#Seems like the less humiliating option

[nouearth]

candy-wasted.

john krasinski x male reader.

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘. with halloween coming to a disappointing end, what's a better way to end the holiday than to get candy-wasted on john's offer of his king-sized candy bar?

𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓. one-shot [ 6.7k ].

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. male reader 〳 domestic!au 〳 halloween!au 〳 husband!john 〳 established relationship 〳 kissing 〳 sexual content: top!john, bottom!reader, anal penetration, rough!sex, no prep, breeding, spitting, blowjob (r!giving), pain kink, slapping, spanking, armpit fetish, humiliation, degradation, body worship, cock worship, over-stimulation, extremely hung!john.

“Think that might be the last of ‘em,” John said, shutting the front door and turning off the porch light. “Not a single Lydia Deetz, Ennui, Deadpool, or Wolverine costume in sight.”

It was Halloween night.

Declaring Halloween as your favorite holiday would be unjust to the true fanatics. More than anything, you loved the celebration for the atmosphere. You loved the smell of autumn coming into full bloom by virtue of artificial cinnamon and apple in soy candles rather than the fresh leaves withering outside. You loved driving by neighborhoods to see all the houses that had been decorated, fictionalizing a house-decorating competition in the process. You loved how spooky TV would get, from horror movies to reruns of old sitcom episodes that had a Halloween theme.

Most important of all, you loved taking your kids out to trick or treat with John, watching them outgrow their costumes every year and growing teary-eyed at the likelihood that they’d eventually stop having you and John come along with them in favor of their friends.

Even though you mentally prepared yourself for the moment, you weren’t expecting this year to be the time where your son and daughter would tell you that they would be sleeping over at a friend’s for the celebration. As if there was any option for you and John to protest too, it suddenly struck you how quickly they were becoming their own person, because they had already packed their bags the night before.

But also—damn you, for raising them to be so direct.

When John returned back to the couch, you glanced at the bowl.

“Do kids these days not go trick-or-treating anymore? We’re doing less refills than usual,” You took the half-empty bowl from him and rummaged through the assorted candy bars. “When I was a kid, I used to circle my neighborhood multiple times because I was determined to not end the night with a barren bucket. I also knew my parents would steal from my stash whenever I was asleep, so that was another incentive to prolong the pain in my little kid legs.”

You knew you were babbling and were beyond caring. From the smile John gave you, he seemed more entertained by the endless vault of childhood stories than the horror marathon you two had started since six o’clock in the evening.

“All those candy runs seem to be paying off considering your calves are the size of bowling balls,” John laughed, arranging your legs to lay them across his lap as you resumed lounging. To prove his point, he began unzipping your costume’s pant leg one-by-one, ventilating your ankles and calves finally free from the tight spandex.

You breathed a sigh of relief when the draft in the air chilled the sweat on your skin, then another, when John’s large hands began stroking and kneading at your legs. You probably should have guessed that John had other intentions in mind since his hands only traveled north, in which your calves were nowhere to be found.

But what would be the fun in calling out your lover’s extremely apparent advances? For a brief moment, you two sat in silence, putting the TV on mute because the marathon had run its course, but also to hear the sound of John’s hands, calloused, warm, and large over the plane of your body, exploring you and the ribbed costume like he was learning texture for the first time.

It had been quite a long time since it was this quiet in the house. You had to have accidentally said it out loud, or John’s telepathic abilities were only awakened on Halloween night, because he was looking at you like you had whet his appetite, hazel eyes cataloguing your body like it was a dirty magazine, lips bitten in secrecy.

“What’s on your mind, Captain America?” You let your legs wrap around John’s waist when he pulled you to sit on his lap, fixing his tousled hair with a smooth swoop of your hand, and affectionately squeezed his large shoulders after.

God, John filled out his costume so well. No wonder you couldn’t stop glancing at him throughout the night, the tactical suit made him look much larger and imposing—you couldn’t help but run your hands all over his body and his tight muscles beneath the fabric, the contoured lines of the costume was practically inviting you to do so.

“I’m thinking… the neighborhood is quiet. I’m thinking that the kids are preparing for bed, and that the parents are drunk off their children’s candy stash, which means you can finally take it easy for tonight, Spider-Man.” John’s smile was terribly broad. You could feel him fiddling with the pull tab on the back of your costume with one hand while the other was caressing the side of your thigh, nearing dangerously closer to your rump.

It was a cheap costume that ran for no more than forty bucks, which meant you could feel the heat radiating off of John’s palm.

“Take it easy? I’ve been taking it easy. I got my popcorn, some king-sized candy bars, a scary flick, a rather inquisitive man holding me…” You shivered when his hand paused on your right buttock and squeezed. “Nothing’s beating this right now.”

He began kissing your neck, his beard ticklish and feathery over your flesh. “Really? Nothing at all?” Both of his hands were on your rump now, massaging tenderly at the handful of thick flesh in his palms.

You must have indulged in the warmth and strength of John’s grip on you for far too long, because out of the blue, he began knocking the silence out of you with strong smacks to your ass, drawing out a collection of moans and grunts from you as he fixated on marking up your neck until your mouth was in vicinity.

When his strong palms came down onto your cheeks again, your lips parted at the right moment he would seize them, capturing your mouth for a slow, languid kiss. John’s lips tasted like a celebration. You could feel the crumbs of sugar from the fruit ropes he was eating prior roll off his lips and onto your tongue, flavoring the kiss of green apple. You moaned, gently holding at both ends of his jaw, while your hips grew conscious of how your body was reacting to John’s tongue invading your mouth, pressing your growing tent against his pelvis with slow rolls, pushing your ass out to meet his hands.

“Nothing at all, unless…” You groaned when the stinging over your covered ass was only heightened by the unrelenting grasp John had on your ample skin. If he wasn’t so busy tonguing your mouth open, you wouldn’t be surprised to find him tearing your costume into two within the next second. “You have something to bestow upon me?”

“Ever heard of a monster-sized candy bar? I got one that’s filled with vanilla cream for you, specifically curated to your taste buds. What do you think? I’ll trade ya’.” The spirit of Halloween affected him as he laughed into the kiss, the tip of his nose crinkling in effect and swiping over yours when he resumed in exploring your mouth.

“I think it sounds like a trick, you a con-man?” You lightly pushed at his chest to break from the kiss, then lingered to silently admire his well-built pecs. You weren’t sure if you were more turned on by John’s hard-work and dedication, or the fantasy of him as a superhero—saving you from your ultimate demise.

Regardless, your hips only rutted harder, swooping low to brush your erection against his, then raising them high, to grind your rump over his arousal.

“Keep moving your hips like that, and you’ll find the answer soon.”

An inquisitive hand of yours reached in between John’s thighs. It didn’t take long, hardly a millisecond, to find what you’d been searching for.

The mass in your palm was overwhelmingly large and thick. You felt your throat go dry when the weight of John’s bulge was heavy enough to unfurl itself within his suit, across his right thigh, and reach to a point of hardness where one hand of yours found it impossible to tame it alone.

You stroked the enormous print, focusing on the apparent head with your thumb, and then squeezed. Hard.

“Fuck, (M/N). Upstairs, now.”

As you sat on your knees, the scent of arousal filled your nostril. There was something enthralling about this position, being bare and naked on the carpet, while you were looking up at John’s hard cock through your lashes. He was already monstrous enough, but the angle from below provided insight just exactly how jaw-dropping his size was.

“I’m sorry I doubted you, Captain. What would you like in exchange?” Bracing your hands on his strong calves, you nuzzled the underside of his erection. You sucked in a breath at the smell of it. The heat and musk built from a long day of work, finally released out into the air, tickled your nose pleasantly and made your mouth water. “‘Three musketeers?’ ‘Butterfingers?’ ‘Hershey’s?’” You slapped his heavy cock over your lips, mouthing over the tender spots of his glans.

He had his arms behind his head, exhaling slow and steady, sporting an expression that told you he was the luckiest man alive, not that you needed that affirmation, as you held his cock tight around the base and suckled at the plump, pink tip. “How about ‘(M/N)’s Pieces?’ Yeah? Is that up for grabs?”

You could feel his hairy thighs tense up when you taunted him with the tiniest licks over his heavy, full balls. It was amusing, watching his cock jolt over your face—like they were envious of such half-hearted actions.

“You mean, the candy that would make a kind and handsome dad, such as yourself, turn into a ferocious beast of a man?” Holding John’s lustful gaze, you took a long and slow lick at the underside of his shaft, the girth of it thicker than the width of your tongue.

You felt complacent when he let out a hoarse moan upon pressing your nose deep into his cock-slit, inhaling deep. “Yeah, that one…”

You traced the prominent veins on his cock with your tongue—thick, pumping blood vessels that made him throb over your mouth with rage. “You know, you’d have to work really hard…” Between fondling and suckling his full sack into your mouth, you stroked his shaft and muttered, “To break me into pieces.”

It was difficult enough to maintain some semblance of order, but the taste of John’s sweat, blooming delicately and stimulating your appetite like an hors d��oeuvre, made you nearly submit as your knees felt inclined to spread wider, and wider, letting you enjoy your last moments before you’d yield.

You hoped you were distracting John enough, being caught in the middle of humping the air and fucking yourself back on some imaginary dick would’ve gave him the upper hand.

“I do—oh, fuck…” He choked back on a moan, the heat of your mouth as you suddenly slid his cock inside melted the composure off his face. His thick shaft strained, stretching your wet mouth uncomfortably. The chances of you taking all of John inside of your mouth was slim to none. You’d done this so many times, tried everything, from practicing with a dildo to enduring the tears welling, to get him down your throat, but your body wouldn’t give in—it simply couldn’t.

He was much too big for your own good.

John was large. Tall. Always has been, and always will be. His muscular legs were open wide, his face was slack-jawed from your tantalizing tongue, and even though you could barely fit half of his cock inside of your mouth, you were still in control.

You pulled him out with a gasp, nearly choking back on the spit pooled in the back of your mouth, and sniffled. “You do? You sure about that?” There was no doubt that the inevitable was going to happen. Gagging on John’s large cock was a given, but it was the messiness of it all, that made your cock leak. “I don’t think you can handle it.”

His cock was coated thick and heavy in a glorious sheen of spit, translucent pearls shining on the veiny skin. One hand was massaging his balls while the other was adamant in slicking him up until the weight of your own saliva was enough to weigh him down.

You temporarily freed John from your fist to slap his wet and large cock around. It was delectable, watching his giant tool swing from the impact of your smacks. Webs of thick spit occasionally flung to your face, as if his dick was fighting back against your horrendous taunts, but all you needed to do was tame it with your mouth again, and the reign on John’s body resumed.

“I am, and I can…” John grunted, his abdominal muscles flexing. You could see his toes curling into the carpet at the corner of your eye, swirling your tongue over the swollen pink head while the rest of his monster cock was being man-handled by your quick hand, tightly grasping to keep your hand from slipping.

“You absolutely sure?” Your words turned him on, his cock maddening in course as it spat out drips of pre-cum from the squeezing grip you had around his shaft.

The substance wouldn’t stance a chance against your urges, you eagerly went on to lap it up, forcing more of the viscous fluid to come out with competitive strokes to aid.

“I’m sure—baby, come on, enough—“ He struggled to contain his moans, arching his hip forward to push himself further into your mouth, but you wouldn’t have it. Instead, you reeled yourself back, slapping his cock once again as punishment, and remained at tip’s length.

You could tell he was getting frustrated, you knew of his mannerisms for years now. For God’s sake, you were his husband. His jaw tightened and his eyes leered down at you with sudden alert—like a silent warning. He exhaled sharply as if the draft in the room had infected his strong body with frostbite.

Nonetheless, you continued entertaining yourself, knowing the consequences—anticipating them, rather.

You tongued the urethra of his dick, welcoming every drop with greedy sucks, all while you hadn’t left John out of your sight for a single second. You could make John orgasm right then, you were so sure of it.

“You really, really, really sure?” Your smile was smug, feigning innocence while you mouthed on his thick piece of meat, stroking yourself to the copious amount of pre-cum leaking from his tip.

John’s gaze immediately darkened.

He loved watching you slap his dick across your face. He loved being in awe at his own size, especially when you’d shower him in praises as you compared his big cock to your forearm.

I’m going to break my ass taking you, John. Holy fuck…

He loved having his dick sucked, point blank period. How sloppy it could get, how nice his cock felt when it was being slimed up with such pent-up arousal. You were confident that you were over-delivering in that department too because the lower half of your face was dripping in your own saliva.

“What’s the matter, big man? You don’t want to fuck me anymore? Break me into pieces like you originally wanted to? Think you won’t satisfy me enough?” You pursed your lips over the plump head, provoking John by the sudden languid pace of your wrist. “Answer me,” You slapped his large cock again, your own erection throbbing from watching John grit his teeth in sudden refusal to give in.

“Are you sure or not? Huh? Answer me,” John sucked in his teeth every time you smacked his cock, and you proceeded to hound him harder, narrowing your tone. “Your cock’s useless. Can’t satisfy me. Can’t satisfy a fucking flashlight with how big it is.”

“Ghoul got your tongue, or what?” You smacked his cock hard. “Your big fucking cock—” His cock swung. “—seems to be doing—” Pulsed in a fit of pique. “the speaking for y—“

A harsh slap cut your taunts short.

You let out a gasp, your hand instantly coming up to hold your cheek and tranquilize the stinging pain. Shock crossed your face, bewildered as though you hadn’t been anticipating his catharsis the entire time.

“Enough,” He pulled you up by the jaw to meet your lips hungrily, his large hands clamped tight around your neck like you were fresh carp farmed for hatchery. “You’re really testing me today, aren’t you?”

The kiss was searing, your lips volunteering themselves to be bitten and sucked to be forgiven upon the increasing pressure around your throat. Maybe you were still coming to terms with the slap, but it swallowed you whole nonetheless, rendering you incapable of producing a single coherent thought.

You whimpered softly, his resentment was beyond recall as his hands remained solid, one thumb looming over the center of your throat, “Hit me again—“

He stabilized you with one hand around your throat, squeezing tight, and let his other hand swing across your cheek, harder than previously.

“F-fuck!” You could feel your cheek blooming with heat, stinging as if a million of rose thorns had prickled your skin to poison you with its color, and you couldn’t have asked for more.

It was too good. John’s large hand imprinted hot on your face, and it felt too fucking good. You were branded, an extension to the wedding band around your finger, a reminder of your undying love for him.

“Get on the fucking bed,” John growled, tugging on your lower lip with his teeth, slow yet imposing, before sending you away with a gentle kiss on your stricken cheek, a much-needed relief you had been silently clamoring for.

The metal clanking behind you sounded like church bells, but you resisted the temptation of looking over your shoulder, fearing that whatever John had in mind, he’d strip it away upon your lack of diligence. You crawled onto the bed on all fours and anticipated nervously

At long last, you felt your royal throne crumble into a million pieces.

You suppressed an urge to swear. The heat emanating from a strip of leather when he struck your ass was bartered directly with the devil himself. Another peep out of you, and John would’ve banished you to hell to pay your dues to the fallen angel.

“It was cute, I have to admit…” Your body jolted when John muttered near your hear. In the time his hand was soothing your whipped ass cheeks, the other had a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back for you to look at him. “Seeing you think you had control over me, even going as far as to humiliate me and my cock—did that make you happy? Huh?”

“I-I don’t know—“ You struggled to find the words, your mouth parting instead to lean in for a kiss in hopes to distract him, but John quickly caught on. He knew you, very well in fact, yanking your head back harder to coax a gasp out of you. As John had expected, he then pushed a thick wad of spit into your mouth before pulling you by the back of your neck into your original position.

You shuddered, smacking your lips at the arousing taste of John’s saliva spreading in your mouth. You savored him, wanted John to last forever on your tongue. You didn’t want to swallow. You wanted to simply let his spit pool with your own and mix into the perfect elixir that would work perfectly as a muscle relaxant, something that would greatly aid you in taking John’s cock—knowing the likelihood that he wouldn’t be easing up anytime soon.

“Answer me.” Your eyes widened in a silent plea when John taunted you with the belt in his hand. Before you could moan out so much of a beg, the leather in John’s hand came down swinging at your buttocks and seemingly cut through flesh. In turn, your four limbs gave out from the electrifying bolts of pain, making you collapse onto your stomach from the arresting strength of John’s resentment as you cried out in pleasure.

“Oh, fuck! F-fuck, fuck, fuck…!” You writhed in bittersweet glory, choking back on swears and instead, what came out were delicious straggled sounds that made John’s cock uncontrollably pulse. Your hands roamed the bedsheets, clawing at the silk material in search for a physical outlet to release the tension in your body. “I-I’m s-sorry—“

His cock was near you, lubed up in a thick, alluring sheen. Maybe John wouldn’t mind if you held him. Plead for him to stop with lazy, but abiding stroke. You bit your lips and stretched over to grab him.

He lifted your head again for you to face him. You sniffled, letting the tears roll down your flushed face before another wad of spit would accompany them in their journey. “You’re not answering my question. Were you happy?”

Upon barely brushing your fingers over the head of his cock, you reeled yourself back when the belt came striking down on your ass again, breaking skin as repercussions to your hedonistic behavior. Your legs came up to kick back at the air violently, grinding out the pain by digging your swollen cock into the bed.

You had enough.

You needed John.

Now.

“Y-yes! I was fucking happy! Watching your large cock swing like that. Degrading you to the point where you were too ashamed to answer me. Abusing your pathetic tool because it’s too immersed in its own girth to know that I actually despise your cock. Should’ve seen the look on your handsome face—god, I could’ve came right there. All because I was in control. You fucking let me, you fucking delusional self-obsessed cuck—”

At breakneck speed, John curtailed you of your vigorous speech by shoving your face into a pillow, mounting on top of you with one foot pressing hard to the back of your head, and grunted, “How do you like me now?” Pushing all of his body weight to vault you out of an escape route, you felt his cockhead suddenly breach your hole.

“Holy—shit!” You sobbed at the discomfort, kicking your legs back as John pushed more of his large cock further in, adding onto the painful stretch of your unsuspecting hole. You felt his a palm on your ass, spreading one cheek open to aid the slide. “Fucking, more—Johnny! More, more, more—“

“There we fucking go, fuck. Look at that hole. Fucking swollen around me, and I’m only halfway in,” he licked his lips, wiping the sweat off his forehead with his forearm as he loosened your raw hole with shallow thrusts, his cock pushing deeper at every rut.

Your body’s natural reaction was to propel yourself up for some air, but after the first turn, John instantly took both of your wrists and bound them behind your back, your back muscles squeezing in effect. When you pushed your ass out, his foot pressed harder like it had the power to bury you six feet under if John had no concept of restraint.

It was painful, all of this, your neck was hurting, but especially your hole, his unrelenting thrusts—but, be that as it may, you were so happy that you didn’t have to remind John to leave you unprepared. Otherwise, the pleasure of John’s large cock gutting you raw wouldn’t have overstimulated you, not to this profundity. Your wriggles only made John hold onto your wrists tighter, his heel press deep into your nape, you were sure it would be bruised by the next morning.

You felt so used, your body at his disposal. Your cock was painfully rubbing between your pelvis and the bed from the impact of his strong thrusts, but you were leaking and throbbing nonetheless, staining the sheets from the thrill of it all—of being John’s personal fuck-toy.

“Feels fucking incredible. Shit, baby—“ His cock was digging into you like an excavator, slow in its journey, but you could feel him sowing excitement deep into you, nearing the crown of your prostate with the grind of his hips. You clenched tight, gripping your aching walls around the girth to provide John an incentive to go at you harder.

Not loose enough.

He had to fuck you open.

And you were desperate.

The perks to being married was that pleasuring one another came second nature to both parties. Luckily, you led a charmed life, and John was here to bestow upon you your weekly demands.

He released his foot on you, but you groaned when he pressed his remaining weight on top of your writhing body. “If you’re good…” John panted hot on your shoulders, accompanying the abruptly slow roll of his hips with chaste kisses to the shell of your ear and the moist parts of your neck. “Maybe I’ll let you play with your cock.”

“Please…” You flexed your toes into the sheets when John nearly pulled himself out, thankfully leaving only the swollen tip in.

“No, I had a change of heart. Maybe, I’ll let you jack off until you explode all over your sweaty body,” you pushed your ass back to slide more of him in, but a hard smack to your ass nipped your oscillation in the bud. “Don’t push your luck.”

“I’ll be good—promise…” you looked over your shoulder at John with glistening eyes and a sniffle, finding yourself frowning when he pulled himself completely out, and insisted on rubbing his wet cockhead over your raw, blossomed pucker.

“See? This is how it’s supposed to be—the natural order between you and I,” he sighed, giving into your desperation, and pulled you in for a sweet, lingering kiss after releasing your hands. A sigh of relief, you braced yourself half-way up with an elbow, the other hand reaching back to rest on John’s nape, and locked his lips deeply into yours, pacified by the soft fur of his beard on your chin.

His tongue messily swiped over yours as you both had intended to explore each other’s mouths. You two met in the middle, bridging each other’s spit from one mouth to the other. When a dribble of drool dared to leak from the corner of your mouth, John had incredible foresight and was already lapping it up before it could trail to the bottom of your chin.

“Say you love my cock…” John whispered, swaddling you into his arms from behind and carefully maneuvering your body on top of him as he switched positions, reclining himself onto his back.

Interlacing his legs with yours, John then pushed them apart with the spread of his knees, twisting his ankles over your own to lock you in place. He angled his hips to slide his dick over your taint, letting you wallow in the sight of his plump tool nearly curve over your throbbing erection.

“I love your cock…” You muttered softly, nuzzling the side of his kempt beard. The smell of bourbon vanilla lingered delightfully in your nostrils as you watched him from the corner of your eye, drooling when you caught a glance of his large cock spit thick drips of pre-cum over your balls.

It was fruitless to even try to attempt to close your legs, John’s calves overpowered your own by tenfold. In spite of your wish, John compensated by reaching below, trailing his warm hand over your ribs and stomach in passing, and wrapped his hand around your cock, slowly pumping.

“Say, you’ll be a good boy for me…” Brushing your hair back, John claimed a hold over the back of your head, raising his left arm to welcome your face into his armpit.

You moaned at the warm, musky odor. The thick hairs reeked of sweat. Salty and slightly spicy in your nostrils, yet you couldn’t help but inhale for more, breathing in the natural pheromones and making your cock dribble out ample amounts of pre-cum when the aroma of John’s masculine scent fogged your passing judgement, and had you licking at his pit.

John cradled the back of your head, quickening the strokes on your cock seemingly as a token of his appreciation while you buried your face in the bush of dark hairs, nuzzling and licking long stripes over the plane. It was addicting, yet embarrassingly filthy as it registered how easily John had reign over your freewill. Your spit gathered in the center of John’s armpit, where the hairs were grown the thickest. They were beads of your devotion, and you couldn’t have felt prouder marking your territory.

Your mouth watered and tingled at the ripe taste lasting on your tongue, then, when John suddenly tipped your chin up and spat inside of your mouth—you felt like you were in heaven, like your body wanted to crumble in front of him from the intimacy of it all.

He captured your lips again, and you muttered softly, “I’ll be a good boy…” You watched him with lustful eyes, anticipating his next move. His right hand had stopped stroking your cock in favor of massaging your tight balls, making you squirm with desire. When his other hand released his hold over the back of your head to toy with your perky nipples, the simultaneous pleasure carried a hoarse tune of desperation out from your throat.

“You’ll be daddy’s good boy?” He nuzzled your ear, kissing the shell of it.

“I’ll be whatever daddy wants me to be,” you slowly rolled your hips when you could feel John line his cock over your hole, lubing your pucker with the thick fluid leaking from the crown.

