouldn’t have been so distracted if you hadn’t begged me to fuck those tits of yours.” Joel was looming over you now, causing your heart to race. “Lettin’ me smoke you up and eat you out... Refusing to go home before I was taken care of... From where I stand, this looks like it’s all your fault, baby.”

“I don’t remember you complaining when your cock was nestled between these tits,” you gestured at your exposed chest. You knew you were pushing his buttons, but you couldn’t seem to stop. You liked riling him up, and not just because he usually ended up banging your brains out after you did. You liked seeing the fire come to life behind his eyes.  

“I wasn’t about to complain when you wanted it so fucking bad,” he said as he leaned down and wrapped his strong arms around your waist, lifting you up and flipping you over so that you now laid face down. “Couldn’t say no when you were being such a fuckin’ tease, so desperate for it.” With a rough tug at your hips, he pulled you up so you rested on all fours. His hands slipped back, coming to rest on your bare ass. He squeezed each cheek gently, massaging them with his palms.

Then, without preamble, he pulled one hand away and brought it back down with force, slapping your ass cheek so hard it stung. “That’s for losing track of time and staying out after curfew.” You were so surprised he’d spanked you that you didn’t utter a word. Another slap came down hard on your behind. “That’s for being a fucking tease.” This time, you were prepared for it, and the hot sting of his hand made the most delicious feeling begin to coil in your lower belly. He brought his hand back and spanked you again. “And that’s for tempting me to fuck my best friend’d daughter in the first place.” You let out an audible moan after that.

“Fuck, does my naughty girl like this? Like me spankin’ your behind, teachin’ you a lesson?” You turned your head back towards him and nodded once, meeting his eyes with your hungry stare. “Shit, baby, how the hell am I supposed to hold back when you like being treated like this? Like the filthy tease you are, deserving to be punished.” He punctuated his sentence with another slap to your behind, even harder this time. You knew he’d leave a bright red handprint behind, and the thought of that had wetness trickling from between your thighs. 

“Then don’t hold back,” you urged, voice full of desire. As you spoke, you looked back at him again, seeing his eyes darken with lust, his breathing grow heavy. 

And then he unleashed himself on you. He rained down slap after slap to your quickly reddening cheeks, not giving you time to recover from one spank before the next one came. You knew the evidence of your desire was pooling between your thighs the whole time, each spank sending a tingling thrill of pain through you that seemed to concentrate right at your center. 

“Love... puttin’ you... in your place... like the filthy whore... you are,'' he groaned out, pausing every couple words to deliver another sharp slap to your behind. You squeezed your thighs together, desperately seeking some relief from the ache that had settled between them. 

“Joel... Fuck. So good.” He chuckled darkly at your words. He delivered another smack to each of your cheeks before pausing to massage the abused flesh with his hands.

“Dirty fucking girl, can’t get enough can you? This makin’ you all hot ‘n bothered?” As he spoke, he shifted a hand so he was stroking your inner thigh, feeling the wetness that had begun to seep past your folds. He hissed in a breath at the discovery. “You really this fuckin’ wet for me when I haven’t even touched your needy lil’ cunt? Pathetic.” You mewled breathlessly at his touch and his dirty words, hoping he would put you out of your misery and finally touch you where you needed him most.

Unfortunately for you, Joel was in a sadistic mood, ready to toy with you to his heart’s content. His hand began trailing up and down your inner thigh, getting close but never touching your aching pussy. “Joel, please,” you let out in a whine.

“Nuh uh, this is supposed to be a punishment, remember? Never gon’ learn a lesson if you get your way all the time.” You turned your head back to face him and pouted, letting him know exactly how you felt about that. “Don’t give me that face. Your daddy might fall for that, but I know better.” You huffed in frustration, the ache between your legs growing almost unbearable. 

