#I’ll validate your sins

[acommonloon]

Homeless Jesus

This was the first day I can remember wandering Bardstown Rd without being approached by a black man who wanted me to give him money.

My street wandering, curtailed by Covid, has only recently become a thing again. Leading up to Covid, the panhandlers in every part of Louisville had become aggressive. Gone were the days of humble entreaty. “Could you spare a dollar or anything?” Instead they would hail me loudly from across the street, Hey Hey my man! Can I talk to you for a second? They would hurry over and start their con.

Most people would just put their head down and walk away. It’s what D wanted me to do. I struggle to embrace meekness. I’ve nothing to inherit.

These harassers weren’t homeless, just grifters running a con. Like 45.

[charliemwrites]

Sniff, sniff…. Woof.

Content: Voyeurism

“Johnny? Johnny, baby, come here!”

Your big wolf boy comes bounding in from the living room as you shut the front door, immediately rearing up to sniff at your neck and face and hands. Satisfied, he licks your cheek and drops down again.

“Alright, listen up, handsome.” You grab his cheeks, scritching along his jaw and grinning as his big blue eyes go dopey. “My sister and her husband are going to stay the night. You are going to be a polite boy because you love me and don’t want to give my sister anything to talk shit about. Yes?”

A sneeze that he (for once) aims away from you. You laugh, drop a kiss between his eyes.

“Good talk.”

As usual, he follows you through the house as you shed clothes and shoes and bags. You ramble about the grocery store and your day, mostly just to get it out so your headspace can be clear for the evening. Helps to have a little (relatively) listener following at your heels.

He camps out in the bathroom while you shower, licking the glass door until you scold him - per usual. And again when he tries to lick the clean water off your leg. Only starts getting restless and grumpy when he sees you change into “outside” clothes rather than pjs.

You groan as he tries to herd you away from your own closet. Must be mixed with a shepherding dog because he’s a damn pushy jerk.

“Enough, bud,” you sigh. “Look, I don’t wanna go much either. But it’ll be worse if I don’t.”

He mouths off at you, a new thing he’s started up that reminds you of a husky. Maybe you should get one of those doggy DNA tests.

“I know I know,” you coo, shimmying into a pair of pants that your sister won’t be able to tease makes your ass look flat. “I’d rather snuggle up and watch 90s vampire movies too. But I already said I’d go and this means I’ll be able to skip seeing her on her birthday.”

More grumbles, but at least he climbs up on the bed to pout. You finish dressing and head for the vanity - no way you can go out with your sister without makeup.

As you pass, you roll him over to scratch his belly - politely ignoring his reaction. God, you really need to get him in for a neutering. If you catch him humping one more pillow—

When it’s time to go, you drop down to give him one last hug.

“Be good, baby. I’ll be home soon with some new friends. I love you.”

—

After dinner, your sister’s husband suggests a bar. And, of course, it’s a sports bar. Man can’t go more than an hour or two without.

You and your sister chat while his eyes stayed glued to the screens. Well, she chats. You mostly just provide the audience she constantly craves, the validation she always needs.

At some point your excuse yourself to order another drink, weaving between the patrons and sighing at a chance to let your face rest for a moment. While you’re waiting, someone brushes up close behind you, startles you.

“Och, sorry, hen. Madhouse in here.”

You blink, tilt your head back to see a gorgeous pair of blue eyes shining down at you. Takes your breath away.

“Oh! Um, no problem, I get it.”

You try to scoot as much as you can - but it really is packed, especially at the bar - and the man takes the opportunity to occupy any free space you have.

Not that you’re complaining. He’s got the type of face they put on magazines with hooks like “sexiest man alive.” A killer grin as he winks down at you, arm bracing on the bar.

“Buy ya a drink for bein’ so rude?”

You’ve barely gotten the start of, “oh it’s alright,” out before he’s signaling the bartender. His stature and presence gets him instant service though, so you let it go, fidgeting restlessly.

Even his voice sounds like a sin worth committing. He’s too attractive. Too handsome to not know it; and definitely too handsome to be chatting you up and ordering you a drink.

“You here with anyone?” he asks with an edge that makes your spine prickle. Yet you almost feel like you imagine it. His tone is normal, his expression hasn’t changed and yet. Something subsonic in the timbre of his voice, maybe.

“My sister and her husband,” you reply.

“No husband of your own?”

You try to laugh, it comes out strained and awkward. “Ah, the only man in my life has four legs.”

Instead of looking annoyed by the brush off, his eyes spark.

“Dog?”

“Yup!” And okay, alarms in your head aside, you’re always happy to talk about Johnny. He’s a safe topic. You fish your phone out of your back pocket and show him your lock screen.

The man takes a quick look at the screen, an odd, private smile flicking across his face. There and then gone, before those intense eyes are locked on you again.

“He friendly?”

You laugh a bit, perk up as the bartender returns with your drink. “Not with men. Thanks for buying!”

as you turn to go, he grabs your hip. Not hard, or even too low. But you gasp quietly, the heat of his palm searing through your clothes.

“Name’s soap, by the way.”

Infinitely more nervous now, you stutter out your own and then retreat to your sister and her husband.

Spend the rest of the night pretending not to watch Soap. He doesn’t return the courtesy, eyes trained on you, lurking around the bar. So visible it seems to only you. Something about the way the light catches his eyes reminds you of when Johnny senses a threat. When he gets low and growly, hair standing on end, eyes focused.

Soap looks like he’s hunting you.

Thankfully, your sister complains about the noise after an hour or so and the three of you leave. You’re relieved to be going home.

As you step inside, you call for Johnny again.

“Wait, who the hell is Johnny?” your sister’s husband asks, an odd look on his face. “You’re living with someone?”

You snort a bit. Does he seriously not remember you talking about your dog?

“Yeah,” you joke, “he’s the love of my life, my one and only—”

You hear the clack of the doggy door and call out again. Johnny trots in panting.

“Did you just come in from a run?” you chuckle, putting a hand out in greeting.

He comes right up to you, presses his nose to the spot where “Soap” grabbed you and snuffles.

“I know, I smell wrong,” you soothe.

He grumbles and licks at your shirt, but you gently nudge him away, turning as your sister scoffs.

“You still do that thing where you talk to them like people?” She asks. “Don’t you think that’s… childish?”

“Johnny’s basically a person in a human body,” you reply, laughing. “You’ll see.”

“Dogs shouldn’t have human names,” her husband pipes up, reaching for Johnny.

“No, wait—”

Johnny snaps just shy of his fingers and puts himself bodily between you two.

“Easy!” you yelp, hooking your hand in his collar. “Sorry, I meant to warn you - Johnny’s shy with men.”

“He almost took my bloody hand off!”

“He’s just protective. Johnny, heel.”

He stops snarling, but plants himself at your feet right there, eyes sharply trained on your brother in law. Your sister snorts.

“How are you supposed to get men back here, then?”

You jump as Johnny barks, a full deep one that your rarely ever hear. Your sister startles too, then scowls.

“I don’t,” you answer, shaking your head. “Anyway, let me just get the sheets for the spare room and we can call it a night.”

Johnny stays close at your heels the entire time, though you swear he throws a nasty glance back at your sister’s husband.

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Masterlist

[unfortunate-brat]

soldier boy can throw me around like a rag doll ‼️

very valid. i too would like to be treated like a blow up sex doll 🤭. for your troubles, i present something very special for you.

Dirty

pairing: soldier boy x latina!reader

synopsis: soldier boy is america’s sweetheart, so its no excuse he wants things done a certain way.

word count: 852

warnings: NO PLOT, smut, sexism, slight racist behavior and vocabulary from soldier boy, degration, no protection, talk of pregnancy, roughness from soldier boy. he’s not the one you wanna take home to your mother.

yazzy's comments: honestly hear me OUT! it is my belief that soldier boy would 100% act this way and i’m entitled to my opinion. if you don’t like, scroll away !!

“¿esto es lo que te gusta? what a fucking freak.” his hot breath fans over your pulse, thrusts hitting you deeply and practically unforgiving with every slap of skin. though the language isn’t his own, he tries and that you can appreciate. the american accent still peaks through with every syllable, which makes it strangely hotter to hear.

your nails dig into his broad shoulders, trying your best to not make so much noise. after all, you were supposed to hate this man. america’s sweetheart was quite the asshole, even borderline sexist. “see? all you’re good for his to take my fucking dick and make me dinner.” no take that back, he was hella sexist.

as you bounce on his cock, your breasts provide a wonderful show for soldier boy. earlier he had taken the time to mark them up so that when you wore those low cut tops, people could see you were accounted for. though now that ben thinks about it, no bitch of his is gonna go out looking like some prostitute on the corner. you’ll be dressed properly, with no part of your chest showing. that’s for his eyes only.

his digits tug and pinch at your swollen buds, smirking as you whimper with every touch. “fucking slut, you really gonna let an american soil that exotic pussy?” ben knew that if this had been just talk, you’d slap him. argue how his perspective was outdated and unacceptable now, yet feeling how hard your walls squeeze him after using such vocabulary was hard to ignore. “hmm, maybe that’s what you need. just pure american made meat.”

you hold onto him for dear life at this point, smothering his face into your bosom. his words should put you in a fit of rage but your damn body betrays you. “solo estás demostrando mi punto.” he can feel your walls tighten again and that only feeds into his already big ego. “so that’s what you want? pathetic.”

the chair creaks under the weight of you both, close to breaking and though ben didn’t care much, he rather not deal with butcher’s bitching about breaking motel furniture. so with one arm, he keeps you steady on his cock while making his way to the bed. sitting down right at the edge so you remain in the same position. cause there were various positions soldier boy could do but cowgirl had to be in his top five. plus who is he to turn down being suffocated by your gorgeous tits?

you have yet to say any coherent words or much of anything aside from the sinful noises. he wonders what’s going on in that pretty little mind of yours. his fingers grab a fistful of hair, forcefully tugging your head back as your eyes meet. “don’t make me speak that dirty language again, this is america.” a harsh slap meets your cheek, making you wince. “we speak english here and if i’m gonna fuck you, i’ll make sure you don’t forget that.”

his piercing gaze makes you squeeze around his shaft again, feeling your orgasm approach closer with each touch from him. “por f-favor,” you manage to choke out, whining when soldier boy stops his thrusts.

“what i fucking say huh?” you groan when he pulls you off his cock, pushing you onto the mattress on all fours. your ass lifted high into the air as he delivers the first slap. “speak english.” his dick is aching to be inside you but he had to hold back for now, you needed to know your place.

your face buried itself into the motel pillows, scratchy fabric brushing against your skin. butcher would be back soon and you knew soldier boy was nowhere near done with you. though you didn’t want him to stop entirely. “no no, who said you could hide that pretty face of yours?” once again, soldier boy grabs a fistful of your hair, looking down at your features. “don’t tell me we need to start with the basics.” you tried shaking your head but that only made his grip on your hair hurt more. “you got a mouth, speak, bitch.”

swallowing the lump in your throat, your eyes meet his, despite your vision blurring a bit. “i’ll speak e-english, promise!” it’s not a real promise, for you couldn’t get rid of a language you loved so much.

soldier boy chuckles, letting go of your hair and shifting down to the globes of your ass. spreading the cheeks apart to see how swollen your pussy was, hole gaping as it was already molded to his shape and size. “hmm, you’ll say anything just to feel me again huh? Qué chica tan sucia.”

he watches as you look back, pushing your ass against him in hopes the teasing might end. you needed him, craved to feel him every second you both were apart. “fine, guess i’ll give you what i want. i was always curious,” without warning, he slides right back in and smirks when you whimper. “if i get you pregnant, is our kid gonna look more like me or you?”

·̩͙།† ͝ ︶ ͝ ⏝ ͝ ︶ ͝ †། ·̩͙

Please note; I do not allow translations or redistributions of my work by anyone else except myself. MDNI, if your account is ageless or empty, I will block you !! Minors are NOT welcome here.