“And you want daddy’s big cock?” He rested one hand on each thigh respectively, spreading your legs farther by the aid of his knees.
 “I’m aching inside…” Your cock twitched upon feeling so completely vulnerable and bare for him.

“Then, let’s turn that ache into pleasure, shall we?”

That was all it took. A heartbeat, a single push of John’s hips, one strong stroke, and he claimed his territory. It was beautiful. Your silky flesh fluttered and clenched on his cock, and your eyes popped open wide when he slammed upward.

John ripped a glorious moan out of you. Your neck strained with beautiful veins as your attempts to bite them back were powerless in comparison to the spark of passion in John’s hips. You could see the very moment the fire flared in John’s eyes, his fingers gripping a mound of your thighs until they had turned white.

You were filled to the root, uncomfortably-so as John’s biceps bulged with strong veins on account of the bend of your legs. He capsized them, holding them back at the crook while he deliciously hollowed your hole deep with his monster cock, your feet dangling in the air from the pure drive.

It was a reminder. That you were his. That you were his only. Nobody could ever own you like he owned you now. John made sure those thoughts wouldn’t dissipate by making sure you felt every inch of his plump, meaty cock burrow in and out of you. John was adamant in making this more than a memory. He wanted you to wake up and sleep thinking about him. Thinking about his cock. Thinking about how brutally stretched you felt right now, and that you didn’t mind at all—because it was John, your loving husband. He would do anything for you, and right now, he was living up to his many vows of loving you fiercely, of completing you, of loving you forever and every day.

“T-too much, John—“ It wasn’t, you were lying—it was fucking perfect, but god, did you love making your husband feel powerful. You loved feeding his cock with arousal, feeling him throb harder while he pummeled himself faster into you at your spoken truth. “Cock’s too big—“

“I’ll make a cunt out of you, wear out your tight little hole until it’s leaking like one,” He growled. You cried out from unabashed lust, holding your legs back to expose yourself further, and John set the animal free at the depiction. He held your waist, dragging your unsullied hole through his hardness until only the tip was left before connecting the drop of your weight with a powerful thrust, punching into your prostrate.

“That’s what you are, right? My good little cunt? Just a good boy who can do nothing right, but take my large cock.” John gutted loud moans out of you, his gaze locked on your wrecked expression because watching you take his cock was equally as gratifying as sinking himself of you, down to the root. “Say it. Say you want daddy to make a cunt out of you.”

You were falling in love with this animalistic side of John. With the sensations he was supplying and overwhelming you with. Your cock was sure to agree, throttling as if there was a phantom hand stroking its shaft.

“I want—a fucking cunt. Want daddy to make a cunt out of my hole, please—“ You felt deviant, like those words shouldn’t have left your mouth, but it was all the worthwhile because John kissed you hard on the mouth, groaning.

Up to the hilt, John thrusted into faster—harder as you choked back on a moan and nearly gagged on his tongue. “I’m going to fill you up with so much of my cum, you’d be leaking for days.”

“Oh, God—“ You gritted your teeth, exhaling loud and hard because it was coming. Your stomach clenched and your balls tightened without the need of your hand.

“You’d be lucky to walk tomorrow, (M/N). You’d need my help walking you down the stairs. Even then, I wouldn’t be so sure if we’d make it to the floor. Knowing the prospect, I’d just take you right then and there, on the fucking stairwell, making your ass gape once again.”

“John, s-stop—I’m going to—“ Your eyes rolled back until John could only see whites. His words supplied you with the mental picture of the filthy smut coming out of his mouth. It came to you naturally—the smile on your face. You were broken in your state of reverie, dazed by the fantasy of taking John’s cock anywhere and anytime he pleased. Using you however his mind and body desired like he was now. Balls-slapping against your taint, sweat sticking your body to one another, pants and groans loud in your ear, the air thickening with the act of pure lust, pounding into you with no intention in letting you recover your breath. “S-stop, fucking coming—“

“Look at me,” John ordered you, panting.

Your eyes were heavy when you looked up, mere slits from the weight of your desires, heavily drugged by John’s poisoning rapture on your wrecked body. You pressed a smile against his mouth, making no attempt to kiss him, but to simply be in close proximity, pressing his nose against yours. He grappled at your hips, digging your insides with the weight of his large cock, piercing into prostate harder and faster as he took a bargain on your orgasm coming to a near.

You were stunned, the gutting you were enduring from John hitting you like a ton of bricks. You emptied your throat of sounds, the inner walls dry and scratched like the desert. All you managed for John was vigilant whimpers, any more forewarnings were fallen on deaf ears as you’d been knocked into a trance that melted your speech into meek garbles of incoherency.

It only took a few more seconds before your brain rewired itself and had your body floundering within John’s loving embrace, alerting you awake. With the help of John’s cock continuously assaulting deep at your prostate, you felt your body tense up, your hole clenching around pillar John’s pistoning staff to stop him, but he prevailed, breaching through the resistance, and slammed hard into your prostate once more, splitting your ass open and knocking the orgasm out of you.

John held your gaze, marveling over the ecstasy in your otherwise blown-out expression. His brows furrowed in utter fascination as your mouth parted open, only for your moans to adhere to your throat instead, blowing your load in agonizing silence. Thick ropes spurted powerfully out of your throbbing cock, splattering messily over your chest. With the buck of your hips, you graced your face with your cum-shots, additionally provoked as John used the strength of his heels to lift himself to meet you at an elevated height, fucking the cum out of you.

The sound that came out of you was guttural, transporting you into another dimension where you were caught in a whirlpool of toe-curling sensations. Rubbing a hand over your stomach, he could feel it sink in as you liberated yourself from your high, uncontrollably spilling over your pelvis in midst. Yet, despite your dazed state, your eyes never left his, provoking him to come inside of you with desperate, but gentle murmurs on his lips, as well as the addition of the ring of muscle spasming around his shaft.

“Fill my cunt up, make me fucking leak…” You showered his lips in soft whispers, finally releasing your grasp on your legs to stroke at his cheek. Squeezing, caressing, urging—for him to seal your hole.

On the drop of your legs, you squeezed them close together until your knees touched, confining his shaft between the clamp of your inner walls. You clenched hard when he was buried to the root, foiling the pace of his hips, and let your swollen insides bring him closer.

“Oh… shit…” John’s eyes rolled back, and finally spilled with a shudder.

His large cock jerked deep inside of you, and soon, you felt his warm seed fill you to the brim. You felt your bond with John transcend, higher, beyond space and time, with every pulse of his thick veins pumping cum deep into you.

Upon capturing John’s lips for a kiss, he circled his hips, making you moan languidly into his mouth. You swallowed every breath of his, swirling your hips against his own cautious thrusts in retaliation, gratified by the warm, thick coating of cum your insides were receiving, soothing your spellbound hole and stirring his connection to you.

“Didn’t hurt you too bad? Think I slapped you too hard.” John asked softly, gently rubbing a palm over your stricken cheek. You could see guilt in his expression as he brought you closer to claim your lips The moment was soft, the complete opposite of previous events, silent apologies to your mouth as John’s mouth was lingering, yet electrifying all at the same time as he sucked on your lower lip.

“You. Were. Perfect.” You warded off the guilt with a smooch after word, rubbing his chest. “I asked for it, you know that. It was fun, wasn’t it? Something different to spice up the bedroom.”

“Hm…” He laughed at your sudden eagerness, as if you hadn’t been debilitated from his cock moments prior. Tucking one arm behind his head, his other hand idly began petting at your head. He retired for the night with the shut of his eyes, contemplating on their newfound kink. “Let’s see how I feel when you’re the one slapping me next time. Then we can judge it accordingly.”

“Holy shit…”

“Mhm.” “I’m pulling out the dumbbells. Too late to go back on your word now, John.”

“Wait, now that you—“

“Not a single word, or I’m making you call me ‘Doctor’ as an early punishment.”

“We both know how this will turn out. I just need to pull my dick out, and you’ll be back onto your knees, no matter how much you try to resist.”

“I… plead the fifth?”

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. if you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

[candypot]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ 𝗩𝗜𝗟 𝗦𝗖𝗛𝗢𝗘𝗡𝗛𝗘𝗜𝗧 : ex with attachment issues headcanons

notes: came back with more cunty content about this cunty queen

|theres NSFW mentions on this post - don’t scroll if you’re a minor|

•Probably will resent you very much for wasting his precious time, but the scale of his harshness towards you depends on the breakup reason.

• At the worst case he'll throw some light shade at you whenever you happened to be in the same room as him. It would be too impolite to just directly address his displeasure with your presence, so expect just some indirect complaints about your "exaggerated perfume" or your "disrespect towards the school etiquette”. He'll make sure to bother just enough to satisfy his hurt ego, even though he knew deep down it was ridiculous for his image as a dorm leader.

• if the breakup reason was lighter, he'll just make sure to address you with indifference and politeness like he does with any other student of Night Raven College. You might feel some sharp glares towards you sometimes or a additional rigid breath, but he'll never bother you with such a nonsense because of his unattached persona.

• Surely won't bat an eye when you pass through him on the crowded corridors of the college, Vil was an excellent actor after all and he would do everything he could to hide how much you affected him with your absence.

• But this doesn't mean you should go around underestimating his peripheral vision, in the end the day his eyes were scanning every little corner with the hope of finding you somewhere.

• Also, don't get too careless thinking you can move on quickly after the break up. If you're even thinking about seeing someone else with less than two months, be aware that he's going to come back in your life just to torment you. Vil loves to remind you how good it was to have him as a partner in times like this and also how horrible it could be to lost him forever. He'll make sure to come back to you just to make sure you drop your other options before he pushes you away again.

• Make sure you're prepared to be dragged on a vicious cycle of affection and indifference depending on his mood of the day. He missed you so much... but he had to move on from that phase as quick as possible for the sake of his career... but you had to understand that you were made to be his... but he also should stop pampering you so much after such mediocre relationship…. but you also should be more considerate with his feelings, you guys had story together... but seriously! you had to stop being so overly sensitive and leave him alone when he needed. It would be a endless and torturing cycle for the both of you, he wanted to feel worth your attention and at the same time make sure you knew what you had lost.

• Would try to push the thoughts of you to the back of his mind with the practice of physical exercise. It was honestly so stressing to not being able to focus on anything after that awful break up with such a common person! He had to clear his mind up with something or at least be tired enough to not think about it (he would probably dream about you anyway).

• Maybe he could even start seeing a therapist to read more deeply into this strange addiction he had of you. The other alternatives weren't helping to clean his mind anymore and he could notice how physically and emotionally draining it was getting to not understand his feeling towards you.

• Shamefully, hate sex would probably be a thing. It was so so so humiliating to have his thoughts wandering around you and the heated moments you guys shared together... his bed seemed so empty without your warm body trembling bellow him (or on top of him). He was so dumb to even bring you to his room in first place! How could he even sleep in such a place after all you had done in those sheets? Now it was almost as necessary as oxygen to have your lowly presence by his side again, he needed to feel your grotesque hands on him and your petulant mouth on his.

• The whole experience would be very humiliating for the both of you, nor him nor you would have the gut to admit you were constantly seeking each other behind that hatful facade. At some point, people wouldn't even bother to understand your current status of relationship anymore. Even Rook, which was the biggest stalker supporter of the both of you was tired of listening those well know noises from his roi du poison's room.

[egcdeath]

clean sheet

pairing: joel miller x reader 

summary: nothing stirs the pot like your ex-husband, gossipy soccer moms, and a weekend-long soccer tournament. (part two of spectator sport)

word count: 7.7k

warnings: canon divergent: no apocalypse, implied past emotional abuse, jealousy/misunderstanding, kinda angsty in the beginning but verrrry fluffy at the end, insecurities, there was only one bed, mutual pining, sarah and chloe being menaces as usual

author’s note: this past week has been extremely rough. like, ao3 author’s note apologizing for being gone rough, so i’m just as surprised as you are that i was able to write 7,000 words of a part two to spectator sport. enjoy!

 part 3 / series masterlist

Tournament season was nothing short of an absolute pain in the ass. It was a pain in the ass when you were married and able to evenly split your responsibilities, and it’s even more of a pain in the ass now that your ex-husband has decided to participate minimally in all soccer related ventures. 

To be completely honest, it seemed like it wasn’t just soccer ventures your ex wasn’t too enthused to partake in, as Nathan had ditched most of his fatherly duties whenever a new, younger girlfriend was in the picture. But that was neither here nor there.

Despite Nathan taking Chloe to her past few games this season—you were completely swamped with work and you had practically gotten on your knees and begged for him to take her to them—he didn’t seem to have any interest in assisting you with tournaments. 

That was fine and good. You knew about the events far enough in advance to move some meetings around, block off some time, and cross your fingers and hope that nothing came up unexpectedly in the days prior to your game. Although, what you couldn’t account for was your car completely breaking down on your way back from a bagel shop the morning before you were meant to be on the road for the next three hours. 

But alas, the universe had its way of kicking you when you were already down, leaving you biting back tears in the passenger seat of a tow truck as you attempted to figure out a Plan B.

“Please, Nathaniel,” you pleaded over the phone, pacing back and forth in your bedroom as you tried your absolute best to hold the last bits of your composure together. 

“I’ve been at her last three games,” it was impossible to miss the sneer in his voice as if his own daughter was the biggest burden in the world. “And where have you been? It’s practically been a month.”

“Where have I been?” you laughed out of anger and at the absurdity of his words. You knew that he knew for a fact that you’d been drowning in work. “Nathaniel. You know how my work has been. Please just do this one thing for your child. It’s the fucking weekend. It’s not like you’re doing anything else.”

“It’s always work with you. You know, this is why I couldn’t be with you anymore. You were always so selfish with your time and inconsiderate with mine,” he sighed dismissively. “And for the record, Claire and I have a reservation tonight. So I am doing something else.”

It was staggering how minimized and powerless he made you feel after every interaction despite how little he actually was in your life. Every time you interacted with the man you thanked whatever forces out there that you somehow found it in yourself to leave. 

You huffed and blinked away tears, hugging yourself to attempt to bring yourself some sort of comfort. After signing the papers, you told yourself you would never waste one single tear on the man again. You wouldn’t let a little argument like this change that promise.

“Can I at least borrow your car?” you sounded so meek and desperate, but you were running out of options, and with every passing minute you had less and less options.

Instead of responding, Nathan simply laughed at you before ending the call. Humiliated didn’t even begin to cover how you felt about the whole situation. 

You angrily wiped away the hot tears that had slipped down your face without your permission and sighed as you evaluated what options you had left. You could take an Uber, but it would be ridiculously expensive. You could rent a car, but Chloe was bound to get stains and dirt tracked throughout the vehicle. Anything else was far too short notice. 

You flopped down onto your bed and screamed into your pillow. The stress from your overfilled work week combined with an extremely inconvenient situation was taking its toll on you, but you needed to figure something out. 

Maybe you could carpool with someone. Although, you weren’t sure who was still in town, as most of the families liked to leave at the ass crack of dawn. If that wasn’t enough, you weren’t exactly sure you wanted to sit in a small contained space with some of those families for a prolonged period of time. 

Maybe you could ‘borrow’ Nathan’s car regardless of what he said. You were sure his new girlfriend had a car–if she was even old enough to drive one–and they could certainly take that car to their ever-important reservation tonight. Although, maybe getting a grand theft auto charge in order to make it to a soccer tournament wasn't your greatest idea.

You were deep in the eye of a brainstorm when a soft little knock rapped against your door, seconds before Chloe peeked her head in. 

“Hi mom,” she greeted, completely unaware of the extent of your conundrum. “Sarah can’t find her cleats and wanted to know if she could borrow one of mine. Where do you keep my old ones?” 

Joel.

Oh shit, Joel.

Joel who you’d accidentally ghosted after the promise of a date. With work and ex-spousal drama, you hadn’t even had a moment to think about the date. A knot tied in your stomach as you thought about how you’d treated him. He probably thought you were icing him out on purpose. 

“They should be downstairs in the front closet under the coats,” you informed her. “You almost ready to go?”

“What does it look like?” she retorted sassily, doing a little spin for you to show off her full soccer attire. 

“Alright,” you chuckled, trying to keep it together for just a while longer. “Go find those cleats.”

With that, she was off, and you were alone with just one option. 

You dialed the number that you’d only texted once, and bit your lip as the phone rang out. The knot in your stomach tied and untied with each ring of the phone, nausea rattling you as you thought about all the ways he could answer. He’d probably be pissed that you were only reaching out to him now, only when you needed something from him. He’d probably tell you off, just like Nathan, and laugh at you over the phone over the mere prospect of hitching a ride with him.

After three rings, Joel finally picked up, saying your name aloud, as if he was genuinely surprised to be hearing from you. 

“Joel, I’m so sorry,” you took a deep breath and attempted to hold back the wave of emotions coming over you. This stupid stressful morning. This stupid stressful month. And stupid you for leaving a good man waiting for you. A good man who was probably moments away from becoming a bad man, like every other one that seemed to appear in your life.

“My car broke down this morning and I don’t have any other way to get to the tournament. Is there any way we can carpool? I’ll literally pay you to take us. I’ll drive Sarah to school for the rest of the school year. Hell, I’ll take her to games too. Just… please.” It felt like you were talking a million miles a minute. 

“Hey, take a breath,” he said, clearly picking up on the frantic energy you were radiating through the phone. “We’re heading out in about twenty minutes. We’ll swing by your place. And don’t worry about all that other stuff, okay? Just take a big breath. I’ll see you soon.”

You were flooded with relief as you spoke your gratitude and hung up. It almost felt odd to not have someone go off on you for waiting so last minute to reach out for help, or for not reaching out to them after you said that you would. You were puzzled, and not completely sure what you did to deserve someone like Joel in your life, but you were grateful to have him regardless. Especially now that he was coming to save the day. 

Sure enough, around twenty minutes later, a pickup truck arrived in front of your house, and Chloe was sprinting to go sit with her friend in the backseat, still overjoyed from the news that she would be traveling with her friend. 

Timidly, you entered the car, still anticipating a stern lecture or even a scolding for being a shitty mom, and an even worse potential partner. “I really can’t thank you enough for this, Joel,” you expressed before he had the chance to speak, hoping that if you expressed your gratitude before he had the chance to yell at you, the blow would be lessened. You kept your eyes down as you sat down and set your overnight bag in front of you. 

“Of course. You know, I still owe you a favor after that dinner fiasco,” he glanced over at you and smiled, and some of that fear you had been holding onto began to melt away. Although, you blanched at the mention of the date that you were meant to go on, but hadn’t had the chance to do so. Yet, there didn’t seem to be any malice behind Joel’s words. 

“I guess we’re even?” you offered, looking over at the man to attempt to read him as he slung his arm around the back of the headrest and looked through the rearview mirror as he pulled out. 

“Yeah,” he said shortly, almost… dejectedly? Maybe you were reading into it too much. After all, his attention was split between you and getting out of your driveway safely. 

Regardless of what anyone was feeling, your journey began with the girls in the back chatting amongst themselves and a slightly weighted silence between the two of you in the front while the sound of radio filled in for the lack of conversation between you and Joel.

You spent the majority of the ride looking out your window, deep in thought. You tried not to let Nathan get under your skin all that often, but maybe he was right about the way you spent your time. You’d practically thrown away your shot at any relationship with the man next to you, simply because you were too busy and forgot about a promise you’d made. 

You tried to focus on the excited chatter in the seat behind you, and less on the venomous words Nathan had given you over the years, but it was a difficult task. Paired with the fact that you were still waiting for the shoe to drop and Joel to go off on you, it wasn’t the most pleasant time.

After about an hour of driving (and in your case, brooding), you had to make a stop at the gas station, as the truck was running low on fuel. You reached for your wallet and grabbed a twenty dollar bill, then passed it back to the girls behind you. “Go get some snacks for us?” 

“Of course!” Chloe cheered, hopping out of the car and racing Sarah into the entrance of the gas station.

Joel was definitely going to go off on you now that the kids were gone. You held your breath as you got out of the car, leaning against the hood of the vehicle as Joel stood by the pump, his eyes fixed on his vehicle.

“I can’t tell you just how sorry I am. About not reaching out to you to go out sometime, and for having to ask you so last minute to take us to the tournament. I’ve just been absolutely swamped with work, and Natha-“

“You’re fine,” Joel cut you off as he acknowledged your apology, keeping his gaze trained on the car. Here it comes. “You don’t need to apologize. Sometimes life just throws a bunch of shit at us at once.”

You nodded in agreement, your breathing picking up as you waited for the condescension or lecture to begin. Yet… it never came. You weren’t sure if he was as upset as you suspected, but Joel was certainly feeling more than he was willing to let on. The lack of eye contact and his slightly off responses told you that much. 

“Is everything okay?” you finally asked, trailing off. “You’ve barely said a word all trip.”

“Everything is fine. I’m just tired,” he rubbed his forehead with his hand. 

“Well, if you’re tired, I can drive us the rest of the way over and you can sleep. That way you’ll be rested for the game,” you offered, taking a daring step towards him, and setting your hand on his bicep—a peace treaty of sorts. And maybe a hint that you were still interested in whatever sparks had been evident before. 

Joel immediately stiffened under your touch, and subtly rejected the motion. He glanced over at you for just a moment before looking back down at the gas pump and shut his eyes. “That’d be great. I’m really exhausted.”

While you could believe that maybe Joel was just tired, there had to be more to the story. The way he rejected your subtle touch and the way he just couldn’t seem to meet your eyes told you that much. Perhaps you underestimated just how hurt he was by you not making plans with him, although it wasn’t like he’d reached out to you to set something up. In fact, the last time you heard from him was the night before the girls’ game following their team dinner.

“Of course. Go ahead and get back in the car, I can take everything from here.”

The rest of the ride wasn’t too long, but you were happy to contribute after asking for such a last minute favor. You drove straight to the grounds that the team was playing on that afternoon, as you were already pushing it on time, and certainly did not have time to go check into your hotel yet.

Your kids jogged off to greet their team and warm up with them, leaving you alone with Joel once again as you grabbed fold-out chairs from the back of his truck. 

“You feeling any better now after sleeping?” you asked, turning to look at him and inspect his face for any suspicious expressions.

“Yeah, definitely,” he affirmed, but his words didn’t exactly match what it was you had observed. He closed his trunk and began to walk away, and you followed after him, feeling a bit like a lost puppy.

“Joel, really. You can tell me what’s wrong,” you practically pleaded, part of you still waiting for the moment he would tell you off.

“I already told you,” his tone was defensive, and when he turned back to look at you, the agitation was clearly painted on his face. “Nothing is wrong.”

You were taken aback, but understood that you had crossed some sort of boundary in your continuous pressing of what was wrong. You felt more like a kicked puppy than a lost one as you walked out to the fields behind Joel, setting your chair up close to him, but with a little more distance between the two of you than what you would have preferred. 

You didn’t talk much during the game, outside of cheering for your daughters and momentarily celebrating when one of them pulled something impressive off. 

Although you didn’t interact much, it still felt nice to be back at a game after being gone for the past few weeks. And honestly, it felt even more nice to be back in Joel’s presence after those weeks, even if it was clear that something had shifted between the two of you. 

When the second game began, you were surprised to come back from your short leg-stretch walk to find another chair placed next to Joel’s—and a woman happily chatting his ear off.

A pang of jealousy struck your gut as you observed the two of them. It was no secret that most of the moms (and some of the dads) on the team (and other teams) saw the same things in Joel that you did. But you had absolutely no right to feel jealous, considering the way you’d basically led him on, and you had absolutely no reason to believe that there was anything romantic going on between them.

But you felt unwell anyway. 

You urged yourself not to look at them for too long, instead focusing on the game in front of you, but the sounds of their voices and the way their conversation easily flowed was far too distracting. Just the rotten cherry on top of an already shitty day. 