Suddenly, Joel’s touch was gone, replaced by the feeling of his hot, denim-clad length pressing against your ass, grinding into you. “Feel that baby? Feel how god-damned hard you make me? It’s all your fault, so I’m thinkin’ you oughta help fix it.” You heard the sound of his belt unbuckling, his jeans unzipping and hitting the floor. You gasped in anticipation. 

Next thing you knew, you felt the wet slide of the head of his cock against your slit, rubbing slowly up and down. You hissed in pleasure at finally being touched where you needed it most. 

“Joel, fuck, please just fuck me already.” 

“Now darlin’, do we really need to go over who’s in charge here, again?” You whined incoherently as Joel continued lazily massaging your cunt with his dick. He drew back his free hand and delivered a sharp smack to your ass. “I’ll fuck you when I’m good and ready. Which, lucky for a desperate slut like you, happens to be right now.”

And with that, you felt him press inside of you, slowly but forcefully sinking in until his entire length was sheathed within you. He rested there a moment, landing another hard slap on your reddened cheeks. “Joooeeeel, fuck,” you moaned, wishing you could tell him to fucking move already, but knowing you weren’t likely to get what you wanted if you did.

Finally, finally, he began moving, dragging his cock in and out of you, gliding easily through your slickened channel. You were so keyed up from his spanking, every move he made set your body aflame. Joel pounded into you, not even stopping when he peppered your abused behind with more spanks.

“Gonna have a hard time sitting tomorrow, aren’t you, dirty girl?” You were too far gone to answer, knowing what he said was true. You secretly thrilled at the thought of every twinge of pain reminding you of Joel. He brought both hands to your ass, grasping and kneading, before bringing them to rest on your hips. He pulled you back onto him with every thrust he made, his cock just grazing your cervix every time he bottomed out. You could feel his balls hitting your clit with every stroke, and that sensation drove you to the edge in record time. 

Your moans and groans kept increasing in both pitch and frequency, until all you could get out was a high-pitched squeal. Knowing you were approaching your peak, Joel brought one hand forward to fist in your hair, turning your head back towards him. “Don’t you dare come until I tell you to,” he said, his tone gravely serious. So, you didn’t. You rode the edge of your orgasm, never quite letting yourself tip over into oblivion. Joel’s thrusts picked up in speed as he was clearly beginning to approach his own climax. A chorus of grunts and moans filled the room. 

The pace of his hips began to stutter and falter, an obvious sign that he was right there on the edge. “Fuck, come for me baby, please let go,” Joel said in a surprisingly gentle voice. And let go you did, your orgasm crashing into you as soon as he gave you the go-ahead. Your tight walls clamped down on his dick, your body wanting him deep, deep, deeper. When Joel felt you fluttering around him, it seemed to push him right over the edge with you, coming apart with a low, guttural moan. His body leaned over yours as he spilled himself inside of you. Your arms collapsed as you came down from your high. You stayed there, ass up, face down, as Joel slowly pulled out of you with a wet squelch.

“Fuck.” Joel’s tone was distressed. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, I shouldn’t have done that. You end up pregnant and we’re both dead.” All you did was sleepily turn your head towards him, a dopey smile glued to your face. “This is serious!” You brought a hand up to your messy pussy, dragging your fingers through the cum that was slowly leaking out of you. You did your best to push it back inside of you, too delirious to fear the consequences of your actions. Despite his anguish, Joel’s gaze was stuck to your cunt, watching you play with his spend. “Fuck, that’s hot,” he mumbled to himself.

“You dirty, god-damned whore, letting me come inside you again.” Joel pressed you down so that you were laying flat on your stomach. “You like that way too much baby, shit’s dangerous.”

“Don’t pretend you didn’t love it. I’m not the one who didn’t pull out,” you pointed out. He grumbled in response. You kicked your feet up behind you, nuzzling your face into Joel’s sheets. They smelled like him, like gunpowder, smoke, and something uniquely Joel. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt so satisfied. Hell, you didn’t think you’d ever been this satisfied. Joel flopped down next to you, lying on his back and turning his face to meet yours.