[bearsbeetsbeskar]

Study Days with Joel (Joel Miller x f!reader)

pairing: Joel Miller x female reader (no outbreak) word count: 3.5k of pure smut rating: Explicit, MDNI 18+, swearing, oral sex (f! receiving), fingering, breath play, choking, age gap (reader is in her early 20s, Joel is in his 40s), no physical descriptions of reader except that Joel is able to lift her up summary: You have your state psychology exam coming up, the last step in getting your degree, but studying is the bane of your existence. Joel comes up with an alternative solution to help you study for the exam. A/N: Soooo, this was rotting my brain for the last month of my semester in grad school, pretty sure I was ovulating and I started typing it out in the library on campus. Best believe I struggled to get any studying done, thinking about this fictional man. This is also my first time writing smut so please be kind. Not beta'd cause I literally just needed to get it OUT. Comment and reblog if you like it. Enjoy! 🌚 🌹-N main masterlist

“C’mon baby, try again. Wanna hear it.”

You whine and squirm under the weight of his grip, his forearm pinning your hips further into the mattress like an iron bar.

“Jo- fuck,” you pant as your hips buck up, chasing the heat of his mouth. The crumpled study cheat sheet that you were clutching is long abandoned as your right hand snakes through his curls and grips them hard.

All you can do is mewl helplessly as Joel laps away at your aching cunt, his tongue lathing in wide strokes through your folds, before flattening it and swirling it around your swollen clit.

“Try again,” he mumbles into your core. The vibrating rumble of his baritone sends shockwaves throughout your body, as he presses a kiss to your clit, then moves down to lick into your hole, drinking up your arousal.

You gasp, canting your hips up again, trying to get him closer.

Deeper.

More of his tongue, more of his fingers, more Joel.

“I can’t,” you sob in desperation and arch your back, more wetness seeping out of your pussy.

Your mind is reduced to mush at this point. The only sensations that exist are the heat of Joel’s mouth, the softness of his curly locks, and the damp fabric of the sheets underneath you.

“Yes, you can,” he whispers against your core. “You remembered it earlier today. C’mon” He looks up at you, those sinful chocolate eyes devouring you whole.

The photographic memory you were so confident in fails you instantly, as you try to remember concepts from the cheat sheet. The only image you can see is Joel's predatory gaze peering up at you from your core, the lower half of his face drenched in your slick.

You have no doubt that Joel’s intentions were pure. Wholesome, even. The key word being were. But the way he’s sucking on your pussy lips, devouring your cunt as if it was his last meal on earth, nothing about this feels wholesome or pure.

He wanted to help you study for your upcoming licensing exam, the final step in getting your degree. When he suggested helping you out, you figured he would run through the material with you a couple times, test you on a few concepts, and then reassure you that you had nothing to worry about. Kiss you on the forehead and tell you that you’d ace the exam no problem.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------

“You’re gonna do just fine baby, you’re overthinking it. You and I both know that you know your stuff.” He grabs your face, his massive palms enveloping your cheeks, as he kisses you on the forehead while you continue your anxious tirade.

“Yeah, but not with statistics!” Anxiety bubbles up through your chest, solidifying and compressing your lungs as you squawk back at him.

“This is math, my worst fucking enemy. I hate that they include this portion on the exam, it’s not like I’ll ever need to know how the different types of reliability and validity will help a client in a counseling session-”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he presses his thumbs into your cheekbones ever so slightly, interrupting your runaway thoughts and bringing you back to earth. “Look at me.”

You attempt to hang your head in defeat but Joel’s strong hands keep your head in place. Pouting incessantly, you roll your eyes and pointedly look away from him.

“Hey.” He grunts and shakes your head sharply. “I saw that.”

You’re still mostly in panic mode, but the edge in his tone has warmth rushing through your body, and your gaze trailing back up to meet him.

Joel strokes your cheeks with the pads of his thumbs, back and forth. The featherlight touch on your soft skin lulls you out of panic mode, as your shoulders slump and your posture relaxes. Pulling you in for a hug, he cups the back of your head, his other hand rubbing up and down your back. The heat from his large hand bleeds through your sleep shirt, wrapping your body in his comforting warmth.

“You’re smarter than anyone I know darlin,’ told ya so from the first day we met. Hell, I don’t know anyone else who has the entirety of that damn manual memorized front to back, ‘cept for you.” He presses his lips into the crown of your head, inhaling the sweet smell of you.

You snort, but it comes out muffled as you press your face further into his broad chest.

“That’s different. That stuff is interesting to me, it’s easy to absorb. Statistics is math, and math is the devil.” You grumble, nuzzling further into the warmth of his shirt, breathing in the faint smell of his detergent and cologne. The smell of Joel.

“I know. But I’m sure in the beginning, even memorizing a quarter of the stuff was a headache, and yet you did it. You just gotta give this a chance,” he murmurs against your hair. “Maybe there’s a different method we haven’t figured out yet, that will help it click, hm?”

He continues to rub slow circles against your back when you mumble something incoherent and bury more into his chest, wrapping your arms around his middle.

Joel was right. You knew he was, as much as you hated to admit it. But above all else, he genuinely cared about helping you succeed, and if there was anything he could do to make life easier for you, or let you know that you weren’t alone in your struggles, he would do it. And he always spoke about conquering those struggles as a team, as your partner, always willing to carry the load for you if you couldn’t handle it yourself.

Not that he doubted you in the first place. But it was always ‘we’ or ‘us,’ never just ‘you,’ or ‘I.’ It’s one of the reasons why you were head over heels in love with him. Sometimes you wondered if he realized how much strength he gave you by simply existing.

“Remind me again,” he shifts his arms so that they wrap around you, gluing you to his body,.

“What’s the difference between.. Schizophrenia and schizoaffective disorder?”

Although you’re not looking at him, you know that he has a smile on his face. He fully knows that you know the correct answer. Sighing deeply, you turn your head to the side.

“Schizophrenia is a psychotic disorder where a person experiences psychosis, or hallucinations and or delusional thinking, but schizoaffective disorder is when a person experiences the same psychotic symptoms, along with symptoms of a mood disorder, like depression or mania.”

“Straight from the fuckin’ textbook,” he whispers in your ear, before leaning down to kiss your pulse point. “My smart cookie.”

Shivering in response, you tilt your head to the side as his lips trail down your neck, pressing soft, wet kisses and nibbling ever so slightly. Gasping, you tilt your head further, giving him more access and melting in his embrace.

“Mmm.” Joel rumbles, the deep vibration reverberating through his chest.

“Why don’t we try another study method and see how it works?”

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

Little did you know that another study method would involve you laid out beneath Joel, his broad frame caging you in as he took you apart with his mouth. Every kiss, every lick, every suckle to your clit, had your eyes rolling to the back of your head as Joel tested your restraint.

“Tell me again baby, I know you know it.”

He whispers into your wetness, pulling away to press wet kisses to the inside of your thighs. When you don’t answer immediately, he sinks his teeth into the soft flesh, applying the slightest pressure that makes you gasp and lift your head to look down at him. He doesn’t say anything else, save for quirking his brow, patiently waiting while his tongue soothes over the indents on your skin.

“Stat-fuck.”

You swallow, your throat desperately dry from the hoarse moans and whimpers you’ve been letting out.

“Statistical significance is- is when the rela-relationsh-shit,” you pant as Joel’s tongue traces your outer lips, sucking slightly before dipping into your hole and curling, “between two or more v-variables is caused by s-something other than-ngh chance.”

The last part comes out as a rushed gasp as scorching heat runs through your veins, with Joel’s mouth magnetized to your cunt, but he praises you nonetheless.

He hums and gives you a devious smile.

“Good girl,” he purrs, grazing your slit with his middle finger, gathering up the obscene amount of wetness leaking out of you, before sliding two thick fingers into your cunt.

You barely have time to catch your breath, choking on gasp as you revel in the stretch of his fingers. So fucking long and thick. You never get tired of how they fill you so perfectly.

“My good fucking girl. So fuckin’ smart.” He growls into your cunt, curling his dexterous fingers, effortlessly pressing up against that spot that makes your eyes roll back and clench around him.

“Oh shit.”

Your mind goes blank as you whine and start to tense your stomach, hips lifting up again seeking out more friction. The stretch of his fingers is delicious, the way they hook inside you, reaching spots you can never reach yourself. It makes your head spin as he continues to lathe his tongue up and down, flattening it and making wide circles around your clit.

You can feel the heat starting to build in your core, licking up your spine as Joel keeps slowly pushing his fingers in and out of your dripping cunt. Steadily, in and out, until your hips are tightening and loosing with the building pressure.

“Joel, please.”

You sob and lift your hips up once more to meet his mouth, pull his fingers in deeper.

“Shhh babygirl. You’re doing good so far,” he lifts his mouth off your pussy, his drenched lips hovering just above it as he presses a chaste kiss to your mound.

He waits a beat, before a devious grin spreads across his face.

“But you gotta be prepared for all sorts of distractions when you’re writing that exam, gotta be able to focus and tune it all out.”

Your thoughts aren’t even coherent at this point. Your brain is just a soggy pile of mush, frayed neurons, misfiring in all directions. He’s kidding right?

Joel Miller is your biggest distraction.

Always.

You barely have time to lift your head up and watch his malicious smile disappear, as it morphs into something primal.

Pure hunger.

He rises up from his place between your legs, releasing your one leg he was holding to spread you open, while his other hand is still knuckle deep in your tight, throbbing pussy.

Coming up on the bed to hover over your frame, you’re awestruck by his size. How much bigger he is than you. How broad he is, with his shoulders spanning twice the amount of space as yours. It makes you shiver, your skin tingling under the thin layer of sweat that coats your naked body.

“Next question sugar. Ready?”

Joel licks his lips, his pupils blown black as he snaps his fingers against that spongy spot deep inside you. The air is punched out of your lungs as you choke on a gasp.

“Fuck, Joel.”

“I know baby, I know.”

He coos at you, leaning down to kiss you. Gently brushing his lips against yours before his tongue teases the seam of your lips, you open up to him. He swallows your moans, tongue dancing with yours as he groans, sucking on your bottom lip.

Breaking away he pants as his gaze flicks between your lips to your eyes. “Y’trust me?”

For a fraction of a second, you see the concern in his big rounded eyes. The dominance dissipates as he checks in with you, making sure you’re still with him, and that it’s not too much.

You nod frantically before you can even process his words.

“Words baby, I gotta hear those sweet words.”

“Yes, Joel.” One word falling from your lips.

“Please”

“There we go. Now, can you tell me what inter-rater reliability is?”

“Uhhh.” You wish you could answer him, you really could. But he keeps fucking his fingers into you, pressing up against your g-spot at the same steady pace. The squelching sounds coming from your pussy are obscene, causing your brain to short circuit as you feel the familiar coil tightening in your lower belly.

You try to continue, but as soon as you do, Joel’s free hand slowly snakes around your neck. His massive palm envelopes the circumference of your throat, as he grasps it loosely.

Instantly your mouth drops open as you whine, eyes glazing over. He loves playing with you. It’s all too easy to turn you into a babbling mess, drunk on his pleasure in a matter of minutes. His voice, his hands, his mouth.

Sobbing and squirming underneath him, another pulse of pleasure shoots straight to your core as you clench around his thick fingers. He’s not even squeezing, barely applying the slightest bit of pressure but fuck, it makes you dizzy already.

You love when he chokes you, love feeling his huge warm hands encircling the column of your neck. The way that those hands could so easily snap you in half, holding onto your fate. It makes you ridiculously wet, your pussy fluttering in anticipation.

Joel tilts his head, drinking you in underneath his predatory gaze, before the corner of his mouth slowly lifts into a smile.

“Distractions baby. Gotta think past them”

All you can do is look up at him through teary doe eyes and whimper. In response, his thumb starts to gently circle your clit while his fingers continue stretching you out.

“Joel, please.”

It’s all you can repeat. Begging that he take mercy on you and forget the studying, and just fuck you senseless already.

“Nuh-uh baby, answer the question.” His grip around your throat tightens ever so slightly as he encourages you again.