You felt ridiculous and childish sitting there with jealousy burning deeply in your stomach as you mentally ran through all of the things you could have done differently. Maybe if you’d texted Joel the night of your dinner and found a day where you both weren’t busy to go out together, or if you’d just said no to taking on a few extra hours, you’d be the one giggling and playing with your hair as you chatted up Joel.

It was official: you couldn’t torture yourself with staying one more moment with the two of them. Instead, you shot out of your uncomfortable little chair, and hauled your jealous little ass over to the concession stand. If you couldn’t go back in time and fix all the mistakes you’d made leading up to today, at least you could stuff your face full of peanut M&Ms until you felt better.  

As you focused on tearing the yellow plastic with a little more force than what was necessary, you completely missed Alice—one of the more gossipy mothers on the team—approaching you. 

“Hey babe,” she greeted cheerily. “We haven’t seen you in a few weeks. Where’ve you been?” 

Your mouth was currently filled with candy, so it took you a second to respond. “Work,” you said in between chewing. “I barely had time to breathe, let alone bring Chloe to her games, so I had to basically beg on my knees for a little help from her father. Speaking of which, how was Nathan?”

“Oh,” Alice paused and looked off to the side, a little too guiltily for your liking. “Yeah, he was fine.”

“Are you sure?” you asked, brows furrowed at her strange reaction. 

“Yeah! He was great. It’s just…” she trailed off and offered you an awkward smile. “We thought you two were maybe back together. You know, with the whole co-parenting thing.”

Your eye twitched. So the parents of the team were gossiping and theorizing about your love life. Great. That’s probably what was wrong with Joel—word had gotten back to him that you and Nathan were playing house again. No wonder he was putting such distance between you. 

“Babe,” you tried not to let the annoyance you were experiencing reflect too much into your tone, “why would you tell people we were back together? Bringing your own child to their sports events is not exactly groundbreaking or relationship material.”

You were now gritting your teeth as the irritation really started to sink in. Joel probably didn’t reach out to you for your date since these fucking real housewives you were surrounded by had decided to spread baseless rumors about you from the moment your ex had stepped onto the sideline. 

You were wrong. This was the rotten cherry on top of the absolute dogshit milkshake of a day you’d had. 

“I’m sorry,” Alice didn’t sound as remorseful as you wish she did. You knew that deep down, she was enjoying this little game and would be more than happy to spread this information back to her friends. “I shouldn’t have assumed.”

“It’s fine, the damage is done,” you sighed, shoving a handful of candy in your mouth. 

“Have you seen Joel and Cindy, though? They’re so cute together!”

It was now clearer than ever that Alice was only interacting with you to stir the pot, so you simply put on the best fake smile you could muster and nodded. “Adorable. Now if you don’t mind, I’m gonna go sit back down. I haven’t seen Chloe play in a few weeks, and she was doing so well in the last game, I’m sure she’s doing great now too!”

You didn’t wait for a response before walking off, attempting to suppress all of the feelings you were having with this new information you’d been given. In the three weeks you’d been gone, Alice had convinced the team that you and Nathan were back together, and Joel had already moved on. If you hadn’t cared so much about Chloe’s passions, you would’ve had her quit on the spot. You simply could not handle any more of this soccer parent culture. 

Sitting back down in your seat, you offered Joel an M&M, to which he politely declined. You wondered if there was a way for you to casually explain that you and Nathan were not and would not ever be an item again, but then again, it seemed like with Cindy in the picture, the ship of making anything work with you two had sailed. 

You attempted to focus on your daughter, who unsurprisingly was doing quite well in the game. You were glad that no matter how shitty your day was turning out, your kin was at least having a better day—and having fun doing it.

You simply went through the motions through the rest of the day, squeezing your daughter tight with a hug when all of the games for the day were finished and telling Sarah about how great of a job she did, then falling back into a somewhat uncomfortable silence on your drive to the hotel. 

Checking in had proved to be… a bit of an odd situation. As you pocketed your room keys, Chloe made an odd offer—her and Sarah would share a room while you and Joel would share your own. 

It shouldn’t have surprised you as much as it did when your daughters proposed that you and Joel share a room so that they could have a sleepover, but it caught you off guard regardless. 

You were hesitant for several obvious reasons, but their room was adjoined to yours, and there was a perfectly nice pull-out bed in the sofa, which meant there was absolutely no need to share a bed with Joel. After some consideration and discussion with the man who would be your roommate for the night, you ultimately settled on allowing it. You would take the sofa. Joel would take the bed.

Besides, it’s not like he’d be spending the majority of the night in the room. After a short conversation, he was getting dressed and going off to dinner with Cindy. 

You tried not to feel bad for yourself for too long. You’d already spent the majority of the day feeling bad for yourself, whether it was for the shitty situations you found yourself in, or the way the moms on your team treated your love life like their favorite reality show.

Knocking on the door adjacent to your own, you were happy to see Chloe crack open her door. 

“Hi girls,” you greeted. “What do you say to a pajama party?”

“Yes!” Chloe squealed, swinging her door wide open. Conveniently, they were already dressed the part, and were seemingly ready to wind down after a long day of physical activity. 

After ordering an absurd amount of room service and having nothing short of a feast with your favorite pre-teens, the three of you sat on the floor under a blanket fort you’d constructed as you played Uno with some random network romcom playing in the background. 

It felt like after a long day of holding your breath, you could finally let go of it, winding down with your two favorite children.

“Do you feel like you had a good day today?” you asked, placing a green three on top of the pile of cards. 

“Yeah! I missed having you and my dad together at our games,” Sarah remarked, drawing a card. 

Chloe nodded in agreement, setting down one of her own cards. “You really spice up our games. I think Joel yells a little louder at us when you’re here. He was pretty quiet when dad was bringing me.”

You tried not to let your emotions show on your face too much in front of the children, but it was undeniably sweet that you being around brightened Joel’s light, even now, when things were a little more awkward between the two of you. You simply hummed as you set down your card.

“Yeah, he kept asking me if I knew where you were,” Sarah drew a card then placed the card back down on the pile. “I think he missed you.”

So maybe Joel wasn’t as mad at you as you thought he was. Asking where you were had to be a good sign, right? Maybe it really just boiled down to him thinking you were back together with your ex-husband, and him not wanting to cross any boundaries. 

“I think you’re our good luck charm. Did you see how well we played today?” Chloe asked, discarding a card. “Uno.”

“I think you guys are just good,” you set down a card. “Uno.”

“I dunno, when you were gone we kept losing,” Sarah set down a skip, causing Chloe to exclaim in frustration. 

“Our friendship is over,” Chloe announced to Sarah for what must’ve been the third time that night. 

“Mean it this time?” she teased. 

“I swear!” the pair broke out into giggles as you set down your final card. 

“We need to team up on you! How is it that you keep winning?” Sarah asked, pointing an accusatory finger at you. 

“She’s a dirty cheater,” Chloe tutted. “Just ask her why we don’t play Monopoly anymore. Right, mom?”

“Hey!” you exclaimed. “It was a rough patch. I keep winning Uno because you two keep targeting each other. What happened to team work?”

“No such thing in Uno,” Sarah shrugged. 

You laughed aloud, feeling some of your stress melting away with the motion, “you guys are too funny.”

Chloe yawned and reached for the pile in the middle of your little circle. “You can’t compliment your way out of this, cheater.”

“Ugh, whatever. I didn’t realize I raised such a sore loser.”

“Takes one to know one!” Chloe jeered. 

“Sure,” you chuckled. “Well, I think it's this cheater’s bedtime. Can I help you guys undo the pillow fort?”

The girls agreed, and you helped take down the mess of blankets, chairs, and pillows as they began to wind down and settle into bed.

“Goodnight, girls,” you bid farewell as you approached the adjoining door. “If you need anything, just come on over, okay? Sweet dreams,” you blew kisses to both of them before going back over to your side of the room.

When you made it back to your room, Joel was already in bed, the soft light of the television illuminating his face in the otherwise dark room. The light from the screen and his pajamas were doing him all sorts of favors, making him look like he walked straight out of your domestic fantasy. 

“When did you get back?” you asked as you grabbed your phone charger from your bag and approached the pull-out bed. 

“Like, an hour ago,” he shrugged, leaning back against the headboard. 

“You should’ve come over and played Uno with us,” you suggested, attempting to get cozy in your makeshift bed as you pulled the threadbare hotel blanket over your legs. “We had a little fort and everything.”

“Didn’t wanna intrude on your girls’ night,” he mumbled sleepily, hugging a pillow as he adjusted himself in bed.

“We would’ve been happy to have you,” you muttered, trying your best to relax in the rather uncomfortable makeshift bed.

Joel simply grunted in response, his eyes now shut. You could only assume that sleep set in quickly, and you’d now lost him to dreamland.  

You stared up at the ceiling, unable to fall asleep. Part of you wished that this whole day was just an awful dream, and that you’d wake up the morning after the team dinner at Joel’s house, able to do everything all over again. 

Rolling onto your side, you hoped that the shitty pull-out bed would become even slightly more comfortable, but your hope was to no avail. You sighed softly and closed your eyes, wondering if you started counting sheep, if it’d be any easier to fall asleep.

About fifteen sheep in, Joel’s soft voice calling your name pulled you out of whatever sleepy daze you’d been in. 

“Hey, are you sleeping yet?” he practically whispered. 

“No,” you responded, voice far above a whisper. “The floor would probably be more comfortable than this.”

“I told you you shouldn’t have taken the pull-out bed,” he goaded.

“You wanna get down here and sleep on it for me?”

“No. Well… Would it help you sleep better?”

“Joel,” you huffed.

“I shouldn’t have asked,” you listened as the bedsheets began to rustle.

“No, no, don’t do that. Your body needs an actual bed after all that hard manual labor you do. Lay back down.”

“Not if you can’t fall asleep because of that shitty bed. Trust me, I’ve slept in worse conditions.”

“Just because you can doesn’t mean you should. Now I’m going to sleep. Goodnight.”

Joel paused for a second, and you assumed he’d finally given up. Good.

Until he called your name once again. “Come up here and get a good night’s rest.”

“No,” you argued, though your sleepy brain was practically begging you to move to the comfier location. “You need it more than me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

You snickered, “whatever you want it to mean.”

Silence on his end once again. Time to start herding your sheep. 

“Why don’t we just share? There’s probably room for three of me on this bed.”

A bold proposition from a man who got back from a date only a few hours ago. A bold proposition that you were probably a bit too enthusiastic to take. 

“Fine,” you huffed. “Only to get you off my ass.”

Every part of your body was thanking you as you slipped out of the shitty couch-bed and padded over to the empty side of the real bed. Tentatively, you got in bed and under the sheets, making sure to keep yourself on your side and keeping your back facing his.

“Goodnight, Joel.” you finally whispered. 

“Goodnight,” he softly said your name, and you imagined the look on his face. Maybe in a different world, one where you’d gone on a date with him when the offer was on the table, you’d be in bed with him without the argument, with his arm wrapped around your waist as he wrapped you in a warm embrace, or with him hovering above you as you attempted to keep quiet in a hotel filled with guests who were more than willing to speculate about you.

It was nice to have someone in bed with you again. Even if all you had was the heat radiating off of the man next to you, and the sound of his deep breaths as he fell deeper and deeper into sleep. Despite all that had gone wrong in the day, and whatever Joel’s situation was with his date, somehow laying in bed with someone else made you feel at ease.

You didn’t have to count any more sheep to fall asleep that night. 

When you woke up, Joel was already out of bed, pulling on a hat and slipping on his shoes. “Oh good, you’re awake,” he commented as you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes. “Wanna get complimentary breakfast before it goes away?”

You stretched out as you listened to the proposition, wondering if the phantom feeling of an arm around your waist during the night was real or just a dream. “You know me so well.”

Somehow, the tension between the two of you didn’t feel so heavy that morning. Maybe sleeping in bed together had helped to break the ice, or maybe some other variable was at play. Regardless, you were happy to feel like your relationship had gone back to what it had been a month ago, even if Joel really was beginning to form something with Cindy. 

The hotel lobby wasn’t too busy when you and Joel went down. You were certainly grateful, as the fact that you had just rolled out of bed and gone to breakfast was more than obvious to anyone who’d looked at you for more than two seconds. 

You were stirring endless circles into your coffee when Joel sat down across from you, sighing as he leaned back into his chair. 

“Sleep well?” he asked before taking a hearty sip of his own coffee. 

You held back a laugh and exchanged it for the slightest hint of a smile. If only he knew just how well you slept. “I guess,” you admitted. “I always sleep well in hotel beds.”

You were completely uncertain of how to address the bed-sized elephant in the room, or if it was even a good idea to do so. But the lack of coffee in your system and the remnants of sleep clouding your brain had lowered your inhibitions significantly, causing the next words to tumble out of your mouth. 

“Thank you for letting me join you,” you involuntarily held your breath after saying so, too afraid to openly wait for his reaction. 

“Of course,” he hummed, beginning to stab at some of the food on his plate. “I couldn’t just let you break your back on that couch-bed.”

“Well I appreciate it,” you began to pick at some of your own food, the two of you falling into a far more comfortable silence. Obviously something had shifted between the time of the game and now, but you couldn’t quite place it. Since you were already in the mood to address elephants in the room, you had no issue blurting, “How was your date last night?”

“Date?” Joel looked up from his scrambled eggs with a furrowed brow. 

“With Cindy? From the other team?” you took a bite of toast and didn’t back down from the loaded eye contact going on between the two of you.

“Well, it wasn’t a date. Cindy’s married. Happily, I might add. Just catching up with a family friend.”

You were slightly taken aback, but not necessarily in a bad way. Suddenly, you felt silly for all the energy you’d wasted the day prior feeling jealous and bad for yourself, when you didn’t even know the full story.

“Well, what about Nathan? Is he a family friend?” it came out defensive, and you couldn’t particularly blame him for it. Finally some proof that this was what that weird tension had been all about. 

Maybe if your mind was slightly more clear, you’d find it cute that you were both a little jealous over each other. Maybe you really hadn’t thrown away your chance at this thing the way you’d thought you did.  

“No! I told you, I’ve been swamped with work. Like, getting home so late that I only see Chloe in the mornings and when I tuck her into bed, late. She needed to go to her games, and I knew there was only one person I could possibly guilt trip into bringing her. But I would rather marry the actual incarnation of Satan himself before spending another day with her father.”

“Oh,” Joel said quietly, lifting his disposable cup to his lips and seeming rather deep in thought.

“But you thought I was with him this whole time?”

“I guess?”

“And you still invited me into your bed?” you pressed, a hint of amusement in your voice.

“There was nothing inherently romantic or… sexual about that. I just didn’t want you to wake up in pain,” he set down his cup, but continued staring you down.

You shrugged. Solid answer, although you certainly wouldn’t be opposed to either alternative scenarios. 

“But even if there was, it’s only because you deserve better than that man. And from what I’ve seen, pretty much any man is better than him.”

“Including you?” you pressed. 

“What do you think?” the little smirk he was obviously trying to fight only egged you on. 

“I think I agree with you. Except, I don’t love that you just assumed something about my relationship status because one of those human rumor mills told you it. Next time, you wait until you hear it from me, okay?”

“I normally would’ve, I guess I’m just so used to things not working out with me, my brain was just looking for a reason why this wouldn’t work out either.”

“To be fair, not contacting you after saying I’d go out with you is pretty solid grounds for thinking we wouldn’t work out. But at least let me take you on a date before we try to figure out if we’ll work out or not.”

“You still want to go on that date?” Joel asked, sounding more astonished than you would’ve expected. 

“What do you think?” you winked, tossing his words right back at him. 

Just as your exchange began to wrap up, you were joined by two sleepy kids, who most certainly heard part of your conversation about going on a date. You couldn’t even bother with feeling mortified, too high on the knowledge that you had yet another shot with Joel. 

“How was your sleepover?” you asked the girls without missing a beat. 

“Fun. We missed you, though,” Chloe sighed as she buttered up a bagel. 

“Yeah, Uno’s not the same without you,” Sarah added as she began to cut up her pancakes. 

“I’m flattered, girls. We’ll have to have an Uno tournament sometime and get Joel on it too. Mostly so he can witness me beating everyone’s ass at it.”

“Language, mom. And we all know you’re a cheater.”

“Keep telling yourself that, sweetie.”

“I don’t know, I kinda believe it,” Joel teased. 

“Not you too, Joel! You’re supposed to be on my side,” you laughed. 

Your table fell into comfortable conversation for the rest of breakfast before you had to send the girls off to go get ready for their games. You almost wanted to pinch yourself to check if you were still dreaming after waking up in this domestic paradise following the terrible day you’d had yesterday, but even if it was a dream, you weren’t sure you wanted to wake up.

The rest of the tournament went smoothly, with the ice sufficiently broken between you and Joel, and you even joining in on his conversations with Cindy as the three of you sat together. The girls’ team ultimately won, leading to some very happy passengers as you drove back home. As you exited Joel’s car, you gave him a soft kiss on the cheek and a whispered promise of going out with him soon. To think, when you’d started your weekend, you never would have believed it would end in this manner. 

——

“Mom, hurry!” Chloe yelled up the stairs at you, sounding a little more impatient than what you would’ve liked. 

You could understand where she was coming from. Following the end of the soccer season, Joel had been quite busy, and Chloe hadn’t been able to see her closest friend outside of school hours for quite some time. If you were Chloe, you’d probably be anxious to see Sarah too.

Hurrying down the stairs with a newfound sense of urgency, you gave your daughter a little side hug. 

“I’m sorry, sweetie,” you apologized, understanding her urgency a little too well.

“Don’t be sorry. Just be efficient,” she pulled away from you and checked out your clothing. Sure, it was 6 PM and you were already in your pajamas. Sue you for wanting to come back home after a long day at work and put on your softest cat-printed pajama pants. “That’s a good outfit.”

“Oh, thank you. I was actually invited to Paris Fashion Week, but-“

“You can tell me in the car!” she exclaimed as she scurried off, with you following behind the little slippery bastard. 

In the car, Chloe seemed to be acting a little… suspicious. Although, you didn’t pay much mind to it, making small talk on the short drive over to her friend’s house. Her friend whose father you still hadn’t found time to go out with. 

“Oh yeah, being here reminded me that Joel had something to tell you,” Chloe announced as you pulled into their driveway. “Come in with me?”

By now, you were slightly suspicious, but the idea of having some sort of confrontation by Joel about you not following through on your word once again overrode your suspicions of your child. 

As Chloe rang the doorbell, Sarah swung the door open, smiling at her friend, then up at you. 

“Hi, come on in!” she said sweetly, opening the door all the way and leading you inside. 

As you walked in, your eyes caught on a makeshift pillow fort—one that oddly resembled the one you’d helped the girls make during their tournament. Cute.

“My dad’s inside. He wants to talk to you. See you later, bye!” Sarah talked quickly, and even quicker than her speech, she disappeared up the stairs with your daughter.

Something was definitely up.

You approached the fort with trepidation, and slowly pulled up a flap, where you found Joel dressed similarly to you in a loose shirt and plaid pajama pants, comfortably splayed out on his back while he seemed to be playing Candy Crush on his phone. 

“Oh, hey,” you said awkwardly. “The girls said you wanted to talk to me?” 

“Oh, hey,” he parroted back, seeming even more taken aback by your presence as he immediately sat up. “Uh, I actually didn’t know you were coming over?”

Oh.

It was always something with your kids. They knew how to scheme, and they knew how to scheme well.

“That’s fine,” you laughed to yourself about the situation. “I was gonna head out anyway. It was good to see you, and for the record, you clean up pretty well,” you teased, alluding to your similar mid-evening pajamas. 

“Wait!” he said quickly, nearly cutting you off. “Sorry, wait. Don’t go yet. Unless you have somewhere else to be…?”

You shook your head and shrugged. 

“I mean, obviously our kids set us up again, but we also haven’t followed through on that date yet. So maybe we can do it now?”

“Maybe,” you hummed as you sat down next to him on a mountain of pillows. “What would you want to do?” you asked, gently tapping his leg with your fuzzy-sock clad foot. (Chloe didn’t need to know that what was taking you so long was finding these god-forsaken socks.)

“Well, I’ve been wanting to take you out to some snobby, fancy restaurant,” he began. 

“Oh?” you voiced, brows raised. 

“But I don’t really think that’s either of our speeds.”

“Agreed. I don’t know where you’re going with this, but I’m liking it so far.”

“We also probably shouldn’t leave the girls home alone at night,” he continued to think out loud, his soft eyes never leaving your own. You almost felt like you were caught in a trance by them. 

“So what do you suggest we do, Joel?” you asked. 

“Well, we have this wonderful pillow fort already at our disposal. Maybe we can order some food and watch a movie?”

“I think sitting in a pillow fort while eating food and watching a movie is my love language. That sounds lovely.”

You two smiled at each other, and you could hear your heartbeat pound in your ears as a warm feeling filled your chest. It had been far too long since you’d felt any semblance of this feeling.

An abundance of Thai food and an argument over what movie to watch later, you were curled up like a cat beside Joel admiring the look of his face under the lighting of the fairy lights that were hung up throughout the little fort. 

“Ugh, why haven’t we done this sooner?” you asked, lifting your head out of the dip of his shoulder. 

“We’re both too busy,” he murmured, looking away from the television screen to look over at you. 

“I’ll literally take sick time off just to do this again,” you remarked. 

“I think that’s just the Thai food talking.”

“It was fucking amazing.”

“Told you.”

“But it’s not just the Thai food. I really like you a lot, Joel. I like spending time with you. I like talking to you and arguing about whether a shitty romcom or shitty action movie is better. I like doing mundane shit with you, like putting up fairy lights in a fort to enhance our ‘fort experience’. I like cuddling with you. Has anyone ever told you that you’re basically a human furnace? Anyway, I hate the fact that our daughters had to make an elaborate scheme just to get us together. I wanna make more time for you, because you deserve it. But like, only if you also wanna spend more time with me,” you confessed. 

“Of course I want to spend more time with you. And in the spirit of honesty, I really do have the time, sometimes. I guess I just worry that you wouldn’t want to spend your free time with me.”

“Joel, I would sit and watch paint dry on a wall if you were there with me. From the moment you entered my life, you’ve made everything a little better. If I have the time, I’m never gonna say no to being with you.”

He paused for a moment as he seemed to process that information, only coming back with a quiet, “Can I kiss you?”

You grabbed his cheeks and kissed him like no one you’d ever kissed before. It felt like the Fourth of July in your stomach as a moment you felt you’d been waiting for all your life finally came to fruition. 

By the time you pulled away, you were breathless and felt warm all over. You could go out on a limb and say that as far as dates go, this one was pretty successful, and to think, if it wasn’t for your daughters’ intervention, none of this would’ve happened. 

Yeah, you definitely needed to treat them to something.

[writingwisterias]

Day 4: Spanking

RE6! Leon Kennedy x AFAB!Reader Warnings: SMUT, MDNI, Spanking, Dom Leon, Sub Reader, Office Sex, Fingering, Age-Gap, Masterlist

You were beginning to piss him off, your endless complaining as you followed him around the department from mission briefing to training. He never understood how you willingly chose this path in life, optionally putting yourself in the horrible nightmares you commonly faced with him - especially if you were going to complain about how gross it was. Today you must have woke up and decided that it was a perfect day to annoy your partner as you tackled the never-ending pile of paperwork you both let pile up. A stack on each desk in the crappy room they called Leon’s office. You started the task off by being quiet, only asking for intel or information he could remember when you couldn’t but as time passed you grew more bored. Your attention span slipping. The tapping of your pen became more annoying than the ticking of the clock, his hangover wasn’t prepared for this behaviour today. 