For a while, you just stared at each other - your bliss still written plainly across your face, his hard, brown eyes slowly softening. 

“Next time you wanna teach me a lesson, you might wanna make it a little less mind-blowingly pleasurable,” you crooned at him with a smile. 

He groaned and buried his face in his hands. “You’re gonna be the death of me, you know that, right?” You nodded, your smile growing even wider. Your eyes fell on the alarm clock on the bedside table, noting it wasn’t even 10:00 pm. You sat up, starting to button up your shirt, when Joel’s hand reached out to stop you. “Hold on,” he said, getting up and walking to the shabby little closet. From inside it, he pulled out a well-worn, green flannel shirt. He walked back over to you and handed you the shirt.

You slipped out of your own, more fitted shirt, in favor of putting on the soft flannel. It was large on you, falling to mid-thigh when you raised up on your knees. As you did, you noticed Joel’s cum was leaking out of you and onto your thighs, making you feel so deliciously dirty. 

You shuffled towards the edge of the bed where he stood, reaching up to wrap your hands around his neck. When he looked down at you, you saw a mixture of guilt and desire swirling behind his eyes. Wanting to calm that storm a bit, you dropped a soft kiss to his lips. He kissed you back without hesitation, one arm wrapping around your torso while the other buried itself in your hair. This kiss was such a contrast to your earlier furious fucking, slow but firm. After a minute or two, Joel’s lips pulled away from yours, his forehead coming to rest on your own. 

“That was really something, Joel,” you stated. 

“It sure was... Fuck, I’m never gon’ be able to resist you, not when you let me redden that plump ass so prettily.” You giggled a little at that, while Joel’s hands came to rest on the ass in question, giving it a gentle squeeze. You winced a little, already feeling tender, knowing you’d likely develop bruises from the sheer force of his earlier spanking. “Poor baby, does that hurt?”

“Worth it. So fucking worth it.”

“I s’pose it was, darlin’,” he drawled.

Joel grabbed your hand and pulled you off the bed, leading you to sit down on the couch. He sat across from you in the armchair. 

“You’re so far away,” you whined.

“For good reason, sweet thing. Can’t keep my hands off ya otherwise. And we’ve got some things to talk about.” 

“More rules?” you asked, dreading what further stipulations he might have regarding your arrangement. 

“Not quite. I just want us to figure out what the hell it is we’re doing.” He leaned forward, arms propped up on his knees, head in his hands. “I can’t get enough of you, I know that. But...”

“But you have no idea what to do about dad?” He nodded in confirmation. “He never has to know! We’ve been over this!”

“You really think your old man won’t notice me undressing you with my eyes every time I see you? You really think he won’t notice my dick getting hard every time you walk in the room? You really think he won’t realize why you keep going out for hours at a time to see some ‘friend?’ It’s only a matter of time until one of us slips up and the whole thing comes out.”

“So what are you suggesting? Because if you try to act like you want this to stop again, I will throw you down and curbstomp your beautiful face myself, Miller.”

“Jesus, you really are your dad’s daughter. Got a vicious streak a mile wide, just like him.” He seemed caught halfway between horror and humor at your threat. “But no, I’m not sayin’ I want this to stop. I ain’t about to give up the best pussy I’ve ever fucking had.” You blushed at his heated tone. “I’m just sayin’ we gotta be real intentional about how we do this.”

“How so?” You raised your eyebrow quizzically. 

“Well, it’s not going to be enough to just try and act normally,” Joel said, leaning forward. “We’ve gotta keep our distance.”

“What, like, pretend we hate each other all of a sudden? Isn’t that a little juvenile?”

“This whole sneakin’ around thing is pretty juvenile to begin with, might as well lean in.” You rolled your eyes at that. 

“What, you’d rather I go let Dad know?” You asked, quirking an eyebrow at him.