Swallowing as best as you can while the warmth of his palm bleeds through your skin, you try to think of the answer. But all you can feel is the heat simmering in your belly, the dampness of the sheets beneath you from all the arousal seeping out of your cunt.

“Interrater r-reliability is a measure of val-lidity-”

Joel clicks his tongue and removes his thumb from your clit. You whimper as your hips rise up, chasing his touch.

“Mm, not quite darlin.’ Try again.”

Your brain flounders, unable to conjure up any images of your cheat sheet or study material. The only thing keeping you tethered to reality is the warmth emanating from his large frame caging in your body, and his fingertips pressed into the sides of your throat.

He lets up slightly around your neck, as you pant and bite your lip.

“Inter-rater r-reliability, is a measure of consistency, or the d-degree of agreement between different people -fuck, observing the s-same thing.” The last couple words fade out as he starts running his fingers soothingly up and down the sides of your neck.

“There you go baby,” he purrs. “Very good, so fucking good for me.”

Immediately, his hand slithers around your neck again as his grip gets tighter and tighter, till you’re gasping. Euphoria floods your brain. A gush of wetness seeps out around Joe’s fingers that are still buried in your cunt as you clench hard around him.

You grasp at the sheets, grasp at the hand wrapped around your neck as you writhe underneath him incessantly, your mouth falling open as you try to say his name again.

Growling at the way your body responds to him instantly, Joel’s fingers inside you pick up their pace, thrusting into you and snapping up against that spot that makes you go cross-eyed. His thumb presses down against your clit as he starts to circle it quickly.

“Did so well baby. So fucking smart, and good for me.” His lips curl as he bares his teeth at you.

You’ve never felt smaller in your life. Never felt more aroused. You want him to swallow you whole and wreck you. Then put you back together how he sees fit.

Your lips try to press together, forming the ‘p’ in ‘please’ as you go to beg him for release again. Watching your eyes glaze over, he nods in response.

“Go ahead babygirl, can feel you squeezing me so fuckin' hard. That tight little pussy is drooling, begging for release.”

He leans over you, till his lips are right beside your ear.

"Cum all over my fucking hand and I’ll pound that pretty pussy from behind till you can’t see straight, make you watch in the mirror.”

That’s all it takes. His filthy fucking mouth unraveling your body while his hands break you apart.

All the heat in your body pinpoints towards your core, as you feel your toes start to curl and your eyes roll back as your cunt tightens around his fingers. The coil deep inside you snaps as he lets off your neck, and you cry out, your orgasm washing over you in waves.

It’s searing, white hot euphoria. Endless ecstasy coursing through your veins as your body locks up and convulses, your pussy gushing around him. His fingers don’t slow down, fucking you through it as you arch off the bed, gripping the sheets with white knuckles, wailing his name as if it’s the only answer.

Forget the studying, forget school, forget anything.

Just Joel.

“There you fuckin’ go.” He murmurs in awe, mesmerized at you falling apart for him.

“My good fucking girl, came so hard. So fucking wet for me.”

He presses soft kisses all over your face, your neck, your chest while murmuring more praise. Pulling his soaked fingers out as your body still shakes with aftershocks, he sucks them into his mouth, his eyes falling shut.

You mewl at the sight and let your head thunk against the pillow.

You feel drained. Flattened. Exhausted in the best possible way.

He rests his head on your tummy, looking up at you with adoration. Like you captured the fucking moon for him.

The hunger in his eye is gone, the depth of his chocolate brown irises replaced with warmth and love. Rubbing his hands up and down your sides and kissing the softness of your skin, he checks in with you.

“Holy fuck,” You huff out as you will your breathing to slow down.

He chuckles, the crinkles around his eyes deepen.

“How was that?”

“Well, I’m not gonna be able to conjure up the definition for statistical significance or interrater reliability without remembering your fingers deep inside my pussy.”

You reach down and bury your hands into the soft mop of curls, trailing them down to caress his jaw. You trace the patchy scruff of his beard as Joel turns his head to press his lips against your fingertips.

“But it certainly is a memorable study method.

You flash him a tired smile. "I’m a big fan”

Sweat beads at your hairline as you feel your hair plastered to your forehead, yet he looks at you with same intensity and adoration.

“I’m glad I could help darlin.’ If you can stand my distractions, I have no doubt you’ll ace the exam.”

Mischief laces his tone as he leans up and over you to kiss your forehead. Moving down, kissing your cheek, your lips, his lips brush your pulse point as he licks and nibbles.

You whimper helplessly and tilt your head, giving him more access.

“We’ll see about that. I’m just lucky I have a very good study buddy”

“Oh we’re just getting started sugar,” he whispers in your ear. “That was just the first chapter of material, we got the rest of the textbook to cover, and the rest of the fuckin night.”

Goosebumps prickle across your skin as you shiver again, warmth flooding from your pussy. His fingers dip down, slipping through your folds as he feels how wet you are. He pulls his fingers up, watching the clear webbing of your arousal coat his fingers, as his eyes darken and his gaze flicks back to you.

“Get on your hands and knees for me.”

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

A couple weeks later, you get your exam results through the mail. You passed with flying colours, although you’re not really sure how to be honest. But it doesn’t matter as you fling your arms around Joel’s neck, one hand clutching the ripped open envelope as he lifts you off your feet and swings you around, elated for your success.

Needless to say you don’t study by yourself again for future tests after that study session.

[hana-no-seiiki]

I’ve been stuck on this idea. Jinx reader with the batfam…I know you had it in your master list and I’ve been thinking about it for a while. Maybe when the reader was little, they doodled and made little trinkets like powder. So I’m thinking that the reader doodled on batmans tools. Kinda like how powder/jinx made their weapons with faces on them.

So maybe Batman and the rest of the boys were gone and reader snuck into the bar cave and started doodling on their masks and weapons.

And just another thought 😅

When reader is older, they become a vigilante, causing chaos for the fun of it but also doing it for good. They also move out when they were a kid, because maybe Batman called then a jinx (I’m really going for the arcane storyline 😭😭😭)

Maybe the batfam tries to bring her back, but she just kinda runs away laughing while throwing glitter bombs 😭😭😭

Just something I thought of

I don’t usually write reader as childhood friends with the guys here unless it’s cat villain (which is more like childhood rivals) so this is quite the change.

In my og storyline which i have semi spoiled and will spoil some more here : Jason and Jinx! Reader were part of a found family and Jason having a massive crush on reader gave them tools to make explosives they really shouldnt have. Which is kind of poetic knowing how he ‘dies’.

I���m not sure if this ask is platonic or romantic so I’ll just go with my preference, the latter.

this is just a little snippet since i started working on jinx reader again huhu wanna save the juicy stuff for that one

Jinx! Reader was known as the runt of the litter among Bruce’s adopted children. Physically weak, above average in smarts but nothing compared to the rest. The only thing they had going for them was their skill with firearms which Bruce heavily discouraged and admonished the practice of.

Jason and you bonded with rebelling against him. He’d often bring you out to abandoned arcades that you two would repair from scraps you found in the Batcave. Dude was down atrocious. He kept bringing you to missions purely because he couldn’t resist your face. Sure he was snarky at times, but your common upbringing made him more soft around you. (Sometimes he purposely puts you in situations where you’d get caught just so he can ‘save’ you. The way you hold unto him for dear life is…simply exhilarating)

But try as he might, he could never fill the hole you had in your heart. Your desire for a complete family. For validation. For Bruce to finally acknowledge your worth. For Damian to stop calling you a fucking waste of space.

You ended up screwing a mission so badly that you indirectly killed dozens of Gotham citizens.

Usually you would just compromise their positions during patrols but this was… this was something irreversible. Something that affected friends, families, actual living breathing people.

Bruce had a tight cap on his emotions, but he just couldn’t stop himself from taking out his anger, grief and frustration out on you.

Dick and Jason managed to pull him back before he could hurt you beyond a punch to the face, but the psychological damage had already been cemented.

You run away, running into Harley Quinn.

But instead of following the path my og jinx reader did, Joker wasn’t there to fuck with your head even further. So you sought to repay for your sins.

Still, the screams. The way Bruce called you useless, a jinx. The memories of being neglected and inferior.

Sometimes chaos was the only way to make it shut up.

[ghulehthezombiequeen]

Here kitty kitty - Sodo x reader

masterlist.

author's note: i felt bad after dropping three angst fics and then disappearing into the void so have some wholesome sodo 🫶

also i have a headcanon that all the ghouls purr whenever someone pets/scratches their sweet spots and they just melt in your arms and its just so absjdifhfbdbdjsjak i'm in love

other things to note: no pronouns used for reader, sodo gets kinda subby so if you squint there's a bit of suggestive tones (you'll have to squint so hard you can't see though)

word count: 877

“Hey, is it true that ghoul biology is similar to a cat’s?” You asked curiously, looking up from the book you were studying. You and Sodo were in the rehearsal room; Sodo was sitting down on an amp, practicing his solos for the recording of an upcoming album, and he wanted to get it down perfectly. You were just there because you didn’t want him to be lonely. “Um, yeah, why?” Sodo asked, keeping his eyes on his guitar. 

“Well, I’m just studying for my test, and… it says that to earn bonus points on the test, if I’m able to, I have to… um… make a ghoul purr.” You felt your cheeks burn as the words rolled off your tongue, and Sodo stopped playing abruptly. He stared up at you, trying to decipher if you were being serious or not. 

“…You what?” 

“It says only if I’m able to!” You defended yourself.  “Wait, wait, wait… let me get this straight.” Sodo uncrossed his legs, putting his guitar to the side gently. He then looked at you with a raised eyebrow. “You’re asking me… to help you get bonus points on a test… and you have to make me… purr?” He grimaced. 

“Um… yeah. That- that’s what the book says, anyway.” 

“Also, remind me why are you even taking that ghoul biology class? You’re not even a ghoul!” He frowned. 

You rolled your eyes and sighed. “Papa Secondo says that it’s good for a Sibling of Sin to memorize the biology of a ghoul inside and out just in case a ritual goes wrong and someone gets hurt. And it’s a required class for me to take before I take his Latin class.” 

“….Alright, that does seem like a valid point. Alright,” He sighed, folding his arms and standing up, walking over to the couch you were sitting on and looked down at you. “I’ll help you. But only because I know how cranky Papa Secondo can get.” 

You gave him a cheeky grin. “Wait, really?! Oh my gosh, thank you thank you thank you!” You jumped up and excitedly gave him a hug. You thought you were going to have to ask Rain or Mountain to help you, which would probably take longer considering their schedules were filled to the brim with activities. 

“Yeah yeah yeah, alright, okay, get off.” He grumbled, blushing as he automatically put his hands on your waist. He’d never admit it, but he loved hugs. 

“Sorry, sorry.” You giggled, pulling away. 

“Alright, so what do I have to do?” He sighed. He looked like he was already over it, although it had barely started. 

“Here, sit next to me.” You beckoned, and he sat to your left. You glanced at your book, reading the common sweet spots to scratch. “Alright, let’s try… the ears.” 

Your hand slowly went behind his ears, your nails gently scratching the soft fluff, making them twitch at first but stilled as you continued. Sodo let out a small hiss, not expecting the sudden stimulation there. His fangs started to poke out of his lips. 

“I’m not hurting you, am I?” You asked as you stopped scratching once he hissed.  “No… you’re fine. I just- wasn’t expecting it to feel like that.” He mumbled. 

“M’kay.” You continued scratching behind his ears, which flickered down then stilled. You felt a low vibration begin, and your eyes wandered to Sodo’s eyes, which were closed tight. “M…m…mrr….” He grumbled, causing you to laugh.  “Aw, this feels good, doesn’t it?” You asked, and he nodded vigorously. You glanced over his shoulder at the open book, reading that another sensitive spot was the top of their heads and their chins. You opted for his chin, bringing your other hand to rub his soft jawline.  “Mmm… Mrrrr… mrow… ah..” Sodo’s eyes widened as his mewls grew louder, his cheeks turning red. You bit your lip to hold back another giggle, but you couldn’t contain the smirk on your face. 