Normally he would ignore it optionally turning his attention away from you as if you were invisible but today you weren’t letting him. He admired your ability to be so noisy sometimes, how as soon as that office door shut you were so open with him and chatting to him about literally anything. You were currently perched on the corner of his desk, watching as he scribbled the answers to the questions on the dotted line. “You know I didn’t expect you to have such nice handwriting” You spoke up from beside him, peering at the neatness of his handwriting. Leon just scoffed ignoring your comment in hopes you would eventually return to your desk like normal. “Was it always this good? You know like when you were in school and stuff” 

Leon tried to keep his cool, but the pounding in his head made it hard. “Yeah I guess, it’s not something I normally think about” He responded through gritted teeth. You hummed in acknowledgement of his answer pondering on your reply. “What do you think about?” You asked again, this time your feet began to swing in his peripherals as he tried to avoid looking at your skin, the way your thighs squished outwards on his desk from where you were perched upon it. He often felt sick with the amount of time he thought about you, the way you always seemed so perfect in shape to fit against him.

He always palmed himself when he would get back to the hotels, watching as his seed spilt down the drain if you had to press against him during battle. “How annoying you are” He grunted. You let out a mock gasp, pretending to fall back against his desk dramatically only for you to hit his hipflask that he had yet to screw shut. The metal case tipped over, the contents spilling off the edge and onto the floor. The look he gave you was less than amused, you felt like you were being scolded by your parents as he glared at you. “Oops,” You whispered. Leon sighed heavily, standing up from his chair, his form now towering over you. “This is what happens when you fuck around and don’t do your work” He grumbled, leaning over the desk to pick up the now empty hipflask. His body was so close, his aftershave wafting in your face as he leaned over you. “Don’t you have anything to say then? Huh sweetheart” 

You couldn’t help but shrink under his gaze, his voice deep as it rumbled through his chest. “Leon, I’m sorry really…I just” You mumbled, playing with your fingers. It felt humiliating the way he spoke to you like you were being told off by your parents. Yet as you looked up to meet his gaze, one that was sharp and cut through you instantly you couldn't help the way your pussy began to clench, arousal settling in your stomach. “You're really going to offer me an excuse mixed in with your apology?” He chuckled. The chair creaked as he sat back down and then again as he adjusted himself, his legs spreading showing off his crotch. “You’ve got to be kidding me if you think I would let you touch that after the crap you pulled today” he sighed noticing your greedy eyes. Your cheeks flushed red in the embarrassment of your gaze being caught. “I said I was sorry” You sighed. Leon didn’t respond, his eyes cutting through you like daggers as he sat there. 

After a few minutes, he only patted his thigh, the slap echoing around the cramped office. Your eyes widened but you still complied, sliding off the desk as you made your way over to him. You moved to perch on his lap only for him to tut and shake his head “Not like that, bend over” He smirked. With a small nod you complied, settling yourself over his knees your ass peaked perfectly next to his hand where it rested on the armrest of his desk chair. If anyone was to walk in now you were sure that you would have to go and find a ditch to throw yourself in, never being able to show your face around the office again. He tugged up the hem of your pencil skirt, bunching the fabric to expose your thong. “You always taunt me with your office clothes, do you know how many times I’ve had to rub myself to you when I get home? Christ, you don't know what you do to me” 

The change in attitude made your head spin, the way he was grabbing at the flesh of your cheeks made the coil in your stomach tighten. “Leon..I don’t understand-” You were cut off as a stinging pain spread throughout your ass. He rubbed it slowly, soothing the area as a sickening grin grew on his face. “You’ve been annoying me all day, it’s only fair you get some punishment for wasting my expensive whiskey” He grumbled as the second slap landed. You could feel the area grow hot as the feeling of a thousand little needles spread throughout both of your cheeks. You whimpered as he cupped your pussy, feeling the small wet patch growing in the thin fabric of your thong. “You’re actually getting off to this, naughty girl” He chuckled. You nodded, a whimper leaving your lips as yet another slap landed. “How many have we done so far then sweetheart?” Leon asked, his hand soothing the throbbing skin. “T-three” You whimpered, bracing yourself for another slap. Leon hummed in approval, his hand now stopping its soothing motion, “Shall we say 7 more slaps and I’ll consider you forgiven? And we can both get what you really want” 

You whimpered in response, his question was more of a statement anyway. Each slap was harder than the last, either from the sting of the last slap or because he was adding more power to them. You whined at the final slap, the angle of it different as his fingers hit your pussy. “There all 10, well done,” He said as he soothed the redness of your cheeks. His fingers slid your thong to the side exposing your puffy pussy to him. The lips glisten in your arousal as he spreads it around.

His fingers curled inside reaching for the soft spongy part of your walls to make you moan. You could feel his cock underneath you, the length hard as it throbbed in his trousers. His thumb started to circle your clit, giving it the attention you craved. Your fingers grasped at his sleeves as you went rigid with pleasure desperate for your release. The cold air made your raw skin sting, and the sensations became so much that you loosened over his lap as your orgasm ran through your body. Leon chuckled over you, bringing his fingers to his lips as he sucked on them, “Oh darling, we aren’t done yet”

Taglist: @kasueli @luvrgreyy @michellekmsh @miss0giarra @cinnabunnysavvy @redollface @my-loved-figure-skates @luvlouiee @drawboo22 @moth-quasar @nyxxoxo

[transgenderer]

So there's an octavia butler short story, the book of Martha, where God gives an author (closely patterned on butler herself, but possibly intentionally less creative) infinite(?) power to remake the world, to fix humanity and/or its problems before we destroy ourselves. After considering a variety of options (it's possible she's only allowed to modify human nature? But the story never stares that. Maybe she's just not good at considering all her options) she just gives everyone extremely pleasurable dreams. So they're less ambitious I guess. And in general have nicer lives

Anyway this story has stuck with me in two ways. The first: so, assume you're not just gonna like. Give humanity infinite resources or whatever. How do you make a utopia? Well to me the answer seems obvious, based on my experience of my own psyche. The human mind needs more affection. It's too easy for annoyance or some petty issue to overwhelm affection. And then we are cruel and selfish and all this stuff. Like. Idk, I feel like I've experienced moments of clear-eyed saintlihood. My brain produces that...outlook/emotion/whatever. But it won't stick there, of course. But it feels like it wouldn't be too far a jump to just get the human brain to stick there more easily. Still let us access other states, for variety. Give us some sense of others freedom or whatver, so our care for each other doesn't make us all busy bodies. But like. It would only take the tugging of a few chemical strings to fix human nature. A little less rage, a little more philia.

This is of course an important piece of evidence that if there is a god he doesn't love us. He could have made us full of lovingkindness. He could have made us not want to hurt and humiliate each other. But he didn't. Because all that nastiness helps us succeed in the social games that increase our mating frequency, or selectiveness, or whatever, presumably, and so selective descent with modification doomed us all forever. Or, God is real but cares about something else. Maybe beauty. Maybe he feels the glory of war is worth it.

But the second thing, is noticing which parts of our world feel like a Martha has already been there. I was looking at the sky on the train home today (hmabhrg! There was a William Blake exhibition), admiring it, and I was struck again by how...excessive, superfluous, overflowing, decadent, additional it is. The sky could just be a simple blue, fading evenly to black. Clouds could always be blobby and indistinct. We could all be congenital shortsighted, so they were always blurry. But instead they're just this part of the world, detached from all the specifics of earthly life, that is achingly beautiful, most nights! Sunsets are so beautiful it's cliche, it's boring! That feels like a gift from a Martha. Someone a bit uncreative trying to fix the world in a way that doesn't shake it up too much

[keldabekush]

You have to blow this popsicle stand. You find an elevator and press the button sixteen times - it’s stuck on the lowest floor and pings at you calmly to please wait a FUCKING second. You can’t wait a second. You’re actively dying.

To your left is a large emergency egress window. It’s the only option, now. You have to BLOW. THIS. POPSICLE. STAND.

You very calmly push past the guard standing by the window, who’s job is to stop people doing exactly what you’re doing. They weren’t expecting YOU to shove them (calmly, gently) and dart past like a sleek and beautiful minnow in a stream of plush red carpets.

Freedom is within reach. Glorious fresh air.

At the last moment you remember:

You are quite

High

Up…………..

…………

…….

…

…………….

………

…..

..

Oh?

Oh! The emergency nets! That’s why you jumped out of the window - you’re not an idiot, this was the plan.

You can get to the ground via the fire escape structures - although, you seem to have lost your helmet. You blacked out for a second. You can’t see it anywhere, but everything looks a bit weird and sharp and bright right now. You hope it didn’t fall all the way to the ground floor and kill someone - wow, your joints hurt. Did you sprain everything??

The break room window full of senate staff staring at you is off-putting.

Hm. Your heart hurts but you feel less like you’re going to die in the next two minutes. You’re just sore…and feeling weird.

You look around: the fire escape is within reach - if you jump. Or, you could get the senate staff to open the window and crawl in……or you could call for help from your guards. They’re probably going to turn up anyway if you just sit here.

That thought is……………humiliating. You still feel the need to get AWAY from this place. You need boots on the ground, somewhere out of sight of the glittering panopticon of the rotunda. You should NOT have snorted that powder.

< PREV

[mistywaves98]

hi!! could u maybe write for smth abt yandere scaramouche liking to humiliate and degrade reader infront of the other harbingers?

no worries if u wouldn't like to write for this! just a suggestion :3

✧･ﾟ:* ->A/N: Mean scara supremacyyy 🙇🏻‍♀️🙇🏻‍♀️

✧･ﾟ:* ->Harbinger! Scaramouche x Fem! Reader

✧･ﾟ:* ->¡Warnings!: NSFW, Humiliation, Why is it so longg, Dirty talk, Degradation, Collaring/Leash, Exhibitionism, Forced company is implied, Hair Pulling, I think that's everything!

✧･ﾟ:* ->Minor writing smut! DNI if uncomfy!

A pet, that's all you were ever since you came here. A pet whose only purpose was to sit and look pretty beside the The Balladeer like some sort of trophy. And maybe, if he was bored enough, he would use you for...'entertainment'...

Your head was held low as the judgemental eyes of the Harbingers surrounding the table pierced through your soul. Some were of slight pity while other's looked amused and almost seemed to be mocking your unfortunate state. All their gazes felt even colder against your skin than the biting chill in the room. The slightest breeze that wafted against your skin had you shuddering, wishing you could be clothed in those warm coats the others wore. But no, you weren't deserving of such luxuries.

Instead, you were to sit on the freezing, marble floor next to his chair, wearing nothing but the skimpiest lingerie you've probably ever laid eyes on. Thin laces and straps dug into your delicate skin and you were sure that there'd be marks when you removed it later. The only things that really 'covered' your body were the purple thigh high stockings held up by the garter belt fastened around your waist. To top it all off, a pretty indigo collar inscribed with the words 'Scaramouche's Property' adorned your neck. One end of the leash was attached to the front, while the other was held in his hand.

Any normal person wouldn't dare to wear such scandalous outfits in front people with such status, but it's not like you had a choice. You curled up, trying to make yourself as small as possible as the meeting went on. It felt like hours and with every second that passed, you could feel yourself getting more miserable. At one point you wondered if you might catch frostbite.

Scaramouche was getting rather impatient too and it was apparent with the way he fidgeted with the leash, swaying it aimlessly and occasionally giving it a sharp tug which made your body fall forward slightly with a quiet whimper as the leather tightened around your neck, earning a snicker from him as he gazed down at your pathetic form from above. At one point your eyes connected with his and a shiver of dread ran down your body as you saw the way his violet irises bore into your own. Something dark was swirling around in them and your fears were only confirmed when he suddenly yanked your body up by the leash, making you choke from the sudden grip of the collar around your neck as you stumbled to your feet.

Those who were talking immediately went silent at this display, their eyebrows raised with amusement as they watched Scaramouche grab your face with his free hand to pull you down to his level. His lips brushed your ear as he whispered in a sultry tone that bled with malevolence,"I'm going to die of boredom if I have to listen to another word that comes out of the mouths of these insufferable idiots I call my colleagues. Why don't we spice things up a bit, hm?" Your body tensed as his warm muscle darted out to trace the shell of your ear, leaving no doubt as to what he was implying.

The option to protest was never there as within moments you were pinned to the conference table, the frigid surface meeting your stomach and cheeks, which were rapidly warming with embarrassment. You could feel the intrigued stares, watching with anticipation for what was to come. Unlike you, Scaramouche couldn't care less about what everyone else thought of this shameless sight as his hand on your face moved to teasingly cup your breast, giving it a squeeze before going down to trace the arch of your back till it eventually settled on your ass that was barely covered by the lacey panties of the lingerie set.

Your eyes widened and you squeaked in surprise from the harsh slap he suddenly gave the soft flesh, making it redden instantly from the impact. The colour on your cheeks darkened, even more so when he laughed sinisterly behind you. He leaned forward, pressing his body against yours, the fur of his coat tickling your face as he whispered in a harsh tone,"Oh? It seems like my little slut is enjoying this, are you not? Heh, I wouldn't expect anything less. I bet you want me to take you right here in front of everyone so that they can see your face contort like a whore from pleasure as I fuck you, hm?" Your silence only irritated him and his hand holding the leash dropped it and reached up to grip a fistful of your hair, pulling it back as his eyes narrowed impatiently,"Come on, speak up. Answer me using the same voice that screams my name whenever I rail your brains out." "...No, I wouldn't like th—" Your words are abruptly cut off when he shoves two fingers so deep into your mouth that they hit the back of your throat, making your eyes water as you gag around them. "Shut your fucking mouth and spare me your nonsense, you cock-sucking bitch. I'll make you love it, I'll make you addicted to the feeling of my cock penetrating those tight walls of yours."

The two digits remained in your wet cavern, pressing down on your tongue as his other hand hooked its fingers around the waistband of your panties, tugging them down to reveal your glistening cunt. The sight made him smile as he pulled back slightly, letting anyone nearby oogle at whatever they could see. He didn't mind showing off your body to others, rather, it thrilled him in many ways. The knowledge that people could look as much as they want, but not being able to lay a finger on his pet, satisfied his possessive desires and the fact you found it both embarrassing and indecent just made him want to do it more to humiliate you to the fullest.

"Suck." Scaramouche's raspy voice commanded as he pumped his slender digits in and out of your mouth, leaving you no choice but to obey. Drool pooled in the corners of your lips, eventually running down your chin and dripping onto the table as you reluctantly closed your pretty lips around his fingers. He felt pleased as he felt your tongue curling around them, the same way it did when he made you suck him off after a hard day.

While he kept your mouth busy with one hand, the other trailed up your slit, collecting your slick on his index and middle before holding it up for you and the rest of the table to see. Everyone's eyes were immediately glued to the way your essence dripped off his fingers like honey and that did nothing to ease your embarrassment. "Look at that, the arousal of a whore who gets turned on by her master showing her off." His enjoyment was evident in the shit-esting grin he gave you as he said that.

Suddenly, he pulled his hand away from your mouth, allowing you to breathe through it as he used both of them to grip your hips, lifting them slightly as he shifted himself between your legs. Once you were in his desired position, he shrugged off his obstructive coat before beginning to unbuckle his belt. As he did, he got close to your ear once again as he spoke in a tone full of evil intent,"You're so wet right now I don't think I even need to prepare your hole. So let's skip to the best part, shall we?" Once he had managed to pull down his pants and boxers just enough to let his aching cock free, he lined himself up with your pussy.

You craned your head to look back at him, eyes begging him to not go this far, but he only smirked at you in return. With no warning, Scaramouche thrusted forward, stuffing you to the brim with his girthy length as you hissed at the stretch. No matter how many times he fucked you, your pussy always seemed to remain as tight as a virgin's. He groaned in bliss as he felt your walls deliciously squeezing his cock, it was a feeling he could never get enough of. His hands found purchase on the fat of your hips, gripping the flesh so hard there'd surely be bruises afterwards.

Without wasting any more time, he began to thrust into you, picking up the pace quickly, making made sure to hit as deep as he possibly could. You bit your lip, trying to conceal the lewd moans you wanted to let out. Scaramouche didn't like that though and a guttural groan was elicited from your mouth as it fell open when his fingers grabbed a clump of your hair, yanking your head back harshly. It felt like he was going to rip your locks out of your scalp and tears welled up in the corners of your eyes from the pain. However, it didn't stop moans and whines from spilling past your parted lips as the pain mixed with the pleasure of his cock head kissing your cervix with every jerk of his hips.

He cackled at the sight before him, tightening his grip as he spoke,"That's right! Don't hold back those slutty moans, let everyone hear how good I'm fucking this needy cunt of yours!" He made sure to keep your head pulled back so all the Harbingers could get an eyefull of your pathetic state, completely at his mercy. It wasn't long before you could feel an orgasm building up and it made you desperate, desperate for more,"Please! Mnngh— more! Nghh! G-give me more, master!" Scaramouche's eyes lit up at the sound of your begging and the hand in your hair finally let go, giving you momentary relief before grasping the end of the leash and giving it a hard tug which made you cry out and arch your back instinctively. He continued to maintain his grip on the leash, using it as leverage while he was pounding you,"Yes, Good girl...keep begging for master's cock to keep filling this pussy over and over."

The speed of his thrusts never faltered, the sound of skin slapping as well as your moans and his grunts filled the room. You were beginning to get close and it was apparent in the way your noises heightened in pitch and the way your pussy convulsed around his cock. Scaramouche took this as a sign to increase his pace, determined to make you squirt all over him right in front of everyone in the room. The incessant penetration was making your head spin, mind turning to mush with every time he grazed that one spot that made you see stars. The way his breathing grew more laboured as his thrusts became more animalistic signalled that he was getting close too.

The knot in your stomach tightened, you were on the edge. "Go on, cum for me. Let everyone see what a slut you are, creaming all over my cock." You didn't need to be told twice. Your body tensed and with a moan of ecstasy, you came, gushing all over his cock and creating a wet ring around the base. He groaned in approval and it seemed that was enough to send him over the edge too as moments later he finally spilled himself inside you, creating lewd squelching noises as he fucked you through both of your highs. Your releases mixed together in a puddle on the floor, creating a filthy mess that neither of you cared about.

Eventually, he finally slowed down till he stopped altogether. The both of you lay there for a few moments, panting heavily. All eyes were on you, drinking in your fucked out face as you tried to make sense of anything again. Scaramouche recovered much quicker than you though and pulled out slowly, relishing the sight of his cock leaving your gaping hole before wiping the mess on your thigh. After tucking himself away in his pants, he picked up the nearly- forgotten coat and draped it over your tired form. He used the leash to pull you up so he could carry you in his arms, bridal style.

Then he turned around and began exiting the room, leaving everyone in slight disbelief as he spoke in a monotonous voice,"Continue the meeting without me, I have more important things to take care of right now." Without saying much else, he left the room while holding you to his chest, not even bothering about the mess the both of you made.

[psycheetamore]

His, or how Feyd-Rautha will protect those loyal to him

Summary: you are a concubine of the youngest uncle of the na-Baron, but those days are count as you catch the eye of the young lord. Although you are visited several times by a man, you are initially oblivious by which man exactly (just imagine the emotions when finding out…). His uncles will not accept this change of ownership without a fight with their nephew. Or: how you become a pawn in the rise of Feyd-Rautha to Baron, with loyalty (which you though secretly) pledged by exchanging bodily fluids.

A little play on the story of Psyche, who initially also does not know she is visited by Amore.

Tags: the works – MDNI, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen Is His Own Warning, dead dove dont eat, explicit smut, Feyd-Rautha is physically imposing, oral (FR giving and receiving, bc he deserves it), public (but not in a good way), humiliation, punishment (also not in a good way), angst, dubious consent, violence, deaths (revenge), non con/rape - the author regrets nothing, no beta we die like duke leto

Word count: 6k

+++

He saw you, fulfilling your duties as one of the many concubines of his youngest uncle. The brother of the Baron. Not as powerful but equally physically appalling and cruel. Usually you resided in Lankiveil, but Giedi Prime would be your new home for the coming months.

Feyd-Rautha saw you, as you participated in the many parties Igor, the name of this hideous man, hosted. Parties that would inevitably end up in orgies, with you standing by, seeing your owner feast on the willing or less willing bodies presented to him. Never would he allow you to participate, not that you wanted, but he did require all his women to look as he soothed his urges yet again.

The na-Baron saw you, as you tried to spend the hours between your obligations as useful as possible. Training the limited fighting skills you were allowed to: bow & arrow and other commands Igor deemed useless pastimes for weak women. Reading everything you could get your hands on. Observing the people surrounding you. Learning in all forms available to you. Being on this planet, however inhospitable, presented potentially life-changing opportunities to you. Options to make something out of yourself, somehow regain some agency over yourself, knowing that concubines often ended up gifted to allies to fortify relationships. Rumour had it that a few women managed to organise their own way out, sometimes even through a man of their choosing. It surprised you that the other girls kept by the Baron’s brother did not try to explore similar escapes. They seemed to be happy just entertaining themselves through lavish baths and gossiping.

Despite all of that, you somehow never noticed that you were being seen.

Not, until a soldier approached you one day in a library. He was standing in another aisle, whispering through the openings left between the books to you to come closer by. “Your presence has caught the eye of my master.” You responded after a moment of contemplation: “your master” you spat “will know that I am already bound to a man.” A reply came quickly: “he knows. He will visit you this evening.” Leaning in, deeper into the cupboards: “if I may give you advice, milady: entertain my master, entice my master, and he will reward you handsomely. He may even save you, as he saved me from the dark bellows of this society.” Thoughts ran through your head. It could all be a test. It could be an opportunity. It could be a risk that may cause your death. You needed to consider all options.

Just as you wanted to ask who his master was, you heard the doors to the library close. The soldier had left as quietly as he came in.

That night you had locked the door to your room as you did every night. Guards patrolling the wing of the palace you resided in, only accessible to them, to your master and to women. Although the words of this soldier had ran a marathon through your head, you still expected it to be nothing more than a test from Igor.

Once the adrenaline in your body had faded, you – somehow reluctantly – accepted that this was all a test. It still made you somewhat content with your response; the right response given that this was nothing more than that.

That night, you dreamt of lemon, orange blossom and musk. Never had you imagined a scent so vividly. You dreamt of an all-encompassing feeling of external and internal warmth. As if you were wrapped in warm clouds.

You woke up to find the pillow next to yours turned and used. The bed coverings having been dragged from under the matrass, where you would otherwise leave them tucked in. Your night garment left open, while you would typically carefully close the buttons.

Not knowing what to think about it, the only logical explanation was that you must have absolutely thrashed your bed and perhaps even woken up at night to sleepwalk. You clearly needed to get your head in order; the soldier had disturbed you mentally, without a doubt.

After having splashed ice-cold water in your face to wake up, you looked at yourself in the mirror. You kept punishing yourself for having these silly thoughts. A silly little girl. You continued to batter yourself, until you noticed spots in your neck. On closer inspection it was a round spot of a couple of centimetres in diameter. It did not hurt. You were not wounded.

Your heart sunk to your feet as it started to dawn that this could not have been anything else than the result of someone creating a vacuum on your neck with their lips.

The rest of the day went on in a blur.

+++

You found yourself in the spa at the edge of the evening, trying to set your mind to something else than whatever had happened last night. Sitting in the middle of the steamy hammam, seeking to empty your head. You needed to accept that you would not be able to make sense of all of this. Not without any other clues. You could not recognize the soldier that had approached you, not even if your life depended on it. You could not imagine he would have done this to you; this castle was too safe for kept concubines. You just hoped nobody would think too much of the mark that was left on you.

As your mind wandered off, your eyes closed, only to be shaken up by a sudden shift in the air you felt, barely but still. As if someone moved past you. But you did not hear the door open or close. You had also been careful enough to check the log upfront to ensure nobody was in. Franticly looking around you, you could not see anyone in the white fog.

Your mind must have continued to play games with you.

