#UNLESS it’s for the bit. EVIDENTLY I WILL DO ANYTHING FOR THE BIT.

[greatrunner]

It is a truth universally accepted that when critiquing anything regarding AO3/OTW, reactionaries enter the building, and critical thinking and discernment gets locked out.

Nia Ola (on Substack) attempted to raise the alarm about AO3's changes in Terms of Service. This bit in particular:

Nia Ola: "[...]AO3 just updated their terms and conditions so that the only way you can use the site now is that you consent to them taking your data (so, works that you've written, distributed, saved, bookmarked, etc, everything) and give that data and information to the government."

In my time reading Terms and Conditions of Service, websites claiming that they're "duty bound" to provide data uploaded to the site to the govt, depending on jurisdiction, is not a surprise. You will not be informed or told by the site(s) when the government accesses/obtained your information. All on the pretense that it would "interfere with an ongoing investigation".

It isn't dissimilar to the one I've read here for Tumblr. The bit that says (legalese-y) that anything you post on the site can be used as evidence (IIRC) if it becomes "necessary."

But as usual, the AO3 brigade worked like hell to shout them down. Folk focused a lot on how OTW made their TOS "easier" to understand. They claimed Nia Ola was spreading misinformation. Most have gone as far as quibbling with her phrasing, "giving your information to the government" (which they would be doing) based on their personal interpretation of her meaning.

After making the video (they posted on TikTok) private, Nia Ola continued to encourage people to use security measures like VPNs and secure Browsers (they mentioned Firefox; I'm sure others are recommending Tor, Brave, and lesser-known browsers with better security features than Edge or Chrome) and to back up information they didn't want to lose.

Is it an explicit consequence of the election? Probably not. AO3/OTW knows entirely that they're hosting grimy shit on their website and refuse to do anything about it. AO3/OTW, like other websites, are "all-ages". Meaning OTW knows kids as young as 13 (and lets face it, younger) are using AO3. If the US or any other country decides it's politically advantageous to go after them, AO3/OTW is gonna cover their asses and throw you under the bus.

Point-Blank-Period.

That said, I think it would be irresponsible to exclude the election as a factor altogether. Organizations (govt or otherwise) are hang-wringing about rustling conservative feathers, and censoring themselves to avoid the wrath of a Trump Admin.

KOSA and COPPA are still in play. And there's the bill targeting non-profits to consider that's likely (and did) to pass not long after it got shot down.

When Tumblr wanted the favor of the Apple Store and their advertisers, they targeted sex worker blogs and fashion and art bloggers (primarily Black/non-Black). Then, they created an AI flagging system that still doesn't work.

When enough people (and advertisers) made enough noise about the NC-17 content that FanFiction (dot net) hosted on their site (at the height of its popularity, mind you)? They made a choice that allowed the website to survive and eliminate the target on their back. Both were financially motivated, yes, but if it's a choice of annexing content to stay online or getting shuttered?

AO3 will not be an exception. It's already embracing that "Obeying in Advance" phrase y'all are in love with right now.

Nia Ola is not the only one raising the alarm or alarmed by this decision. In your haste to fall on the sword for an organization that does not care about you, try not to make an ass of yourself by dog-piling people with experience regarding the consequences of data collection stemming from policies meant to criminalize sexual content, yeah?

This will continue unless we establish actual policies, education, and protections to prevent the mass surveillance of adult spaces under the pretense of "decency" and "protecting children." Additionally, we must address the ongoing elimination of healthy and safe spaces for children.

Because in our govt's haste to claim their concern for children, the corporations they serve have been demolishing child spaces and media online to save a couple of bucks (Cartoon Network's website comes to mind), and pushing children into adult spaces. And if they're not pushing kids into adult spaces, they're inviting adults into so-called kid spaces to increase their profits (Roblox and its attempts to become anything but a game for children, to say nothing of their monetization of the ideas that kids make).

Until our culture/society overhauls its approach to sex education, divorced from white supremacy, the actual intention of creating spaces that aren't sex-negative and don't prey on uninformed children will probably always exist in short bursts.

That means our politic has to rid itself of the reactionary ilk that (a) demonizes all things sexual and (b) refuses to practice discernment and critical thinking in their so-called sex-positive spaces. Both are why places like AO3 manifest and then ultimately help no one.

And it does not help anyone that reactionary AO3 loyalists will always fight to keep conversations about the site politically and socially stunted and unchanging.

Not all censorship and moderation is or should be sex-negative or censorious to the point of infantilizing. But, if the goal is maintaining free speech and freedom of expression (as we like to think of it vs how the govt allows it), it cannot be to the detriment of itself or for the sake of it (i.e., anti-censorship is not the answer any more than autocratic censorship is).

[kindest-little-fella-in-town]

i was today years old when i realised i’d never posted this here. are you guys rocking with my 2012-yaoi-MEP-inspired edit of Theodore Roosevelt x William Howard Taft???

[ssaalexblake]

sometimes fandom is wondering if the person blaming a writer for the shitty costuming actually Knows how idiotic that is or if they're deliberately being an idiot for ~agenda~ purposes

wardrobe departments, entirely mythical and/or working at the hands of writer tyranny apparently.

[astrxealis]

damn i never thought i'd get into stardew valley this much but here we are !! makes perfect sense tho

[exeggcute]

none of this is new info, but you know I have the "loves to write lists and compile links" disposition, so I thought it might be helpful to share some of the tips I've seen about how to make sure you're sharing legitimate palestinian evacuation fundraisers and bundle all those tips into a single handy reference post.

this is a spreadsheet of legitimate ("vetted") fundraisers on tumblr.

this post explains how the people who maintain this spreadsheet confirm the legitimacy of each fundraiser they add.

this podcast episode ("yousef and the fourth move") explains why evacuation fundraisers are often organized by people who don't live in gaza and/or who may not be immediate relatives of the people trying to evacuate. it's part three of a series about a man named yousef and his family; parts one and two aren't required listening for part three to make sense, but if you have a few hours to spare then I wholeheartedly recommend listening to all of them.

this is the process that I personally have been using to check whether a particular fundraiser has been vetted:

spreadsheet method

open the vetted fundraisers spreadsheet.

inside this spreadsheet, open the "find..." menu. on a windows computer, this shortcut is ctrl+F. on a mac, this shortcut is cmd+F. on a mobile device, click the three dots menu in the upper right corner of your screen, then select Find and replace.

search for the last name of the person or family in the fundraiser. you may get several results because last names obviously aren't unique; keep hitting "next" until you've looked at all the results.

if you find an entry in the spreadsheet that has the exact same name and whose gofundme link leads to the same fundraiser associated with the blog, it's legitimate. if you don't find an entry in the spreadsheet that matches the blog's fundraiser, that does not mean it's a scam. try the next method below!

tumblr search method

copy the username of the tumblr who originally posted the fundraiser and/or sent you a message asking you to boost the fundraiser. (for example, username123)

paste this username into tumblr's search bar.

for best results, click the All types drop-down menu, then select Text. since the search page is often dominated by asks sent by username123 (which people then answer and tag with their username), this helps narrow things down a bit.

look to see if any people who are not username123 have made posts confirming that username123 is legitimate. this includes people who've reblogged fundraisers and added notes, people who've compiled masterlists, and people sharing hyperlinks to other posts confirming a fundraiser's legitimacy. if the message seems to be "yep, looks legit," then it's safe to assume it's legit.

this is not a comprehensive list, but here are some of the usernames I've seen associated with "yep, looks legit"-type posts and who I've come to trust by association. (disclaimers: I am not mutuals with any of the users, and not all of them do the vetting firsthand, but the ones who don't vet posts themselves still seem to be careful about what they share and therefore are a good lead to follow. also, don't bug these people to vet fundraisers for you unless they've specifically indicated that they're open to that.)

90-ghost

el-shab-hussein

nabulsi

appsa

northgazaupdates

retvolution

communistchilchuck

neptunerings

a-shade-of-blue

shimamitsu

neither of these methods yielded anything definitive; what now?

it may just be too early to tell. unless a trusted source has shared overwhelming evidence that a particular fundraiser is a scam (which seems to be a very very rare occurrence), the best thing you can do is ignore it. don't report their blog as spam, because there's a good chance it's a legitimate fundraiser who just hasn't been vetted yet.

[ajdrawshq]

you love them...... 0(-(

[bbokicidal]

"Are you serious...?" - Angst! [Hyung Line SKZ]

Notes : These are all obviously fictional situations, the red flags are just based off of habits we know they have (like Chan's need to be needed, Changbin being blunt/honest.) This post isn't me saying I think they have these red flags, it's just a fun angsty prompt I wrote down. If you don't like it, scroll and don't read.

If people like this - a maknae line will be written! If not, prolly not lol.

Warnings : Angst with no comfort, red flag behavior - some of these aren't even that bad or could be misunderstandings but still.

Maknae Line | "Good Luck, Babe." Part Two!! Here!

BangChan - Brushing off/Having the wrong priorities

One time, it was him forgetting a dinner date - the next, he was staying at the studio late when he was supposed to be meeting your parents for the first time. You let it slide because ultimately you understood that his job took up a lot of his time, and honestly? It wasn't easy to forget about but he had a tendency to take care of you and make up with it by quick gestures before he left the apartment or when he came home; Soft back hugs, quick cuddles before he fell asleep, or kisses in passing. Lately, however, he's been slacking. He'd begun to shrug you off any time you'd touched his arm or hand, nudging you away while he typed on his laptop. He'd tip his head away from yours while laying in bed together or he'd sit further away on the dressing room sofa.

The tipping point was when he was getting ready to go on stage and was standing in wait for the others to be ready. There was still five minutes and Chris looked a bit jittery, so you figured a quick hug or kiss would help ease his nerves. However as soon as you approach and reach to touch his arms, he steps back and keeps his eyes trained on his phone. You reach again, hesitant, and his brow furrows as he maneuvers to the side to get away. "Don't touch me."

Your lips pop apart in surprise. "...Are you serious?"

He looks over, eyes briefly wandering your face before he reaches to fix his in-ear and walks away to the door, disappearing around the corner and leaving you standing there alone. Even the soft touch of Felix's hand on your back as he passed by was warmer than anything you'd felt from Chris in the last two months.

Lee Know - Keeping secrets / Prioritizing Privacy within himself

Minho had a very, very bad habit of not telling you things. In this instance; That he was leaving for tour in two days.

A world. fucking. tour. The only reason you didn't know about it was because you hadn't been out of your home in the last few weeks unless it was for a quick coffee at the cafe or to grab lunch with a friend. Work was heavy during this time of year and as someone who worked remotely, you often spent grueling hours in your office on your computer - hunched, tired, head pounding and back sore.

So you would think that when you entered your bedroom one evening after just finishing up sorting files in your office, you'd be happy to see your boyfriend already there. And you were for a moment, until you realized he was packing three rather large suitcases full of his clothes and necessities. He looks to you, then away, wordless.

"Are.. you.. moving out, or something?" You breathe in a laugh, eyes wandering over Minho as he folds a t-shirt and tucks it into his suitcase with the others.

"No. I have to bring all of my luggage to the company building tomorrow so they can have it at the airport when we leave for Australia."

"Australia?" Your brows quirk. "When -- Why --"

"Tour." He stops his movements to stare over at you, a hint of irritation evident on his face. "We're going on tour for six months."

"Six--" You breathe out, eyes widening. "Six months. And you didn't think to tell me?"

Minho moves to drop a pair of pants in his suitcase. "I would've told you if you could handle the news, maybe. Every time I mention leaving all you do is whine and pout about how long I'll be gone."

"I get upset, yes, what girlfriend wouldn't be upset that her boyfriend is leaving for a week or two? But six months, Minho, I --"

"Don't start." He all but huffs out the words, shutting you up immediately. Minho turns away to continue folding items of clothing on the shared bed and as you watch him do so, you stand and have to wonder if you want to be there when he returns home from the tour.

Changbin - Not knowing the difference between being rude and being blunt

He didn't seem to understand when to stop. Changbin had a tendency to be honest, sometimes to a fault, though you never seemed to complain about it because most of the time it wasn't a big deal. He called Jeongin out for saying the wrong word when singing, or blatantly threw people under the bus when a joke was taken too far.

And he was like that with you, too. He would be honest with you when you asked his opinion of something - was the shirt unflattering? Were you being too loud? Was your makeup bad today?

He'd lay it on you point blank. Yes, the shirt fit a little weird. Yes, you were being a bit loud in his ear. And yes, your eyeliner was going in two different directions. Criticism that was asked for. But when it wasn't asked for? Oh.

"What is your problem?" He bites as he follows you down the hallway to your bedroom. "We have ten minutes, just wear the damn dress and put your shoes on. We have to go."

Your huffs mix with stifled sobs as you rip open your dresser drawer and dig for other options, hands shaking and eyes teary. "You just told me the dress looks ugly, Changbin. I'm not wearing it out if you don't like it--!"

"What does it matter if i don't like it? It's your body, wear what you want!"

"You're my boyfriend!" You retaliate, frustrated. "I want to look nice for you and -- for the group, and I want you to like what I wear, obviously!"

Changbin lets his eyes roll before he turns out of the bedroom doorway and down the hall. You pause to watch him go, listening as he bites about how he doesn't have time for this and needs to leave for the group dinner. You stand in front of your dresser in shock as the door to your apartment slams shut, leaving you in silence and all on your own.

Hyunjin - Being too cocky / Making you feel inferior

It hadn't happened before now, and you weren't sure why it happened at all. But it did.

You'd approached to gently hold onto your boyfriend's arm as he talked to an older idol - someone he looked up to and had just done a collaboration video with. You'd only come up to tell him that the food was delivered and he could have dinner before his stage, but the look he gave you when he finally turned his head was .... wild.

No words were needed. The way his eyes directed to the side you stood at before falling as if looking you over and then immediately looking away; The way the smirk on his lips only widened and his tongue pushed at his canines as he redirected his gaze elsewhere. The soft scoff that left his lips. The way his arm slipped away from your hold in clear nuance that he didn't want you touching him.

It made you feel like less. Like he was pretending he didn't know you - Like he wanted you to bug off and disappear from his line of sight.

Hyunjin had a tendency to put on a confident, bold persona when he was on stage and at first you thought maybe that was why he was acting this way. It was lingering in his body from the dance video he'd just filmed with the other idol and eventually, it would wear off.

But as he turned from you and lifted a hand to fix his hair, he talks to the other as if you're not even there at all. And you have to wonder if it's a persona for the video, or a side of him you had just experienced for the first time. Now you could only hope it wouldn't happen again.