“Mrrrow…. Ah- hey! D-Don’t…. Mrow… Don’t laugh at me….” He growled, but it morphed into a purr, causing your giggles to spill out of your mouth.  “Awww, you’re so cute! Are you a good kitty? Yeah?” You cooed, continuing to scratch his chin and now the top of his head where his scalp was. When you moved your hand to the new area, his tail flicked against the back of the couch, hard. It then started wagging, tapping against the soft pillow behind him. 

He started purring like crazy, nodding vigorously at your question. “Mrow… y-yes, yes…. I’m good.. I’m a g-good kitty…” 

He started to curl up closer to you, his leg already on your lap. You scooped him up in your arms so that he was curled safely on your lap, continuing to scratch and pet him. 

You had sneakily pulled out your phone and snapped a few photos of Sodo in your lap, as he never usually acted like this. He hissed as he saw you put your phone back, to which you replied with a giggle, “Photo evidence. It’s what the book says.” 

He grumbled something incoherent but kept mewing and purring. 

As you reveled in this moment, you remembered: you’ll have to do this again for the end of the year-review test. 

[drugsorgasmsandcheese]

trouble, j. miller | chapter two

mob!joel miller x fem!reader

chapter summary: your first shift at apocalypse lives up to the standards that you hoped for, and you work your charm on everyone there. money and validation never hurt anyone, and you definitely didn’t mind it.

chapter warnings: alcohol consumption, food consumption, uh oh curse words, joel miller being a “power to the people, stick it to the man” man (we believe in that over on this blog), reader & dancers shake ass bc they can, google translated spanish 😍, no beta again, AND DID SOMEONE SAY JAVIER PEÑA!?

word count: 2274

also can u guys start asking me to be on this taglist by either bribing me or threatening me idk i think i’d just like to see “add me to your taglist or i’m gonna be under your bed at 9:03pm”

(series masterlist)

when you step outside of the changing room, you head over to the snack drawers. you may have eaten before you arrived, but turning down free food was a sin in your eyes. you settle on a pack of hot cheetos and some trolli candy before sitting in a high chair and allowing lucy to do your makeup.

lucy was a lovely woman. she told you the basics about her, how she’s trying to save money so she can buy her first apartment, the name of her cat, etc. and, jesus christ, lucy was good at make up. her shade match was amazing, the blush and contour sculpted your face well. the eye make up was a smoked out black wing, with purple eye glitter on your eyelids. your lips were glossy, pouty, and fucking sexy, if you did say so yourself.

“lucy, i want you to know that if you ever decide to dump your boyfriend, i will be right here waiting for you.” you take another look at yourself in the mirror. “i look so hot i want to fuck myself.”

lucy giggles, and the two of you join adele, who runs you through everything you need to know. when she gets to the hourly pay and tips, your mouth drops in shock. “damn, didn’t realise joel was such a socialist.”

adele and lucy laugh. “baby, he pays everyone here good.”

lucy nods. “dancers get their money from customers and an hourly pay too. he treats us all good, it’s why we all like working here so much.”

you get to know some of the women whilst you’re there. you dance with them, they teach you some moves that are part of their routines, you sing with them. in all honesty, a lot of time hadn’t passed and you felt like you would defend these women with your life.

a knock sounds on the door, and adele opens it to find joel standing there. he beckons you with his hand outstretched. you give your goodbyes to the girls, dramatic as ever but you would miss this moment between you all, even if they did say you could drop by this room any time you want like the other female waiting staff did.

you join joel’s side, his hand going onto your lower back again as he guides you to another room.

“kitchen. head chef is joey,” he points to an elder man with black hair and a slight stubble. he seems mean…you’ll fix that. “that’s quinn,” he points to a woman with blonde hair, “and that’s tim.” you look at tim. tim looks stoned. you think about joining tim to get high on your next shift.

“hi everyone!” you wave at them giddily.

“some guests like food whilst they’re here, ‘s why we have the kitchen. ask for something for yourself and they’ll whip it up for ya’ too.” joel checks his watch, and you don’t know much about watches, but it looks expensive and you unconsciously gulp. he’s rich, damn.

“i’ll take ya’ back up to my office so we can go over some stuff before we open.”

when you get to his office, joel offers for you to take a seat across from his. his chair, however, spins, and you’re much more fascinated by that instead of the boring sofa. you take a seat on the rotating chair and begin to spin on it. joel sighs, shaking his head like he was surprised by your behaviour thus far.

“need to go over the shifts you can do. now, i don’t want ya’ overworkin’ yourself or being too tired for your damn lectures. so tell me what shifts you can do for now, and we can go over the rest later.”

you stop your spinning and look up at him. “i can do weekend shifts at any time. um…i have a nine am lecture on tuesday and thursday. wednesdays i don’t have a lecture until three, and mondays and friday i can work after five.”

“alright, give me your number so i can arrange your shifts. you get paid in cash every week and you’ll collect it from my office at the end of the night.”

you smirk, lifting your index finger up to your lips and biting down on the tip. “my number? joel miller, you flirt! take me to dinner first, please.”

he says your name sternly, a warning. “give me your damn number and get outta here. damn trouble, you are.”

you giggle, writing down your number on a piece of paper and giving it to him, and taking an ipad that carries the menu on it, sauntering out of his office and heading back to the dancer’s room.

——

at nine pm, the club doors open and you have your first group sat in one of the v.i.p. booths. a woman orders a sex on the beach, and the other orders a martini. you take the order down to the bar to gather the drinks and meet the bartender.

he introduced himself as javier, shaking your hand and kissing it gently, making you giggle. you knew you were going to get along with him very well.

as you wait for the drinks, one of the dancers comes over and talks to you. chelsea, her name is. a real blonde bombshell who you think would’ve been amazing in the barbie movie. she’s got a bubbly personality and a cute laugh. she tells you that she attends the same college as you, studying chemistry and physics.

you’re cut off when javier places your drinks on a tray and passes it to you. you give a little wave to chelsea as she is called to a booth to entertain the men.

“don’t be a stranger, mi amor.” javier calls out to you, and you giggle.

“and miss out on you? never!” you shout over your shoulder.

as you walk through the v.i.p. floor, you spot some of the girls and give your greetings to them, winking and grinning as they walk by. you make it back to the table and place the drinks down in front of the two women, and you gasp at them both.

“i just noticed your make up, holy shit! you girls are stunning.” your customer service skills deserves an award, and you’re forever thankful that you’re a massive extrovert and can get away with half the shit that comes out of your mouth.

the girls give their thanks to you, complimenting you back and you shrug them off. you were getting tipped tonight whether they liked it or not. you were hellbent on winning everyone over.

it’s when you’re putting in an eighth round of drinks that you feel a hand on your lower back yet again. you turn your head to see joel, looking down at you.

“need you in booth five.”

“alright, just gotta get these drinks from javi and some orders from the kitchen and i’ll be with you.” you smile at him, and joel walks away back to the booth.

you take your drinks from javi, and he doesn’t forget to give you some pet names in spanish, and you head back to one of the private rooms. you see a woman by the name of destiny dancing on a small stage with a pole as you give the men their drinks. she winks at you and you return it.

you place the drinks down in front of the men, taking your tray as you lean down and whisper to the closest one to you. “i’ll be back with your food, sir.”

and you return within five minutes, having won over the entire kitchen staff with your undeniable charm. you arrive with two large plates of nachos that the three men share between themselves. one of them slips you a hundred dollar bill, and you blow a kiss his way as you leave the private room.

men were too easy sometimes.

you enter the soundproof glass door of booth five, stepping in and pulling out your tablet. “any drinks i can get for you guys?”

a bald headed man orders a jack and coke, one with a skin fade orders a budweiser and you had to do a subtle double take on him because men in their thirties have skin fades? huh, you learn something new everyday. you look at joel and he shakes his head. “i’m alright, darlin’.”

you smile at him, placing the orders through on the tablet. “i’ll be back soon. let me know if you need anything else.”

as you walk up to the bar, you smile at javi. “oh, my beautiful husband. how i’ve missed you.”

javi looks at you and smirks. “ah, mi pequeña esposa, you’re back. what drinks do you need?” {my little wife}

“jack and coke and a budweiser.” you respond, resting your arms flat on the bartop and placing your head on it as you watch jack make the drinks, your tablet sat right next to you. “javi, what’s the weirdest drink you’ve had someone order?”

“bloody mary with passion fruit liquor.” he grimaces, as do you. what kind of sick fucks were drinking bloody mary’s anyway? and you can make a bloody mary worse? ew.

“i wanna see a drink named after me on this menu one day.” you take the drinks from him as he chuckles.

walking back to the booth, you balance the tray on one hand whilst the other opens the glass door. you place the drinks down in front of the two men, giving them sultry looks as you do.

you were going home with benjamin franklin tonight. you were determined.

as you stand back up and move closer to joel’s seat, you could feel his eyes on you, and when you looked at him, he seemed to be hiding back a smirk, picking up on your games. and it works, as both men slip you a few hundred dollar bills that you tuck under the strap of your bra to stash away later.

“anything else i can get for you gentleman tonight?” when they respond with a ‘no’, you feel a light tap on your thigh. brown eyes meeting yours, he gestures for you to come closer, and you bend down so his mouth is next to your ear.

“little shit.” he whispers, and you chuckle, standing back up to your full height and leaving the booth.

the only time you return to joel’s booth is to take away cups and refill drinks. you don’t hear much of the conversation that happens because, quite frankly, you don’t care. the bald guy and the one with the skin fade keep slipping you bills and that’s enough to buy your silence and curiosity.

you return to some of the private rooms, getting drinks for guests and dancers, but during the final moments of your shift, you’re sat at the bar talking to javier. you learn that he’s been friends with joel since high school. they’re practically brothers, and although they weren’t related, they do look alike…

“shithead.” joel’s voice calls out, and you can only assume he’s referring to you due to the choice in nickname.

“that better be meant as an endearment or i will be snitching to my pops.” you say as you walk over, blowing javi a kiss as a means of goodbye. “he may be in his sixties but he can still put a crow bar to use.”

joel rolls his eyes and guides you back to the dancer’s room. you open the door halfway before he decides to speak: “wait around here for a bit and i’ll come get you. i’ll be taking you home so make sure you’ve got everything.”

you pout playfully. “well, aren’t you just a sweetheart.” and your words cause him to roll his eyes again.

“get in there, ya’ little shit.” and he gently pushes you in.

for the next two hours, you and the girls spend your time dancing to some 2000’s r&b. you and chelsea end up whining on each other, and you all collapse by the time ‘smack that’ has finished, giggling away among yourselves as adele is highly entertained by your energy.

a knock at the door sounds, and you can tell it’s joel. you grab the clothes you wore before your shift started, and when you open it, joel is stood there carrying your bag.

“ya’ got everything?”

“you sound like a divorced dad who has joint custody over his daughter. yes, i have everything.” joel sighs at your comment, rubbing the space between his eyebrows which causes you to giggle.

“bye guys!” you wave goodbye to everyone as you and joel leave the building. he unlocks his black porsche and you hop in the front, shivering slightly at how cold it was.

joel notices this, turning on the heated seats as he drives you home to your grandparents. when you’re outside your house, joel stops you from getting out. “i’ll text you your shifts. my number is strictly for work.”

“got it, text you whenever i want. bye joel!” you shout, running out of the car and unlocking your front door, heading straight to your bedroom so you can take off your make up and finally be comfortable.

you fail to notice how joel’s car doesn’t drive away until he sees you’ve entered the house, and that you safely got to your room when your bedroom light turns on. you don’t see how he smiled at your little comment, shaking his head as he drives away.

oh, you were trouble, alright.