But still. You were so certain that you felt someone. Something. You knew someone or something was here. Nearby. As you wrapped your legs tightly against your chest while sitting on the elevated platform in the middle of the room, foreign fingers brushed over the mark on your neck.

You froze, only allowing your eyes to move. It has nearly always been your reaction in fearful situations. Freeze and let everything go past you. Ignore you. Leave you.

But you would not be ignored this night.

Lips touched your ear, as if to allow you to capture sound. But no sound came to you. Softly these lips mapped your ear, moving to your neck. The tip of a tongue found its way as well. Gently grazing over your sensitive skin, as if to bring you in a trance. Somehow, the tenderness of the touches, the warmth of the room, the deprivation of sight and sound as senses; it felt like you were in a different world. Instinctively you started to hold your chin up as high as possible, to allow the grazing to continue across your neck. You did not register the small moan that left your mouth, ever so slightly breaking the monotonous sound of running water from the corners of the room.

No further invitation was needed, as a hand was placed on your cheek, moving to close your eyes. With sight being deprived from you, obedient as you were, your face and your lips met theirs. A callused hand, warm and with long fingers. It could not be of anyone else than a man who had kneeled in front of you, a hard chest pressing against your legs. While lips pressed themselves on yours, teasing you, seeking to find your tongue, you felt a quiver transferring from him to you. His strong hand had moved steadily to the back of your neck, and guided you securely to lay flat on the middle of the platform.

Your chest rising quicker and quicker, the tongue soon left your mouth to find other pastures more south. With slow yet steady movements the towel protecting your modesty was laid open, with only the steam limiting sights to your regions that should have been monopolized by Igor.

The tongue and lips smoothly and confidently graced your chest, your breasts, your nipples, your ribs, your belly button, until they reached your core. You did your best not to shiver under the touch. Somehow you felt that if you were only receptive, obedient, fearful, you would not be punished for this unacceptable altercation. But at the same time, you had never felt more alive. You grew desperate for the teasing touch; you burned for more. But you had no way of showing it.

Or so you thought.

Two hands parted your legs in ease. It would become a difficult story to argue that you were overcome. Yet, you also knew Igor would not care less whether you were forced or not. You would always be the one punished. Still, you somehow felt that if this would merely be done upon you, you were less to blame. As if you had then acted less shameful.

Those thoughts were soon abandoned, by a guttural moan no less, as two fingers had found its way into you. Easier than ever before. A sloppy sound came from your core, indicating so much wetness and welcomeness that humiliation filled you.

Shame was apparently enough to get you out of your state of freeze, as you closed your legs with force. No man should experience you in this state. But your legs did not come far, as they were stopped in their path. His head must have collected the painful sounding blow, considering the grunt that left his body. You lifted your torso to get a better view, but to no avail as the fog kept blocking your view. You could hardly see as far as your own breasts.

Your hand would need to act as eyes for you. Finding his head between your legs, your touch replaced your sight. Hairless. That was the first thing you noticed. Round and bold. A sharp jawline. Lucious lips, that drew your fingers in the moment you had found them. A deep sigh escaped from you. With your eyes still trying to pierce through the mist, his other hand found its way up to your chest and pushed you back to your previous position. He came just close enough to allow you to see the paleness of the skin, perhaps as pale as the clouds within this room. A ring on his little finger, a ring that looked like it bore significance; another clue.

But you had no time to think about that, no room left in your brain, as his hand quickly found its way back down, leaving a painful trace with his nails to where his tongue had started to explore this other orifice. Skilfully beyond anything that you had ever expected. You had learned that being intimate with a man required you to always be focused on his pleasure, and that an increase of your enjoyment meant inevitably a decrease of his. You were taught that you should not gain any physical gratification out of any interaction with a man. Yet, here was a man, presumably young and strong, doing nothing else than serving you joy.

As his tongue found every pleasure point around and within your pussy, you decided with a clouded mind that this was worth dying for. For the first time in a long while you felt alive. You felt a woman. A person. You felt seen. Coveted. Desired.

The blur of the evening continued, as he brought you unprecedented heights. In the protection of the fog, you lost all inhibitions. Soon you moaned and growled as response to his touches, hoping these sounds would die in the fog.

After he had taken the last of the sweet juice you had to share, he wrapped you in your towel again and laid a small warm piece of cloth over your eyes and ears.

It took several minutes before your brain had recouped and noticed he had left. It took more minutes for you to start moving, and get ready to get back to the seclusion of your room with wobbly legs and a foggy head. There, you dropped your clothes to look at your body. Nobody could know about what had happened. It should be your secret and your secret only, as your life depended on it.

Yet, more tokens of new ownership were left, another bump next at the top of the inside of your leg, and three even scratch marks from between your breasts until your hilt. Fear started to compete for your attention.

+++

Another morning went by in a blur. You started to consider that you might be going crazy, were it not for the blemishes on your skin. Everywhere where you looked around you, you tried to spot men and assess whether they may have been the one that had visited you.

In the afternoon, you accompanied Igor and his brother, the Baron, during games in the arena. It did not interest you too much. The outcome was already known, as his heir would always end up victorious.

Obligatory you glanced through the binoculars every now and then, to vein interest.

That was, until a hard reflection hit your eye. And hit your eye again. And a third time.

Suddenly more awake, you grabbed the binoculars to search through the stadium. Maybe you would uncover your mystery. There were thousands of bold men cheering. Nothing set any of them apart. You zoomed in on their hands, but there were so many hands. There was no place to begin.

You sighed and wanted to lower your binoculars, thinking it was just a coincidence. But right at that moment a fourth burst of reflection hit you. You suddenly realized it never came from the crowd, as it came from within the grounds of the arena itself. Focussing on the hands of the na-Baron, you saw a sigil ring on his pinky.

The shock caused you to drop your precious optical instrument, clashing on the floor, inviting everybody’s attention. With a red face you fell to the floor to collect it, making yourself as small as possible, scared for reprimands. But there was no need, as the young lord had slaughtered his last opponent at exactly that moment.

You had brought the binoculars to your eyes just on time to see that he was staring at you. His gaze directly piercing through your body. Any doubt left.

After a lengthy applause, the Baron and his brother moved to participate at their party, followed by you, the other concubines, servants and slaves.

+++

Over the course of days thereafter you would see Feyd-Rautha several times. A glimpse of him while passing as entourage of his uncle. Gazing at him for longer stretches of time while standing lined up against a wall with the other concubines as the Harkonnen family consumed their diners.

You now knew he had been observing you all this time, and was yet to stop.

Every time you locked eyes on him, you saw him staring back within seconds, if he wasn’t already. There was no escape.

Every time your glares locked, your heart jumped. Your breathing stopped. Your face turned ever so slightly more red.

On a few occasions he grazed himself so closely to you that you could smell the delirious making scent that came from him. The smell that still lingered in your head. Even in your bed. Every time he walked past you, you inhaled as deeply as you could muster without making a sound. How you desired for him to grab you, hold you, kiss you, make you his. He must have seen that you closed your eyes to reside in fantasy every time he strolled past you. He must have been aware of the impact he was having on you. Surely, he would be having this impact on every woman that dared to think about him. He was dangerous, yes, but also so appealing and covet-worthy.

You needed to get out of his hold, but you couldn’t. It was torture. Ever so sweet torture. You could not endure it any longer, yet you desired for it to never stop. Never had you felt this alive and deprived at the same time.

+++

During an afternoon of training your skills with bow and arrow, now focussing on long range distances, a soldier approached you from the shadows of the exercise area, whispering: “the na-Baron requests your attention upstairs. Please follow me.”

Scared you looked at him. “Don’t worry. You have served my master well. You have pleased him.” With a face starting to bloom red, you froze again, knowing that more than two people knew about what had happened. He sounded like the man that you first met, in the library. As he grabbed your wrist to drag you into the darkness, he stated: “my name is Ivan, and I serve the na-Baron loyally.”

It was Feyd-Rautha himself who had visited you. More than once. A brutal man, who had drawn the lives of enemies below your feet just days ago. An imposing man, coveted by women throughout the universe. Giedi Prime’s prime playboy. Its most coveted bachelor. Why would you ever catch his attention, if duchesses and princesses were laying themselves at his feet?

Ivan must have felt how you were dragging yourself along, as he comforted: “don’t fear. I would never touch anything that is his.”

‘His’ you thought. You are not his. You are his uncle’s. With your mind clouded with these thoughts, you did not register that you had landed in the throne room. A heavy door closing tightly behind you was needed to pull you in present times again.

Looking around you, nobody seemed to be there in the scarcely lit room.

“Up here” a dark voice said from within the darkness.

You glanced up and a reflection from high up the stairs to the throne. It took a few seconds for you to realise where you were and with whom. “Apologies my lord. Please forgive me for not addressing you correctly immediately” as the front of your head tapped the ground while nearly laying on the ground.

“Come here” the na-Baron instructed.

Reluctantly you stepped up the stairs. Somehow it had felt safe not being in direct contact with him, despite everything that had happened. A sense of security and distance had protected you. As if it was all but an elaborate fantasy. But now, now you being all alone and him having chosen to reveal who he was: it was so direct, so unfiltered. So real.

The space between the end of the platform where the throne stood, and where he was sitting was not even half a meter, so you waited on the last step. To keep your distance. To further increase the distance between you, you had averted your eyes to your feet.

“Is this how you approach your lord?” he grunted.

Your eyes glanced up for just a fraction of a second, to see his beautiful lips curled in anticipation, his head tilted as if he was looking at prey, his eyes locked on you. You had been caught in his net. There was no escaping.

He caught your eyes, smirked and looked at your feet, while sitting relaxed on the throne with his legs hanging wide. You immediately knew what he was referring to, and fell to your knees again.

“Closer” he instructed you, causing you to crawl up to the platform.

His left hand was found your cheek, with his thumb running over your jaw.

You were dying of nervousness. You tried to control your breathing, which only caused you to run out of breath quicker.

“I feel you are tense. Why? There is no need” he purred, either oblivious of his reputation or perfectly aware of it.

“My lord…. I… I…” you hesitated.

“Speak up girl” he growled, as he pushed your chin forwards.

“I should not be here my lord. I am terribly sorry. I have made many mistakes, and I do not want to draw you into them as well” you said, as you tried to salvage yourself.

He laughed: “woman, who do you think I am?” He pinched you, causing you to gasp: “never doubt me again.”

“Yes, my lord” you replied while keeping your gaze down.

“And stop being so coy. We both know you are not. I want to see your true colours. Who am I dealing with? Show me you are worthy of my time” he said, nearly threateningly.

“My lord… I do not understand” you replied, frightened to make a wrong comment.

“I am disappointed. Mere days ago, you were much quicker to understand what I needed. You knew exactly what I wanted and you gave it, after a bit of convincing though. You appear demure, but you hardly are. There are not a lot of women on this planet who are so warm, so wet, so inviting” as he used his thumb to play with your lower lip. “Don’t be ashamed. Be proud. Not often that my playmates survive if they are not my pets. Not often that I come back.”

The eyes from your face, that turned red full of shame, briefly leaped from the floor to how high you could see without moving your head. He was sitting on the throne with leisurely clothing. Not prepared for fights this time, or war councils; he was settled. Through the softness of his clothing you could see that what lay below that was less soft and pliable. You saw how he did not make any effort to prevent you from seeing the arousal that was running through his veins.

“Show me where your loyalty lays. Who your master is” he stated, nearly declared, pushing his thumb towards your teeth as he pulled your chin down.

You looked up at his, ever so briefly, wanting to say that it was his uncle Igor. But you couldn’t. This young lord was mesmerizing. He was known for his brutality, but also his protection over who are his. Nobody spoke with joy or compassion about Igor; not even with fear, only with disdain. You created an opening between your teeth to draw him in, tasing the saltiness from his finger through your softly lapsing tongue.

With his digit hooked on your teeth he drew you closer.

His hand evicted your mouth, to reach the side of your head, which he started to caress. He knew what he was doing. He knew what impact he had. You hardly registered that he had placed his hand around the front of your neck, tilted your head and asked: “tell me,” with a smoky voice, “tell me who commands you”.

Your breathing got irregular as you opened your mouth to whisper without thinking what could be your own death sentence: “you, my Lord.”

His hand moved to the back of your head, as he started to fumble your hair: “prove it” with a husky low voice, tilting his face to look down on you as he spread his legs just a bit wider.

He left no doubt to his intentions.

As you sat kneeled in front of the-Baron, you placed your hands his upper legs. It must have been clear to him that there was still internal turmoil, battling between excitement and fear. Your tender fingers scouted the fabric, as if to find out how to untie it, how to unwrap him, almost as if he had concealed a present.

You had seen male excitement before, but it seemed different now. Everything seemed different. Larger, grander, more imposing. Not covered by layers of fat, but surrounded by chiseled muscles. With this cock no longer hidden after your unpacking you gulped.

Your fingers glanced over his nakedness, followed by allowing his tip to enter the warm and wet environment he had been so keen to explore. Every step you took was still deeply contemplated. There was no ease, not yet. Your animalistic instincts were still to kick in. To your surprise he allowed you to dictate your own pace. His uncle would have already held your head and shoved himself in your throat. If the young lord would have done the same, the impact would been considerably more painful, looking at his size.

He was big. Long, girthy, veiny yet smooth, pale, throbbing, the tip already shining of anticipation. Physically impressive, as every part of him. As he allowed for small groans to escape him, the same as you had heard in the hammam, you started to feel euphoric, victorious, capable. You would undertake this pursuit, and you would succeed. That is what you had always done, and now would not be any different.

You still needed to see how he would respond. There was no rush. So, you started mapping the area, before making any further decisions. He felt how you allowed your hands to roam, see how he would respond to your touches, trailing him, moving him, increasingly with rhythm to match his moans.

Your tongue slid up and down his shaft, the same motion repeated with your lips, followed by a combination. Feeling more confident with every sound he allowed to escape, you allowed your tongue to glance through and around his tip, seeing how far he could go in. You pulled away the coverings repeatedly to expose the protected top.

His naked tip was smooth and round, dripping, almost like ripe fleshy fruit. A bacchanal it offered to be. It begged to be licked, sucked, eaten, have its juices captured and spilled all around her mouth. It had the fatal cry of the siren, drawing its victims in to never let go. You was lured in, just as your cunt had lured him in a few days ago. Perhaps you were made for each other.

He felt so good inside you, warm, tongue lapsing, being sucked into you. It was equal to a worship. He belonged in your mouth.

You had kissed more life in him than he had ever known, but he could not endure this any longer. You felt how he longed to just reach out to grab you and hold you. Thrust himself in you, take you head and push you down on him. Your warmth, the heat in the back of your throat, the wetness that would only be secreted from a treatment like that. Feeling you gagging around him.

You placed your hands on his hips again, looked up and softly shut and opened your eyes again. You gave him permission to do exactly that.

Within seconds he filled your throat with black cum, as he moaned. Animalistic. Rough. Pure. You had pledged yourself to him through this ritual. And he had done the same.

You both had signed a death sentence, committing you to each other.

+++

You still did not know why you of all people caught the eye of the heir to the Harkonnen throne and all their fiefs. Perhaps it was due to your background; contrary to the other mistresses you have known a life beyond Lankiveil and Giedi Prime, being a recent spoil of war from the sacking of Caladan? Perhaps it was due to your appearance? Not pail, but with an olive-coloured skin. Not bold, but with long luscious hair. Not moulded into staying small and frail, physically enacted on this planet through years of being deprived of food and mentally through deprivation of education. You knew you stood out. And however much you tried to blend in with the never-ending walls you were standing against, you could not help but observe your surroundings, process, and learn.

Despite all of these considerations, you still did not truly know why you of all women who crossed the path of the infamous Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen were lucky enough to gather his attention.

+++

Within a matter of days, you found yourself thrown on your hands and knees in the same throne room. Kicked to the ground, below the steps were Igor sat, together with his brother, their nephew standing behind them. A treatment he could not give the na-Baron, causing you to take the penalty for both.

You knew what this was all about. It became difficult to breath. Your mind started running to find a way out. To salvage yourself.

Ivan was called in: “do you confess that you have stolen this concubine from me, and allowed her to desecrate the sacredness of the Baron’s throne?” You glanced to your side, seeing how Ivan was battered, barely alive. Dried up blood surrounding his face and neck, bruises covering his arms, his clothing stripped to pieces on his back as result of countless whips. “Yes, my lord. I confess” he screeched.

Fear instilled in your bones. The treatment he had undergone set the benchmark for what you were awaiting, his crime being less than yours.

“You whore. You unfaithful whore!” Igor shouted. “I have saved you from those savages, and this is how you repay my benevolence. I should flay you alive and hang you for the birds to feed on” he growled, anger seeping through every pore of his body.

“But my nephew has begged me not to do that. So, what I will do, is to take from him what he has taken from me.” Your heart raced through your body. You had no clue what would happen to you, or whether you would even survive. You tried to glance to Feyd-Rautha, who was standing obediently between the Baron and his brother. No life seemed to be present on his face.

“Soldier. Strip the whore” Igor demanded with an ice cold voice and fire shooting from his eyes.

Your heart stopped. Trying to look at Ivan, you saw him look at the na-Baron for salvation. But he did not receive that. He only received a nod from his master. A nod. A nod to continue. A seal of approval.

Ivan grunted, forcing his legs to stand up, allowing him to walk to you. He tried his best to avert your gaze, but he could not avert your whispers: “why? Stop. Please stop.” Soon your whispers became observable by others, as he tried to remove your clothes while you kept walking back, keeping your garments securely to your body. “Soldier, make haste, or it will be the last thing you do” Igor instructed. “You master does not have the power to save both of you.”

Your words turned into cries, as he backed you against a wall and started ripping you bare. You did hear him say ever so softly: “I am sorry”, while you fell to your knees, trying to protect your modesty with your arms.

Leaving you whimpering against the wall, Ivan distanced himself from you. It brought him no pleasure. You hoped the ordeal would be over with this, but you feared the worst. Igor’s wrath had not yet been soothed. His anger was palatable. Everybody in the room felt he was not done with enacting his vengeance.

“Soldier” Igor shouted. “Fuck her” spoken very slowly. As if saying it was enacting it himself.  

Both your and Ivan’s eyes glanced to Feyd’s. Suddenly life had returned to him. He tried to turn towards his younger uncle, but he was stopped by the Baron. His mouth opened to protest, but Vladimir grabbed his balls and pressed them so hard together that Feyd-Rautha fell to his knees in pain.

“Now!” Igor screamed, “or I will beat you to death myself!” He gasped for breath: “fuck the whore, the useless whore. Fuck her. Fuck her till she bleeds. Break her. Break yourself. Or I will break both of you.”

Ivan looked down on you. As you tried to stand up, he had already fallen to his knees and did as he was ordered.

During the ordeal, Feyd-Rautha was forced to watch, not being allowed to avert or close his eyes. As you were humiliated, you saw rage developing within him. You tried to leave your body, but you couldn’t. Although you were not in control anymore, you were still bound to it. You would have given everything not to be subjected to this treatment. This horror. This humiliation.  

Before long Igor laughingly declared, after Ivan had finished himself in you with small tears flowing from his eyes: “this is what happens if you take what is mine, my dear nephew” as he waved his hand to have you and Ivan removed.

You were too distressed to register the treatment that followed for the young lord.

+++

The days after the ordeal were spent locked in the quarters of the lowest servants. You were fed through a small opening in the door, and got some worn clothes, but no-one came to see you. Deep inside of you, you had hoped Feyd would have visited you, but he did not. Nor did any of the other concubines, or even Ivan. You were left to your own devices, fearful of what may come. The lonely days started to eat at you. You started to succumb to distress, in absence of any information or even human attention. You felt abandoned.

You started to lose track of time.

You stopped taking care of yourself.

+++

Long after you had stopped trying to count the days, you heard the lock open from outside your door. The moment had come for the continuation of the torture. You scooted back behind the bed, trying to hide, knowing any fate was inevitable.

It was Ivan.

“Come with me, quickly, milady” he said, as he reached out to you. Recognising he had meant no harm while forcing himself upon you, you grabbed his hand and followed him through a hallway littered with dead bodies. Looking back at Ivan you saw he had committed the bloodshed, being drenched in Harkonnen blood. His bruises had started to heal, but wounds were still visible.

Within minutes you were standing outside, in the courtyard, where you were being led into an ornithopter. Ivan jumped in the back, once he had helped you grab the front seat. There you were buckled in by the na-Baron. As a response to your questioning look, he placed a hand on your knee, speaking menacingly: “nobody treats what is mine like that” and you were airborne.

High up in the sky, hovering above the palace in Barony, he continued to speak. “My uncles are in the pleasure wing this evening. You will bring them salvation for what they did to those who serve me. You will bring me what I deserve.”

“What do you mean?” you questioned. Fearful of what may happen.

“Ivan, give her the bow” he grunted.

Ivan handed a bow and arrow to you. You looked at it, and saw they actually brought you your own bow. They were planning something.

“I have seen you practice. Your shot is good enough to reach the wing. I need you to shoot an arrow in that direction. Can you do that?” he phrased like a question, while he knew the answer already.

“Of course, but why? Why does it make sense?” you challenged.

“Because your arrow will carry fire” as he turned his face to stare you deep into your eyes.

“Fire?” you asked, as you still did not catch on to what he was saying.

“Yes. The entire wing in laced with kerosine” he smirked, his luscious lips curling into delightful little bows.

“Light my arrow” you coldly replied as you placed it on your bow and presented the point to Ivan.

“I chose the right person” he chuckled as he placed his hand on your knee again, squeezing it to remind you that you who your master was.

That night you received your revenge, as you looked upon the heat rising up from the place so many horrors ensued from. You decided that the flames carried the screams of the men who had enslaved and raped you. Whether you were a means to an end, a means to Feyd-Rautha’s end – just an excuse to gain rulership, or whether you were more; it did not matter, now you were truly his.

+++

Post note: sorry, I could not help myself with the three striped mark. He was just so delicious in his Adidas trousers… and I have been listening to Kerosine of Crystal Castles on repeat for the last few days

[restwellsoon]

Afterhours

Minors and ageless blogs do not interact (liking/reblogging) or follow! You will be blocked!

Pairing: Jason Todd x F!Reader

Summary: The Red Hood decides to confront you after work regarding a curious rumor you started as an informant. 

/ “You know what I do to bad guys, but what I do to bad girls is even worse.”

Warnings: dubcon, crime lord!Jason Todd/ Red Hood, degradation and humiliation, toys, daddy kink, being called princess, mention of drugs (for the plot)

Scrubbing at your arms to get some kind of warmth, you huffed impatiently. The informant was late. Sure, it was understandable why the Bat would want all contact to be verbal; both of you–well, mainly you–would go down if you were caught. Everyone knew what Cobblepot was capable of. The shorter list of convictions compared to other Gotham criminals didn’t mean that he was less capable, and working for the corporate and legal end of his business meant that you were privy to the real reasons behind the sudden company reorgs.

You shivered before deciding to pace around your office. It wasn’t like the informant to be late. Were they caught? Were you busted? Maybe you should just go home. You spent too many hours working overtime anyway.

The goosebumps weren’t going away. The office A/C that you cherished in the sticky and humid summers of Jersey was now a frigid hell. You weren’t sure of who was punishing you–the Batman or the Penguin.

With the creak of your door, you snapped, “About fuckin’–”

The last word fell into the nylon carpet as you stared into the glowing eyes of the Red Hood. The door slammed shut, and he left it unlocked. It didn’t matter. You knew you wouldn’t be able to get past him anyway. Instead, you froze in front of your desk.

“Yeah, let’s talk about getting fucked.” The robotic drawl of your full name in perfect pronunciation made you grimace as he stepped towards you. Any thoughts of him walking into the wrong office and getting the wrong person were gone. “That was pretty ballsy of you to drop my name in your conversations with the Bat.”