[solxamber]

Love Bites - Floyd Leech x reader

You like him quite a bit, you really do but you're really questioning your decisions after some time spent with him ends up sending you to the ER

Crossposted from my ao3!

Floyd’s sharp-toothed grin stretches wider as you glare down at him, every ounce of annoyance in your body evident as you clutch the bandaged area on your arm. The bruises beneath your sleeve throb dully, and the memory of him sinking his teeth into your skin is still fresh in your mind.

“Are you actually mad at me, Shrimpy?” Floyd's voice is teasing, as though the whole thing is a game to him. He lounges lazily in front of you, as if your anger is nothing more than another source of amusement. “They're just little love bites.”

Your mouth opens, incredulous, but no words come out at first. Instead, you just hold up your arm—complete with the stitches and bruises that have formed there. You watch as Floyd’s mismatched eyes follow the movement, his head tilting slightly as he appraises your injuries like they’re no big deal.

“Little love bites?” you echo, finally managing to find your voice. “Floyd, I have stitches. Actual, real-life stitches.”

Floyd shrugs, still unbothered. “It’s just a few marks,” he says with a lopsided grin, sharp teeth gleaming. “You’re tough, right, Shrimpy? Bet you’re already healing.”

The nonchalance in his tone only fuels your frustration, and you can’t help but huff, crossing your arms over your chest as you glare down at him. It’s always like this with Floyd—he never quite takes anything seriously unless it piques his interest. And apparently, the sight of you with bruises and stitches wasn’t nearly enough to catch his attention.

“Floyd,” you say with as much patience as you can muster, “I’m seriously hurt. You can’t just—”

“Can’t just what?” He cuts in, suddenly standing to his full height. The lazy grin has vanished, replaced with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. His mood has shifted in an instant, his presence growing more imposing as he looms over you, eyes narrowing with a hint of danger. “What’s the big deal? You’re my Shrimpy, aren’t you? I can play with you if I want.”

You take a step back, heart racing as his tone changes from playful to something much darker. This is the part of Floyd that everyone warned you about—the sudden switch from laid-back to terrifying. He doesn’t mean to be threatening, not really, but it’s in his nature. And right now, the look in his eyes makes it clear that he doesn’t quite understand why you’re so upset.

He steps closer, tilting his head curiously as if waiting for you to explain yourself. You’re tempted to turn away, but instead, you hold your ground, even as your pulse quickens under his sharp gaze.

“Floyd, I don’t mind you being playful,” you say carefully, keeping your voice as calm as possible. “But there’s a line. This—” you motion to your arm again “—crossed that line.”

For a moment, there’s silence. Floyd’s eyes flicker down to your arm, and something unreadable flashes across his face. His expression softens, just a little, and he sighs deeply before his grin returns, though this time it’s less wild and more subdued.

“Aw, Shrimpy,” he murmurs, stepping back slightly and slouching as if the energy has drained out of him. “You’re so sensitive sometimes. But I get it, I get it. I went too far this time, huh?”

You blink, surprised by the sudden shift in his tone again. He looks at you with a mixture of mild amusement and something almost like regret, though it’s hard to tell with Floyd. His moods are as unpredictable as the sea, and sometimes you can’t be sure if he’s genuinely sorry or just pretending.

Still, you can tell he’s trying. In his own weird, Floyd way, he’s making an effort to understand your feelings—even if he doesn’t fully get it.

“Yeah,” you admit, your voice softening as the tension starts to ease. “You did go too far. I know you like to mess around, but… I’m not a punching bag, Floyd.”

He laughs at that, a light sound that seems to fill the room. “Nah, you’re not a punching bag, Shrimpy. You’re tougher than that. I was just having some fun, but I guess I didn’t realize how squishy humans can be.”

The word “squishy” makes you cringe, but you let it slide. At least he’s acknowledging the situation, even if it’s in his unusual, Floyd way.

Floyd moves closer again, but this time his touch is gentle. He reaches out, fingers brushing over the bandaged area with surprising care. His expression is hard to read, but the teasing smirk has been replaced by something quieter, almost contemplative.

“Does it hurt a lot?” he asks suddenly, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

“A little,” you admit, watching him carefully as his fingers linger near the bruise. “But it’ll heal.”

Floyd hums in acknowledgment, his eyes trained on the wound as if it fascinates him. “You’re pretty tough, Shrimpy. I like that about you.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s a small smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. “Glad to know I’ve earned your approval.”

He grins, sharper now but still playful. “You always have it, Shrimpy. Just don’t go getting too mad at me, okay? I’ll be good next time. Maybe.”

You can’t help but laugh at that—because with Floyd, “next time” will probably end up just like this. But somehow, you don’t mind as much. Floyd’s chaotic nature is part of who he is, and while it can be exhausting, there’s a strange charm to it too. He keeps you on your toes, always guessing, always wondering what mood he’ll be in next.

And right now, as he watches you with a softer gaze than usual, you realize that maybe—just maybe—he’s trying harder than he lets on.

“Just… maybe go easy on the love bites from now on,” you say with a chuckle, nudging him lightly. “I’m running out of bandages.”

Floyd’s grin returns in full force, his eyes gleaming with mischief once again. “No promises, Shrimpy. But I’ll try to keep you in one piece.”

He winks, and despite yourself, you can’t help but feel your heart skip a beat. Floyd may be unpredictable and moody, but there’s something undeniably magnetic about him—and even when he’s frustrating, you find it hard to stay mad for long.

With a final playful nip at your shoulder (thankfully not hard enough to leave any more bruises), Floyd leans back, stretching lazily. “Alright, alright, I’ll be good for now. But next time, Shrimpy, you better watch out.”

You roll your eyes again, but there’s a warmth in your chest that wasn’t there before. Despite everything, Floyd has a way of making you feel special—even if his methods are a little… unconventional.

And as he lounges beside you, his mood now seemingly light and carefree once more, you can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Masterlist

[dev1lm4n]

favors

pairing: simon 'ghost' riley x f!reader

summary: ghost is curious on how far he could push around the pliant private; the kinds of things he could ask for and all the perverted favors he could earn, including stuffing you full of your silly little pen.

warnings: nsfw! sorta power imbalance (ghost is a l.t and you're a private), ghost is mean :(, uses of whore, unprotected piv, inappropriate use of a pen, semi-public, doing it in an evidence room lol, terrible accent, getting caught

notes: reblogs n comments appreciated! i also do commissions for $10 / 1k words on cod/tlou/aot/haikyuu n many more. msg me :)

“So yer telling me,” Johnny paused, vulgar gargles of cheap booze echoed around the buzzing pub. He had to take a minute or two to relinquish the revolting burn that’s paving a path right down his trachea and into his junk of a stomach. 

Ghost shouldn’t even be having booze, more so the kind they serve in the dirtiest street of London (the one that’s definitely infested with rat droppings and a random fella’s piss), but here he was, advocating for his friend’s ideas. 

The masked man shrunk back against the booth’s shiny red seat. His hips jutted forward, beer comfortably propped up on his thigh. 

“This lass will literally do anything you ask for?"

Ghost sighed.

It took him a beat too long to answer Johnny’s inquiry. 

He’s getting impatient, rightfully so. Unless it’s playful jeering or stern commanding procedure, Ghost hasn’t exactly spoken a word that he’d deem interesting after the last mission. 

He’s just been quiet underneath the skull-face attire. Tired, perhaps. But Johnny truly feared that he’d finally end up as a shell of a person. A suit of skin, muscle, and bones. The lights are on but no one’s home kind of thing. 

Ghost shifted in his seat. He leaned forward tentatively, deep in thought Johnny suspected. His hulking mass of muscles further emphasized by the tacky shine of multicolored lights.

“Yeah.”

“Fuckin’ hell, that’s amazing!”

“Yeah?”

His eyebrows knitted underneath his balaclava.

“‘course. You got yourself a fan, L.T.”

A fan. A fan. A fan?

Ghost could laugh at the premise. 

At the thought that someone had the audacity to think of him as someone worth that kind of attention. He had never thought of it in that manner, couldn’t bring himself to at least, but it’s still as far-fetched now than it was the first time he considered it. It’s absurd. 

Ghost propped his elbows up on the bar’s table. A sticky substance - most likely some sort of spilled milkshake or a very sweet Cosmopolitan - instantly pooled his sleeves, but he had more important things to dwell on. The idea that you, a simple girl-next-door private that he met by accident, adores and devotes yourself to him to the point of no return. What kind of fuckery is that?

“‘m not someone to fan over, Johnny. You know that fair and square.”

“You have a point there, L.T.”

Johnny huffed out a pained chuckle. His stomach must’ve been sending neon red blaring signs to quit drinking and hurry back to his woman back home, but he’s a persistent man, even stubborn some might say. 

Ghost was still deep in thought. He even managed to abandon the cold beer he'd ordered a couple minutes back, the condensation making a very clear point as it dribbled down his gloved palm.

He’s trying to acquire every last bit of information he has of you. Every detail, every moment that might help him deduce this extremely serious problem. 

What did your hair look like? When’s the first time he noticed the repeating tendencies? It might not result in his ultimate death, sure, but it’d surely wound him insane. Why would someone even be a fan of a socially-resigned man?

Johnny cleared his throat. Ghost’s taking too long and he’s made that clear.

“Where d’you even meet the lass?”

“’m not sure…” he trailed off.

Johnny offered him an odd look, before another laugh erupted from his booze-scented cavern. 

Ghost looked away, but was pulled back in by the comfortable arm (way too comfortable if he had a say in it) slung across his shoulder. His caramel eyes came around to his partner’s, as if waiting for him to spare him a piece of his mind. 

“You’re one cruel man, sir.”

“‘m not. Just never thought of it,” he tried. “Didn’t have the time to.”

“Come on. Bet you could get something outta that thick skull of yours,” Johnny jeered.

“I think, well, ..think she’s part of that task force. Y’know, the one that was an extension of ours, in case things go to shite?” 

Johnny hummed. There was that one time, too long ago that he couldn’t even picture the faces clearly. They're more similar to blobs of beige and brown now, but he’d remember a lady if he came across one. “Oh yeah, yer right, there was one.”

“Had trouble mapping out the terrains so I asked the Captain,” Ghost continued on lightly, hoping Johnny could somehow connect the statement to where and how he’d meet the mysterious lady. 

“And so she came in handy,” Johnny cleverly added.

Ghost took a deep breath, the shape of his lips made a brief appearance through the thin fabric, frustration knitted in every inch of his appearance. “She’s smart, Johnny. Well, even that drunk man coulda been smarter than you,” he argued teasingly, but was quickly met with a brute hand down the back of his neck. 

“That’s fuckin’ mean, man,” Johnny cocked his head to the side defeatedly. “’m here tryna solve your love problems, but yer making fun of me.”

“Not ‘love’,” Ghost corrected. “But she’s so pliant, John. So.. obedient.” 

“And smart people aren’t obedient. Moreover, smart lasses.”

“That’s what I’m saying.”

Johnny took another swing of his foamy beer. A light trace of cheap booze made an appearance in the shape of a mustache right above his real bush. He looked like he’s truly using his head for a minute and it’s truly entertaining. Ghost would’ve chuckled, sneered, and made entertaining comments if it’s not for the fact that he’s equally as burdened. 

Come to think of it, you weren’t anything extraordinary. You weren’t a spectacular tank-shaped-human that’s won the recognition of every military general, neither were you superbly drop-dead gorgeous. You’re just this girl. 

This girl who didn’t have a blind adherence to his authority as a higher commanding officer; rather, you made it seem as if it was a conscious choice, a demonstration of your commitment to him. Your unassuming demeanor and lack of vanity blended right into the black-and-white nature of the military, but there was just something. 

Something particular that bothered him.

“What’d she do?”

“Asked her to gather intel from the last ten years,” he started. “Did it in two days.”

“That was well.. technically her job. Maybe she’s just terribly invested in it?” he offered.

“Asked her to get my boots washed-”

“Wait, what?”

“Boots. Washed. I had a sling on so I..”

“Don’t tell me she did it,” Johnny shrieked. “Your boots smell like horse shite.”

“She did.” Johnny looked at him in terror. His fucking jaw almost went unscrewed from the statement. “She’d switch schedules with me if things got out of hand. Oh, and she patched me up awhile back.”

“And you don’t know the lass’ name?”

“Fuckin’ hell, Johnny,” he grunted uneasily. “No.”

“Jesus Christ. What’dya even say when she finished patching you up?” he threw his hand up. “Thank you, random gal who I vaguely remember for cleaning up my boots and doing a shit load of things for me.”

“Well…”

“She’s in love with you. Christ’s sake. The wedding bells are ringing in my ears.”

“Too much, Johnny.”

“No, no, hear me out,” he tugged on the male’s collar, for dramatic purposes only of course, a classic of Johnny ‘Soap’ Mactavish. “I bet she’d do anything for you.”

“You’re fuckin drunk.”

“Maybe. But she fuckin adores you,” he continued on. “Bet she’d suck your lil willy if you asked.”

“Now you’re outta line, Johnny,” he scoffed, deciding his pal’s spitting all but the truth, maybe the piss-colored concoction finally fried his brain cells off. “And it’s definitely not little.”

Amidst all the naturally occurring hellish nature of the military (including and not limited to bitter black coffees, deafening morning roll-calls, and pungent blood), there existed an unconventional sanctuary for you. A safe haven-- special and reserved only for you. 

It’s not nearly as lovely as what home felt, but it was still something. 

The old evidence room, filled with bricks on bricks of aged papers along with neatly labeled boxes cluttered with God knows what. Classified artifacts, flickering lights; nobody wants anything to do with such a room and if they did, it’d probably be a direct order from their cigarette-smoking ripped captain. Or so you’d imagine. 

You’re not even close to being that level of importance. You’re closer to being a coffee-bearing, mess of an intern, instead of those in the laps of the General.

You didn’t mind. Not one bit.

The admin work is far more aligned with your goals than holding a hand grenade could ever be.

After quite some time, drowning in your own mind, earning paper cuts with every flip, and sipping that God awful black coffee, you’ve managed to turn every inch of the four by six room into your own twisted version of a highschool data wall. 

You’d argue that it’s a lot more effective than trying to do it in your team’s pristine glass wall, but truly it’s just a silly reason. A silly reason not to be humiliated and undermined by fellow colleagues who think that they’re above and beyond. 

You stood up. Observed. Crouched (in hopes that there’d simply be a miracle, but alas, futile). Then repeated the regime like clock work for what seems like forever.

That was until an interruption came along. 

A glitch in your picture-perfect routine, and it terrified you like hell. 