____

a/n: reader tormenting joel and him just tolerating it is my ideal relationship

taglist (if you want to be added, pls let me know!! & if your name is in bold, i couldn’t find your account :()

@dugiioh @amyispxnk @skysmiller @alyhull @noisynightmarepoetry @elliaze @dendulinka6 @zliteraturehoe @atyourmerci @al33naaa @mermaidgirl30 @lulawantmula @nana90azevedo @endlessthxxghts @getitoutofmymind @you-taste-so-sweet @blazeflays @iveseenstrangerthings50 @regalwhovianbrowncoat774 @aquanatalie @katw474 @ludwigxii-blog @eloquentdreamer @kyloispunk @txmentor @din-jarring @daddysmilf0123 @sofiparallel @dunkinzjm @runningmom94 @ashhlsstuff @moel-jiller @isimpforfictionalmen @drewharrisonwriter @stormseyer @rodriguez31 @elliesswearjar @vvitchesh3x @joeldjarin @untamedheart81 @ellishamae25 @pedropascalfan221 @mellymbee @pedritosgfreal @yassspose @casa-boiardi

[kurishiri]

02 . . . the past records ˗ˏˋ🍎🪞´ˎ˗

— this translation may not be 100% accurate or may contain creative liberties. if you enjoy, please consider reblogging, but don’t repost or claim these as your own!

— cw: near death experience (drowning).

Alfons: Well, you see, one of the teacups was a completely ordinary cup of darjeeling tea.

A: But the other cup of tea had a poison that could send you straight to the afterworld with naught but a single sip!

Liam: Eehh!?

Alfons: You never fail to exceed my expectations with your priceless reactions, Liam.

Roger: How’d you even get your hands on that poison in the first place?

Alfons: By staining said hands with sins that a well-to-do doctor’s son such as yourself wouldn’t even dream of thinking about.

Liam: So, since you left whether you ran away or not up to fate, Lord Elbie would have made the correct choice if he chose the tea that didn’t have the poison in it.

L: And so you couldn’t leave Lord Elbie’s side… is that it?

Alfons: No, quite the opposite, in fact.

A: Had Elbie chosen the tea which did not contain any poison, I would have drank the one with it.

A: I would say my farewells and depart from this world with grace.

A: Well, what do you think? It’s truly a game befitting of the name Dead or Alive, no?

Liam: …That is a lie, right? There’s no way that can be true.

Alfons: Maybe, or maybe not, who knows? Are you going to bring in Harry to confirm your suspicions?

A: Anyhow, were Elbie to choose correctly, I would die an honorable and graceful death. And if he made the wrong choice, I would admit my defeat and rescue him.

A: And with that, I would stay by his side, just a little longer. It’s a rule of mine, you see.

Roger: So, the fact that you are with Elbie still must mean…

Alfons: Ever since we met, up to now, we would play this game every now and then when the mood struck…

A: …but, it’s truly a wonder where Elbie’s luck — or rather, lack thereof — comes from, as every single time, he has made the wrong choice.

—— Flashback ——

Alfons: Anyway, back to the tea.

A: Which one do you want?

Elbert: Umm… this one.

Alfons: …Are you sure?

Elbert: …? …Mn.

Alfons: …Well, then.

Elbert: Then, I’ll drink thi—

Alfons: I wouldn’t drink that if I were you, seeing that tea’s got poison inside.

Elbert: …eh-?

Alfons: Here, drink this one, Elbert. I’ll throw out the poisoned tea.

Elbert: …? …?? …Mn, okay.

—— End flashback ——

Liam: Lord Elbie really is too pure.

Alfons: And I wholeheartedly agree. Why, once in a mission several years back, the two of us were on a boat that looked like it would sink down any minute—

Liam: Wait, you were about to sink!?

Alfons: Indeed, we were. It happened before you and Roger had joined Crown.

Roger: I’m starting to question your validity now.

Liam: Should I actually bring in Harry?

—— Flashback ——

Alfons: It seems there are two lifeboats here… well, which boat do you choose? I will take the other.

Elbert: …I feel like we could just ride one together.

Alfons: The boats are small and narrow, so how about we don’t. Besides, this would be a prime opportunity to try what I’ve dreamed of doing — a boat race.

Elbert: I see… then, maybe this one?

Alfons: …Sometimes, I do find myself wondering why you are like this.

Elbert: …?

—— Time skip ——

Elbert: Al…

Alfons: Yes, what is it?

Elbert: …There’s water flooding into the boat.

Alfons: I can’t say I’m surprised, considering your boat has a hole in it.

Elbert: …You’re right. …A lot of the boat is underwater now…

Alfons: You can swim here then. Oh, and I do recommend taking your clothes off, as they will feel heavy underwater.

Elbert: Ah…

Alfons: ? Is something the matter?

Elbert: That fin… could it be a shark…?

Alfons: …I will come over to you, then, so try your best to stay on the surface with that bloody useless boat.

—— End flashback ——

Alfons: And so, we washed up on a beach with our lives hanging by a thin thread, taking a break while collapsed on the sand with the fallen coconuts.

A: Eventually, Victor and William [1] came around with a steamboat, and we returned to London. The end.

Liam: For some reason, I have more questions than answers...

Roger: So, if Elbie made the right decision and chose the safe boat, you would’ve sunk down with that bloody useless boat while saying ‘adieu’?

Alfons: To die by becoming shark food... putting a dramatic end to my life so early on like a cannon fodder villain does indeed have a nice ring to it, I must admit.

Liam: Wait, about that thing you suddenly asked about earlier!

L: The one where you asked me to think of ‘a game that is thrilling, the type where you’d die if you lose’…

Alfons: Ahh, yes.

A: The chicken race where we’d choose between carriages driven by either a drunk person or a sober one, and ride in it to the cliff. It was a great game.

Liam: Wait, are you telling me… you played that game with Lord Elbie…? I thought this was for a mission or something…

Alfons: You can rest assured, as Lord Elbie had, once again and admirably so, made the wrong choice and chose the carriage with the drunk driver.

A: Oh, and not to worry, I saved them before the carriage dove down the cliff.

A: All that said, even if this was all a game of luck, I couldn’t help but feel it was very like Elbie to only make choices that end up hurting himself, and for some years I was genuinely concerned…

A: But as of late, I seem to have grown out of feeling both concern and amazement for him. So emotionally, I have nothing left in me. Nothing.

A: And so, that was how I came to stay by his side, even now.

A: Well, how about it? Quite the comedic tragedy, no? Go on now, I implore you to burst out laughing now.

Elbert: …Al, there you are.

Alfons: Oh, and if you speak of the devil. …Ahh, it’s already time.

A: Well then, I have a mission I need to do, so I’ll excuse myself here.

A: Oh, and you can just stick the photos of Lord Elbie somewhere in that mountain of documents Roger has.

As if to provoke him, Alfons snatched Roger’s liquor before leaving the room with Elbert.

Liam: ……

Roger: You got something you wanna say?

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NOTES:

[1] wasn’t sure how to translate this, or if there’s some reference in the EN game, so I just… omitted it, but I’d like to give a bit of an explanation. Here, Alfons says [ヴィクトル様とウィリアムさん] (vikutoru-sama to wiriamu-san), where he refers to Victor with —sama and William with —san. These are honorifics in Japanese, and they have no direct English translation. Alfons usually refers to most people with the —san honorific (he had always referred to Roger and Liam with —san), which is like an average “polite” honorific, but he refers to Victor with —sama, which is commonly used to denote a social status higher than yourself or it can be used to show respect or reverence. I think he just refers to Victor with —sama because he is the Queen’s Aide and basically like his boss. And, while we’re on the topic of honorifics, Alfons seems to switch on a whim (maybe?) between using and not using —sama (‘Lord,’ in this case, as Elbert is a count) with him.

[b4mpyre-k1zz3s]

Maggot’s Kiss Pt. 2

You must be dreaming. A bad dream, really. One where you’re out in the middle of the desert, hurtling down lengthy, desolate stretches of highway in a sardine can packed with oil and about fifteen sweaty pro-skaters. Bam looks for validation in all the wrong places, and you were one of those places.

Bam Margera X Fem!Reader

(Angst, Fluff)

3.3k Words

Warnings: Highly suggestive content, Enemies to lovers, jealousy, crude language, very suggestive content, bullying, (small) implied age gap, injury, wound care, boners, smoking, make outs, bad sex, semi-public sex, insecurity, misogyny

An: Thank you for sending in requests! This is, in fact, the single fic I have worked on for the longest- over nine months! Hours of research and writing (and re-writing…) went into this, so I hope you all enjoy! :) I wanted to keep the door open for a Pt. 3, so please lmk if that’s something you’d like to see! As a note, the opening scene of this fic was largely inspired by my experiences using lidocaine after walking ~10 miles a day for a week- long story, but a fun one!

Your motel room looked like a military field hospital, sweaty, lifeless bodies draped over whatever pieces of furniture were closest when you walked in. What the X-Games doesn’t show you is the toll professional skating can take on your body, and given your usual medic couldn’t make the trip, the severely injured were given priority. Just about everybody had something wrong with them. You got off easy with just a blasted elbow, but that paled in comparison to the rotten luck Bam had up to this point. “Yeah, racked my nuts so bad yesterday- m’still pissin’ blood…”

This was, of course, in addition to several broken ribs and those sore thigh muscles you were slathering up in that minty, burn your eyes lidocaine jelly. Better than the rank, dense sweat that permitted every inch of peeling wallpaper and crusty carpet…Sitting there with one leg dangling over the arm of the chair, Bam looked like some king, waiting for a subject to come and kiss his ring, with the shitty lamp in the corner of the room casting this golden halo around his head. He watched you with half lidded eyes, letting out an occasional wince or hiss through his teeth as the gel stung in the angry little scratches on legs.

“Give it a break, dude. You’re gonna end up in a full body cast before the tour is done- I’m callin’ it.” Bam’s Adam’s Apple bobbed as he let out a low groan, his head leaning back when your scabbed over palms worked out a knot in his pale thigh. There was a weird privacy this afforded you, what with how the rest of the team was passed out or distracted with their own injuries…Your face was inches away from those flannel boxers that sat dangerously low on Bam hips as he wilted in his seat and muttered, “Yeah, yeah- I’ll be fine, Nurse Y/N...”

The worst part of this wasn't the fact that Bam got a hard on while your face was inches from his crotch. It was how he was shamelessly flashing that tattoo and all that prime hip real estate, contours shiny with sweat. Fucking sinful- and he didn’t have a shread of shame about getting a boner in a room full of his half naked teammates. Slut. Glancing down to the tent in his boxers, you bitterly chuckled, not pretending you were some doting, caring mother figure, “Well, at least we know it still works...” Punctuating your sentence with a tight squeeze to a bundle of muscle, you savored the way Bam squirmed as he melted under your numb palms like ice cubes spat out onto the sidewalk.

His little facade crumpled in front of your face, but he still put up the ghost of resistance, “You are suh-such a sadistic bitch…” Sadistic implied you got pleasure from his pain, but there was more than that. The little, soft breaths he let out so as to not make the ache on his chest worse made you want to tug those ACE bandages on his torso to one side and dig your fingers into the tender, purple bits hidden under them.

You could listen to the engine groan, but that won’t pass the time when you need to be in the next state over by morning. Didn’t keep you warm either, as the tour bus you and the rest of Tony Hawk’s skate team were packed into sped down I-10, and at two am became a refrigerator in the desert night. But after a long day of skating in Ari-Fucking-Zona, there was no amount of noise that could wake those guys up. No amount of mattress creaking or stiffled moaning…

Luckily, you could come up with a few ideas to stay warm under the frigid den of night. This sort of writhing, slithering mass of limbs was stuffed into one bunk, with Bam latched on your neck as if he were Cleopatra’s asp. A little petulant about not being able to have sex in a bus with all your teammates present, he greedily palmed at you, wide hands slipping up the bottom of you tank top. Suddenly, a thought occurred to you. Keeping your voice down, you asked incredulously, “What happened to, ‘no way in hell am I touchin’ you.’?” Thank god it was dark so that Bam didn’t see the shit eating grin on your face. But this was something that had been bothering you for a while- ever since that incident at the skatepark, you weren't sure what the two of you were. Friends? Dating? Something between that? Bam let out a low, vibrating groan against your neck, “Shut up…” before he resumed making swollen, fat hickeys on your neck.