You couldn’t even deny his accusation. You thought you were being clever, that maybe you could do some of that double-crossing shit that the vigilantes and villains played so easily. It seemed easy because you were an amateur; maybe you were fucking up this entire time. All you remembered were the extra zeros in your bank account as you played Batman and your boss.

“Mr. Cobblepot has an image to maintain,” you told the informant–Spanky? Or was it Matches? Either way the name was ridiculous–“so he wouldn’t intentionally let this new drug hit his clubs.”

The latest street drug in Gotham had a similar chemical compound to drugs like buprenorphine and chlordiazepoxide. They eased the symptoms of withdrawal, making a more tolerable and safer transition into sobriety.

“So you’re saying that sobering up his clients isn’t in his best interest?” His mustache twitched, and you wondered if it was glued on or real.

“Exactly. His regular clients would seek out other dealers to get the high they’re used to. They don’t go to the Iceberg Lounge for the atmosphere. They go because it’s one of the safer options to get snowed. Who knows what sort of diabolical shit is mixed into the Black Mask’s supply?”

His mustache wiggled as he hummed. “Well, if it isn’t the Penguin, who else would put this on the streets?”

The informant paid close attention to your words as you paused to give him a new lead. 

“Well, if you're looking for the name of a cartel or gang, I wouldn’t be able to tell you. I don’t know much about its manufacturing or distribution. I work in communications, so…” 

Crossing your arms, you blew some air as you tried to think of a name to distract the Bat and keep your wallet fat. “The only crime lord that would benefit from this is the Red Hood, don’t you think?”

Ever since he first showed up on the scene, he’d been adamant about cleaning up the underbelly of Gotham. His strict rules against selling to kids made the areas he controlled safer. Commissioning this drug and letting it hit the Gotham market was a way to help addiction-addled neighborhoods rebuild. 

His expression was unreadable behind his dark glasses. The only way you knew that he was satisfied with your answer was when you heard your bank app ding with the agreement that you’d meet again in two weeks.

At the time, you thought that mentioning the Red Hood was ingenious. Compared to other criminals, the Red Hood seemed to be less vicious towards women. Since his rise to power, there hadn’t been any reports or news about him or his henchmen attacking them. If the informant wanted you to name drop someone, you were going to choose someone who would maybe spare your life. Yet seeing him up close gave you some doubt.

You swallowed your nervousness as you edged to the desk. Your hands blindly reached for something that could do some damage, but alas, your laptop was packed away and your pens were in their drawer.

“Look,” he sighed, “if you’re gonna play dirty, you gotta make sure your opponent can’t find dirt on you.” It was a roundabout way of calling you a dumbass.

You half turned to watch him circle round your desk, kneeling to dial in the combo to your locked drawer. Stupidly, you got closer when you heard the click that told you he opened it successfully. Using your birthday backwards as the combo was enough to deter nosy co-workers but clearly wasn’t not secure enough to deter a crime lord with a vendetta. If you made it out alive, you promised yourself that you’d change all of your passwords to something with stronger security–you’d even make sure that you didn’t repeat them on several accounts.

“Jesus,” the Red Hood laughed through his modulator, “you got the rechargeable one too? I’m not sure if Cobblefield ain’t paying you shit, batteries are expensive, you’re environmentally-conscious,, or it’s some combination of the above.” 

The sight of a cross-armed Red Hood with your rabbit vibe in his hands was something you’d never imagine in your wildest dreams.

“Your little toy isn’t the only thing I found out about you.” 

Oh god, what else did he find? Your face felt hot from embarrassment.

“Did you know that the sites you go on and the things you search can still be tracked by an establishment’s WiFi network log?” 

He was grinning beneath the mask, you just knew it. Bastard. 

“Yeah, even if you use your phone on private browsing… Crazy, right?”

All you could muster was a choked ‘yeah’ as you tried to recall everything you looked up in the past week. It was highly likely that the Red Hood looked back at least a month. Now what did you search for that wasn’t related to work?

You didn’t have to recall. He listed it out for you in a painfully slow and enunciated manner.

“Red Hood shirtless, Red Hood legs spread, Red Hood dick size, mask or helmet kink, intro to BDSM, what is a service top… And this was just within the past two weeks, goddamn.” He shook his head in judgment. “Should I continue?”

Fuck.

You couldn’t show fear to these types of people, you learned early on in your career. That’s what they got off on.

“What’s wrong with a woman having a healthy sexual appetite?” You asked defensively. “You some kind of prude or what?” That seemed to get a genuine laugh out of him.

“See, here’s the thing,” he told you, helping himself to your luxury office chair, leaning back as his boots settled on the desk. “Everyone thinks that I’m a bad guy, that I just blindly use violence to punish even badder guys. ‘There aren’t any brains under that hood! He’s just some beefy bastard with a fat cock! An idiot! A dunce!’” If he was speaking in some high-pitched mocking tone, his modulator didn’t catch it. It stayed in that robotic monotone.

Jason paused for a second to see if you’d agree, forgetting that a normal reaction was to be scared shitless and mute. When you didn’t make an indication of anything, those combat boots of his hit the carpet with a thud, chair screeching and lurching forward to see your face. Your toy laid forgotten on the desk.

Audibly you swallowed as you looked at him–well, not really him but the mask that he wore, the bright white of his eyes a stark contrast to the cherry red of his helmet. It was the mystery of what he looked like beneath it that drove your imagination wild. What color were his eyes? His hair? How full were his lips? Did he have scars?

As if knowing that you wanted a better angle, he tilted your chin to comply with your unspoken wish. It wasn’t as if it changed anything; you still knew nothing of his looks, but the cool leather of his glove made you more aware of how starved you were of any kind of touch. That healthy sexual appetite you claimed to have suddenly turned into hunger pangs.

“There was a lot of thought put into this plan, sweetheart,” the Red Hood chided.

His glove left your face to press on some hidden panel close to his jaw. There was a soft click that loosened his helmet.

Then you heard him–somewhat muffled and low and incredibly human. 

“See, I’m giving you a pretty sick deal. You get to live out one of your fantasies in exchange for recanting your statement to the Bat. Even if I have nothing to hide, I hate whenever the old man comes sniffing around. Don’t worry. I’ll even promise my protection too in the event of retaliation–from him or Cobblepot. Do we have a deal or not?”

Your voice came out breathier than you realized. “And if I say no?”

He made a show of taking off his helmet, and to your surprise, a red domino mask covered his eyes. Tousling his dark curls, he pursed those perfect lips, “Well, shit. When I was searching through those logs, I figured that you’d be so horny for me that refusing wouldn’t even cross your mind.”

It was starting to make sense why Cobblepot was always irritated after dealing with the Red Hood. You laughed. “Look Hood, the quips were cute at first, but they’re getting old fast. You’re so full of yourself. Now tell me what happens if I refuse.”

“One, if you say yes, you could be full of me too.” You imagined that if he took the domino off that he’d punctuate that sentence with a wink. “And two…”

You could hear the smile in his voice along with something devious. When did he get so close? He was slotted between your legs as you sat on the edge of your desk. The cool feel of his gloves pulled your arms back and held your wrists there, leaving you captive to whatever he had to say.

“You know what I do to bad guys, but what I do to bad girls is even worse.”

“Oh yeah?” you breathed out. Fine, you’d admit it. That was fucking hot. “Then show me.”

“Show you what?”

His thigh nudged your center, pushing your dress skirt up with the motion.

“What you do to bad girls,” you said through gritted teeth. His hold on your wrists kept your upper body in place.

“Say it for me first.”

But that didn’t mean that you couldn’t use your leg to drag him closer. You hooked one leg behind him. Now you could feel his length against you though he wouldn’t budge otherwise.

“Please.” 

Nothing.

“Daddy, please.”

“You can be obedient when you want to be, huh? Fuckin’ brat.” Jason found amusement in your frustration. “Sorry, but those aren’t the right words. Do we have a deal?”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, we have a fuckin’ deal.”

Finally that thick thigh was back to putting sweet pressure on your clit, the Red Hood’s slight movements providing teasing friction that kept you slick.

“Atta girl, princess. ‘Fraid I gotta shut you up for a few though. I know your performance reviews say that you’re well-spoken, but they made no mention of you being so damn chatty.”

Before you could talk about the irony of his comment, Jason let your wrists go and stepped back, using his free hands to unzip his pants and pull out his cock and balls. Your mouth hung open at the sight.

Giving it a stroke upwards, his balls followed the movement. Jason smeared his precum over the shaft, giving it a nice shine before ordering you to lay flat on your desk with your head hanging from the edge. His sack looked heavy and full.

“So this is what you meant–”

“Less talking, more sucking,” he grunted, taking the opportunity to shove the tip into your mouth.

The girth was unexpected as your jaw stretched to accommodate his size. You gave it a suck before relaxing your throat to take more of him. Jason eased into you slowly, watching as you swallowed as many inches as you could before pulling out and smearing his spit-laden cock across your mouth. You jerked him while gently sucking on his nuts, thinking about the reward you’d get if you could edge him long enough. The thought of him filling you up with a big, hot load made your center ache.

So focused on your thoughts, you hardly noticed that Jason replaced himself with your toy, watching as your drool frothed and dribbled down your chin while you gagged.

“Be patient with me, princess,” he murmured as he leaned across your body, vibe in hand, to push your panties aside, cock pressing against your cheek. You tried to move your head to take his length but the Red Hood’s weight made it difficult to do so.

Jason wasted no time shoving the entirety of the toy inside you, making you gasp. If you wanted him as desperately as he thought, then he had to prep you well so you could take him.

“Patience,” he lightly scolded you. “Damn, if I knew you were this needy for Daddy’s cock, I would have come earlier so the fun could last longer.” He placed himself back in your throat.

Slow deep breaths through your nose, you reminded yourself. It was difficult though when he was facefucking you in sync with your toy. There was little room for your moans and sighs to escape.

He most definitely understood your muffled ‘FUCK’ when he turned on the toy though, both shaft and rabbit ears vibrating. Your knuckles were white from desperately clutching at whatever you could; you needed something to keep you grounded from the assault on your clit, toy shaped perfectly to hit your G-spot.

The vibe kept making you moan, making your throat squeeze in ways that would make Jason cum early. “That’s it for now,” he said to deaf ears, pulling out to focus on playing with your pussy. He repositioned himself so one hand controlled the toy and the other held you down.

“Is this all you got?” You taunted, sweat catching the neon lights from the window. Your hair was disheveled and stuck to your forehead. Your legs quivered. You looked pathetic. 

The Red Hood laughed, and you weren’t sure of what you wanted more of–that mocking robotic modulator or the rich tones of his real voice.

“The way your lips are wrapped around that toy tells me that’s more than enough. If you want this,” his cock was still perfectly hard and this angle highlighted the thick veins that lined his shaft, “then we need to take our time. Luckily for you, I have the patience of a saint.”

“Well, I don’t. Sit down, so I can fuck you.”

He was used to more demure requests to ride him, so your brazen words lit something inside Jason. Fuck it, he thought. He was still annoyed at you mentioning his name to Bruce. It wouldn’t be the end of the world if he watched you struggle to take him.

The toy came out with a yank, your pussy aching. The emptiness was only temporary though. There was something more filling, waiting for it.

Seeing that slight look of surprise on his mouth was worth it as you pushed him onto the chair, spitting on his cock before straddling him. Your panties were lost in some dark corner along with your bra. Your disheveled office wear struggled to maintain your modesty with loose buttons and crumpled fabric.

“Mmfph–fuck!” 

Your nails dug into the Red Hood’s shoulders as you tried to find your pace. You had about halfway more to go.

“Told ya,” he said smugly, reaching beneath your dress to squeeze your ass. He buried his face in your tits, sucking on whatever flesh he could. You gasped when he finally reached your nipple, his tender suction making you shiver.

“Big motherfucker,” you grumbled, bouncing up and down on what you could with his help.

“Damn, you feel good,” Jason sighed. 

Lately he’d been so focused on the complicated aspects of his line of work; it seemed like he could never just chill and do something for himself. Isn’t that what all the experts say? That self-care was important?

So when one of his informants told him that Bruce and his band of bat brats were poking around his turf, Jason’s first thought was to dispose of whoever Bruce paid off. When the informant said that the rat was the Iceberg Lounge’s hot publicist, he considered his first reaction too harsh, that perhaps it’d be best if he investigated this personally. Oh, he was so fucking glad that he did.

With each bounce, he pushed you lower on his length, and he’d go by half-inches if it meant reaching heaven. Fucking you with the toy first was a brilliant idea. Even though you didn’t say it, he knew you came. That’s why you were struggling on his cock. That cute little cunt of yours was still spasming from your first orgasm. How could anyone be so tight and wet, he thought, and for him.

He sat back and watched as you kept riding him with frustration. Your sweet pussy nectar was pooling at the base, and the lewd sounds it made was music to his ears. But the sound of his balls slapping your cheeks would be even nicer.

“Good effort, princess, but you’re starting to look pathetic and needy and desperate. What?” He laughed, swiping his thumb along your pout. “It’s cute. Daddy’ll take care of you.”

He hoisted you off him with ease, giving you another reason to make your pussy throb. A part of you wanted to ask him to fuck you while standing or maybe against the wall. No! A small rational voice told you. Let’s see what he does first.

Laying you on the ground, he pushed your legs back with your ankles on his shoulders, exposing your cunt to cool air. It was slick and puffy from all the work you put in. Taking two fingers, Jason spread your lips so he could tease your clit. Each little movement made you twitch. 

Perfect, he thought. He knew how to get you where he wanted. The feeling of his thick, heavy tip rubbing your most sensitive spot made your toes curl as you huffed and moaned at his touch. Your hips pressed up in a weak attempt to slip it in. Your heels were nearly dangling off your feet from the movement.

“Since you want this cock so badly, I’ll give it to you, princess, but we’re doing it my way.”

Eagerly, you nodded. Your way, his way. It didn’t matter as long as he was in you.

Yet quickly you found out that you shouldn’t have agreed so readily. He moved impossibly slow.

“It’s a shame,” he tried to make small talk, one gloved hand carefully keeping the distance between you and his cock while the other balanced his weight above you, “that you chose to work for Cobblepot. How bout you work for me instead? Name your salary–I’ll double it. As a bonus, we can even fuck whenever you want.”

“You act as if I need your cock.” 

Ignoring your tone, Jason stated the obvious. You did. Your body practically melted in the carpet when he went completely in.

“Look how full you are. You think you can go back to your toys or another man’s cock after this? I ruined you, princess.” Instead of sounding remorseful, he was proud. “I bet in the days after, you’ll be thinkin’ ‘bout how empty you feel without me.”

You didn’t want him to have the satisfaction of being right–his cock felt so good once you got through that first bit of discomfort–but there was no point in being stubborn. The Red Hood didn’t intend on having you hear him out. He was going to show you.

He fucked you as roughly as you imagined, using long strokes that left both of you breathless. There was something erotic about the sudden silence. There was only heavy breathing and moans, slick sounds and pounding.

And when you came, it was like the lights cut out, eyes squeezed shut for total darkness. The only electricity existed in his touch, sparking waves of pleasure throughout your body.

–

Uncertain if you actually dozed off or not, you woke up to a familiar mechanic hum. He had his helmet back on, his clothes back to their baseline level of grunge. Perhaps it was because of the intimacy you shared, but the Red Hood seemed far less threatening now compared to the start of the night.

“Don’t forget about the deal we made,” he told you, standing near your feet.

Like him, going back to how you normally were was easy now that lust no longer clouded your actions.

“And what if I don’t?” you asked, standing slowly from sore muscles. “Like you said earlier, I am a bad girl.”

“I’ve already planned for that.”

You tried to fix your dress to the best of your abilities. It was no use though. It was a poor victim of your decisions.

“Well, if that’s the case, expect another visit.” 

You stalled, letting the fabric fall as you tried to decipher his meaning behind the modulator. Was that a threat or a promise?

“And next time, I’m coming during office hours.”

You let the warm sensation of his cum sliding down your thighs decide for you.

Return to

Curated Masterlists

Jason Todd’s Masterlist

[nymphaliia]

𐙚 TOKYO REVENGERS SMUT

୨୧ sanzu x police officer!reader

— you need to arrest sanzu, but you're alone and he thinks you'd be so much prettier beneath him, so he takes it upon himself to remind you of your place.

cw : noncon, gun play (not really), threats, public sex, blowjob, cum swallow, humiliation, slight spitting

my masterlist : ˚ʚ���ɞ˚

your job was tough. you knew that when you signed up so you didn't have any right to complain. but there were nights like this which were radically harder than others.

you were patrolling on your assigned neighborhood on your own. it wouldn't be effective to have you there without any help, but your police station was running short of workforce so it left you with no choice.

and you regretted deeply to have come here tonight when your boss had suggested you join another group in a less secluded area. but, you wanted to assure the safety of the inhabitants, as you've been warned repeatedly of the growing activity of various gangs here.

regardless, when you think about it, it was careless and stupid of you to think you could've managed any issues alone if one had to happen.

this overconfident thought process of yours is what led you to your current situation, a gun pointed at your head. your gun.

"what's wrong, weren't you about to arrest me?", you tried to think cleverly, hands raised in a surrender motion in hopes he wouldn't shoot just for fun.

"listen, I'm only doing my job. you need to surrender yourself to the police, my colleagues have been notified, they'll be there soon. it's in your interest to stop protesting" the man seemed insanely high, pupils dilated all the way and an eccentric speech you often found with drug addicts.

you had to gain time and act extra careful with him. the way he handled your gun showed you he wasn't a novice and knew what he was doing. shooting you would have been the least exciting highlight of his day.

"you talk a lot for a little bitch like you. your mouth doesn't need all those big words" you watched as he glared at you, getting annoyed at your 'bratty' act and thinking of a way to entertain himself.

"you're quite reckless even though I'm holding you at gunpoint" he stated lazily. you eyed him carefully, choosing not to say anything for fear of upsetting him further.

"do you value your life ? because I'm thinking of a few ways you could try and save your life" he laughed lightly, a playful expression finally making his way to his face.

you gulped as you watched him start to caress his member through his pants and you noticed with dread that the man was hard. a little wet spot had appeared and you could only pray he wouldn't make you do what you thought he would.

but of course, he was the one in charge. you had been dumb enough to let this drug addict stole it from you and now you were paying the price. you judged your options, not knowing what he would do to you and how far he was able to take it. you prepared yourself for any demand.

"get on your knees and show me how much you want to live. or would you like to test how long it'll take for your other friends to get there?", he agitated the gun in front of your head, clearly indicating what was about to become of you if you tried to play it smart.

you could resist, but he seemed way too determined at making you obey. you knew he'd force you physically if you didn't follow his words.

you shuddered at the thought of your coworkers stumbling upon you, watching with disgust and horror their sweetest colleague in such a shameful position.

so you went along, swallowing your pride and slowly sinking to your knees. you felt humiliated and wronged, knowing you'll get no mercy from the man in front of you. you were either gonna suck him off or die on the spot. your choice was done.

you grew more anxious as you watched him unzip his pants, taking his hard dick out and presenting it to you. the tip fell on your lips and you had a recoil, lucidity preventing you from remaining emotionless.

"come on princess, work for your life", he was mocking you and you had no choice but to stay silent, slowly parting your lips when he forced his dick inside.

watching you glaring up at him with a face cutely deformed by his length made him laugh at you, condescending eyes looking down at you.

"aah yes, you're definitely prettier when you shut the fuck up. acting all big and mighty just doesn't suit an airhead like you baby"

you wanted to cuss him out, regretting how stupid you had been for complying to his words in exchange for your life. at least you would've died properly during your shift like any proper cop.

but here you were, on your knees for the criminal you were supposed to arrest. you were such a failure, if your police station learned about that, you could bet your life was over for real this time.

"you better hurry up and make me cum, wouldn't want them to find out their colleague is just a dumb slut who opens her mouth wide for any criminal to cum into, right?" he presses the gun deeper into your forehead, eyes questioning if you have any fighting spirit left in you with a raised brow. he smirks when he finally feels you start to move, your movements are clumsy but it draws a few loud moans from him, obviously not caring at all about the possible passers-by.

"fuck, getting your dick sucked by a cute little cop is the best. you're doing great baby, taking it like a champ'", he mocks, tangling his hand in your head and watching you gag as he pushes you deeper and deeper on his cock. your choke are stimulating him and he finds no sympathy in himself to give you a moment to breathe.

you turn light-headed, slapping his thighs in an attempt to ask him for oxygen and he just laughs.

"poor princess, do you need someth- aah almost there, that's right keep sucking me like that" he swiftly puts your gun in his back pocket to allow him to use your head easier. that's how harmless you seem to him, he doesn't even need a gun to make you submit and it hurts your pride even more.

he now grabs two handful of your hair, scalp burning in his hands, before he slides you along his shaft quicker.

he throws his head back, enjoying the unholy sounds you make along with the sweet pleasure your abused throat offers him.

you find little relief in knowing you're alone there. at least your reputation won't be too dirtied... but of course, it wouldn't be funny if that's how things went?

"y/n ?! where are you, we've received your localisation" you freeze. you recognise that voice as your colleague, a nice guy with whom you spend most of your shift with. expect for tonight.

you look up at the man above you, fearing the glint of malice in his eyes.

"they came to look for you, how sweet. do you want me to call them over to tell them you're alright baby?" he roughly removes you from his dick, allowing you to pant for air. you would've crumbled at his feet if not for the way his hand was solidly attached to your hair. it hurt and you were scared to be discovered.

you hurriedly pleaded him with multiple shakes of your head, eyes wide and looking up at him with dread.

sanzu felt like he had won, smiling satisfyingly upon witnessing how undone you looked. just a bit of manhandling, threats and having your mouth fucked was enough to turn you into a submissive cum slut? what a treat.

he was glad he decided to go pay a visit to one of his client tonight.

"damn, her car is here but she's nowhere to be found. hope she's alright, there's a lot of gang stuff going on in this place" you listen as the voices come and go, internally praying for them to leave as soon as possible and search for you somewhere else.

you were too lost in your fear that you let out a loud chocking sound when he shoved his dick again in your warm mouth, growing tired of listening to the shouting of your name. and he stayed there again, unmoving, wearing your mouth like a socket.

you tried to throw a look behind you. you could hear them but couldn't see anything as he had your back turned on the road. even though you were hidden in a dark alley, you knew sanzu could see them clearly and you could only hate the way his smile widened at your distress.

"hey be careful, you don't want them to find you if your being too loud, do you?" and with that he started pounding into your head again.

he enjoyed the way your face looked a mess, with saliva dripping down your chin and chest, knees bruised at how long you've been on the ground and how your mascara was dirtying your cheeks. it felt so good to corrupt a cute little cop like you.

he felt your throat tightening upon hearing footsteps getting closer. he knew you were scared but it only pushed him to wreck you even more.

"oh- yes that's the spot. if you keep doing that I might just nut on the spot, are you sure you're doing the right job? might as well just become a whore..."

and he finally felt it, happy to do it in your pretty mouth.

he gripped your hair tighter, coming in your mouth with low grunts. you chocked around him, helping him finish quicker. you felt the warm liquid spurting inside and you had no choice but to swallow as he wouldn't let you go until he was sure you had tasted him fully.