You stood in full attention. A forty-five degree angle between your toes, hips and shoulders level, chest puffed, and limbs stiff. Between the moment in which the heavy metal door swung open with ease and when it finally came to your attention who the intruder was, you thought of all the ways you could rationalize the mess you’ve corrected. You’d imagine having a thirty second period - or less - where you’d have the chance to save your ass from running toilet duty all week. 

But what came was far worse.

It’s that man. That Lieutenant, if we’re being prissy.

The one you had a crazy, borderline psychotic crush on. 

The one you did back flips and handstands for. And you didn’t know if it’s the thick helmet that's strapped to his head, the heavy eye black he rocked daily, or the skull-patterned balaclava, but he’s utterly indifferent to the treatment.

Enough of that, you decided.

“At ease.”

Your shoulder slouched back to its acquired form and like always, you’d allow him to stare you down like you’re some sort of farm animal.

“Apologies, Lieutenant,” you drew back a breath. “For the mess that is. I.. wasn’t expecting anyone to come by.”

You attempted to meet his gaze. Keyword, attempted.

His stern gaze, brown eyes framed by a fading ghost of eye black, made it hard to breathe. The air seemed to thicken - wine into blood - as if acknowledging the unspoken, blurry lines of tension. 

You, acutely aware of the rising tautness, attempted to challenge him ferociously, but the weight of his stare proved almost tangible. And despite it being heavily inappropriate, your clit pulsed in a foreign rhythm and your nipples pebbled with desire underneath the pure wrap of your uniform.

“Not my business,” his response fell flat. It’s like he’s trying to have you embarrass yourself.

“What’s your business then?”

It sounded a little rude, so you managed to add on a slurred line of ifyoudon’tmindmeaskingthatis to sweeten the deal.

He looked stunned for a bit, but then his gait laxed and you took the bait. You took a sharp intake of air through the gaps of your top and bottom row of teeth. Cold air seeped through, as hostile as the rumbling storm outside. 

The single bulb flickered ominously - was the Lieutenant powerful enough to control electricity with his terribly distant gaze?  

‘Ghost’ was his callname. That’s the only thing you know of him, aside from the fact that he’s a prominent member of TF 141 and that he has a god awful habit of tossing his duties to you. The kind of duties that won’t earn him a star or two.

“Do you need me to deep soak your boots again?”

His lithe lashes swept over his eyes, but once more, no response. It’s like you’re speaking to a wall. A damn persistent one.

“Or run names?”

Something. Anything would be better than nothing.

“Nothing like that.”

“No?”

He shook his head.

He stuffed his hand down the pocket of his tactical trousers, shoulder hunched forward, before he took a step forward. His boots, lathered in mud from a far away land, crushed the papers you’ve laid neatly. 

Your eyebrows - disobeying each and every one of your neurons - twisted in disdain. 

That was your work. Your hard work.

The Lieutenant inched closer, an estimate of a full foot ahead of you, towering with such an incredulous look. You challenged him with a similar gaze. Emotions naked, unveiling beneath a thin line of shameless and daring. A line of sweat began to form on top of your upper lip, a betrayal to the T. 

“You think you’d let me fuck you?”

“What?”

“You think you’d-”

“I.. I heard you the first time, L.T. Just a little bewildered I s’pose.”

Not even the wildest beast of Manchester’s pub would query such an upfront question. 

You swore that your physical state had forgotten that there’s an entire raging snowstorm outside base, because all you could feel was warmth. 

Warmth pumped through every inch of skin under the neat fold of your collar and the tight cuff around your forearm. Warmth made your palms pool with dubious desire. It enveloped you whole, suffocated you in a headlock. 

At his approach, you staggered back. It was as if your knees gave out thoroughly. You are clearly not an easy slag, but he’s making you look like one.

“Would you?”

He questioned with such.. reverence?

The Lieutenant’s large pointer finger, equal to the size of a French baguette, swept beneath your chin. A tease. Not a threat. Perhaps more of an invite.

“You could say no,” he offered. “Nothing’s gonna happen if you say no, ‘course.”

The question ‘why’ was on the tip of your tongue, before you retracted it entirely. It didn’t matter why, at least, not to him. You’ve heard about the practice. The military is cruel. Brutal. Stinky men, blood and puss, tasteless MREs; people need a getaway car, even for just a bit. 

The real question was if you’d let him.

Would you let him fuck you?

You nodded.

You’re not even sure if that’s your good conscience speaking. It’s just.. you gravitate towards him like a love-blind teenage groupie.

The ghost of a smile, barely there but obvious enough it protruded out the smooth surface of his balaclava,  momentarily diverted you. 

He looked so good. Even with every inch of his skin covered in some sort of cloth, he looked devilishly good. 

Before you could react, his strong arms were quick to wrap around your waist, swiftly turning you around. Surprised, you found yourself pushed gently against the edge of the table. It rattled side to side from the sudden impact, a rhythm that coddled you back into reality. 

His cold fingertips held your wrist together. A makeshift cuff of some sort. You glanced over your shoulder, met instantaneously by the Lieutenant’s icy expression, tinged with a hint of deviance.

“Would you truly let me?” he asked once more.

You nodded.

He looked displeased. Something’s missing, but you couldn’t pinpoint what exactly was bothering him. 

Ghost took another step forward. The faint presence of him crowded your backside. The tips of his fingers told a whole ‘nother story as it smoothed over your arm, mistakes and trauma from a faraway land. His warm breath flooded across the nape of your neck, controlled, yet imposing. You made an embarrassing noise when he tugged at your wrist, pulling you flush against his frontside. 

Way to go.

“Say it out loud, soldier,” he grunted. “Needa be sure.”

“Fuck me.”

Exasperation and determination, he consumed you whole like wildfire. 

You tried to weasel your way out of his grip, thinking it’d be smart to arch your back like a cat in heat to meet his crotch, but it’s no use. He’s as thick as concrete, not keen on meeting your demands. 

You whined. Desperate this time. 

He's tinkering on the edge of something big, something you know is going to be the best thing you agreed to. Ghost shushed you. A short click of his tongue against the roof of his mouth as his hands traveled along the circumference of your stomach. 

He made it an easy task to tick off those pesky, bothersome buttons. One by one. Every time making you wince in anticipation.

“Lieutenant!” you squealed aloud when he buried his head down the crook of your neck. The texture of his balaclava made your nerves jitter, rough yet the warmth his skin emitted set your own alight.

You gasped when he finally cupped your breasts. He kneaded the soft skin gently, the cold tips of his fingers twisting to pebble your nipples. From the back, you might've looked prim and proper. But from the front, your nipples stood out like the slanted tips of Everest. 

A stinging pleasure was quick to spread, especially down South, where your needy cunt gaped and squeezed tight around nothing. He's kind enough to leave the remnants of your uniform attached to your body. It's cold out and he was bright enough to know that this room was equipped with not even one heater. It's the higher-ups cutting costs like always.

“Why'd you let me fuck you, eh?” he whispered tauntingly. “You a whore?”

You shook your head no. Mind too frazzled to even get offended.

“Looks like a whore to me,” he chuckled slowly, only to bend you straight at the waist.

The side of your face came in contact with the cold surface in a loud thud. A protest tore out of your throat. 

He pawed at the belt buckle you're sporting, so impatient he might’ve torn the material in one go if it didn't unclasp right away. With a single pull, he had your tactical military-issued pants pooled pathetically around your ankle. 

It was quiet for a moment or two. You would've guessed that he was standing there, admiring your backside like some twisted connoisseur of some sort, or setting aside a list of what he would've liked to do. It's unbelievable that the five-minutes-ago-you agreed to something this bizarre. His large palms spread across the entirety of your ass, feeling up the smooth surface before a slap landed loud and clear.

“Ah!”

Something came into view on your right side, so you turned your head ever so slightly. And there it was. 

His thick fingers were wrapped around an item, the same one your mouth has been wrapped around so many times at frustrating moments. 

Your red pen, the same one that's ink has stained every inch of your fingers, was now offered in front of you. He wanted you to suck, you figured. You could've said no, sure, but there was a desire to fulfill his every wish, to be the good whore he's asking you to be. 

With much hesitation, you took the pen cautiously. It's not long before a good portion of it was lathered lewdly. And when he pulled the object away, a bead of saliva came attached with the warm end of your tongue.

“Look at you,” he cooed. “Couldn't even stand up for yourself, can you?”

“No.. puh- please.”

Ghost pulled you flush against his chest, so close that you felt the ridges of his uniform against your arched back. 

A possessive arm wrapped itself around your soft stomach. Your head was spinning-- his scent, musky and woody, had your mind twisting and bending in every manner possible. 

Finally, he spared you of all your suffering. The first nudge felt experimental. He rubbed the pen down your throbbing clit, running it up and down the sensitive bud. Then he slowly made his way further down in a voyage for your cunt. 

His calloused fingers paved the way down the slippery road. You found yourself bucking your hips against his warm hands, craving for just a touch. For more. Anything will do from that hulking figure of a man.

“God, just put it in already,” you grumbled, a notch above a whisper. Ghost didn’t like that one bit. He didn’t like your bratty tone and so, decided to punish you against it. 

The cold pen slipped into your wet cunt in one go. It might be thin, barely the size of a finger, but when you haven’t been fucked for ages, it felt incredibly intrusive. You’re almost sure your cunt had sealed itself back up after the long dry spell. 

Like a virgin, you let out a squeal. One that received a low, dry chuckle from the Lieutenant. 

He pulled it all out, pulling it up to your eye level, as if taunting you with how dripping wet the pen had become. It was lathered in your juices, thick and globby as it dripped down. You sucked on the end once more. This time unprompted, simply to show off how dirty you can also become.

This earned another one of his low grunts. Approval, you thought.

“You want it so bad, don’t you?” he whispered against your ear. Ghost guided the pen back to your entrance, letting it get sucked back by your needy cunt. He couldn’t watch, not with this position. But God did he want to. “Being all bratty won’t help, love.”

The squelching noise your cunt had made every time he thrust the pen back in was so.. dirty. Enough to also get him hot and bothered. 

You could feel him grow beneath you, feel it bulge against your lower half, though he didn’t seem to be making certain arrangements due to it. Ghost’s index finger and thumb moved rhythmically as it worked in tandem to touch all those sweet spots of yours. Undoubtedly, it’s working like a charm. 

Sweet nectars of his hard work started spilling out your cunt in thick translucent globs. It dribbled down your inner thigh, creating such a lewd display for Ghost to marvel. Teasingly, he thrusted upwards, hitting against those ridges deep in your cunt and making you lurch forward. Your nipples rippled in reaction, a twitching pleasure made you let out a needy moan.

“S-shit,” you cursed. Ghost continued to thrust the pen deeper, as deep as it could reach at least, and took it upon himself to twist and withdraw it every time you’ve gotten too loud with it. “Don’t-” you were interrupted once more. This time with the presence of his rough fingers, creating tight circles above your engorged clit. “Fuck!”

“You’ve got a dirty mouth on you, eh?” he whispered teasingly as he pressed clothed kisses against the nape of your neck. 

He was persistent in rubbing your clit, not changing the speed one bit even without you asking for it. It felt so nice. The way his textured fingers felt against your sensitive nub, the way he dragged your juices up your clit-- oh he’s driving you insane. 

Ghost angled his thrusts once more and with such expertise, he found that one cushy spot that made you tremble. Your knees felt weak and all you want is for him to fill you up properly. The cold pen rummaged against your insides and before you knew it, your walls had already started to flutter against the smooth plastic. “Small little cunt so desperate for me.”

“I- I can’t-” you gasped in between soft moans. “A-ah, ooh, I-” 

Ghost barked out a laugh at the way you can’t seem to finish any of your sentences. He was a sadist it seemed as he had no intentions of hearing you out. 

He drove the pen in harder, faster, determined to have you react more. To have you, the pretty little thing who’d run stupid errands for him, slather his fingers with your wetness. “Gonna cum on a pen, huh?” he teased, his voice tipping you over the edge. 

You guided your thighs forward, eager to have your clit caressed more. To have it stimulated by a masked Lieutenant you barely even know. 

“Sweet little thing..” he cooed as he watched you reach your high. “Drippin’ over a pen..”

“Cumming, I’m cumming!” you announced and he found it rather.. heart-warming in a way. 

You sounded so pliant, so dumb, and it’s what made blood rush instantly to his throbbing cock. You could feel him watching. 

His gleeful eyes ran over your convulsing body, the way your cunt clenched rhythmically against the office tool that’s lodged up into you. Ghost didn’t even get to pull out the pen before your cunt began spewing out what it’s been holding back. He’d just reprimand it with a few encouraging slap to your clit. 

The thin substance dribbled down the pen and onto his fingers, leaving a mess behind. A much-needed mess that is.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he cursed, holding your body upright as it seemed you had zero control over it.

The room felt warmer, much warmer that you couldn’t even feel a tinge of the cold air anymore; that everything else sounded like a ringing buzz and the only thing you could focus on was his rugged breath. 

It felt cathartic-- the moment, that is. Though, Ghost wasn’t one with plenty of time. 

Everything is timed when it comes to him, so he allowed you just a minute to breathe before he manhandled you back onto the table. He perched you up on top of crumpled papers, admiring the way your cunt pushed out the pen messily. Your favorite red pen clunked against the cold floor, leaving your aching cunt gaping with need. 

How truly pathetic it looked.

You looked at him with a stupid smile, as if he’s truly fucked your brains out. As if all you can think of was how his cock would force its way in, of how much thicker it’d be compared to the shabby pen.

“Ghost?” a timber voice crawled from the door. Before you could make your case, the door swung open confrontationally.

Though it terrified you, that you weren't upset by the fact that you’re caught. More so that you didn’t get to have your favorite Lieutenant’s seed drip from within you. Maybe.. maybe you were a whore like he’d suggested.

[cod-fishing]

“Would you want to be buried with your family, Si?”

Simon looks over at Johnny, eyebrows raised at his lovers random interjection. He gives him a once over, eyes narrowing a little bit, trying to find what could have possibly brought that question on. Finding nothing, Simon turns back to his book.

Johnny watches him scan a few lines before replying. “Can’t.”

Johnny’s brows furrow. “Why not?”

“They thought I was dead,” he replies simply, almost absentmindedly as he flips a page. Johnny’s confusion only grows until,

“Washington got your spot,” he says with dawning horror.

Simon says nothing, just humming an assertion. Johnny finds himself in a position he is in far, far too often as Simon’s closest confidant- utterly horrified, while Simon shrugs, already having worked through it with a therapist years ago, and numb to the sheer tragedy.