“Obviously not. We just need to make sure he never suspects a thing. So you’re gonna avoid me like the plague, and I’m gonna pretend I think you’re the most annoying person I’ve ever met. Got it?”

“Fine, I got it, now can we have sex again?” You acquiesced, standing up and walking over to Joel’s armchair. Placing one hand on each arm of the chair, you leaned forward and stared into Joel’s eyes with your best suggestive look. He groaned in response, clearly exasperated. 

You dropped to your knees in front of him, stroking your hands up and down his thighs. “C’mon, old man, don’t tell me you’re done for the night already.” You could already see him hardening at your touch. 

“You really are tryin’ to kill me...”

______________________________________________________________

Taglist (comment or message to be added!): @ashleymsnodgrass, @bluetattoos, @spidermanfrog

More Notes: No, reader will not end up pregnant, this is my world and I’ve decided these two are just remarkably lucky. Babies make bad plot devices, there, I said it.

[afatallovesong]

Filthy Thoughts

Short and sweet

18+, Smut, NSFW

My mental health has been in the gutter since Christmas so I’m starting a mini series called ‘Filthy Thoughts’ where it’s basically just short and filthy 5SOS scenarios for you to enjoy while I work on longer fics.

Word Count: 613

Luke’s been on tour for months and although you facetime and you call and text and you send nudes, god it’s just not the same at all and he’s weak, god he’s so weak. He’s desperate and he misses you and he needs your pussy in any shape or form he doesn’t fucking care. He just has to have you, he’s desperate, with his head in your lap, you’re playing with his hair, holding him. You’re cuddling, he’s nudging you with his nose, pecking at your thighs through your clothes, prodding you. He’s trying so hard to get your attention without outright begging for your pussy. You eventually notice his shuffling and you can’t help but feel a little hot at the sight of his face between your legs like that, his blonde curls wrapped around your fingertips while you massage his scalp. You’re undeniably wet in your shorts and you hope he doesn’t know, there’s no way he could know.

He does though, of course he does. He knows how you feel about him. He can smell it on you too, smell your fucking arousal for him and he can’t take it anymore. He needs to poke his fingers under your shorts and sink them through your soaked lips. Your breath is hitching, he’s grinning against you, head turned to look up at you in awe. Your cheeks are blushing red and he’s loving every second of it. He’s lazily playing with you, head resting higher up on your stomach as you both shifted to make it feel better, ease of access included.

It’s not long before the teasing is too much for you to handle and you need him to take your shorts off and he does. He does, right after he takes off his grey sweatshirt and his top underneath, leaving his upper half bare. It’s not even because he expects anything more from you, but because he knows damn well he’s gonna work up a sweat from making you feel good. He’s pulling your shorts down, kissing, sucking, and licking over your lace panties and moaning against your throbbing clit. His fingers waste no time sinking inside you fully while he suckles. Your own fingers are in his hair again but gripping harsher cause you know he whimpers when you do that. His whimpers, the vibrations rippling over your clit is fucking heaven and god are you close to cumming already?

His sweet little whimpers and his rough fingers fucking your cunt like that, hell, maybe you missed him as much as he missed you. You’re clamping down on his fingers and he’s scrunching his eyes shut while he sucks your clit. Holy shit he might just be losing his damn mind too. You’re so fucking perfect, and he moans it into your cunt while you cum around his fingers. You half wonder why it’s so loud, cause there’s no way he felt as impossibly good as you did in that moment but fuck, unbeknown to you, he just might. “Baby, baby I wanna make you feel good,” you’re already pulling him up to taste yourself on his lips as you mutter your request. He’s blushing furiously hard, burying his face in your neck instead, “don’t think you need to worry about that” his breath’s hot, words muffled by your skin. You’re wracking your post euphoric brain for a reason why he’d reject you taking care of him after so long apart but then it clicks in your mind. He’s looking down at the stain in his sweats and instead of the mortifying laugh he expects from you, all you can manage is “god that’s so fucking hot Luke.”