"fuck, that felt so good princess. I love coming into an obedient slut's mouth, always the best" he patted the top of your hair dreamily, his lips stretched into a content smile while he kept his dick inside your mouth, waiting for the high to dissolve a little.

when he finally released you, he let his dick go in a pop, letting it rest on top of your panting head, the saliva and rest of cum coating his shaft fell on your head in drops but you were too exhausted and defeated to do anything.

sanzu felt satisfied with how things turned out today and chose to leave without any regrets. he promised himself he would pay you a little visit too when he felt like it and he jokingly kissed your cheek, thanking you for your hard work.

he cleaned his member by smearing it on your face before putting it back in his pants. he threw your gun back right in front of you "I think that's yours, you can keep it baby" and with a final spit on your face, which you received with no resistance, he finally left, unapologetic and a ting of mockery in his tone "I'm sure you'll be able to keep that secret between the two of us, right princess?"

what an asshole.

you took a moment to gather yourself, messily clearing your face up with your shirt, trying your best to look presentable.

you felt ashamed of yourself for having helped this asshole to cum. you spat all you could to try and get rid of the foul taste but to no avail.

you were at least glad he wasn't here to witness your little reunion with the people you worked with for years. you know he would've laughed at you.

you dusted your knees as you stood up, stumbling on your feet which had grown weak during the past minutes. you tried to think of a good excuse to justify your lack of response and finally made yourself known to your coworkers.

"y/n, here you are! we thought something bad happened to you- wait are you okay, you look really... tired?"

[andhumanslovedstories]

I’m training someone tonight, and I was like “we’re focusing on time management!!! All initial meds and assessments done by 2300!!” And then we spent 90 minutes in a patient room trying to de-escalate a deeply confused patient so they wouldn’t end up in restraints again which ended up with getting an order to discontinue the intervention that was bothering the patient the most.

That was absolutely the best use of our time, but god it really drives home the time de-escalation takes. If we were short-staffed, if any of our patients were more acute, if frankly I was much less patient—it’s so easy for physical and chemical restraints to seem like the most reasonable option there’s just no time for anything else, and all your other patients are in pain or respiratory distress or have been calling to go to the bathroom but no one came so they were incontinent in bed and now they’re furious because they feel like we made them humiliate themselves, and no one else on the floor is helping you because they also have patients in vicarious stages of crisis and we have no CNAs because why would you do this work for the money we offer, plus the thousand other factors—valid and bullshit—that motivates decision making in the hospital.

De-escalation training is important and needs to get used waaaaaaaaaaay the fuck more. And also the workplace has to make slow, patient de-escalation feasible. Also by the way the patient we de-escalated tonight and kept out of restraints is literally SUCH a sweetheart now, it’s wild. But I am gonna schedule this post for the end of shift in case saying all that jinxes it.

[furiousgoldfish]

While growing up in an abusive family, a part of me strongly refused to grow up, in fact it's still resisting it. I thought at first, it was because I was taught that I am less and less valuable as I age, but it wasn't only that. It turns out, growing around mostly abusive people, can give you some horrifying notions of what it means to be an adult.

I am going to write down how I perceived adulthood, as an abused kid, because I need to work on it myself, and if there's somebody else feeling this, know that these are not your only option for a future:

All adults are stupid, unkind, boring, bitter, aggressive, obsessed with money, do not understand people around them at all.

All adults have to play specific roles assigned to them and don't step outside of these roles. For instance: mother, grandma, father, aunt, teacher, uncle, neighbour. All roles are restrictive and people can only do whatever is assigned to this role (cleaning, cooking, working a job, going to army, being married, etc)

Adults can't play, be curious, or have fun. Adults have to be focused on their role and stay grumpy, serious, bitter and busy. They don't laugh except when drunk.

Adults are having it tougher than children. They are unloved, uncared for, nobody considers them nice or pretty, nobody wants them around or gives them gifts. Adults are permanently unwanted and undesired everywhere.

Adults have good opinions only of people who are already dead. Everyone alive is constantly being humiliated, shamed and criticized. It's better to be dead.

Adults don't care about children, and only think the worst of children. Adults think children should only exist to work and to be yelled at. Adults are dangerous.

Adults don't care about friendships, loyalty, kindness, courage, bonds, closeness, care, or love. Adults friendships are drinking and smoking in the same room while talking badly about every other person in their life. They don't play, laugh or share things. It's a big game of pretense that the other has it better.

Adults lie and fake everything. They lie about their home life, about what they know, about money. They lie about, and to their children. They tell lies confidently. They make things up if they don't know and then tell those lies as if they're truths. They don't feel guilt if caught lying and instead double down on it.

Adults have money but they can't spend it. They have to keep paying bills and they never have enough money for bills and food. They will buy alcohol and cigarettes though, but they're always stressed about bills. They consider it children's fault.

Adults are endlessly stressed about having to 'feed a family'. This is so bad that they actually end up hating their families. They wish all of their children were dead so they wouldn't have to feed them. They can't seem to stop having children but also hate feeding them. It's like they're forced into it.

Adults have to work constantly. They work their jobs and have to do endless chores when they get home. They have to get up early to do chores and do them late at night. They have to do everything alone, unless they can get a child to do it for them. They can't select not to do it, they have to shift it to someone else to avoid it. Adults have no free time, or hobbies. They have to work at all times and always know what needs to be done.

 Adults have bodies that work less and less. They can't run, climb or jump. They're always having surgeries and can barely walk. Their backs and hips hurt and they complain about the pain every time they need to do anything. They blame the work for this but can't stop working. They're still somehow stronger than children when they want to hurt children, and then they're fully mobile. But at all other times they appear sickly and need stuff done for them.

Adults never get over anything that ever happened to them. They're always victimized by everything that ever happened to them. We the children have to get over things instantly, but they are angry and bitter about the past forever. They hold grudges against family members forever. They freely take things out on other family members. They never forgive or forget or calm down.

Adults are not passionate about anything. Their main priority is looking good in front of others and convincing everyone they're better than they are.

Adults selectively care when someone is crying. If it's someone they don't know, they'll act nice about it. If they know the person they will tell them to shut up and stop annoying them. It's like they fall for strangers tears but see through anyone else's as pretense. I don't understand.

Adults die and then other adults get drunk at their funerals. They say you need to cry but they're only serious for the public part and then go and have parties where they just laugh with everyone. Adults don't care about the dead people but say you're not supposed to say anything bad about them now they're dead. They pretend they cared while the person was alive but they didn't. They obsessively clean and decorate graves just for others not to think they 'didn't care'.

Adults will betray anyone's secrets. Adults will tell other adults whatever you told them in confidence. Adults cannot be trusted with information.

Adults judge and badmouth anyone who doesn't act the way they think people are supposed to act. They will impose their own rules and morals on others and shame anyone who doesn't agree. They insist that everyone needs to follow their assigned family role even though they complain about hating their own. They use the most horrid slurs for people they consider 'bad at their role' and write these people off as parasites and worthless people

Adults all agree children should be obedient, quiet and never want anything or disturb them. They want children only to present them with achievements and work for the rest of time.

Adults have sex but nobody is supposed to say anything about it. It's unclear whether they want to be doing it. If it's a part of a role it doesn't seem like they can say no.

Adults can't be cared for or pampered like children can. Adults do not get candy or chocolate. Adults say it's because children are cute and they're not. Adults are jealous of children. Adults complain about not being cared for.

Adults don't understand how hard children have it and always say being a child is the easiest and best time of life. They seem jealous and tell children to be grateful because it's only going to get worse. I can't imagine surviving worse. They claim their childhood was better than anything they deal with now because food was free and they didn't have to have a job.

Adults have no freedom. They have to stay with family and play their role. They can't survive otherwise. They leech off of each other and hate everyone. They live by imposed rules that force everyone to stay together even if they hate each other. They hate everyone around them. They feel loyal to no one. They bring misery to themselves and people around them and don't feel shame or responsibility for anyone they've hurt or ruined.

Adults don't see others as people with their own inner world. They insist that everyone except them is stupid, shallow, mindless and worthless.

Adults are all cowards who will submit to anyone who is stronger and louder. They'll only fight those who are weaker. They don't care about justice and will happily punish victims in unfair fights. They themselves are bitter and upset if they don't get the justice.

Adults only ever look out for themselves. They don't care about other people. They want money and others to admire them and to serve them. If that is not happening they are angry and bitter at the entire world.

Adults don't see good in other people. They don't see what someone else needs or deserves. They don't care about adventures or magic. They don't have wonder or awe inside of themselves. They don't even look at beautiful things in front of them. They don't care about nature, animals or trees. They don't care about books or knowledge, or reading. They don't care about stories or legends. They don't care about people who suffer so badly they want to die. They judge people for suicide.

They don't care about creating or making something unless it can be sold for money. They don't even tolerate others doing it.

They love no one. Everything they do is a drag and a pain to them and they want to push their work on someone else all the time. They don't care about anything except money and how to get more attention and keep pretenses. They have no true friends or care for anyone. All they have is work, rules and roles they need to act. Their lives are meaningless. Even though they have money they cannot travel or use it for fun or joy. They don't think anyone should be free to do as they want. They have no dignity or honor but pretend they do when in company. They yell but pretend they're victims for 'having to yell'.

They don't care if someone wants to die because of their actions. They don't care for anyone who wants to live differently. People who live differently are worthless and stupid to them. They think they're the only ones who are always right even when they're always wrong.

Adults are convinced that when I grow up this will all make sense and I will grow up to be exactly like them

If you felt as a child, or still do, that these are the truths of adulthood, and something you'll end up becoming, it's not true, and it's mostly just abusers who live their lives in this manner. If this is the only thing you've ever known and seen as a child, adulthood would be terrifying and feel like you'd have to lose your soul in order to become like this.

I'll write another follow-up debunking these and writing what I feel adulthood is right now. It's just definitely not that. And living around people who act like this is normal, is traumatic.

[maybe-moonchild]

CH3 𓆣 James Potter x Slytherin reader summary: seventh year begins, James drives you nuts sometimes but he makes up for it. WC: 5.0k ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

You turned James and his idea down on the Hogwarts express. 

The more you thought about it, giving Kaston a reason to stick a target on your back, it sounded like a horrible idea. His humiliation would lead to nothing more than your own suffering. He wouldn’t take kindly to your involvement with the rival team and he would make sure you knew that. 

Much to your surprise, the start of the year had been going well. 

Your new found and budding friendship with the marauders almost created a shield, one that Kaston was less likely to try and infiltrate. The occasional insult still made it to your ears but Kaston seemed to be watching himself, trying to avoid becoming a victim to a prank thrown by the infamous Marauders. 

At least it was going well until the evening of the 13th day of school led to you knocking on the door to the Seventh year Gryffindor boys dorm, blood soaking into the sleeve of your sweater. 

You’d thanked Marlene and Lily extensively as they let you in the portraits, their concern making you suddenly embarrassed. They continued to scrutinize and question you as they walked you up the stairs, barely believing your dismissive answers but eventually dropping the subject. It was clear their hesitance to leave you alone was out of kindness and they continued to glance back at you as they retreated. 

You didn’t hesitate to use your elbow to bang weakly on the door. The metallic tang of blood was nauseating, practically overwhelming your other senses considering it was still dripping from your nose. You doubted that it was actually broken but it certainly 

There was a quiet inside the room that almost made you panic no one was even around. The sound of rustling and footsteps reassured you, the sound drawing closer. It was James that opened the door, his expression changing immediately at the sight of you. He quickly ushered you in, a look of concern on his face as he closed the door behind him.

"Merlin, what happened?" James said, his tone filled with worry as he hurried to guide you inside the room. You let him, more preoccupied with keeping your head tipped back and sleeve pressed against your nose. 

He hardly looked surprised when you grumbled out a “Kaston.”

Without a second thought, James helped you settle on the edge of his bed, the covers haphazardly made from the morning. He kneeled next to you and gently pried your hand from your face. You winced, him wincing in return but knowing that he needed to inspect the damage. 

He made sure to be gentle when he tilted your chin back, his touch light and gentle. It was an immense contrast to the way he grit his teeth in anger. Being an asshole was one thing, violence, especially towards a girl, made him want to put Kaston right into his grave. 

Your hand returned to your face, fingers tacky with blood as he pushed up and to the little trunk under Remus’s bed. It was for… monthly emergencies… but it would work for this too. . 

“Charmed a book right into my face when we passed each other in the hall,” you continued while he collected a washcloth and wet it with his wand. “I had my guard down, that was foolish. Things have just been so quiet recently and… well, I knew if I ran into Keith in our common room, he would Kaston in his own bed. But, if I came here and ran into Lance, he would just tell Keith so he would still murder Kaston in his bed.”

By the time you were finishing your rambling, James had returned to your side. He was uncharacteristically quiet- even more uncharacteristically irritated looking. 

You didn’t entirely know why you had shown up here of all places. You’d told yourself that going to Lance was a safer option but… you also had a very strong feeling that he was going to be in the library with Keith. 

"You should've come here right away," James replied firmly. "I wouldn't have let him get away with it. I won't."

Never before had Jaames looked so serious in your eyes. You were just as shocked that he was entirely unflinching at the sight of blood, how it stained the front of your sweater, clung to your fingers and now his own skin as he removed your hand again. 

You let him work in silence, eyes angled up at the ceiling to not make him uncomfortable if you were staring at him this close up. Okay, so maybe it was more because you were more uncomfortable from his proximity but that was beside the point. 

Point was, you let James take over. 

“I did come here right away. I think I just realized I needed to.”

"Are you sure you don't need to go to the infirmary?" James asked in a concerned tone, his gaze flickering down to your nose, which looked even more battered under the fire's light. 

“I just- no. I… I don’t need to go to the infirmary. I came here.”

“Do you want me to track down Lance? I can get him to take over if you would be more comfortable.” He asked quietly, half paying attention as he focused on trying to fix you up. With the same softness of his voice, he held your face with one hand and slowly worked on wiping away the crime scene on your chin. 

“No,” you frowned, tilting your head at him before he directed it back in place. 

"How bad is the pain?"

You shrugged dismissively, starting to get frustrated that he wouldn’t let you finish. “Sore. Fine. That’s not my point though.”

“What point?” James asked, some of his irritation slipping away to confusion. 

“I want to help Gryffindor demolish Slytherin this year in quidditch. Kaston got my spot as captain and Keith quit with me. They only have two open spots on their team. That means I’m more than knowledgeable of the five other players' styles, drills, weaknesses- I know it all.”

He looked a bit taken aback when you blurted out the words, an attempt to get him to stop interrupting you. 

After a long moment, James’s eyes lit up with enthusiasm, a smile spreading across his face. "Really? You'll do it?" You nodded and his enthusiasm only grew as he scooted closer. "So you're in? Like in-in? You’ll help us take down Kaston and the rest of the snakes?”

You nodded which only made him light up more. His excitement was soothing, filling you with a hum that only intensified when his hands found your shoulders. It solidified your belief that you were doing the right thing.

Fear had dictated your every move and decision over the past six years. You had watched your mouth when you wanted to do nothing but scream, kept your head down to shy away from an opportunity to be targeted.

You should’ve kicked Kaston and Alder and everyone else off the Slytherin quidditch team at the start of last year. You should’ve said fuck it and not cared that your team would have been demolished every game, filled with second years while being a total joke. At least then it would have been a team you could be proud of. 

Your mind was already racing with the possibilities, his own ideas to win this year's match almost making him bounce in his seat. 

“On one condition,” I added, scooting closer to emphasize my point “I want him to know. I want him to know what’s happening so when he loses, it’s even worse for him.”

"Absolutely," he said with a wicked grin. "We'll make sure Kaston knows exactly who's responsible for his downfall. He'll be begging for mercy by the end of the match, and everyone will know you're the one who helped us do it."

Somehow, he managed to glow even brighter as he leaned in closer to you, the spark of triumph in his expression clear. "I promise. So we have a deal? You’ll do it?”

“Yeah, it's a deal. The only record I want him to break as captain is for getting his ass kicked.”

When the two of you shook hands, it almost felt like a blood oath given the situation. 

Your smile grew with his but it just made you wince in pain, hand reaching up to tentatively feel your nose. James grimaced before resuming his work at playing nurse. 

"Sorry," he murmured as he finished cleaning the dried blood. "I'm almost done, I promise. Got a bit distracted.”

Plotting Kaston and the rest of the Slytherin team's downfall was exciting. 

The plan was to keep your involvement a secret until a future time, to prevent anyone from figuring out where James was getting his information from and keeping Kaston from switching practice tactics. Aside from the Marauders, Lance and Keith, your involvement was on a need to know basis. 

It would make Kaston’s discovery of that fact so much better after he had at least lost one game to their rivals. 

If the Gryffindor players wondered why you and Keith were hanging in the stands during their practice, it was because you were waiting for Lance. If anyone found the amount of time you, James and Sirius spent whispering at tables in the library, pouring over open books, it was because you were helping him with Muggle Studies. 

Most of the time you would meet James in the Gryffindor dorms, spread out on the floor in front of the fire or his bed, surrounded by papers and books. There was the occasional library or kitchen meet up as well. 

If anyone wondered why you would suddenly scribble something on a scrap of parchment and lean back in your chair during potions, subtly slipping it into his palm, then… well you weren’t sure what anyone would think of that so you didn’t dwell on that. 

Regardless, sneaking around and plotting was fun. 

Most of the time. 

“Alder’s fake out on his left is significantly worse than his right. If you and McKinnon focus on his right- forcing him left then you can easily duck around him and intercept. Getting back to our side without getting nailed by a bludger is a bit tricky, but I think if we place Sirius on the wings then you can- Can you please focus?”

James didn’t hear you, his eyes tracking the red head who’d made a stop at Dorcas and McKinnons table on her way out  of the library. He’d been leaning back in his chair, idly staring off into space as he let his mind wander.

This was not an uncommon occurrence, his attention being stolen away the moment he caught a flash  of her red hair. Recently, he seemed to be studying her intensely whenever she passed, eyes narrowed and brows furrowed as the only sign he was deep in thought. 

You snapped your fingers in front of his face which abruptly snapped him out of his thoughts, bringing his attention back to you. James sat up straighter in his seat, raising his hands in surrender at the sight of your frown. 

"I know, I know," he sighed, "But you saw her. How can you expect me to pay attention when Evans is walking by.”

You blinked hard. 

There was no amusement in your tone when you threw up a hand. “You’re right James. How could I forget that drooling over her clearly takes precedence over the first match of the year.”

At least he had the decency to make his smile look sheepish. You did not find it amusing, your flat expression unwavering as you stared back at him from over the table.

“Oh come on,” he nudged your foot with his under the table, “It’s a month away. Five minutes staring at Evans won’t cost us the match. Besides, I normally dedicate much more of the year to doing it.”

His joke didn’t even make you smile. You weren’t trying to be so uptight or irritable, but the closer the match got, the more worried you were. If Gryffindor lost, you would feel like a failure. 

If Gryffindor lost and Kaston found out that you had been feeding the Gryffindor team's captain information… you would never live that down… and maybe not survive the rest of the year. So you were on edge, painfully nervous about pulling this off when you had very little control over the outcome with your influence.

You shook your head but opted not to bite his head off. It wasn’t like he was doing anything wrong besides being annoying with his attention span of a niffler when it came to his infatuation with Lily Evans. He’d already bailed on your plans to discuss what you had managed to learn about Slytherins new seeker, opting to work on a prank on Filch.

That had been in retaliation for the three days of detention he had last week for getting caught trying to sneak into the potions classroom late at night with Remus. So he had missed another playbook session while he helped Professor Sprout with the chomping cabbages. 

“Then why don’t we wait until you can go more than five minutes without getting distracted because I have better things to do,” you huffed, slumping back into his seat and no longer wanting to look at him. 

Say what you want about James and his ability to push the limit, but he at least knew when to concede. His face softened into a frown at your irritation. 

"Hey," he protested, reaching over to rest his hand on top of your closed fist. It was really hard not to concede to turn in his direction. "I'm sorry, alright? I'm paying attention. I am."

The touch made you grimace, the taste of guilt for being snappy tasting bitter on your tongue. You met his eye and made a point to make sure he was aware of your skepticality, waiting for him to glance in Lily’s direction again to ensure she was gone. He didn’t.

"I'm listening," he insisted, leaning forward in his seat to emphasize his empathy. "Tell me about Alder and McKinnon again. I promise I'll focus this time."

You were quiet for a long moment, bottom lip saddled between your teeth in worry. James probably thought you were trying to make a point when, in reality, you were shoving down the urge to panic. You’d been forcing down the feeling since you agreed but it just seemed to be pressing on your spine and shooting through your nerves. 

Your prolonged quiet just made his frown deepen. 

“Hey,” James tried again, giving your hand a little squeeze. “What is it? What’s wrong? Did Kaston do something?”

Eventually, you gave in, finding it impossible to actually be cross with him when he was looking at you like a wounded puppy. 

You turned to face him in your seat with a sigh. “No, he hasn’t done anything. Sorry, that was a bit harsher than I intended to be.”

He nodded earnestly and gave your hand a gentle squeeze. "Sorry for getting distracted. It won't happen again."

Damn him. Why couldn’t he just be foul? That would make staying annoyed at him so much easier.

Both of you relaxed as the discomfort in the air eased. Even though you tried really hard to make pulling your hand from his look as casual as possible, he seemed hurt. It was strange so you took a breath to try and brighten. 

“It’s fine, seriously.”

“Is it though?”

“Yes,” you grunted and reached for the paper beside him that was covered in notes about Alder and his playing. James was quick to snatch it out of reach, holding it hostage behind his head so you had to look at him. 

"Is that all that's bothering you? That I’m annoying.”

“Never said that.” You made a reach for it but he quickly pulled it back. You were not impressed as you let your hand hang in the air between the two of you. 

James didn’t miss a beat when adding, “Of course you didn’t, I’m a delight.” His eyebrow raised a little higher, waiting to see if you snapped again, a sign that you were more upset than you were letting on. “So what has you in a mood.”

“I’m not in a mood.”

“You seem pretty moody to me,” he said with feigned nonchalance, looking around the room innocently.

You scowled and dropped your hand into your lap. 

“You know what, I take it back; now I actually am saying that you’re annoying.”

He raised a hand to his chest, mouth hanging open like he’d truly been scorned. The moment he saw the twitch of your mouth, an indication that you were fighting a smile, his eyes lit up. James was more emotionally intelligent that you had given him credit for. His ability to lighten the mood, to chase away someone's frustration or stress was just another talent he possessed. 

“Now, that is just rude,” he scoffed before pretending to be sympathetic. “I think my charm might’ve gotten under your skin. It’s only natural for women to fall at the sight of my beautiful face.”

“Oh for the love of god…”

“That’s the thing about you, though. There is clearly something wrong with you.”

You just shook your head. “Have I ever told you that you’re a drama queen?”

“Yes,” he deadpanned, “Many times.”

That did it, earning a laugh out of you as your hands pressed against your face. Laughter bubbled out of him too, the sound quiet as his facade broke and he had successfully cheered you up. The paper you’d been reaching for slid in your direction, catching your attention as you accepted it. 

“Then I won’t beat a dead horse,” was all you could get out before he was speaking again, more intently and seriously than prior.

“We can do this, you know," he reassured you, his tone filled with confidence. "We've been working on this for weeks. We're going to win. I'll make sure of that. We're going to kick Kaston's arse and show him what a real quidditch team can do."

You didn’t look convinced for a long moment, mulling over the idea. Something flickered on his face, his lips pursing like he was now mulling over something conflicting in his head. It was gone as quickly as it appeared when he composed himself, leaning back in his chair and focusing back on the notes spread out across the table.

 "We'll crush Kaston and the rest of Slytherin in the most devastating defeat they've ever experienced," James declared with a wide grin. "They won't know what hit them."

The pep talk worked.

For a moment, you’d almost been worried he was flirting with you. 

“I’m saying cut around after looping the goals twice,” you explained, tracing the drawing with your finger. 

“That’s what I’m saying too.”

“No, you’re saying cut through after looping the goals twice.”

“That is the exact same thing.”

“James, no it isn’t.”

“Um actually, yes it is.”