No, you were not about to be demoted to Bam Margera’s road fleshlight. Grabbing a handful of his long, sweaty curls, you yanked him off of your carotid with a pop, leaving him to stare up at you with those big, shocked eyes. Bam was about to tell you that it's none of your business- that you should stop being so goddamn weird and critical about everything he does because he could just find another girl who’d be over the moon to be gettin’ all this, and if he did, he wouldn’t have to put up with all your bitchin’. Key word about to, because thevan made this horrible wheezing noise cutting off any sass he was about to give you. Judging from the sputtering coming from the engine and the sudden realization that you were slowing down, it seemed this was more serious than hitting an armadillo.

Despite the initial confusion, you did feel a tinge of satisfaction when Bam thwacked his head on the roof of the bunk trying to see what was going on, wincing and falling face-first into your tits. Flicking on the hazards, the driver eased the dying bus into the parking lot of a nearby rest stop. Surprisingly, the only person who was roused in this process was the team’s pseudo father, Tony, who had this little sensor in his head that went off whenever shit started going south. After he left to see if he could find a technician, you tried to give the tension between yourself and Bam a little room to breathe and stood outside the bus in your pajamas, only for him to follow you.

Wedging a cigarette between your teeth, silence hung heavy between the two of you- as heavy as the desert air could allow. Lips curling into that signature, plastic MTV star smirk, the tip of Bam’s cig glowed red under the white, fluorescent lights of the gas station as he took a drag. Everyone looks bad under those lights, you realized, because you could really see them- more bare than being naked. He just…watched you, studying your movements with odd intensity. Bam wanted a reaction, but you refused to give it to him, and that made him upset. Tossing his smoldering butt about an inch shy of your bare foot, all semblance of politeness fell away. Your lack of a reaction must’ve stirred something in Bam, because wordlessly, he retreated to the bus.

Taking your chance to flee the scene, you slipped away into the Speedway to see how Tony was doing on that mechanic and maybe grab yourself a slushie. Leaning into the little cubicle the pay phone sat in with the kind of stress on his face you would expect to see from a doctor three hours into open heart surgery, he explained, “Well, they can get a guy out in a couple hours, but until then we’re kinda stuck here.” Outside, you caught a glance of Bam in the parking lot about three seconds away from hurling his board through a plate glass window. Still staring at you. Sighing, you took a step out of the shatter zone, ducking past a pamphlet stand and pocketing a few before you slipped out the door. You didn’t even get your slushie.

Call in the bomb squad, Tony. His eyes were hard and distant, like he was searching for something to break or someone to punch. “Hey, Bam! Whatch’a workin’ on over there?” You could tell he saw you on your way to talk him down from his little temper tantrum, because he suddenly got all cool after you called out to him. Instead of responding, he shot you a glare, ignoring your attempts at civility as he re-attempted that frontside 50-50 on the curb he just couldn’t seem to nail. You wanted to smack him upside the head and tell him to stop being such a little bitch. But you didn’t.

“Check this out, they got-“ fishing in your pocket, you drew out the first pamphlet you found and quickly skimmed it, feigning excitement, “they got paintball! C'mon- if we have a free day, we gotta do it.” Like a kid at the store who was promised candy if they stopped crying, Bam got silent. Paintball is fun. Chasing your teammates around is fun. And as it happens, hunting people down with the goal of inflicting nasty, paintball related injuries is very fun. As you watched the gears in Bam’s head spin, the animosity plastered across his face washed away into something more familiar. “Your ass is mine, Y/N.”

The place was a warzone. Literally- Warzone Paintball and Airsoft. Honestly, the last thing you wanted to do after a day skating at Planet Plywood was to roll around in the dust and mud, but you had already convinced Tony, and most of the guys were stoked about it. Key word, most. “Vegas is, like- an hour from here.” Tim complained, lacing up regulation standard combat boots next to you in the locker room. Yes, the single locker room, which nobody cared about you being in except you know who sneaking glances from the corner as you tugged on your camo gear. Walking out into paint spattered no man’s land, trash talk flew across the field from both sides (but mostly Bam’s side). Their demented leader himself even posed you a kind offer, “Hey, captain hardass! Y’want me t’hold your purse for you?” Turning to Tony, you mouthed something about getting the little one in the ribs.

Over the loudspeakers a buzzer went off, and the match had begun! Clacking noises from gunfire echoed off the walls, mingling with shouting and splattering paint. Diving behind a fake oil drum, neon colored rounds whizzed past your ears as you taken out a few men. This was Rambo. No, more like Stripes, because with great timing, you had to reload. “Shit- shit, fuck…” Fumbling with the second round, your nerves were not in any way aided by the advancing hoofbeats from the other side of the course. To your left, Mike Ellis rolled over a plywood crate and joined you, providing decent cover for you to regain your footing.

More than justice, you had your sights set on humbling that little Philly-trash twerp. Staying low, you ducked into a ditch just in time to hear from your side, “Oh, you are dead, fucker!“ There goes Tim, firing with abandon as he charged headlong into the heat of battle, only to be quickly gunned down by the opposition who all whooped and high-fived. Oh well, there goes that plan. Back to hunting Bam! Taking the hint, you decided to stay out of the line of fire, creeping along the far wall to check for openings.

Somehow, you couldn't take your head off a swivel despite the fact you were covered. Some primal, instinctual part of your brain told you not to let your guard down. Crouching behind a shipping container on one edge of the battlefield, that adrenaline thrumming through you was amplified by the sudden silence. The noise of war seemed a world away, and now all that was left was you and your gun. Or so you thought.

Suddenly, the cold, hard steel of a muzzle pressed against the back of your skull, the only part of your head the protective mask didn’t cover. You knew who it was. “Hey…” you put your hands up in a surrender you weren't sure was genuine or faux, “none’a that close range shit…” Blue eyes shining with mischief behind his mask, Bam cast a shadow over you, standing so close that you could feel the heat radiating off of his body- his half shirtless body, courtesy of the un-air conditioned warehouse. There was an unmistakable, vindictive glee in his voice as he broke the silence, “Say uncle.” But you were not about to give Bam the satisfaction, so you kept your mouth shut. Wait a beat, two, three. Behind you, Tony called your name for backup, but you didn’t budge. Your gun was light. Jabbing you provocatively, Bam egged you on, “C'mon- say it!” He sounded significantly more serious now…and you still didn’t. With a click, you were hit with the sting of an intercepted round directly to your asscheek, making you jolt. “Ah! Fuck you, Margera!”

It's easy to let life on the road become moving wallpaper, like the blur of scenery outside van windows, so you measured your time touring in dinners. Tonight was some pseudo Italian restaurant just a step below Olive Garden. Not that it mattered- all you have to do is throw a couple Steak-Umm’s, Bac-O’s, or a wayward fan their way, and these men chow down like a pack of wild dogs. Plus you were happy for a break from your routine visits to the clown, the king, or the colonel.

But as you stared at Bam across the red and white gingham tablecloth, he looked…different. You couldn’t place it- something in the way his curls fell into his eyes made them lack the hardness they usually held when he met your gaze. Maybe this was some post-coital bliss he receives from causing problems? That would explain a lot, actually…Nonetheless, he was just Bam. Immature, dumb Bam, who was eating spaghetti at the same table you were eating spaghetti at. Wiping a bit of sauce off the corner of his mouth with a black painted fingernail, he continued animatedly telling some war story about his latest injury, “I ended up pulling, like- every muscle in my leg and I couldn’t skate for two weeks!”

As Bam went on to explain how he bought a ferrari to lift his spirits, you glanced over to the red frosted glass that sat in front of him and realized something: he was the only person not drinking. In fact, you’d never seen Bam drink. When his story hit a lull and the team got distracted by discussing whatever was on the itinerary for tomorrow, you leaned over towards him, “Hey, Bam. How old’re you again?” Confused as to why the hell you would bring that up, he raised an eyebrow as if you should know this, “I’m twenty one…?” You almost spat your drink out. He was just a baby! Standing next to the other guys on the team, he always looked so goddamn young, and now you know why.

“What, you a cougar’re some shit?” You rushed to defend yourself, because you hadn’t even thought of it like that, “No- no! How old do you th- don’t answer that.” He lost it at your reaction, that signature grin flashing across his face that you couldn’t help finding disarming in a sweet, boyish way. I’m every way, you should have the advantage in this conversation, yet Bam managed to reduce you to stumbling over your words and bring you back to the same banter the two of you had before this whole, ‘will they? won’t they?’ bullshit. Smug as ever, especially now that he had thrown down the gauntlet among a mess of marinara stained plates and half eaten breadsticks, Bam sat back in his seat.

But even though the way you looked at him changed, Bam could not change for the life of him. Yeah, you were in a pseudo-relationship, but obviously the rest of the team didn’t know that- they couldn’t know that, or else there was no way anybody would take you seriously. Oh, look at Y/N, fucking her way onto a skate team…Point is, there’s nothing you could do when he flirted with chicks at the bar, or when the hood women who lined the rail at the skate exhibitions made no effort to conceal what they wanted, because unlike Bam, you have a modicum of grace and decorum and you do not turn into a brooding teenager when your property is threatened.

On the tour bus, there was always a blackjack game running somewhere, some guys playing Pro Skater on one tv, watching dvds on another- and when that wasn’t happening, Mike Ellis was blasting DMX and trying to start impromptu wrestling matches. Conversely, Bam had his own ways of passing time. See, he got this idea in his head about figuring out how to fuck in a bunk because bus toilets are decidedly unsexy. He positioned you any which way he needed, “Alright…if you put your leg here, an’ I move like this…” Tangling your bodies together, Bam remained determined, “Yeah. Yeah- we could do this…”

For a moment, you wondered how long he’d been thinking this over, but your mind quickly wandered to someplace else…Those girls that frothed at the mouth when Bam breathed obviously didn’t know him like you and the rest of the team knew him. They didn’t know that the only reason the fact you shared bunks most nights was never questioned was that he couldn’t stand to be alone, whether that be in life or just for an evening (At least, that’s your theory). They didn’t know how when he looked around after he did something stupid, he wasn’t looking to see if someone got that on camera- he wanted to see if anyone was paying attention to him, laughing at him. They weren’t aware that his on tour fuckbuddy knew what it took to get him whining and squealing like a girl, which frankly wasn't a lot.

Keeping your voice down so as to only be heard by the young, afterglowy man clinging to your chest like the dirt from his last fall, you couldn’t fight a grin as you shook your head, “Don’t look at me like that…” You could just feel those expectant baby deer eyes boring holes into your head before you finally admitted, “It was fine!” And like a light switch, he fell. The look on Bam’s face was as if the paparazzi had just caught him outside a strip mall porn shop with ‘Anal Rampage’ tucked under his arm. “What? Wha’dyou mean, ‘fine’?” Bam would’ve rather you slapped him across the face and told him he was awful in bed. Despite his indignation and the shattered little look on his face, you just couldn’t bring yourself to take him seriously enough to lie that you were any more enthused at his performance than you actually were, “It’s alright- It was just…it was good.” You took pleasure in patronizing him, doing everything short of ruffling his hair and telling him ‘nice try, champ’.

Hurriedly, he launched into a rant, “Hey- it was cramped! This thing barely fits one person, and I pulled a muscle in my leg yesterday. Why don’t you try t’do better?” Fumbling in his flustered state, Bam neglected to keep his voice down so as to not alert the rest of the team, whisper yelling just audibly outside of the drawn curtain. But even though Tony and Mike and whoever else was listening, he felt no need to cover himself. In fact, he doubled down, “No, no- bullshit! I’ll show you just how good I am. This ain’t over!”

[mjalti]

I cheated on med school exams in first year during Covid maybe 3-4 - and I’m in residency now at the same school and feel like slowly the docs I work with are starting to slowly find out. Every month there’s someone new whose demeanor with me seems to totally change up and it gets tense and awkward where before I never felt like we had any kind of an issue in fact I felt like we really got along well together.

I’m only in my first year of training and I’m worried that this underlying talk about a current resident who’s a previous cheater will continue to spread and make my time here that much more distant with people and really hurt the way I relate to others, to the point I’ll miss out on community and support.