Simon turns another page, and Johnny breathes through the instinct to start screaming. A man who betrayed him, tortured him, and killed his entire family. Buried in his families plot, where Simon deserves to be someday. Where Simon was supposed to be able to fucking rest, someday.

Eventually, when he’s more in control, Johnny opens his mouth again, and it only comes out a little bit grated.

“So if you die, what would you like?”

Simon snorts at the ‘if’, and finally looks back at Johnny, considering him.

“What do you want?” Simon asks simply.

Johnny just looks at him for a second. Blinks, licks his lips. Opens his mouth to tell the truth, but pussies out at the last second.

He cracks a smile, but Simon can see the way it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Ah, I dunno. Just curious.”

Ghost considers the obviously bullshit answer, but decides to allow the out, turning back to his book. They lapse into a comfortable silence, Johnny going through his gear for their mission tomorrow, Simon flipping through his novel.

“What made you ask, anyways?”

Johnny stops in his movements, and looks over to Simon. The room is technically his, as the commanding officer, but it's strewn with evidence of Johnny’s place in his life. Clothes, notebooks, weapons. His shave kit in Simon’s bathroom, cause the lighting is better, and because its pretty nice to have Simon walk up behind him with a soft touch to his back while he cuts his hair, making sure he hasn't missed anything and leaving him with a kiss pressed to his shoulder.

"I'm thinking about retiring," he blurts out.

Simon looks over, and blinks.

"And…and I want my ashes scattered in the highlands. Unless you want to be buried next to me," he says, feeling out of breath at his confession. "That would…that would be good too,” he near-whispers.

Simon puts down his book.

“But if you wanted to be with you family, I could probably rob the grave and get Washington out of there, and put you back in. I’ve done crazier stuff.”

Simon’s mouth curls just a bit. “Come here, Johnny.”

He hesitates, for just a moment, feeling raw and vulnerable. But Simon pats his thigh, and Johnny could never resist that call. Curling up on Simon’s lap, he hides his nose in his neck, wrapping his arms around the broad shoulders of his best friend, his lover.

Simon embraced him back, pulling him close against his chest. They stay there for a moment, tension slowly draining from Johnny, and eventually Simon whispers.

“I’ve had it in my will that burial rights go to you for a year already. And as for retirement…”

He pulls back, and Johnny does to, looking into his warm eyes, shockingly open in this moment.

“You let me know when, and I’ll follow.”

[hwaflms]

wicked games! ★ [ l.jn ]

{💭} jeno : let’s play a game. you like games, right?

[☆] pairing. perv!jeno x f!reader, mentions of bf!chenle x gf!reader

[☆] genre. smut | dubcon + cheating au

[☆] wc. 4.1k

[☆] warnings. explicit content (mdni), heavy dubcon elements (don’t like it, don’t read.), infidelity, jeno is a perv, manhandling, voyeurism, dacryphilia, forced kissing, harddom!jeno, fingering, pussy slapping, dirty talk, degradation, oral (m. receiving), throat fucking, use of words like ‘slut’ and ‘whore’, slapping, lots of spit, hair pulling, forced submission, implied sex, implied breeding, i think that’s it but pls lmk if i forgot smth!

[☆] notes. i don’t condone any of this, if you don’t like it, just don’t read it! a little darker than my usual work, but happy (late) jeno day!! not super proofread but this was meant to be a drabble and i got a little carried away…but i’m also thinking of a part 2? idk ‼️ anyways pls don’t interact with my work unless ur 18+ thank u!!!

from the second your closed fist meets the door, you know this was a mistake.

this is not to say that you thought it was a fantastic idea before, spending over an hour just tossing and turning in bed in utter turmoil over the thoughts in your head. turning over to your left, you were greeted with the sight of your boyfriend chenle, sleeping soundlessly with slightly parted lips, arm wrapped around an extra pillow tightly. he wears a plain, white shirt along with a pair of checkered boxers, an outfit he slipped on after getting out of the shower and into bed.

you don't know where it went sour. you don't know when watching a show and cuddling you to sleep became him sleeping right after his shower with an arm wrapped around a pillow. you don’t know when the last time he touched you was. and you don’t remember when you started noticing jeno.

and you’ve noticed the looks, too. he’s not particularly shy about it either, so it’s some kinda of a miracle that chenle hasn’t seen him yet. when chenle first introduced you to his friends, you immediately liked every one of them except jeno. you couldn’t explain it at all, he hadn’t done anything outright bad but something about him just didn’t sit right with you. maybe it was the lingering glances, the way he shamelessly checked you out, the cleverly hidden but distinctly predatory look in his eyes when he surveyed you, even in front of other people.

jeno was chenle’s roommate, which meant you were around him a lot. you didn’t mind at all, initially, even seeking him out at home to strike up a conversation, or offer him a bit of something you had just baked for chenle. it was when you started becoming aware of the looks, of how his hand lingered on the small of your back when passing you by in the kitchen, of how his eyes scanned your legs when you wore shorts. you think the final straw was when you accidentally walked in on him watching some pretty rough porn in his room, which you only entered to return a pair of socks that got mixed up with yours and chenle’s laundry. in your defense, the door was ajar while he knew you were home, but what really got to you was the fact that he never even paused the video or tried to hide the tent in his pants when you walked in, just nonchalantly thanking you for giving his socks back. you didn’t miss the way his eyes roamed the expanse of your body for a couple seconds before you left the room awkwardly, making sure to shut the door.

at first, you were uncomfortable. you debated telling chenle in your head numerous times, but your lack of concrete evidence made you think twice. was it fair to try and turn chenle against one of his best friend over a simple feeling you got? maybe not, you thought. but that feeling never went away. jeno made sure that it was persistent, made you feel like you needed to constantly look over your shoulder, until that uncomfortable feeling kind of morphed into a defeated one. you realised that at this stage, jeno wasn’t going to ever do anything. he had his chances too, so you figured that if he was ever planning to cross a line, he would have done it by now.

so you accepted that he was nothing more than a pervert and there was nothing you could do about it. that was up until a week or two ago, before you found yourself looking at jeno in a different light for the first time. it was no secret that your relationship with chenle was souring, diminishing before your eyes yet neither of you ever brought it up. instead you both sank into your miserable routine of tolerating each other, choosing to coexist peacefully instead of talking it out like you would have initially.

maybe you started hating chenle. maybe it was the empty space between your bodies, or how cold your hands felt nowadays that filled your heart with such bitterness, or maybe it was the fact that your body was throbbing, just aching and begging to be touched, that made you think all these thoughts that would have never crossed your mind before. like the animosity you felt towards chenle. and the curiosity you felt about jeno.

forcing yourself to tear your eyes away from chenle’s sleeping figure, you find yourself in front of jeno’s door, hand raised and closed in a fist like you had just knocked. your heart is pounding throughout your body, in disbelief over what you were doing. it takes him maybe ten seconds to open the door but it feels like an eternity, an undeniable feeling of dread pooling in your stomach over a situation you put yourself in. his eyebrow is raised when he opens it, one hand on his door handle and the other resting against its frame, towering over you in a way that already makes you feel small.

“can i help you?”

can he? you don’t answer, mouth opening in an attempt to speak but no sound leaves it. he inclines his head as if to urge you to say something, a bored expression on his face. jeno is attractive. you can’t even deny that. he wears a black tank top that stretches over his wide chest, a pair of loose sweatpants paired with it. the muscles of the arm holding on to the doorframe bulge, a gulp going down your throat as you look at it and look away.

he releases an annoyed sigh to snap you out of your thoughts, hand coming down to grip your forearm, all but yanking you into his room. you don’t even have time to react, already shoved near his bed when he turns around, arms crossed as he stands in front of the door in a way that could block your exit. you should have known he wasn’t going to pass up a moment with you alone.

but still, you try and explain the situation away. “t-the wi-fi password…”, you explain with a nervous chuckle, feigning indifference as you remain near his bed, a good amount of distance between your bodies. “i need the um, wi-fi password.”

you don’t even have your phone. the realisation hits the both of you at the same time, your mouth falling open a little while he looks incredulous, a disbelieving smirk on his lips. “the wi-fi password. you didn’t already have it?”, he counters, taking a step towards you. “from all the times you been in this house?”

you take a step back along with him, a blush coating your cheeks at how stupid he’s making you feel. “there must be something wrong with my p-phone”, you hate the way you stutter, wincing as you poorly argued back.

“you couldn’t ask chenle?”

“he’s asleep…”. it’s weak, but you have to try.

he finds this amusing apparently, because he repeats your statement after you, and your body freezes when she shuts his door. “he’s asleep…”

all you can offer him is a quick nod, but he sees right through you.

“you didn’t even bring your phone, doll”, he snickers, mockery just dripping from his tone and leaves you feeling vulnerable. “come on, cut the shit, what did you really want?”

at the present moment, you want nothing more than to leave, but your body is unmoving. “i…”, you start but you almost run out of breath when he takes a couple more firm steps in your direction. “what?”, he’s mocking you, and you feel that in order to be a comfortable distance away from him, you need to be sitting on his bed– a decision you immediately regret.

he’s in front of you in an instance, but makes no move to touch you. you’re face-to-face with his crotch from your position on the bed, and you have to look away to the side, heart pumping in your ears. “we both know why you’re really here, y/n.”

it’s a statement, but he looks like he’s expecting an answer, one that you can’t give him. you do look up at him though, and the look that crosses over his face makes your blood run cold. it’s all too intense for you, and you look back down, but what you see makes you blanch, not knowing which direction to look now. how is he so hard?

it should disgust you, the sight of his hand reaching down to grip his thick cock right in front of your face, but it doesn’t. your heart is still pounding as fast as ever, but your eyes flick back to his when he practically moans your name, leaning away from him a little. “at least pretend you’re not enjoying this”, he practically spits and it’s so demeaning, him looking at you like you’re the dirty one. you start to shake your head and he mockingly mimics you, scoffing when your eyes turn pleading.

much to your surprise, he takes a step, albeit small, away from you, arms folding across his chest again. your first instinct is to get up and just make a run for it, but your body is in no mood to comply. maybe it’s the fear, but a part of you think it’s from that funny feeling in your stomach, one that used to make you recoil but appears to not work now. you also don’t fully believe that he’ll just let you walk out now. it seems like he recognises this, speaking up when your eyes dart from the door to his body.

“stand up.”

your eyes glance between his like they’re searching for something behind the crazed look. your body follows that demand however, nervously picking yourself up from your safe spot on the bed. he motions with his finger for you to come closer, but when you hesitate, his hand closes around your neck faster than you can react. you’re now directly in front of his face, close enough to see every mole, every eyelash. when he reaches his arms out to you, you’re quick to move away but he’s even quicker, grabbing ahold of your waist tightly anyway, holding you in place.

noticing the tears pricking your eyes, jeno lips curve into a fake pout, leaning down to kiss at the corners of your eyes. “i bet you look so pretty when you cry.”

of course this is what was always going to happen, of course. but you knew that. why else did you come here? the countless number of nights you lay awake next to chenle, just wishing he would touch you like he used to instead of falling asleep silently. that unnerving feeling jeno always used to give you, like he was just waiting patiently for his chance to strike. this was an ugly situation that you had gotten yourself into knowingly, and jeno looked like he was getting bored of giving you chances.

with the knowledge that he was finally alone with you away from prying eyes, he smashes his lips on to yours, not stopping even when you cry out weakly against his lips, caging you in with his body as you try and fail to push him away.

you do this because it hits you that you are actively cheating on your boyfriend, even though you didn’t exactly initiate it. with the situation looking as compromising as it does, your mind gets cloudy as you try to think of how you could appear completely faultless. jeno is relentless still, using every gasp and whimper as an opportunity to slip his tongue in your mouth, knowing he’s won when he finally feels your arms relax a little against his chest.

when he pinches the skin of your ass tightly between his fingers as a kind of warning, you kiss him back somewhat reluctantly, but no one asks you to slip your tongue over his. he groans into your mouth when he feels your fingers digging into the bare skin of his arm, the hand that wasn’t holding you in place coming up to roughly grope one of your breasts. this makes you cry out feebly into the kiss, arching a little into his touch against your will when he slips the hand under your (technically, chenle’s) shirt to continue his ministrations.

the thought of chenle makes your eyes snap open immediately, freeing yourself of the heated kiss now that your head wasn’t being held in place. this is wrong. it’s like you have now come to your senses, but the look of determination in jeno’s eyes tells you that you’ve come to that realisation much too late. “jeno, we- i can’t, chenle-”

it’s clear that he doesn’t appreciate you breaking the kiss, pinching your nipple harshly before removing his hand from under your shirt to instead grip your jaw tightly. “oh, now you wanna think about chenle?”, he seethes, forcing your face in front of his, tongue darting out of his mouth to lick at your bottom lip. “when you came in here this late at night, practically begging me to fuck you?”

he’s sick, he’s twisted, you think, because you were certainly not begging him to fuck you, but you can’t deny that you came here searching for some kind of trouble. and now you got it.

this feels like it’s some kind of dream, though nightmare would be more fitting, one of those paralysing dreams where it takes immense effort to control your body.

you shake your head ‘no’ and jeno tuts in faux sympathy, an action that you hate to admit causes some heat to pool in your stomach. “let’s play a game. you like games, right?”

you’re sure you don’t want to play whatever game he has in mind, but you understand that he’s specking rhetorically, your opinion on the matter has no place in this world. “if i put my hand in your panties, and they’re in perfect condition, you can leave and forget this even happened”, he quips like you’re ever going to be able to forget this, smiling at you with no light in his eyes. “but…”

you were expecting the ‘but’ yet it still gives you chills, standing frozen in place when he runs his hand up and down your front lightly.