You groaned, using your sleeve to wipe the diagram away so you could explain the play again while drawing it out. Neither of you were frustrated at each other at least, more frustrated with how difficult it was to explain things on the occasion that words didn’t transfer well. 

“No, see; you’re saying through, going straight here,” you explained as you drew a dashed line, “but I am saying go around, so you can duck between their chasers and get open for the quaffle while having an open shot.”

You turned to James, watching him slowly nod as he studied the board. The little crease was there, always settled between his brows when he was deep in thought, mouth twisted up to the side. Your shoulders sagged with relief as you set the chalk back down. 

“Yeah, that still sounds like the exact same thing.”

“James.”

“I’m sorry,” he chuckled, the sound hesitant to keep from irritating you too much. He’d been much more focused since that day in the library, not cracking less jokes but being more conscientious of their timing. “Around. Through. I’m not seeing a difference.”

Thankfully the locker room was thick with warmth given it was the end of October. In one week, the first Saturday of November would hold the first match of the year. Gryffindor would play Slytherin with you sitting in the stands rather than being in the air. 

Your anxieties had only been growing each day, the prospect of not pulling off the win was increasing your stress little by little. You’d at least hoped that your nerves would overwhelm the disappointment you’d been harboring at the prospect of not playing. 

It didn’t. In fact, it felt like your dismay grew in tangent. For the first time since your first year, you would be a spectator to something that you loved. 

Shrugging it off, you turned away to drop down on the bench and scribble a note on a piece of parchment. You didn’t want to wrongfully project your frustration onto him when he was only trying to help. James followed, still clad in his practice jersey and raking his hair off his forehead. 

“Lance will get it,” you sighed but still gave him a reassuring look to ensure he knew you weren’t upset. “I’ll have him show it to you at tomorrow's practice.”

“Then just show it to me now.”

“I can’t show it to you now. I didn’t bring my broom this year.” Saying that outloud seemed to make your disappointment feel even heavier in your chest. You could’ve brought it with you but you preferred to not look like you were wallowing in your decision to quit the team, flying around the pitch pathetically like you were reliving your glory days. 

James was not deterred. 

“So?” 

You raised an eyebrow at him as you packed up your bag. “So? So I can’t show you without a broom.”

James made a face when it wasn’t obvious. 

“What?” You threw your shoulders up when he didn’t respond, waiting for you to put it together. When it was clear you weren’t going to, he sighed dramatically. 

“Up, come now.” With an ease that easily contributed to the solidness of his arms (that you certainly had not noticed), he had you on hauled to your feet, tugging you towards the exit with one hand and his broom clutched in the other. While you didn’t actually resist, you certainly were a bit too caught off guard to stop him.

“What?”

Cold bit at your skin the moment you stepped into the quiet of the pitch. It was dark out, the moon settled high in the sky and casting a silver light onto the dark of his hair. Damn it, he still looked like the stupid sun even when it was nowhere to be seen. 

“Just show me now,” he repeated with a shrug. “My one, and only, weakness is patience. I won’t be able to sleep until I get it. So just show me or I’ll be up all night, pacing and sighing until the sun is up. Then, I’ll have to sit through all of breakfast- the entire school day in agony. Each waking moment-

“Alright, alright,” you conceded. He grinned and earned an eye roll in return. 

A new found buzz filled your veins in the face of flying again, the open sky, wind whipping your hair around your head and the familiar feeling of your stomach dropping during a quick descent. 

But then  James got on the broom- No. Then James got on the broom and gestured to in front of him-

Hold on, James got on his broom and gestured for you to occupy the spot between his legs, on his broom, so you could show him the play while you were both simultaneously on the broom. 

You stared at him in disbelief, his expression completely undisturbed in the face of your confusion. 

“No. Why? Can’t you just…” you whined. There was no reason for the thought of being on a broom together to set off warning bells in your head. Especially when you were more likely to shove him off mid flight than the other way around. 

Clearly James didn’t share this concern when he threw his head back and groaned. “Merlin, come on already. I’m starving to death. Show me so I can go eat dinner.”

When you opened your mouth to protest again, he reached forward to tug you forward, hand grasping the crook of your elbow. Once James had his mind set on something, there was no changing it. 

“Why can’t Lance just show you?”

“Broom. On. Now.”

“You know I do not enjoy being bossed around.”

“I’m aware, so hurry up and decide for yourself to get on. I’ll be absolutely beside myself if I show up to dinner and the rolls are all gone.”

“Fine!”

With a huff, because you really did not want to climb on with him, you did anyway. His hand found your lower back to rest there while you threw your leg over the handle. You held your breath and hoped he couldn’t feel how tense your body was when he scooted closer. His chest was warm and hard against your back, the feel making you nearly suck in a sharp breath.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. 

He leaned forward even more to wrap his hands around the handle in front of you, his arms caging you in. You followed suit and placed your hands below his. Each time exhaled, you could feel it on the back of your neck, making you want to jump off even when he began to ascend into the air. 

You quickly forgot about his proximity as the ground disappeared beneath your feet. 

Being back on a broom was both liberating and soul crushing. You were shocked that the weight of your grief of giving up what you loved didn’t keep you both rooted to the ground. Instead, felt alive again; like you had a piece of you missing since your return to Hogwarts and didn’t even notice. Now, you would be forever aware of its presence. 

“Don’t drop me.”

James smirked, “As if. My track record of not dropping people in flight is immaculate. Nearly one hundred percent.”

When he circled one of the goals, the both of you barely lurching to the side, you laughed. The sound bubbled from your lips before you could think about it, all breathless and relieved at the same time. A wide smile broke out on his face too and he watched you for a moment, drinking in the scene. 

You looked completely and utterly at peace with the world. 

“What?” He asked softly from behind your shoulder, eyes flicking around the side of your face as he slowed to stop. “What is it you find so funny?”

Your heart was beating so fast in your chest, exhilaration pumping through your veins hard enough that you wondered if he could feel it. 

You shrugged and half turned around to smirk, “I don't know. I guess I had just thought you were better on a broom.”

At your friendly jab, his eyes lit up with competitiveness. Maybe something had been missing for him too this year. James had become so used to your friendly competition over the past six years that it had felt as much a part of playing quidditch as catching the quaffle. 

He missed watching you play. 

James missed playing against you. 

“Oh, is that so?” With a nudge of the handle, you both seemed to forget the reasoning behind your flight as he took you up a bit higher. “Me? Not good at flying?”

You turned back around to face the front when he pressed closer. His hands found themselves directly above yours, his skin barely brushing your knuckles, in an effort to make sure you're better boxed in between his arms. 

“You can’t honestly believe that. Clearly you aren’t thinking straight if that's what's in that pretty little head of yours.”

If either of you noticed his use of the adjective to describe you, you didn’t show it. Not when you’re too busy laughing as he takes a dive towards the grass. 

And it was fun. 

It was so horribly fun it nearly feels sinful. Your hair is a tangled mess but you don’t bother to ask him to stop so you can pull it back. That would mean you would have to stop and you think you might die if the moment ends. 

James doesn’t hold back, making loops and nosedives, weaving in and out of the goals so you have to duck your head. Having the best of the best, his broom is fast. So fast that there are a few times you both nearly lurch right off before he throws his arms around your waist.

At some point, he just left his arm there, tightly wrapped around your middle to keep you securely to his chest. Neither of you seemed to remember the need to eat or mind the rapidly dropping temperature.  

James didn’t walk you back to your common room until it was long past curfew and you couldn’t feel your fingers.

quid pro quo master list here main master list here

[necrotic-nephilim]

ok but jayrosetim

bc rose did hit on tim and i can see her looking at how weird her bf is about tim and just be like

"so you want to rail that twink too?"

and then poor tim never knows peace again😔

OOOH. i like this a lot. also phrasing the absolute chaos that Rose pulled on Tim as her just hitting on him is so funny. bc the panel of Rose in Tim's bed, clearly wearing Robin panties will never leave my mind, she was unhinged about him. honestly in a very similar way to how Jason was too, now that you point it out. how have comics never addressed that-

think it's so funny if Rose tries to be Normal about Tim when she gets with Jason. bc she expects *that* to be a complicated can of worms she's not sticking her hand in, she knows too much about fucked up family dynamics. because she does really like Jason and wants to actually see where this relationship goes. Jason is the first person who hasn't tried to change something about Rose and seems to actually like her for who she is. she's not used to not having to change herself for people and it's a comfortable feeling to know he wants the ugly sides of her too. and Jason pointedly avoids conversations about Tim so she avoids it too. everyone's slept with everyone in the hero business, an old crush where she maybe went too far (she regrets nothing, only that she didn't go farther-) doesn't need to ruin this thing she has.

but then she and Jason actually run into Tim and Jason is *weird*, but he's not "cain instinct" weird. he's more "flowers in the attic" weird. and hey, she's *into it*. Tim does not seem into it, but her mind is already concocting plans of how to talk him into it. bc it didn't work when it was just her, but her and Jason on a united front? absolutely. like, for me i'd love leaning into this ship being outright dubcon and coercive in nature. the minute Jason and Rose are alone she takes one look at him and says the above and Jason is clocked both by how forward she is about it, and by *the fact she wants to rail him too*. because now this guilty obsession/crush he's been hiding feels a *lot* less guilty.

something about Rose and Jason trying to pull Tim on their side, both in a vigilante way and in a romantic way is so fun. it's "be my Robin" and Rose getting into Tim's bed naked but dialed up to eleven. Tim does not know peace. i'd love fucked up shit like leaving dead bodies as courting presents at his doorstep. putting a tracker on him but *also* giving him the coordinates to trackers they're both wearing bc hey, this is a show of *trust*, Tim. see, it's not weird bc now it's equal. you have us, we have you. fair. making sexual comments about him, sending him outright videos of them fucking and saying his name. the more Tim tries to push it away the more they up the ante. instead of videos, they just break into Tim's home to fuck in his bed and either he walks in on them or comes home to the obvious evidence of sex. they corner him on nearly every patrol he goes on, forcing him to get rescued by them in scenarios they clearly orchestrated. by the time Tim gives in it's bc he has no other options and he's been love-bombed by them so hard he's starting to believe all these promises about how they're the only ones who *get* him and that he'd be loved and taken care of.

the first time they have sex they nearly break Tim in half. Rose and Jason are secure in their own relationship but they've both been waiting for Tim for so long that they're nearly clawing at each other to touch him and fighting over who gets the "firsts" like, first to kiss him, first to ride him, first to fuck him. Tim makes the mistake of trying to get in the middle of it and ends up catching a few punches and is sternly told he's not a part of this conversation. it's objectifying and a little humiliating and by the end of the sex Tim is in *pieces*, a little bloody and so fucked out he can barely move. he realizes that if sex is like *this* every time, he's basically doomed. and he is, bc Jason and Rose are never going to be normal about him now that they have him. they're just going to claw for more and more control until they're the only people who matter to him.

[nonpracticinghumanbeing]

So Izzy said a thing.

The thing seems to be a part of a redemption arc and makes him sound like a human rather than a monster.

The Canyon went wild with joy and jubilation. The haters are doing everything they can to rationalize the thing in a way that would fit their point of view. One of these things makes me feel like a part of a wonderful, welcoming, and very queer community. The other makes me perplexed, annoyed, and sad at the same time - in a way that feels very personal.

OFMD is an explicitly and unapologetically queer show. And not just that, it shows a variety of non-normative behaviors (Jackie’s polyamory, Geraldo’s humiliation kink, Lucius and Pete’s penchant for “having an audience” to say nothing of Izzy’s masochistic tendencies) in a completely non-judgmental way, making the viewer feel like all ways of performing one’s sexuality are valid.

Izzy wants to be a part of this world. For all his anger and manipulations, and (yes, let’s call him out for the sake of fairness) his abusive behaviors, he desperately wants to be a part of the world where he is free to love who he loves, in whatever way he is capable of doing so. No matter how much the haters don’t want to acknowledge it, this is ultimately a story about love. Both Con and Daddy Jenkins admitted Izzy is in love with Edward and the fact that the antis are willing to contradict not only the actor (who, may I remind you, was instrumental in shaping Izzy’s character) but also the showrunner is very symptomatic of the larger issue of how queer people have been treated in society.

No one in their right mind chose to become a pirate unless they had no other option. Piracy was fraught with constant danger and meant being an outsider everywhere. The only place one could be more or less safe was between people in the same lifestyle. In OFMD that is represented by the Republic of Pirates, where not being a pirate would get one in trouble. Sure, there is some violence but it comes with the territory and - much more importantly - it’s never motivated by someone being a pirate.

Izzy claims to hate the Republic - and for someone as repressed as him it makes sense. There are people being a different kind of a pirate than Izzy would like there - drunk, rowdy, and undisciplined. He clearly takes great pride in his work and has built his whole identity around being Blackbeard’s first mate. Seeing people be pirates while taking their responsibilities lightly doesn’t fit his worldview because he’s been taught that all of his energy should be spent protecting whatever freedom the pirates managed to carve out for themselves.

Someone once wrote that despite what the popular meme says, Izzy isn’t a real pirate dropped into The Muppet Treasure Island, but rather a hard boiled queer-coded character from a 50s noir movie dropped into today’s Pride. He’s had to keep vigilant against any threat for so long he hasn’t noticed that there was a way to be a pirate/queer and still enjoy one’s life. That one can like frilly robes and be a somewhat competent sea captain. That it is possible to pine for one’s boyfriend and keep one’s crew safe. That being soft doesn’t necessarily mean being weak.

He’s willing to do whatever it takes and sacrifice whatever has to be sacrificed (Stede’s life, Edward’s happiness, his own status of the loyal first mate) to keep his little pirate/queer world safe. It’s this conviction that puts him in the way of Ed and Stede’s relationship and makes him an antagonist. But - and it’s something the haters seem to be incapable of grasping - an antagonist doesn’t have to equal a villain.

Why does Izzy react so violently to Stede, exactly? Why is he willing to go against his captain's wishes in challenging Stede to a duel? Why does he sell Stede out, making a deal with the enemy in the process? Because Stede is a stranger infiltrating Izzy’s safe space. The English are a huge threat, sure, but they are easily identifiable from a distance. Stede seems to Izzy to be something far more dangerous - an outsider worming his way into the heart of Izzy’s world, where he can do truly irreparable damage. The English are cops who chase gay boys around the park. Stede has the potential of being an undercover cop sent into a queer bar in the 1930s to get the dirt on the patrons so they can be blackmailed and arrested.

Of course, he may not be that, but it’s a risk Izzy can’t allow himself to take. With his vision of what it means to be a pirate/queer he's sure he sees through Stede’s ruse. Now, I’m not trying to excuse abusive behavior, as some of Izzy’s choices were hurtful to everyone around him. But as a queer person I do have sympathy for someone (grossly) overreacting in defense of their safe space. Constant vigilance is an inherent part of the queer experience, especially for those living in conservative countries or remembering the times before the Pride.

Like, for example, Con does. Con, who - yes, I will repeat this because it’s super important here - played a huge part in shaping Izzy’s character. Con, who despite having a decades-long career where he often clearly gravitated towards queer characters, only got comfortable enough THIS YEAR (and thanks to this show and this fandom) to publicly come out. Con, who - as a friend wonderfully phrased it - is queer as in start a riot, not as in love wins.

And Izzy is the same. He is a start a riot pirate/queer in a show full of love wins pirates/queers. His way of being what he is is so totally different from everyone around him that it makes him an antagonist. (Sure, there are other start a riot queers in the show - Jim literally kills a man who wronged them and Lucius is very outspoken about his opinions in a way that makes him somewhat radical, but neither of them is as extreme in their ways as Izzy is and neither goes against the main characters’ romance thus becoming an antagonist.) But. The thing is, when you are a part of a minority, when you are being prosecuted and targeted for who you are, you need safe spaces. And those safe spaces need protection, because every freedom can be taken away if wrong people come to power. No doubt the queer movement would look much more tame and palatable to the bigots if we were all the love wins queers. But we desperately need the start a riot queers if we are to survive.

So yeah, you can say Izzy said what he said because he needs a structure and clear hierarchy in his life. He absolutely does. Some of it comes from his submissive and masochistic tendencies, sure (I wrote a lot about that, including a piece for the Above All Else zine). Some of it may come from neurodivergence (some people read Izzy as autistic, I’m not going to discuss this because as a neurotypical person I have nothing of value to say about it). But it also ABSOFUCKINGLUTELY comes from the desperate need to protect his safe space from outsiders.

And there is one more thing the haters conveniently forget about: OFMD is also a show about growth. It’s about Stede turning from a wooden puppet into a real boy and then into a man. It’s about Edward learning there is a life beyond the legend of Blackbeard and peeling off at least some of the leather. And judging from the trailer, it’s about Izzy learning you can be a start a riot pirate while being accepting of the love wins pirates in your life. 

The more I think about it, the more likely I find it that Stede’s “I don’t care what anybody says, he’s actually a good guy” line from the teaser refers to Izzy. But even if it doesn’t, I am 100% sure the haters will be proven wrong. This show never relied on stereotypes and cliches. In fact, it actively does everything to break them (from Jim’s sacred quest for revenge ending up with them befriending Jackie to the only names that get mispronounced being those of white characters) while killing off the real enemies of the pirate/queer crew (Badmintons, Jack, Geraldo) and giving all its characters place to grow.

So, maybe one day we will all learn to love Izzy? 

[kibblbread]

This is completely aimless and scattered, like more than usual but whatever. Either way it’s just relationship dynamic stuff~ btw pls read the fucking pizza gorl fic —>>> 🍕✨

Random thought but i think exposure therapy might be the best option in aiding Jason to recovery, well, that and gentle coaxing! Jason is very responsive to praise because he’s definitely a people pleaser. I know it might be hard to tell looking at him from a glance; but let’s not be shallow, he gives chance after chance to his loved ones no matter how much they screw him over. He’s simply a lover boy. So I conclude that Jason is a huge people pleaser, and he’s privy to it but ignores himself. He hates digging into his psyche.. it just hurts, poor guy has too many painful memories.

But it’s necessary for healing unfortunately 😔

AK!Jason is extremely.. emotionally.. wrecked. He doesn’t act outside his redhood persona often unless it’s completely necessary— like getting food and supplies, or even to possibly get intel.

At least for a while.

Meeting PG turns his entire world on its head! He’s pretty out of his element as it is while trying to define his persona, the redhood. But PG! Hoo boy— he did not anticipate a partner in crime. A sidekick if you will lol. So essentially his healing process is expedited(just a tad bit); since Jason interacts with his family at a much faster pace than otherwise on his own terms. Dick is very eager to give his younger brother the much needed affection and support that JT deserves but doesn’t want to scare Jason away. So early in the rekindling process, Dick takes a backseat and lets Barbara lead— she’s the voice for not only herself, but Dick & Tim even Alfred for a bit too. Babs knows just what to say and how to say it more often than not! Jason is more relaxed around her than any of his family for a time.

JT’s attitude is still pretty rotten though, he’s suffering so there’s still so much happening within him that slows them down in regaining his trust.

He’ll still snap & even become aggressive toward Barbara if she isn’t cautious and calculated in her approach, which she is, but she’s not a mind reader and can trigger the worst in Jason. However, on the other side of the spectrum, we have pizza. PG seems to never catch any lip, and if she does it doesn’t seem intentional most times— genuine underestimation is the biggest culprit. PG can be reckless, it’s the largest pain point in the fic between these two imo! But you’re not from gotham, you’re truly ignorant, you’re like a second chance to him almost. You don’t know of his sins, not really anyway… A slate as clean as yourself, he’s gotta prove to you he’s not a useless, unworthy, sorry excuse for a person right? He’s gotta prove it to you.

To his family.

To gotham.

No, he doesn’t. But if we are gonna play this game he proved it when he put on his life on the line once as robin, and a second time the moment he decided to become redhood. He’s no less worthy than anyone in reality. Hopefully he’ll see it in this lifetime, but even if he doesn’t, it doesn’t change how you see him and continue to see him. It most definitely doesn’t change how you make him feel either. 🥰 PG is a protective person at heart. She’ll do what she can to help just about any decent human being but especially her loved ones.

Jason sees it. He can feel it too, subconsciously he wants what she wants for him. So he’ll allow her to poke and prod him where he needs to be directed. JT allows a lot from PG actually, from her quick gentle touches to her quips and questioning. He doesn’t take it the same from any of the other bats, when it’s from family it’s nothing short of condescending. Humiliation and anger rises bubbles from his gut straight into his heart. But from you? It’s not something he can quite name.. sometimes it’s annoying, yes, but with you he doesn’t mind feeling insecure as much. You don’t know what insecurity looks like on him just yet so naturally he allows you to suggest things he wouldn’t otherwise acknowledge. The dialogue between you two is allowed to flow freely. To not know Jason’s trigger’s is to not know his anger; which is arguably both a pro and a con.

The closer PG gets to JT the more she sees what he’s capable of.. and how. The why is what she’ll inevitably get to, but how she gets to his truth is much more important. I think PG not being afraid of how Jason will react is her biggest advantage in being so close to him. On the reverse side of things, Jason is more calm because to him, she not antagonistic in his mind. She doesn’t know his past or the extent of JT’s capabilities so why would she, and even if she did, could she? Again I feel JT genuinely underestimates PG as she is a civilian and not held to his impossible self imposed standards. It’s not malicious, he just wants to protect her, his guard is lower than usual which isn’t saying a lot because it’s still extremely high. JT is still distrustful don’t get me wrong, but it’s not personal like it is with his family.

When you tell J he did good, that he’s accomplished something, he’s on the moon. PG’s acknowledgment goes such a long way in the never ending void that is his insecurity and self loathing!

On a less abstract level, when it comes to doing, Jason unintentionally gives PG the go ahead to start pushing his buttons when he inevitably begins clinging to her presence for comfort. For better or for worse, you push many buttons. lol.

“Stay here a bit longer?” Fine, what’s a bit longer?

“Call for back up! We need help!” Im good enough for the job, but maybe some help would be better than none in this instance…

*looks around Jason’s safe house* “Damn bitch you live like this??? Sleepover at my place😝” *complies but serves the most bombastic of side eyes*

The batfam get to see parts of him they haven’t seen before, or at least in a very long time when you two interact in front of them. Jason is still largely argumentative, but thats how it stays surprisingly, he doesn’t boil over and actually backs down or bites his tongue. Which is.. shocking to say the least. Dick & Babs take note of the more true extent of his patience and how willingly he’ll hear your suggestions. They’ll take note of how freely you grab his hand and drag him along. They even notice him suspiciously looking in your direction for prolonged periods while your back is turned. Hmmm very note worthy indeed. Jason is all too aware but doesn’t know what he can do about without you noticing his clear change in demeanor. But quite a few of his new habits fly under his own radar when it comes to being around PG!

He’s less jumpy for one.

Jason isn’t at all more confident in his abilities since he’s still crippled with anxiety and a lot of self doubt but, he’s really focusing on monitoring and guiding you. JT is teaching you to work smarter, teaching you how the streets of gotham work. And above all else making sure PG can keep herself safe! He’s firm and direct, sometimes even sounding like the commander of a militia 🤭 I like to think sometimes he reverts accidentally. Jason also tends to stay close to PG. Most times it’s unintentional but others he’s just watching out for you. You give him a lot of good vibes and reassurance and JT just naturally finds himself hovering over to where you are. Like him and D are side by side on a rooftop, then all the sudden he’s breathing down your neck because you decided sitting on the ledge of a building was cool like a dumbass. But the most notable of all these habits is how much he allows your touch; JT doesn’t squirm away from you either, he stays put. PG will touch his shoulder in gentle support or give his hand a quick tap to pull his attention.

Barbara finds this behavior interesting, Dick thinks it’s adorable but is lowkey in his feelings about it.

Lol

I think thats it for now…

thank u for reading my post bestie 🍕🤪