Is there anything I can do about this? I almost want to ask certain docs if they have a particular issue w me and if there’s anything I can do to smooth things over by talking things through. I’m feeling an incredible amt of anxiety about the whole thing and I don’t know what steps I could take to mitigate it.

It sounds like you're going through a really tough and isolating experience right now. The anxiety you're feeling is completely understandable, and it's important to acknowledge and address these feelings rather than letting them build up.

Firstly, it's commendable that you're reflecting on this and seeking ways to improve your situation. It shows a lot of maturity and self-awareness. Although it is wrong to cheat, it’s not because it is a cardinal sin. The reasons are because of what you are learning right now. Information compounds in everything. But especially things like medicine. I think that your view of how others treat you is tainted by the fact that you know you have cheated. They do not know YOU have cheated, but the stress and anxiety is heavy in your heart.

You can always ask specific doctors for feedback but understand that they have a thousand things to do and may not respond kindly, quickly, or in as a validating way as you want. They are not responsible for soothing your conscience. The only thing you can do is, if you remember the exams you cheated on, go back and take them blind. See if you can pass an equivalent online exam.

Especially in medicine, do not cheat because of the fact that even one poor decision can cast a huge doubt on your professionalism, your judgement, and the respect others have for you. You do not need to suffer a thousand lifetimes for a mistake you acknowledge and regret. But you do owe it to yourself and the future patients you will have to mitigate the effect of this time on you as a practitioner. I hope you use this experience to become the best practitioner you can be but do not put a script in people’s mouths; they do not know what you did. They should not be punished for what your insecurities are telling you to suffer over. Do better.

[redeemers-and-dragons]

Redeemers: Greenest in Flames! Prologue

Narration: A caravan of brightly painted carriages cuts through the verdant hills, heading for town of Greenest. The air is thick with the scent of pine trees and the chirp of birdsong, and the warm breeze blows through the leaves, creating a tranquil atmosphere. The travelers are eager to reach the sanctuary of Greenest before day’s end, hoping to enjoy a peaceful respite after their journey.

Among these travelers they are joined by a peculiar party of adventurers, newly formed and heading to their first mission together…

Reese: (Goblin Artillerist Artificer. Crime: Mass Destruction of Public and Private Property.) Are we there yet???

Party: *Groan in annoyance*

May: (Dark Heritage Half-Elf Gloomstalker Ranger. Crime: Vigilantism and Murder.) Reese, I promised you already. The second we are there, you are the first I will be telling. Now please… shush.

Reese: But we’ve been traveling forever!

Adam: (Minotaur Champion Fighter. Crime: Insurrection and Banditry) *Growls* It’s only been three days. 

Cinder: (Tiefling Fiendish Pact Warlock. Crime: Soul Racketeering and Organizing a Cult without a Permit.) It probably only feels so long because of your incessant whining.

Neon: (Tabaxi Kensei Monk. Crime: B&E and Assault with a Deadly Weapon) You should, like, totally take a note from Neo's book. She’s barely said anything this whole trip.

Neo: (Changeling Arcane Trickster Rogue. Crime: Grand Larceny and Identity Theft) *Flips Neon off.*

Reese: *Grumbles* Well maybe next time Sir Shiny-Pants should pick a closer quest! Where is he anyways?

May: I think he went off to pray.

Cinder: *Chuckles* Pray for mercy, maybe. Who ever heard of a knight with motion sickness?

Neo: *Makes some mocking dry heaving motions and then conjures an illusion of sparkles flying from her mouth.*

Adam: *Huffs* To think, our fate is in the hands of that human. My soldiers would never let me live it down.

Neon: Meh, at least he seems harmless enough. We could have been put with a real hard ass. I give it a week before we bully him into releasing us early.

Party: *Snickers and jeers amongst themselves*

Jaune: (Human Oath of Redemption Paladin. Duty: Redeeming the Party Before the Eyes of the Law and the Sovereign Gods.) *Jogging up after meditating to calm down his motion sickness* Hey everyone! Did some tell a funny joke or something?

Cinder: Oh just the usual banter. Nothing you’d find amusing I’m sure.

Reese: KNIGHT ARE WE THERE YET?!

Cinder: See?

Jaune: Actually, yes Reese. We should be there in like 10 minutes. *Points over pass them* Should be just over that big hill.

The Party: *Various sighs of relief.*

Reese: See?! I knew it was a valid question!

May: So, what are we going to be doing here?

Neon: Yeah, and how exactly is this “Redemption Quest” even supposed to work? Are we, like, building karma points or something til you let us go?

Neo: *Casts Minor Illusion to create a scoreboard with 100 points above her head.*

Jaune: Well, to complete a Redemption Quest, you six will have to complete a good deed with pure of heart in order to make up for your past sins. I’ll be there to watch over your progress and help usher you to the path of good and get you pardoned for your crimes.

Cinder: And so you’re sending a bunch of convicted criminals to do quests for the state.

Adam: Yeah, what are we, some kind of Suicide Sq-?

Jaune: NO! No. We are “Adventurers”. A group of adventurers who most of which just so happen to have darker paths…

May: That still doesn’t answer the question of why we’re going to Greennest. Is there a quest already decided for us?

Jaune: There should be. We’ll be meeting a man in Greenest that goes by the name Qrow Branwen. Apparently he needs help with an investigation.

Neon: What is he investigating?

Jaune: I’m not too sure. Something about bandits I think? But don’t worry, I’m sure it’s nothing too dangerous. The Church wouldn’t give out something big or important for a “Redemption Quest,” or to a squire of my level. All you will probably have to do is help out however you can and we will get you all pardoned in no time! Simple as that.

Narration: Sundown is approaching just as the caravan crests the hill and spots the town of Greenest just a few short miles away. But instead of the pleasant welcoming town they expected, the Party sees columns of smoke rising from burning buildings, running figures that are little more than dots from this distance, and a dark winged shaped wheeling low over the stone keep that rises from the center of town. The red skies of sunset turn a violent purple as the far off dragon breathes lightning bolts down onto the town.

The Party: …

Jaune: …Well. This may be-

Adam: *Bellows at the top his lungs and charges off towards the town.*

Neon: *Runs after him* I’m getting that pardon first!

Reese: *Runs* Jokes on you shitheads, I’m getting DOUBLE pardoned!

May: *Rolls her eye and chases after them* That’s not how pardons work.

Cinder: *Rushes forward* If you see any extra souls lying around, save them for me!

Neo: *Gleefully runs towards the town to start looting.*

Jaune: *Stands there watching as his half a dozen criminals run into a burning town.* …Boldrei give me strength.

[avocado-writing]

Kinktober 30

30. Double Penetration, Hotdogging, Gape/Fisting

The first time they were both inside you is a memory that you hold dear.

It was early in your relationship, but not immediate. You think the two of them were worried about hurting you. There was a validity to it: you were human, and they weren’t sure what they could do to your body that would cause pleasure without pain.

Turns out, quite a lot. You like it rough.

Tonight, they’re tucked in against you. Crowley has snagged one of your arms in his grip and won’t let go, Aziraphale is nuzzled into your side with his lips resting against your shoulder. You can’t sleep, not yet, so you let your mind wander back to that first time as you caress them both while they slumber.

You’re trapped between them, as you often are - oh, how they love to share you. What a testament it is to their love, to be like this.

Aziraphale presses inside you first. They’ve spent a long time fucking you with their fingers, scissoring you open as if they knew tonight was going to be the night. You’re dripping with sensual oil and your own arousal as the angel finds your hole and pushes with the blunt head of his cock; he slides in easily. He always does. A perfect fit, slotting as if two pieces of a puzzle. You moan and sigh with delight at the feeling of being full.

“There we are, my dear. Gorgeous. I’ll never have enough of you, never.”

You kiss your angel full and slow on the lips, letting your hand trail down his chest, feeling the fullness of his pectoral, the rough tug of his coarse hair there.

Moving from his mouth for just a moment, you toss a look over your shoulder to Crowley, and raise an eyebrow at him along with a challenge.

“Come on, Crowley,” you whisper, “I’m sure you can fit too.”

His pupils blow out with lust and he palms himself, but you can see there’s a hint of trepidation.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you, nightingale.”

You laugh, a deep, sensual and thick thing, tossing your head back with the joy of being loved and fucked.

“Darling, it will take more than two cocks to break me. Come on. I want to feel you fuck me, together.”

How can he turn down an invitation like that? Under the watchful eyes of you and your angel, Crowley drizzles a little more oil onto himself, massaging his length until he’s shiny and slick. He nudges your knees further apart so he can better mould himself to the curve of you, press his chest against your back. He’s warm, gorgeously warm.

You feel his head bump against your full hole. Aziraphale lets out a small fluttery sigh as Crowley dips a finger in you, pulling you a little further open to allow himself proper access to you. Soon it is replaced with his length beginning to fill you up too.

The stretch is delicious. It is mouth-watering. You’re glad there’s one either side of you, or you’re certain that you’d collapse to the bed. Crowley’s thin frame keeps you pinned up against Aziraphale’s softness as he inches into you, revelling in the feeling of his member pressing against the angel’s.

“Fuck–you’re–you’re both…” he trails off as he forces himself in further, and your body moves to accommodate him. Before long he is totally engulfed by you and the three of you still for a moment. Your pulse thrums through your body like an erratic drum, pounding out the beat of your arousal. You feel the two of them jostle against each other as they utterly fill you. It is a sinful stretch and yet one, now you’ve had a taste of, you know you will never get tired of having.

“Fuck me, please,” you manage. They can do nothing but bend to your will. Slowly, with shallow little thrusts to match each other, to feel each other’s cocks pump, they begin to fuck you in tandem. They press up inside, stroking your velvet walls and hitting that spot which drives you wild. All you can do is melt into them.

“Nightingale?”

“Hmm?”

“Nightingale?”

You turn sleepily and see Crowley has woken up. He narrows his sleepy eyes at you, dressing you down.

“What are you thinking about? I can tell it’s something naughty,” he asks with a grin, voice quiet so as to not wake Aziraphale. You sigh and tangle him in a kiss before plopping down on his chest as a pillow. 

“Just a fond memory, my love.”

@bootlmoth @elleofdragons  @angelic-anarchy27 @yeethaw13 @candlewitch-cryptic @kwyn-q @rat-that-writes @buryustogether @letthenightingalessingagain @ltlthetrifecta @angiestopit @purplefrog1sblog @wereallbrokenangels @angelspathway @clarina04 @belilwen @chaospossum @eightsdoctor @oo-delallymrcrow @silcosmoke @climbingivy97 @live-logs-and-proper @project-sad @just-a-beatlemaniac69 @imagination-phantom @anonymously35 @corgis04 @peytonpenguin37 @catlynharper @unabashedgentlemenpirate @wolfe-houler

@darktealrat @mxxny-lupin @willbedecided @detectiveapparatiagreen @shadowluna25 @kaylinelizabeth4004 @xquinn-bartonx @blue-bell22 @foolishprincipalitee @fandomawesomeness @eweweweewewe @latersgaters-steven @llamaproblem @night-affiliate @randompost18 @hunterispunk @jessica-laufeysdottir @uxcaran @bunnymallowo @jae-michael @jelly-terror @larkiesparkie

[xodite]

OC!YANDERE!Rosetta x reader

!! Minors this is 18! MDNI !!

!!This is all fantasy and not real please remember consent is important and you all are valid! All characters are 18+!!

Dom oc x sub reader!

!!Serial killer yandere oc!!

Tw: kidnapping, Stalking, threats, blackmail, forced affection, knife play, gun play, praise, overstimulation, mention of ex visiting reader, bondage and heavy heavy kink!

Please let me know if you want more!

Now let’s get into it my lovelies! <3

———————————

I worked as a small college horror movie writer. I often at a small cafe, did most of my best works and was working on a script for the actors, although I hit major writers block. I let out a heavy sigh, the deadline was in a month and the weeks were flying by, I needed to finish it before the deadline hit or I would for sure be fired. I let out a frustrated sigh of sexual frustration, my ex started appearing more frequently at my apartment to the point it interfered with my already non existent sex life and exhausted me.