“if i find that someone’s ruined her panties for me…”, he trails off, stopping his hand at the waistband of your shorts, smirking when he feels your body tense. the heat of your body is basically radiating off you, and you know there’s no stopping him now when he looks up at you with a knowing smile. “i think i know what i’m gonna find.”

the next thing you know, you’re crying out against his chest, his arms holding your slackening body up as his fingers slip in and out of you easily. you knew you had lost this battle from the moment you knocked on his door, and jeno basks in his victory when he feels you clench around his fingers, licking and biting his away around your neck. “no marks, jeno, please”, you plead with him, eyes widening in fear at the thought of chenle seeing the evidence of your pathetic behaviour. “shut up and take what i’m giving you”, is the clear answer you receive along with a sharp slap to your exposed ass, your pants and underwear long gone as jeno works his fingers in you.

he bunches your shirt up above your breasts, releasing a whistle when he sees that you aren’t wearing a bra. “you were just waiting for me, weren’t you, you fucking whore”, jeno growls, and you think he’s truly deluded himself into believing everything he says, and it’s starting to seep on to you. your body jolts when he slaps your bare cunt three times in a row, like he’s punishing you for making him do this. “coming here with no bra on, just so fucking tight and ready to take me.”

he’s talking to himself at this point, because none of the sounds coming out of your mouth are coherent. jeno’s hand is forceful and quick, lips attached to your nipple and drilling two fingers into you at an angle that has you dropping your head into the crook of his neck to muffle the sinful noises you’re releasing. he sucks harshly at your nipple, letting his teeth graze against the sensitive tip, and you’re in tears, the sensation proving to be too much.

he’s pulling his fingers out of you and forcing you to your knees in a flash, but you’re just happy to be relieved of the torture administered to you by his hands and mouth, that made you cry out into his shoulder out of pain and pleasure. your joy is short lived however, when your eyes shoot open at the sensation of something warm and hard tapping against your cheek. and there it is, jeno’s impossibly hard cock mere centimetres away from your lips. “just made for sucking cock”, he notes, slapping his leaking dick against your teary face in a degrading manner.

he’s smoothing a hand down your head of hair, the action so heavily contradictory to his otherwise rough manhandling. “you’re gonna take me so well, aren’t you, baby?”. you think this scares you even more, because you have no idea what to expect, but he proves to be himself when he grips a handful of hair in each hand, using them like handlebars. when you let out a surprised yelp at the acute ache that results from him pulling on your hair with force, he enters your mouth fully, pulling back out when you gag. his eyes marvel at the string of saliva connecting the tip of his dick to your lips, rubbing the tears that slip from your eyes around your face with his leaking cock. “my dirty fucking cockslut, i knew you’d be like this.”

you’ve never felt dirtier, yet you can’t explain why you’re wet enough to feel the cold breeze that enters from jeno’s open window against your pussy, making you clench around nothing. gagging around his shaft for the third time because of how deep he sinks his cock down your throat, you bring a hand up to wrap around his base so as to try and control the pace of his motions. “there we go”, he hisses at the feeling of your hand wrapped around him and allows you to pump him a couple times, slipping only the tip of his dick in and out past your lips.

you keep up this pace, swirling your tongue around the tip and jerking off what you couldn’t fit in your mouth. though he lets you take charge for a short amount of time, he grows bored of your pace, opting to thrust his cock into your mouth, chuckling at your wide eyes. “i’m gonna fuck your mouth, and you’re gonna take it”, he chides, slapping your cheek once making you whine around his dick, tears mixing in with the spit and cum coating your face. “so, tell me baby, chenle doesn’t fuck you good enough?”

if he’s actually expecting an answer, you can’t give him one, mouth so full of cock that your jaw hurts, trying your best to breathe through your nose. feigning boredom, he slips out of your mouth with a sound of annoyance for a moment, and sighs in disbelief when you unknowingly chase after if with you mouth, leaning down to grip your cheeks and squeeze them together.

“i used to listen to you getting fucked by him at night. but i haven’t heard you moan in ages, pretty”, your cheeks are squished together and you feel stupid, jeno’s gaze piercing. “always knew i could make better use of you. isn’t that right?”

you sniffle, attempting to clear your throat and blink, vision blurred by tears. he thinks he’s funny when he uses his grip on your jaw to move your head up and down like you’re nodding, but your body feels so fucked out that your head keeps going when he lets go, a shocked kind of laugh escaping his lips. “fuck…you really are a slut. do you ever think about anything that isn’t cock?”

more tears leak from your watery eyes when his degrading words do nothing but send shivers straight to your core, mouth falling open when he presses his tip against your puffy lips again. he moans uncharacteristically at the feeling and sight of his cock in your mouth, fucking into your mouth and treating it like your pussy. your throat grows tired of swallowing around it but he looks drunk off the sensation, so you lay your tongue flat against the underside of his hard cock and let him rut against it.

he’s absolutely brutal and relentless with his tempo, but nothing shocks you nor makes your pussy throb as much than when he leans down and squishes your cheeks together again, letting spit dribble from his mouth and fall where his cock and your mouth meet. everything about the action is filthy, but you’re wetter than you’ve ever been before, hollowing your cheeks as his thrusts become more erratic.

you know jeno’s close when he starts muttering profanities under his breath, the hands gripping your hair controlling your movements and forcing your head to bob up and down on his cock. “dirty little bitch”, he starts off breathlessly, seeing the drool running off your chin bringing him so close to the edge. “sucking my cock while nothing but a wall separates your boyfriend from us.”

your knees hurt and his words sting, but he pulls out, quickly wrapping his hand around his cock and jerking it off right over your face. your mouth is still open and you’re sure you look insanely vulgar but it only encourages jeno, tapping his cock against your tongue repeatedly. “tell me”, he demands, spitting into his hand so he can spread the substance around your lips as you try and evade it. “tell me how much you love my cock.”

you’re repeating after him like a broken record, and broken you are, so fucked out and cock drunk that you need him to do your talking for you. “love your cock- need you-”, you’re babbling but he accepts it, groaning when he works his hand around himself while hovering over your mouth, finally thrusting it back between your lips. the way you readily go back to sucking him off makes his cock twitch, and within seconds, he’s spilling his seed down your throat.

as his dick softens, he slips it out of your mouth and for the umpteenth time, forces your lips open with his hand. he spits into your mouth, but you aren’t even surprised anymore, accepting it with hooded eyes. “swallow”, he orders you and you comply, sticking your tongue out to show him how well you’ve done. “that’s a good whore.”

you were maybe even about to reply when you both hear the unmistakeable sound of a toilet flushing, and your heart sinks– chenle is awake. you’re quick to attempt to scramble to your feet, but your legs have fallen asleep from being in that position for so long that they almost give out, not that it matters anyway; jeno has no intentions of letting you stand up. his hand is back in your hair again, making you hiss out of pain and doing a good job of holding you down, but you turn to look at him desperately, trying in vain to shake your head free. “please jeno- chenle can’t see, please-”

you’re a blubbering mess but jeno doesn’t care, simply wiping your tears from your face and cooing softly and before you know it, that unsettling feeling returns, your ears thudding with the sound of your heart. “chenle’s gonna see, baby”, he agrees in a sympathetic tone, thought nothing about him is soft or caring. “chenle’s gonna see his girlfriend getting stuffed full of his best friend’s cum, and he’s gonna see her enjoying it.”

[shiro41]

Fluffy ears- Alastor

Summary: You always want to touch his ears but unfortunately for you, he rejects the very idea of it until he lets you.

Warnings: sub!Alastor, blowjob, brief mentions of a tentacle, drools, him in a rut?, dom turned sub reader, humping.

Note: this is my first time publishing a smut piece-- im anxious.

You always wondered how the fluff of the man's ears sit atop of his head, moving in sync with his moods and reactions. It wiggles, sometimes pinned on his head like a saddened pup, most times relaxed and stood proudly on his head. You wonder how they feel like.

"Please, Alastor?"

You put your hands in front of you, batting your lashes the best you could as you begged the overlord to let you touch his ears. His fluffy, fluffy ears. Knowing Alastor, he despises any form of physical contact unless he initiated first and touching his ears is a positive no. Which you got.

"Pretty please! I'll do anything!"

The smile on his face never wavered, staying the same size yet, his red spheres glowered with the slightest bit of irritation.

"My dear, touching my ears is a no. I'd appreciate it if you forget the ever thought of it."

He tapped your nose with his microphone, leaning down to your height and close his eyes-- smile still remaining. This resulted with a huff from you, growing equally as irritated and curious as he is. You watch him walk off, probably towards his radio station to broadcast yet another episode of pained screams of the unfortunate souls.

"I swear I'll get to touch it!"

You murmured to yourself, forming a fist as a rush of determination flowed through your ever being. You run to your room with the thought of his fluffs, ignoring the shaking heads of the staff.

"You think she'll ever touch 'em?"

Angel asked, turning to his cat friend who shook his head in disagreement.

Weeks passed and you still ask for the same thing to the radio demon, consistently begging for your hands to land on top of his head and within those weeks, he's been rejecting the idea nonstop.

"Come on, Alastor! Just five minutes!"

"No."

"Fine, four!"

"Still a no, darling."

Another interaction failed, it left you puffing smoke out of your nose from the forming irritation boiling in your blood. At this Point, the both of you find one another annoying. How persistent despite the many times of statements with the same content.

Of course, even the most patient man has his limits and it didn't happen until dozens of months passed where you took the advantage of the radio demon's vulnerable state of mating. He's a deer, it's perfectly normal to have these cycles once a year--maybe twice. You're not an expert with animals.

"Alastor, please let me touch your ears!"

You come to him again, noticing the relaxed posture yet the shaking of his grip on the microphone gave way to the battles inside him at the moment. He simply gave out a sigh, grabbing ahold of your hand and teleporting you to his room that's resembled the forest.

"Can I touch you now?"

A growing excitement evident in your voice, gasping as Alastor agreed and sat down on the cold ground covered with lush greens. His claws simply guided you to lay on his lap, like a father would comforting his child. They nestled and made home on your hips, occassionally brushing the skin beneath the clothes you wore as he lowered his head to give you full access to the red ears that heated due to the rushing blood and hormones he's experiencing at the moment.

"Be careful, darling. I can't promise a night of only receiving the pleasures of touching my ears."

He warned, reminding you he may not restraint himself from the animal instincts and growing need to reproduce. You, aware of the situation, nodded in understanding. So long as you can come to contact with the deer's ears, nothing is worth regretting.

You notice the first touch, it twitching in a manner so gentle you let a coo of compliments to him. The static noise of what you believe were small grunts and moans coming from Alastor deafened your ears, the pair only tucked more to his head when you massaged the base of it until the tips.

Soon enough, you find yourself touching his sensitive ears as he occassionally quivered underneath your touch, head burrowed in the crook of your neck and saliva running down his chin. His claws threaten to dig deeper into your hips, constantly restraining himself from hurting you physically. The statics have worsened, now sounding similar to purring yet, still with the whines and murmurs of encouragement from him.

He's melting in your touch.

"A-ah..please keep it u-up..! Kngh--"

He whimpered, feeling your hands travel from his soft ears to his small, hard antlers. It was rough to the touch, feeling like branches but the softness of the fur of his ears brushing up on your wrists was enough to get you going.

"Ooh it seems l-like I can't handle it a-ah..any further, chèr..!"

He breathed, moving your hips to grind on his crotch in a slow pace. You didn't mind the movement, opting to focus on your goal at hand and that is to savour every moment with the two pairs sitting atop his red head. Your skirt is pushed up until your thighs, barely showing the pink panties you wore today. It's patched with slight wetness in the middle, indicating your aroused figure in the situation you're in. Alastor underneath you was not far from your state, bucking his hips every time you brush your fingers against his head and occassionally travel to his cheeks and jaw before circling again on top.

The grinding didn't maintain its pace, now only moving faster the longer you went and the harder Alastor's hips thrust to meet your clothed cunt that's soaked with wetness resulting in his pants to stain too.

"Oh, Mon cher! I'm about to cum...!"

He breathed, continuing to produce whines after whines as you nip at the sensitive ear of his while the other's been massaged by your hand. You can feel Alastor drooling, the evidence being your discoloured shirt that's wet from his saliva, sliding down the cleavage of your chest. He whimpers with every meeting of his crotch coming to contact with your clothed pussy, almost rolling his eyes back as he feels himself getting closer by the minute.

"Oh darling, please let me cum."

He begged, eliciting a moan from you. Your stomach flipped with butterflies with every word of him begging you to let him have a satisfying release, you feel his tongue slither from your collarbone to your jaw, moaning while doing so. He's drooling a ton, almost bathing you in the process.

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck--"

He chanted, voice echoing throughout the forest of his room like a broken record- statics incoherent and almost deafening until warmth spread from his crotch and feeling it on your pussy. He's creamed in his pants, the tent evident that he's been uncomfortably hard yet, you continue your abuse to his already sensitive ears, not letting him ride his release which caused a shriveled whine mixed with scream at the sudden sensation.

"Oh fuck! Oh, I can't take it! I can't take it, I can't- I can't-"

Again like a broken record, his voice transmitted a series of incoherent noise. The hands on his ears suddenly disappeared, cutting off the source of his scarce pleasure before he felt the belt of his pants being unbuckled and removed, not at the very least ashamed of the cum covered boxers once you pulled down the thick material of his pants.

You no longer towered him, instead kneeling in front of his sitting figure. The sight of the thin fabric that covered his obviously hard, wet cock made you moan. It was leaking with precum, pouring out of hid boxers before your tongue decided to take a taste of heaven in hell.

"Aahh..!"

A long drag of Ahs and a claw at the back of your neck has Alastor throwing his head back until his head collided with the tree behind. Your head pressed against the heat of his dick, rubbing your cheek affectionately against it as you look at those reds of his through the clumps of your eyelashes, eyes covered with thick lust.

His hand wiped the saliva off the corners of his mouth, now removing the stray of locks from your face and slowly taking out his angry red dick that's been begging to be released and aching to be touched. With its size, it slapped you in the process resulting with sticky cum kissing your cheek, the overlord repeating the process time and time again, swaying the hard organ across you and enjoy the sight of your tongue poking out ever so slightly, enticing him to fill it up with his thick cock.

"A-ah..ah no..let me savor this first, dear girl."

He tried to create dominance, continuing to tease you with his dick encircling your mouth but never in it. This resulted with an impatient whine coming out of your mouth, a hand coming to travel to your gaping pussy still clad in pink, wet panties but unfortunately, a tentacle wrapped itself onto your wrist- effectively preventing you from giving yourself pleasure.

A small sigh escape his lips, looking at your hazed lustrous expression before finally inserting his dick inside your awaiting mouth. The tentacle still was on your wrist and come to binding both of your hands behind your back, preventing you any self pleasure with the exception of his dick inside your mouth.

"Take it in, Darling..!"

He murmured, his hand massaging your aching scalp whilst his ruby spheres looked down at you with a hint of sadism that matched his mischievous smirk.

He could only hear your muffled whines as you tried to claw the tentacle that wrapped your wrist together, he could see the evident teardrops forming and sliding down your cheeks as your throat caved in and took the shape of his cock perfectly.

"Mhn, such a good girl...!!""

He praised, hand travelling from your scalp to your chin that's covered with a thin coat of saliva and cum. He's been so lost in pleasure that he lost track of time how long your mouth has been stuffed by his cock.

You feel the sudden pull of your head, forcing you to release Alastor's dick from your mouth that stood tall, thick and angry red from you sucking him like an infant to a mother for the past minutes. Alastor glanced at the streaming saliva that travelled down from your chin to the valleys of your perky breasts, mixed with his thick, white semen that you seem to not get enough of.

"I'm sorry about this, love."

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Blood Ties Chapter 34

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Postpartum depression; allusions to child abuse; perceived child abuse - read with care

A/N: I am so sorry it has taken me this long! The move has really done a number on my mental health and I've been struggling to write anything substantial. I've taken some serious liberties with Georgia weather. If you noticed, no you didn't. Lol I don't hate Rick. His mindset isn't the greatest at this point. We know that. Just making sure everyone is aware that I love our deputy. Post partum depression is a real thing and it sucks. This chapter has some really angsty, dark tones, and should be read with care, especially toward the end (beginning at “Oh,hey.” She greeted, patting the ground next to her). I did lots of research and sadly, what transpires is a real thing that people do for reasons that aren't necessary. Please try to give Carol and reader some grace given the circumstances. But if you're sensitive to anything dealing with making a child uncomfortable, you might want to skip this. It gets a little heavy. I would be happy to give you a summary of what is happening if you would rather skip the last few paragraphs (see above where to stop reading). Just message me.

I love you all! Thank you for your patience with me.

gif is not mine - from google

You weren’t sure when it happened, when the switch flipped or the dial turned. All you knew is that every single time your daughter cried, you wanted to break down and sob with her. When you held her to your breast, you couldn’t look at her. You left her with Lori or Carol more and more, the looks they gave you annoyingly understanding. When you would hand her off to Daryl and walk away, you couldn’t bear to see that expression of befuddled dismalness. 

“Postpartum depression.” Carol finally said one bitterly cold morning. She was changing Birdie with swift movements, eager to shield her from the drafty atmosphere of the warehouse. 

You had your back to her—your face in your hands—while you silently cried, two small bottles of breast milk sitting at your feet, still attached to the manual pumps. Sniffling, you glanced over your shoulder just as she placed the shifting blanketed bundle against her shoulder. “I hate my baby, Carol.” You whimpered. “That’s more than depression.”

The silver-haired lady shook her head. “Honey, I promise you don’t hate her.” 

“I don’t want anything to do with her.” You bit back with more vexation than you had intended. “I can’t stand it when she cries. I just want Daryl to keep her away from me.” When she tilted her lips with that gentle smile, it took all you had not to chuck one of the bottles at her. What was wrong with you? Could she be right? Were you depressed?

“I went through this, sweetheart. It will pass.” When she offered you little Birdie, you reeled. “You can’t keep avoiding her.” She was right and you hated it. With a huffing breath, you accepted your daughter, distributing her small weight across your arm for her head to rest in the crook of your elbow. “I have an idea.”

You heaved a sigh, not really interested in whatever it was that Carol was going to suggest. You had to stop taking your frustrations out on the woman. And Lori. And Daryl. And especially little Birdie. She was perfect and you knew in your heart of hearts that you could never truly harbor anything other than unrelenting love for her. Yes. Carol was right. You were definitely depressed. 

“What?” You finally queried. 

“What’re you two doin’ in here?” You heard Daryl’s boots crossing the concrete floor until they stopped just behind you. His lips pressed gently against the crown of your head. “Hey.” You said nothing. So much for not taking things out on your fiancé. 

“Daryl, right on time.” Carol beamed. 

“For what?” The confusion was evident in his tone.

“Y/N pumped some milk for the baby. It won’t keep unless we get more snow and can store it in the drifts.” She informed. “Why don’t you feed the baby?”

“Feed ‘er? Like with a bottle?”

“Unless you’re miraculously lactating, yes. With a bottle.” There was a hint of jocularity in her tone. You could almost feel his glare without turning. 

“I mean—yeah, okay.” Annoyance momentarily forgotten, you focused on the uncertainty in your partner’s voice. You didn’t miss the tremble. Neither did Carol. 

“You’re gonna be fine, Daryl.” She said encouragingly. 

“Ain’t me m’worried ‘bout.” The archer mumbled as he circled around you. He was hesitant in reaching for Birdie, but took her into his arms immediately when you sat up straighter and shifted her. The movement must have upset your daughter, her little limbs flailing as Daryl positioned her in the bend of his arm. “Ain’t no need for all that fussin’, lil Bird. You’re gonna get fed.” His throat worked as he swallowed. “By somebody. May not be me after I screw this up.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re better with her than you give yourself credit for.” It came out flat and harsh, your default setting as of late. Still, one look at the expression that decorated Daryl’s features, you found yourself ashamed. “You’re a great father.” You added, softer and with sincerity. 

Daryl held your gaze and, for a moment,—for the first time in a long time—it was uncomfortable. When he nodded and turned to Carol, you were able to exhale, though your stomach remained in knots. 

“Gimme the thing, I guess.” He held out a hand and looked down at his daughter, her little face reddening. Her mouth opened with the slightest squeak. She was two seconds from shrieking. “Keep your diaper on, lil’ girl. It’s comin’.” Daryl gingerly bounced his arm, Birdie’s features smoothing out for a moment, just long enough for Carol to hand over the bottle. 

You found yourself leaning forward, biting your lip as if ready to spring into applause when he accomplished the “impossible” task. When you caught his gaze, both of you looking up at the same time, you sat back and cleared your throat. When had things become so awkward between the two of you? It was almost unbearable. 

“Tilt her up just a little.” Carol instructed. “Touch the nipple to her lip, she’ll—there you go.”

You heard the soft snort of Daryl’s laugh and let your eyes travel from Birdie—now happily suckling away at the bottle—to your fiance. His eyes were soft but excited, sparkling in a way you’d never before seen. His lips were tilted upward, only the slightest fraction. Smiling suited him. You wished he’d do it more often. 

“Told ya that ya wasn’t gonna starve. Slow down. Ain’t no one gonna take it away.” He babbled, scrunching his nose with that smile still adorned. Was he even aware that he was lowering himself to sit cross-legged on the floor in front of you? You didn’t think so. At that moment, no one else existed to him; just a father and his little bird. 

You only felt the smile on your own face when you looked over to find Carol watching not Daryl and Birdie but you. With a soft, knowing expression, she mouthed see? And see, you did. You nodded, tears stinging behind your eyes. The room was silent aside from Birdie’s gulps and breaths and squeaks, and for moment, you thought:

Everything’s gonna be just fine.

If only you knew just how wrong you were.

“We can’t have her crying like this!” Rick was swiping a hand roughly over his tired face, looking haggard. Things between him and Lori were not improving. They seemed to only be worsening. Even Daryl had called out the deputy’s behavior once or twice in the last two weeks. The archer was currently glaring daggers while he rubbed a fingerless-gloved hand over Birdie’s back through the sling that held her to your chest. 

The loss of the warehouse had been tough on everyone, but you and your baby were affected the most. Your mood swings were only growing worse, though less and less toward the little one in your arms and more toward the adults that were only trying to help you. In turn, Birdie remained in a constant state of inconsolable. Hershel had thrown around words like colic and had Daryl dosing out gas drops to the little one but nothing seemed to soothe her.

The cars had run out of gas, as well as Daryl’s bike. The archer had pushed the motorcycle along for a time before he declared that he couldn’t protect Birdie if he was too busy hauling a damn bike. He had hidden it under some brush, easy to be tracked back to later. It was Merle’s bike and you knew what it meant to him. However, Birdie meant more. Much, much more and he would crawl into hell and back for the little girl strapped to your front.

“She’s a baby, man. How else she s’posed to let us know she’s needin’ something?” Daryl snapped, his voice intentionally higher to be heard over your daughter’s cries. 

“Daryl, you know this isn’t safe! She’s gonna bring every walker for miles down on us!” Rick threw out an arm, gesturing broadly. “Or—or the living! You saw what they would do!”

“Ain’t much we can do! She ain’t hungry! She ain’t needin’ changed! She’s just pissed off an’ I ain’t far away from bein’ right there with ‘er!”

“Boys.” Lori admonished, squeezing your shoulder. When had you started to tremble? “All this negative energy isn’t helping.”

“She’s right.” Hershel agreed, adjusting his gloves. “Babies are incredibly intuitive.”

“We just need to find fuel—cars.” Rick sniffed, hands on his hips. “We’re sitting ducks like this.” His eyes met Daryl’s in a heated challenge.

After an intense staredown, it was surprisingly Daryl who backed down first but not without a menacing growl. Turning to place his body between you and Rick, he brushed his bare fingertips over Birdie’s hooded head and then across your jaw. “Y’want me to take ‘er for a bit?”

You shook your head even as the temptation beckoned you to acquiesce. “I don’t think jostling her would help right now.” A single tear trailed down your cheek. As much as it pained you to admit, Rick was right, but how could you coax your baby to stop her noises of discomfort when you had no idea what was ailing her? Daryl used his thumb to swipe away the moisture, his expression equal parts distress and sadness. He clearly felt as helpless as you did.

“S’take a break.” He said suddenly, ushering you to a nearby log. Lori was immediately lowering herself beside you with a great deal of difficulty given her round belly. You could sympathize with her struggle, having been there not so long ago yourself. Her hand came to rest on the back of your head with loving strokes meant to soothe your nerves.

“I think that’s a great idea.” She agreed, offering you a gentle smile when you searched out her gaze. After a moment, you nodded and began to remove Birdie from her sling. Carol appeared with an extra blanket to cover you and shield the baby from the cold as you tried to nurse her. Daryl was hovering, shifting from foot to foot with his fingers digging into the strap of his crossbow. As much as you loved the man, his nervous energy wasn’t helping things in the slightest. 

“Why don’t you go hunting?” You suggested, reveling in the relief when Birdie quickly latched and her wailing ceased. Her little hiccups around enthusiastic gulps remained heartbreaking. The past few days had seen you begin to settle though the fraying of your nerves lingered. At least you were now aware of how much you loved your daughter and that you wouldn’t change a single moment that brought her barreling into your life. 

Daryl quickly shook his head in refusal, his already white-knuckled grip on that strap growing impossibly tighter. “Can’t leave ya here like this.”

You bit back the urge to yell at him, make the demand that he go. He meant well. “Please?” He wrestled with indecision, his expression damn near crumbling before he skillfully schooled it with a sigh.

“Fine.” He huffed at the same time that he took a single step toward you. He seemed to think better of it and turned on a heel while stripping his weapon from his back. “Be back in a hour an’ we can move on.” You knew as well as he did that there was little to no game to satisfy the group’s hunger. He was only trying to placate you. The two of you needed time alone, needed to talk and work through the tension between you. 

With an inward sigh, you watched him disappear into the trees and shushed Birdie when she released your nipple and began to squirm and fuss. 

“So,” Lori began, “am I looking at the future Mrs. Dixon?” Her question caught you off guard, your eyes shooting wide even as you stared straight ahead. Only when she tapped the back of her hand against your arm did you acknowledge her and her request to take Birdie. Passing the baby off, you adjust your clothing and draped the extra blanket over your daughter.

“How did you—”

“He asked my advice.” Lori carefully arranged Birdie against the front of her shoulder, alternating between patting and rubbing the little one’s back. Tiny grunts and squeaks sounded from beneath the blanket, an audible passing of gas following close behind. The experienced mother turned toward where Hershel had sat to rest as well. “Maybe a touch of colic?” There was that word again. 

The older man hummed. “Could be. I’ll fetch the drops.” You felt bad watching him struggle to his feet from the forest floor, but couldn’t be persuaded to do so yourself. You were just too damn tired.

“What is colic?” You asked, your brow drawing inward. It was obviously not a danger to your baby, given Hershel’s lack of serious concern, but if something was hurting her, it was hurting you. The very thought of her pain had tears springing to your eyes.

“It just means that she’s uncomfortable. It might be the lack of protein in your diet. It could be gas. There’s no real explanation. She’s just—not feeling well. It’s nothing to worry about except she won’t be easily soothed for a while.” Her lips thinned into a sad smile. “It’s nothing and a lot all at once.”

“I’ll take her.” Carol offered whilst petting your hair as Lori had just a few moments prior. Extricating Birdie from Lori’s arms, she bounced the infant tenderly against her chest. “Y/N, will you come find me once you’ve finished up here?” Sporting a questioning look, you still nodded and watched her walk away after returning the gesture.

“He asked your advice?” You stared toward the empty space of Carol’s retreat for a moment longer before turning your attention to Lori. This time, her smile was genuine if not cheeky. 

“He did.”

“Hey—Hey, uh, can I ask ya somethin’?” 

She hadn’t really noticed Daryl approaching but that wasn’t surprising. He was a hunter and stealth was something in which he excelled. Lori paused in her stirring and tapped the spoon on the side of the kettle. The beans had yet to even begin to heat over the small fire inside the house, so she had a few minutes to spare.

“Of course.”

Daryl had changed so much over the course of the months he had been with the group, and she had you to thank for such a large part of that. And now, she had little Birdie to thank as well. The man was going to make an excellent father, despite his lack of confidence.Though she knew so little, she was aware he wrestled with unnamed demons, but you were there to help see him through it. He would be just fine. All three of you would.

“I, uh—well—” The archer rubbed at the back of his neck, something she noticed he did when he was uncomfortable. “Ain’t good at any’a this shit, so m’just gonna say it.” Lori raised her eyebrows when he paused to chew intently on the side of his thumb. “Wanna ask Y/N to, y’know—to marry me.” Her first instinct was to cheer, to celebrate his commitment, but thoughts of Rick—of Shane—trampled any immediate joy and ushered in skepticism. “You’re sure?”

Daryl scoffed. “Course m’sure! Lookit what she went through—what she just did for me. Why wouldn’t I wanna make ‘er my wife?” The confusion—the utter exasperation—on his face gave her pause but she continued.

“But do you love her?” She asked. Daryl wiped a hand down his face, ending with running the length of his index finger across his bottom lip. “It’s not a hard question, Daryl. Do you love her?” She didn’t realize—or maybe she did—how difficult it was for the man to admit something that deep to anyone but you. She wasn’t aware that he had said it before, had said it in the van, in the presence of the Greene’s and Carol, but whether or not they had heard was not something he had bothered to care about during that pivotal moment. 

Finally, Daryl sighed, his voice quiet. “I love ‘er. Yeah.”

Lori felt something in her chest release, a strong sense of relief and—if she were being honest—jealousy overwhelming her senses, making it impossible to speak for a moment. Gathering her bearings, she nodded and turned back to the pot, picking up the spoon to begin stirring. “Then you just ask her.” She sniffed, tilting her head just so in order to hide her tears from him. She was happy for you, compellingly so, but there was no denying the sadness that weighed on her own heart. Still, this wasn’t about her. This was about you—her friend. “Don’t rehearse lines or try to make it perfect. You just ask her. On the spot and from the heart.”