I was exhausted due to my ex banging on my door at night, it often happened exactly when I was finally almost asleep. I got no sleep the night before and writers block was kicking my fucking ass.

The cafe was calm and quiet and had a soft calming lofi music silently playing in the back, a absolute hidden gem and one of the very few places my ex didn’t follow me too.

I put my head in my hands and closed my eyes tightly, I had been so preoccupied with the letters I’ve been mysteriously receiving and these odd messages I didn’t even notice the deadline arriving so soon, it was seriously stressing me out.

The lovely barista who was around 6’4 approached me, she was gorgeous and littered in tattoos, her hair was pure black and long and her eyes were a vibrant green and I felt as if they pierced my soul.

I looked at her name tag that said ‘Rosetta’ and smiled tiredly, I was a somewhat regular I’d say and she grown quite found of me, I also had a slight crush on her but how could I not? She was gorgeous. I felt a warm sensation in my pants and awkwardly shuffled side to side in my seat, she smiled seemingly knowingly and blush grew on my face, she couldn’t possibly know could she?

She spoke in a thick deep Russian accent calmly “You know how much I adore you visiting so often but the owners been giving me shit for letting you sit here without ordering” she chuckled and clicked her pen awaiting my order

I melted at her voice, I could just imagine so many sinful things- as I thought slightly on what she did to me she cleared her throat and said sadly, “my dear if you don’t order I’m afraid I have to kick you out” as soon as those words left her mouth I immediately spoke softly “Um a caramel latte please”

She smiled at you and wrote it down quickly “I’ll be out with it soon!”

As she spoke you shrugged softly and payed with a slight generous tip seeing as you were very paranoid about running out of money eventually if you aren’t done the script in time.

It seemingly took you hours to drink your coffee to the point where you were in the cafe from 8am-10:30pm just simply staring at the computer screen too busy slowly sipping your coffee and fantasizing about the barista. You wondered what it would be like if she ripped off your clothes and fucked you in the break room, although you wished you could stay in that trance and shook your head. Then you got up and walked out with your laptop, unaware of the watchful eyes watching you leave the cafe.

You entered your apartment, placing your things down and slowly stripping from your attire from the day to reveal a simple lace set, you were desperate to sit down and watch your favourite movies and finally relax and hopefully finally get some well deserved sleep. After a couple minutes you finally sunk into the couch, relaxing finally and slipping a finger into your cunt that dripped from your little barista crush.

After I slipped my finger in I let out a soft moan and continued to quickly move my finger in and out, as soon as I was about to cum I heard a loud knock at my door and I rolled my eyes and got up, I yelled a loud “Jesus Christ give me a minute!” Then grabbed a robe and slipped it over my body. I opened the door to reveal my ex partner glaring me down, as soon as she opened her mouth I saw a knife rip through her head going through her mouth, I watched as she choked on her own blood and I stepped back. Tears welded in my eyes as I saw Rosetta walk in after throwing the body down into the hallway, fear coursing through my body. She closed the door behind her and I walked backwards away from her, her eyes were soft and crazed. I opened my phone to call for 911 and I was greeted with a singular message that said ‘she won’t bother you anymore’. I shakily took another step back and Rosetta pouted, grabbing my phone and throwing it and spoke “Did you get my message?” I whimpered, a choked whisper of fear left my mouth, as I did so she kissed me, her warm lips meeting mine and I melted in her arms, the fear somewhat leaving my body until I snapped back to reality as I opened my eyes and saw her pull out her knife and slowly cut off my robe. I let out a scream of terror and wrestled with her to get the knife, as I gripped the knife she kicked my knees cruelly as giggled as I fell to the ground

“Goodnight cutie”

Then everything around me went black and I spiralled into cold unconsciousness, at least I get sleep?

———————

Heavy smut! Last warning <33

———————

I woke up chained to a cold floor, my hands tightly bound in handcuffs, thick, heavy duty metal that I had no chance of breaking. I screamed and tears fell from my eyes as I panicked, thrashing around on the cold stone floor. As I screamed loudly I saw Rosetta approach me slowly fear pulsating in my body. I heard a soft hush from her when I began to slowly cry, as she pinned me to the cold ground she whispered “I’m sorry baby but she was bothering you and I couldn’t risk her stealing you from me”

I cried harder as she whispered a soft “let me make it up to you sweetheart”

Fear pulsating through my body as she pressed herself closer while undoing my bra and cutting off my thong, I opened my mouth to protest but she simply shoved my cut up thong in my mouth and duct taped it. I whimpered and attempted to pull my pussy away from her fingers desperately, but it was no use she plummeted her fingers deep into my pussy over and over again while rubbing my sensitive clit.

I felt a deep pressure in my stomach and tears fell from my eyes as I softly moaned desperate for it to stop but also so desperate for the release my body desperately craved from her skilled fingers that with expertise massaged my inner walls and my clit to cumming. Tears sprung to my eyes as I came all over her skilled fingers, I heard giggling as she softly praised “good girll.. can you do one more for me?” As I shook my head violently she pouted and said “oh no you want more then one? You want me to overstimulate you until morning? Okay sweetheart whatever you desire”

She spoke giggling continuing her assault on my sensitive pussy, her skilled fingers not stopping for even a second.

My eyes rolled back and I felt her kiss the top of my head and softly speak “only I can ever have you like this, rest my love.” Then slowly place her chin on my head while whispering sweet nothings as she ruthlessly fucked my poor pussy.

I gripped my thighs around her hand and moaned loudly, as much as I hated to admit it my body craves her and she could tell. as she continued to fuck me I came for a second time, then a third, fourth, sixth..

Oh fuck it I lost count

Then I slowly faded out of consciousness while she still fucked my poor pussy, exhausted from her relentless pleasure. I whined and tried to pull away from her hug and she immediately snapped “You do that and I’ll shot that pretty head off” she said while holding a cold hand gun against my head, tears flooding down my cheek I nodded and moved back closer to her.

She tsked and spoke “next time I’ll make you fuck that gun” then continued to make me cum, then I finally fell asleep, leaving my body to be ruthlessly violated by my kidnapper.

—————

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[lxmelle]

The currency of love

I sometimes read things on social media about how some fans are upset that Gojo didn’t mention his students in the afterlife. To the point where there comes theory after theory over why he will come back to life.

I get it. I do. It’s understandable. Not only for those who think the strongest should win, but also those who wish to see their beloved Gojo sensei show love to his students. Amongst other reasons of course.

I somehow also see how this desire for his resurrection comes at the expense of Gojo who clearly didn’t seem to want to be back to life in 236. Is it really loving Gojo to want him back to life to have that burden all over again? And idk, why is there really a doubt that he cared? Does he need to be revived in order for this to be demonstrated? I guess there is a wish for it to be confirmed more, like they need it mentioned aloud / shown more.

I mean, I do get the desire for it to be validated, just as I also love the feeling of seeing Satosugu moments.

However, I do want to bring to attention the factor of how there are many ways in which love is expressed. Just as much as there are many different types of love.

I’ll be brief.

For Geto, his whole CT is about self-sacrifice Currency of love. For Gojo, he was born to be Strong and this was a Currency of love for him. (There are obviously different currencies, but I won’t elaborate further for the purposes of being as succinct as possible)

Geto - self sacrifice. I’ll work hard for a purpose, swallow cursed balls, commit sins, create a new world meticulously, sacrifice my love and myself.

Gojo - strength. Get strong, find strength, be selfish. Protect, save. And literally, his body was given up for others to inherit. Like a businessman gifting his empire to his kin. If that’s not a form of love then what is? How can he come back to life if that isn’t even an option once you’re dead? Going North is NOT COMING BACK TO LIFE.

The fact that Gojo worked with others like his students to create a plan of action speaks volumes. He pushed himself hard in the battle : to look cool and be a good example for them, mentioning them, including them openly in his words to Sukuna - as if to say, “look closely! This is how you do it. This is how you be strong. Fight with all that you’ve got. Be victorious.”

Obv it’s different to the love between him and Geto - because love for others like children and students will never replace that or your life partner / soulmate. It’s just different. It cannot be expected to be the same. His question to who he was (strong or himself) had been answered: he is both, but he wanted to be human, lived mostly like a human, and being human in the afterlife meant being who he was (so he chose South).

I don’t know why Gege didn’t write Gojo talking about the students. But, I think it’s pretty obvious that Gojo cared and gave the battle his all... and gave his students his all too.

Geto’s family inherited his will. His currency of love.

Gojo’s family inherited his weapon. His currency of love.

[midnightsslut]

speaking of Joe widows I am kinda surprised by how much people think their relationship was perfect and that it was simply ruined by Taylor cause she’s bored, there’s so many red flag lyrics people brush off about their relationship

“we’re breaking up making up leaving without saying goodbye”- all of the girls

“what you did was just as dark as when pulled me apart” - hoax

“my husband is cheating I wanna kill him”-fortnight

A lot of songs from lover are concerning because I get feeling insecure sometimes but I personally think there was little to no moments of security in that album ‘so long London’ basically validates my thoughts with “my friends said it isn’t right to be scared of a love affair every breath feels like rarest air”

the entirety of ‘you’re losing me’ basically says how bad the state of their relationship was and how he refuses to communicate with her and again looking back at songs I feel like it validates my thoughts “silent dinners, bitter …he don’t understand me” -fresh out the slammer, “and I can’t talk to you when you’re like this staring at the widow like I’m not your favorite town” -false god

I’m writing all this cause I keep seeing people on instagram and TikTok who desperately want her to get back together, that relationship was terrible for the both of them why would ‘fans’ of either want them together again? A relationship built on sexual attraction and bad communication would have never worked out and she knew it from the beginning “we were crazy to think that this could work”

I am sorry but I’ll never get behind tiktok edits of former irl relationships. tiktok edits of irl people that aren’t like, thirst traps or ‘awww they’re cute together rn’ are almost always an immediate scroll for me.

that being said, I agree with a lot of your points, but I think the relationship had a lot more substance than that. you don’t stay with someone for six and a half years if all you have going for you is great sex. it’s just that it slowly withered away until there was nothing else left, and eventually, the sexual attraction faded as well. the pipeline from imgonnagetyouback to guilty as sin is so interesting to me for this reason.

[thinkin-bout-milgram]

If you’re still wondering why people who are invested in Milgram’re voting guilty for Kazui, among a lot of my friends it’s because they can’t forgive cheating as a sin. I personally find it hard to forgive as well.

I’ll be highly swayed if they make it clearer that there’s something LGBTQ+ going on with him and things relating to it are the ““sin”” rather than straight-up cheating. But currently we don’t believe there’s enough evidence or many of the points are too reach-y. Though I am so willing to be convinced because I do want it to happen 🥲 I’m on the border.

(Please be nice, I just wanted to give some perspective 🙏)

Thank you for sending in your ask! I know it can be hard to speak out against the majority opinion in a fandom (especially Milgram, people get very passionate, especially due to audience interaction actually canonically mattering).

This is a fair perspective. Personally, I think of Kazui cheating on the broader scale of Milgram, which means that I'm comparing cheating to, like... straight up murder. I also like to meta vote, which means that I'm not voting 100% based on whether I think they're guilty or innocent or not. Most of the comments I've seen think similarly.

Still, the question at the end of the day is "do you forgive Kazui," and if the answer is no, it's totally valid to vote guilty! My main problem is the guilty voters who did so because of superstition and were not in the fandom. The Milgram devs make it very clear, though, that any vote is valid, even if it's something as simple as "I felt like it."

I do personally think Kazui is gay (I'll hopefully get around to doing a more in-depth look at this in response to a different anon ask later, after the Amane drop), but I get why some people are hesitant. When I first heard Kazui gay theory in Trial 1, I thought it was a nice thought but had no canonical basis. Then, the longer I thought about it, the more I became convinced. Whether that happens with you or not is personal, and I (and I hope others) won't judge however you decide in the end :)