She heard the quiet hum from the side. It was the most straightforward form of acceptance toward her answer that she was bound to get from him. As his bootfalls receded into whispers on far away hardwood, she smiled.

Try or not, he was going to make it something that would mean the world to you.

You wiped away a tear and sniffled, consumed with a fresh wave of guilt for how you had been treating him as of late. He was handling your mood swings with grace, never lashing out, even if you did see him bite his tongue on more than one occasion. He had every right. Hormones or not, he deserved better than what you had been giving him.

“Thanks.” You whispered.

“So?”

You sniffled a second time, wiping at both of your eyes. “So what?”

Lori chuckled, her hands on either side of her belly. “Did you say yes?” 

You smiled and shook your head, recalling the moment to the forefront of your mind—hearing his tone, summoning the myriad of emotions you had experienced. It really was a Daryl Dixon proposal and it couldn’t have been more perfect. “I said yes.” You gave an indignant oomf as you were pulled against Lori, her arms squeezing as tightly as they could manage. “Wait, wait, wait.” You laughed, patting her back in an effort to coerce her into releasing her hold. When she let go, you sat back, expression light. “We’re keeping it quiet for now, making it official later.”

“Why?”

You shrugged. “A lot can happen in a short amount of time. He could change his mind.” Especially with these fucking mood changes. 

“You’re right.” She agreed. You shot her a look, almost as if you had been expecting her to disagree with you. “ A lot can change. We don’t know what’s going to happen even in the next few minutes.” She paused. “Who we might lose.” Leaning forward, she cupped your face and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Think about it.” You studied her for a moment, the sadness and apprehension radiating from your friend and forming a veil over you that was almost smothering. You nodded. “Good. Now go see what Carol wants. I think I need a nap.” She gave you an encouraging smile and didn’t move as you stood, looking over your shoulder at her before you disappeared to find the other woman and your daughter.

It wasn’t hard to do. Not at all. You just followed the loud exclamations of a disgruntled infant. As you approached, you could tell your daughter had just been given a fresh diaper and was in the process of being swaddled. The cold, flat ground beneath her couldn’t have been helping things. The weather was warming but at a slow rate Regardless, you had no idea what was coming next: what Carol would share with you and the disaster that would follow.

“Oh, hey.” She greeted, patting the ground next to her. The lack of her usual gentle tone and welcoming smile were your first clues that something was amiss. She sighed heavily, not meeting your eyes once you were cross-legged at her side. Her hand was splayed over the top of the blanket, gently rubbing circles over Birdie’s belly. “There’s something I want to tell you—advice, if I can even call it that.” She said solemnly. You weren’t sure where her thoughts were at that moment but it was somewhere dark, somewhere in a place she had deserted since the deaths of Ed and Sophia.

“What is it?” You needlessly adjusted the knit hat on Birdie’s head; pulled the hood of the tiny jumpsuit more snug around her little round face.

“Babies cry, Y/N. It’s how they tell us when they need something. It’s the only way they can tell us.” Why was she schooling you on something you had already learned? And in such a monotonous fashion? “I don’t want Rick to be right but there are dangers and few options if a herd follows the noise.” She sighed heavily, her shoulders held slumped under an invisible weight. “I don’t like it but it’s fact.”

“I know that, Carol.” 

“It’s just—” When you looked away from the baby, your gaze was immediately drawn to the lone tear straying from her closed eyes. “When Sophia was born, she was—she was such a quiet baby.” Her words came so softly, so full of melancholic nostalgia that you felt your own heart clench. Then, when her eyes opened, they were hard, her expression stern and twisted. “He gave me a break. Ed.” She didn’t even need to say his name. You knew. “A couple of weeks before the—old habits came back. The bruises, the screaming.” She was trembling, her hand leaving Birdie to curl into a fist on top of her knee.

“Carol, we don’t have to—”

“Sophia felt it.” She nodded, staring off to nowhere in particular. “That energy—she began to cry, she was so unsettled. Ed didn’t like it. Shut her up or I will, he would say.” She bent forward, her face crumbling as her hand slid up to twist into the front of her jacket. “I didn’t want to do it, but I didn’t know how else to keep her safe.”

You waited her out, terrified of what she was about to tell you. When you said nothing, she inhaled deeply and released her hold on the coat, stroking the back of a knuckle over Birdie’s cheek.

“Y/N, I am going to show you something. I only ask that you please try not to think less of me.” Your mouth was moving but no sound emerging, your wide eyes watching her lean over your daughter, shushing the discontented cries. “I would never hurt your daughter, just as I would have never hurt my own.” Before you could speak, she was pinching Birdie’s little nose with one hand and covering her mouth with the other. The crying ceased but the flailing did not, her little limbs jerking.

“Carol!” You threw yourself forward and snatched her wrists, pulling them away from your daughter, throwing the other woman off balance and onto her hip. Carol caught herself, her palm shoving toward you in a desperate gesture for you to calm down. “What the fu—”

“Look!” She pleaded, her head jerking toward the now silent baby.

Birdie was still, her tiny blue eyes open and searching, stunned. She wasn’t crying, not at that moment. Your jaw was agape, your mind warring between anger and bewilderment; between betrayal and understanding.

“You only do it for a moment, not long enough to cause any harm.” Carol sat up, tears flowing down her cheeks, unchecked. “I couldn’t let Sophia cry. I did what I had to do.” She shook her head adamantly, her eyes closed tightly as if she were trying to jar the unpleasant memories loose and out of her mind. “I don’t regret it. I don’t. She was safe from him.”

“I don’t—Carol, I can’t do that.” You were crying openly now, picturing yourself denying your daughter precious breath. Even just one attempt would break you, split you open from the inside out.

“I’m not telling you that you have to, but Y/N,” she paused, gathering herself back up onto her knees at your side. She intentionally kept space between the two of you. “Rick—he’s trying to keep us safe. You saw what those monsters were going to do to her. You’ve seen what walkers can and will do. Just until we find a car. Until—”

Your face was in your hands now, Birdie’s crying having picked back up. “What if I—”

“Only a moment, Y/N. She will catch her breath. Eventually, it—it trains her.” Carol hesitantly touched your shoulder, and you broke, bowing over your little one with open sobs. Your body trembled from the force of your crying, any sound muffled by the blanket pressing into your face. “I’m so sorry. I just want her to be safe. I want her to have a chance.”

The two of you stayed that way for an uncertain amount of time, long enough for your sobs to drain away into hiccups and whimpers. Sitting up, you roughly wiped at your face, red and puffy eyes frozen on your screaming baby. How could you do what she was suggesting? How? What would Daryl think? “I need to talk to Daryl.”

Carol nodded, but her expression screamed uncertainty. “Maybe you should show him.” She suggested. “He can see that it’s not hurting her.”

“The man wouldn’t even wipe her ass because he was afraid of hurting her, Carol.”

“You’re right. Maybe this was a bad idea. I shouldn’t have—I’m so sorry.”

She felt ashamed. You could see it all over her; her face, the way she began to curl in on herself. She was ashamed of something she was forced to do to keep her baby girl safe. And then she had lost Sophia. It was clear that Carol wasn’t proud of the way she had to ensure her child’s safety. It wasn’t a hack you go around bragging about at neighborhood get-togethers. It was survival.

“Show me what to do.”

Expression grim, Carol moved closer and instructed. The actions were so simple. It was the very idea itself that was so impossibly difficult. Pinching Birdie’s little nose, the baby gasped wetly through her mouth just as your hand was coming down to cover it. Your heart was seizing, vibrating painfully in your chest. Just as your fingertips touched her cheek—

“What the fuck are you doin’?!”

Daryl.

[kiyo-cant-write]

hi hi! jade req again, kinda toxic this time

can we get jade with a reader who’s really easy to manipulate and they know it? idk if it makes sense but like jade realizing reader isn’t oblivious to his manipulation, just kinda self-destructive and hopelessly into him

jade thought he was being slick because reader wasn’t calling him out on anything, but he overhears their conversation and finds out that they’re fully aware jade is a ton of red flags but is still staying anyway, and his reaction to that

i really hope this makes sense! idk how to word it

jade w/ an easily manipulated reader ✧･ﾟ

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Aw! Thank you for another request! I love Jade and Octavinelle so much! I hope that I did your idea justice. Please let me know if you'd like another request in the future! Onwards to the story! ^^

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Summary: Jade Leech has been stringing [Name] along for fun and due to the instruction of Octavinelle's Housewarden. He thought he was doing well... but it seems [Name] may have had ulterior motives.

TW/CW: Toxicity but the standard Fish Mafia kind

Notes: established "relationship", they/them pronouns for the reader, the reader is Yuu/Ramshackle Prefect, the reader is described as human and younger than Jade/frosh, ADeuce if you squint, implied to be post-Azul OB

Guest Stars: Deuce Spade, Ace Trappola, Grim, Azul Ashengrotto & Floyd Leech (referenced)

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✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

Jade Leech

As much of a sadist as Jade can be, he's not exceptionally cruel outside of what he deems as the necessity for his purposes.

He is a bit smug when he thinks he has [Name] under control.

Jade is pretending to be "honor student Jade Leech."

He acts as their friend and support albeit for the Lounge.

He pretends to care, to do everything to help them.

He smiles at them, speaks politely, and even "affectionately."

They trust him and they tell him things they shouldn't.

He will use those bits of information when the time comes.

Every time they have an inkling of doubt, he squashes it.

His surprise is evident when Floyd points out that it might not be the case this time, but Floyd is Floyd and doesn't explain.

Wanting to make sense of this discovery, Jade observes [Name].

He watches to see if [Name] really has caught onto him.

Jade is intrigued and what he finds does not disappoint.

He is surprised to find that they caught on long ago.

But they stayed? Why?

Because they "love" him?

Why would they love the guy trying to string them along?

It didn't make sense to him. He felt a tug at his heartstrings.

Did he feel bad about this?

He didn't know what to do.

Jade starts to avoid [Name] after realizing their feelings.

He retracts further into his honor student persona.

[Name] will not win this fight. He will not be bested by a freshman.

The battle has just begun and Jade needs to bury this sinking feeling in his chest. What does it mean anyway?

Floyd serves as a live studio audience to Jade's struggles.

Jade is an observer. That had been his role for so long, that he wasn't sure when it began. Ever since he was young, he would watch and calculate while Floyd was the type to rush into things, be impulsive, and just a tad stupid at times, at least when they were young. Jade never intended to make his observations a skill, but sooner or later, everything becomes an asset.

That's what his father had always said.

His mother worried about the sadistic streak in her son, but she couldn't do anything to prevent its development. Jade was, after all, a member of the Leech family. He and Floyd would join the family business sooner or later unless they wholly refused its offer.

"[Full Name]," Jade mused to himself, "How interesting."

Azul had been the one to ask him to pay extra close attention to Ramshackle's Prefect in case they strayed too far from things, or got into any trouble. The magicless human that had saved others from themselves, they interested the owner of Mostro Lounge. Jade had simply agreed with Azul's request, observation was his skill, after all.

It had never been meant to evolve, and certainly not into this.

Jade watched as this person fell for his polite words hook, line, and sinker. It was almost too easy. They were shockingly trusting, telling him all sorts of things he could use to be downright evil if he wanted to be. It wasn't time for that, not yet, but one should always guard their secrets (perhaps not as much as Azul, but at least a bit).

He didn't need to do anything unless the moment called for it.

At the time, it had not been necessary.

That was weeks ago.

Azul hadn't given further instructions and, to be fair about it, Jade didn't want to earn that octomer's ire. Not today, anyway. He and Floyd were troublesome, yes, but not stupid.

So, as Azul had instructed, he was trailing the Prefect until told otherwise (or until it became boring, whichever arose first). Though their reactions had been predictable, he could argue that things were getting boring now.

Floyd would have given up ages ago, he was sure of it.

[Full Name] was currently spending their time with their classmates, Ace Trappola (easily swayed by competition and bets) and Deuce Spade (note: gullible as a child). Jade had kept an eye on the three of them (and Grim) because of their closeness. It was rather irritating how buddy-buddy they were. He had worked a bit to get [Name] alone those few times they had spoken privately.

Standing away from the trio, Jade listened in on their conversation.

"[Name], I don't think that this is good," Deuce told them, clearly worried for their friend's mental state, "You need to be more careful. Don't you remember what happened to me and Ace?"

"I fucking remember!" Ace chimed in, "It sucked. Don't trust fish."

"Nya! Fish are food, not friends," Grim told them, "Especially eels!"

"Ah... You guys..."

Jade almost wanted to chuckle at Grim's words of "wisdom" but he withheld it, knowing that he mustn't give away his position. Not yet.

"You shouldn't trust Leech-senpai," Deuce continued, "Do you not remember how he and his twin brother acted before?"

"THEY TRIED TO KILL US, [NICKNAME]!!" Ace interrupted Deuce, earning him a glare from the navy-haired boy, "Sorry, Deuce-chan."

"Don't call me that."

What Deuce was doing could only be described as glowering.

"Lighten up and help me convince [Nickname] not to get themselves murdered by a shady eel and a shadier octopus!" Ace told him, slapping Deuce on the shoulder, "Just because they're better doesn't mean they're changed fish! Fish are suspicious!"

"Ace, do you have some fish-related trauma outside of campus that I should know about?" Deuce asked him, "It's starting to seem—"

"FOCUS ON [NICKNAME], DEUCE."

Ace's reddened face was a sign that Deuce was on to something with that fishy nonsense. Jade Leech would remember that fact.

Fish trauma. Noted.

"....Okay," Deuce agreed, turning back to [Name], "Do you want to tell us what you've been doing with Leech-senpai? We're worried..."

Deuce trailed off for a moment before he added a Deuce-typical offer.

"I can fight him if you want me to. They're messing with my friend."

"N-no thanks, Deuce... I don't think I need that," [Name] said, laughing at the antics of her friends and roommate, "Honestly, I know he's not being honest with me... But I don't really... care?"

The words surprised Jade but he refused to give himself away. There was more information to be gathered, for his own needs and Azul's.

They don't mind my dishonesty? Heh...

"I have never been more concerned for you than I am right now," Ace said, tone lacking its usual goofy undertone, "Do you want me to tell Mom and Dad about anything? They would help..."

Ace wasn't sure what to do but this was a worry. So frantic to say his sentence Ace neglected to register his misnomer for Vice Housewarden Trey Clover and everyone's favorite senpai Cater Diamond. He could lay awake and think about that later.

Deuce clearly felt similarly as he reached out to put a hand on [Name]'s. He wasn't good at solving problems of the emotional variety but he could be a support. Or, he would try to be one.

"Even if we can't say anything helpful... We can be here to listen."

"I appreciate it, but I'm fine," [Name] tried to assure them (but it wasn't working), "I just... I like Jade-senpai... and if this is how... he will talk to me... then I am okay with it. I've just been going along with all... that."

Jade felt time stop for a millisecond as he processed the words. They had been "playing along"? They didn't fall for every trick? Perhaps this was more interesting than he had thought. Still. He didn't like being bested, perhaps he needed to up his game...

"[Name], that's not good... I don't think..." Deuce managed.

"I wish Mom and Dad were here..." Ace mumbled.

"[Name], don't leave me for a fish! It's not even tuna!"

Grim clung to his human with small paws, tail swishing.

Jade was baffled not by those that Azul had previously controlled but by [Name] themself. They were something odd amongst the students of Night Raven College. They didn't shy away from his... methods.

But they said they liked him. He wondered if that made him feel something. He wasn't one to like other people, stay around them long... especially these landfolk.

It was a foreign concept.

Oh dear. [Full Name], you've managed to intrigue me now.

To the concern of Deuce, Ace, and Grim, Jade Leech wouldn't be letting his human prey go any time soon. Not for Azul, or his brother... This was something he was pursuing now. For better or worse.

I hope they're prepared to best me once more.

What would they say if I said I "loved" them? ♪

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Imagine the rest for yourself~

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Thank you for reading! Likes and reblogs are appreciated! Do NOT repost my writing/headcanons as your own >:c Check the top of my blog for the inbox status and read the rules before requesting. This is not a twst-only blog! ^^

[jinkiezzsstuff]

Met the Devil 2

lucifer x human!reader

sorry this took forever it’s been hectic i guess im in my fanfic writer era of madness happening and mentioning it in the a/n (im joking… unless) anyways lads hopefully this is okay womp womp

Part [1]

Based on devilish folklore and wives tales so lucifer may be ooc!

Warnings: BODYHORROR; DESCRIPTIONS OF TEETH FALLING OUT. Mentions of blood, reader dies a goofy ahh death, lucifer being an unsure wreck, and he’s got no game, reader is perpetually confused, inaccurate descriptions of religion, swearing, not proof read and i don’t entirely know where i’m going with this teehee lmk whatcha think xxx

word count: 3.1K

Three months, it had been three exhausting months since the incident with Lucifer. As if there was some devine intervention, everything seemed to fall at your feet working out for you, while also simultaneously sucking. Career wise, you were doing much better, after working for Marie and watching her house keeping it exactly how she wished, excluding the devil you had intercourse with, she put in a word for you at her and her husbands church, which you ended up getting.

Although not a very important role, it paid well. You were mostly in charge of cleanliness, cleaning the areas in the front where children played, keeping the holy fountain fresh, sweeping the pews and repairing any unbinded bibles. However the staff weren’t particularly fond of you, the nuns avoided you like the plague, and the priest gave you glares. Thankfully you rarely interacted with them if at all.

However, while your career was better than before, your physical health wasn’t. Things tanked once you slept with the devil. It started slow, noticing hues appear in your skin that you hadn’t before. Despite the various skin, and blood tests, and the general run down of different illnesses that cause changing pigmentation, there was no evidence to prove anything was truly wrong, just random hues of pinks, purples and blues showing up like you were some corpse.

The second minuet thing to change was your nails, at first you foolishly wondered if your calcium intake increased causing the thickness in your nails to double, but you quickly scrapped that al when your nails grew more rapidly. You really hadn’t changed much diet wise for that to be true, odd as it was it wasn’t something you hated.

The worst of it was teeth. One night you woke to a horrific splitting headache, it wasn’t just one part of your head either. The pain seared through your jaw, down your neck, up your face through your cheeks and in the back of your eyes all the way to the tip top of your head. You walked half asleep half dazed from pain to the bathroom, once the light blinded you and you got woken up a bit was when your brain registered the feeling.

Your mouth filled with the metallic taste of blood as you tuned into the sound of tapping in your mouth as the loose teeth collided. When you threw yourself over your sink spitting continuously, you immediately began to cry feeling your empty gums with your tongue, and the worst part was it seemed you had swallowed some too as the amount in the sink didn’t amount to how much was missing.

That night you must’ve passed out because you were woken up by your angry family member shouting at you to hurry. The strangest thing was, however you awoke with teeth, sharp as razors, and the porcelain sink that was never cleared of blood or teeth was now cleaned.

Since your teeth, you managed to not lose nor gain any other strange things, and the only people who didn’t seem to look past these oddities were the people who attended the church or worked at it. It was like they could tell you slept with Lucifer, something in their eyes always felt so intense and aware even if they’d never spoken to you before. The strangeness didn’t end with your appearance or career.

You had weird dreams you couldn’t explain, it felt so real but once awake you could only remember how you felt about the dream. You had close interactions with certain animals, like ducks, goats, crows, and insects as well. It was like they sought you out no matter where you were, people would give you looks when you started greeting the goat like an old friend.

So,now three months after Lucifer, you changed a lot. You know it’s because of him, you just can’t figure out why, but soon you’ll know. Walking into your work place on your day off, everybody’s least favourite thing to do, but it had to be done. You saw the father reading a bible off to the side of the room, and so you approached. He gave you a stern look, and you could tell by his stiff and shifty body language he wasn’t too happy with your presence, antsy to see what it is you wanted.

“Good afternoon father, how’re you?” You start, standing in a way you perfected prior to attempt to seem unthreatening. The priest hummed closing his bible to pay attention to you. “Good child, good. How’re you, is there something i could aid you in?” Straight to the point, mentally you cheered happy you didn’t have to waltz around small talk for fifteen minutes.

“Well i’m alright father, thank you. I was actually wondering about, um, the devil?” The priest's head lulls back slightly eyebrows raised as his mouth opens with a silent o. “Is there temptation in your life?” You shifted on your feet at the question. You hadn’t really thought of it before but you suppose you felt more inclined to act without thinking,and indulge especially after Lucifer claimed you.

“Well yes, but i was more so wondering on what the devil is capable of? Like making deals, and stuff…” You trail eyes casted away to the large sculpture of jesus on the wall. “Nothing, the devil isn’t as strong as gods love. And never in the bible does it state the devil makes deals, that is but a wives tale.” The priest spoke sternly, punctuating his words to get his point across.

This was news to you however, you always thought the devil was more of a a character in the bible. “Father one more question?” You say head snapping back to look at him. “If the devil were to have intercourse with a person, what’s said to be the outcome? Will god punish?” The poor priest looked like he’d seen a ghost, yet you couldn’t comprehend why. Although slightly morbid you didn’t think the question was that out there, perhaps it was the monotonous way you’d said it.

“I’m afraid i don’t have the answer to that,” And with that the priest stood, excusing himself from your conversation walking off down the isle. “I heard the devil picks somebody to carry the antichrist.” Turning to the voice, there sat a woman, old looking wearing a light blue dress. “The anti christ?” You repeat mostly to yourself, but the elderly woman hummed. “Yep. Woo’s the target, sleeps with them, and they give birth to the antichrist. Bad things happen once the child’s born.” The woman explained turning to look back at you.

“And, what if there’s no anti christ, what if the devil just like…” The old lady cackled looking at your puzzled face. She tsked and ushered you near. When in front of her she met your eyes, again with that weirdly all knowing look on them everyone in the church seemed to give you. Holding out her hand to you, you opened yours holding it out to her.

She placed something in your hand but you weren’t able to know what it was before you dropped it shrieking. It was like gripping a hot coal, you gripped your wrist keeled over trying to breath out the pain. Your eyes briefly glanced over to the floor where the object dropped and sitting there was a gold rosary covered in what was more than likely your blood. Peaking up from your bent over position the old woman had took several steps back from you, hand up to her mouth.

Not knowing what to do, you perked up, thanked her for her input, and sped out to the street. Just like the night you met him, the sky darkened and clashed with lightning, then came the rain. The devil himself must’ve worked through water with the way it was a constant anytime something happened.

Walking down the street at leisure, you inspected the wound the rosary left as rain pelted you like no tomorrow. You sighed brushing your thumb over the large cross shaped gash. Suddenly a crack of lightning came down brightly, it was harsh and so very bright. Then another crack, this time however you felt the harshest pain describable. It was like being lit on fire inside your body, or like your blood was suddenly filled with glass shards and you could feel them coursing through.

You couldn’t scream too in pain, you simply slumped to the floor, the searing pain engulfing your body. As your eyes closed, it felt like the floor was sucking you down, but you couldn’t move. You couldn’t even will your eyes to open as you felt the concrete below you begin to engulf you fully. Your lungs burnt as you couldn’t breathe, but like any other regular circumstance where you’d gasp for breath, you were physically unable to. Like you’re body didn’t know how to breath, so you sat there chest feeling tight, burning and your stomach feeling like it was forcing itself inward but nothing changed.

As torturous as it was, it was short lived and finally you felt freed. The concrete beneath you morphed into something softer cozier, the breathlessness left finally you were able to fill your lungs with air almost as refreshing as a glass of water would’ve been, and when you opened your eyes you were greeted by the sight of a bedroom. It was decorated with whites, reds and golds, around you could see engraved apples and ducks in not only the door frames and baseboards but some of the furniture as well.

You couldn’t will yourself to sit up, you still felt the fire on the inside of your body albeit gentler than before. “Hey cookie.” Cooed a smooth voice, you didn’t have to look to know who it was, but thankfully he stepped in front of you, kneeling down to your laying figure. “How you feeling?” You stared at his face, scanning it over and over, his eyes were hauntingly beautiful. The red irises danced around nervously, you watched intently as his forked tongue brushed against the dryness of his lips.

“You’re beautiful.” You mutter half muffled by the fact you sunk comfortably into the mattress that you lay on. Chuckling quietly the king of hell turned and sat on the side of the bed, petting your head very gently like you were made of glass. “Where am i?” His hand stuttered on your head, and finally you rolled over onto you back to gain the view of him. His hat discarded, his suit jacket gone, he sat only in a vest, dress shirt, and his white suit pants.

“Hell, sweetheart.” It was interesting how warmly he had said that to you, looking down at you with almost a pitying expression. “I’m dead?” You jerked up, immediately regretting it as the pain shot through your body from the top of your head down. Sucking in air through your teeth, clenching your eyes shut Lucifer cooed at you reprimanding you for being too quick. “God must’ve struck you down.” His voice lifted as he let out his attempt at a joke, but you weren’t really in the mood to laugh.

“What happened, with me when i was alive.” You ask looking over to him, the expression he had looked slightly guilty, his eyes casted downward, a frown that tried to be a poker face- but failed. “I, well y’see, heh,” Lucifer fumbled picking at his nails and looking around the room. He bounced himself against the mattress almost like he was amping himself up. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay! So y’know you got some human repellant, claws, sharp teeth, that dead look. Sent some little guardians after you! Too bad you couldn’t meet the snake.” Lucifer tisked mournfully shaking his head.

You smiled at him, oddly enough, it was quite endearing that he set out to do these things to keep you safe. “Oh!” He sprung up meeting your eyes properly. “I also made Marie get you that job, and I forced a good pay, always here to help y’know.” The king briefly pinched your cheek before retracting and standing. He looked frazzled, uncertain, he pulled at his clothes like he was trying to fix them. “Sorry it’s been awhile. Y’know i gave up going to earth in like 1850.” The devil laughed out, scratching the back of his neck.

You scooted yourself to the edge of the bed, Lucifer watching intently. “So, what, well I mean, why…?” You were confused head bobbing as you tried to make sense of everything. Things didn’t entirely add up this you were certain of, and you could tell the king was keeping something hidden from you. “As you know hell is well, it’s hell, and you were so…” He trailed off hands circling eachother as he gazed off into space, attempting to find the right words.

Deflating his body slumped over, in one foul swoop it looked as though he’d lost all the will to keep up his charade. “Look I didn’t think you were gonna shake my hand, but in the moment I was hooked on you. The night you took the apple reminded me of days of my life i can’t go back to. So i may have indulged, but i didn’t expect you to be soooo,”

Your eyebrows pinched together as you watched him with judgement, giving him a look that egged him on, yet warned him. “Captivating?” You ‘hmphed’ at his term, as weak and guilty grin overtaking his face. “Okay okay. I enjoyed our night, you gave me advice and helpful conversation I haven’t gotten in, pfft,” He was now pacing, eyes wide as his arms wrapped around himself as a way to secure him.

“Ever, you were a breath of fresh air! I didn’t expect the deal to go through! I didn’t expect you to grab my hand, so when you sold your soul you started to gain those devilish features. I wanted to make sure you were still safe so I manipulated Marie, got you the job, but nothing else was planned!” He exclaimed hands coming up in defence, although it wasn’t like you were angry, you sat there patiently watching him and waiting for him to finish his explanation at his own pace. Understanding this was probably just as stressful for him, if what he says is true.

Blowing out air the king pulled gently at his hair. “I don’t know what to do from here, I sent animals to protect you, I knew something would happen, damnit!” The short man raged eyes blowing up red, that snapped you up, gently you grabbed his shoulders. “I believe you, I have no idea what’s going on either so it’s okay! I’m terrified, but you don’t look any better. Maybe we can figure it out together?” You suggest attempting to be a voice of reason, watching his eyes hue from bright red to the yellow and red irises you’re more familiar with.

He sighed and nodded looking slightly embarrassed. “Do you think we could set some ground rules?” You quirked a brow at that, watching as he once again began to pace. “My daughter, Charlie, we spoke about her, she can’t know I made a deal with you! And for now, she can’t know i did anything sexual. Oh no no no. NO!” Lucifer panicked, switching between gripping his hair and swinging his arms around. It felt like a stab in the gut, it wasn’t your first time being a secret, but you wish you could’ve kept the promise you made to yourself about getting into another situation where you were just a secret fling.

“I’m not gonna pretend that doesn’t get under my skin slightly, I’d prefer not to be the devil's dirty secret, but I understand what Charlie means to you so I’ll do whatcha need.” Lucifer looked at you sheepishly, it seemed like he slightly regretted the choice of delivery as you crossed your arms across your chest, looking at him with a tinge of disgust in your eye. “Okay next, uh let's see, okay you’ll pose as my assistant and you’ll spend the days with me so I can keep an eye on ya….”

You quirk your head, pondering if you should say what you want to say. Which was questioning him and the motive here, it’s normal to say things you don’t always mean in such an intense moment of sex fueled emotion, but now there’s a big consequence and you’re not sure if he really knows what he wants to do. “Hey,” You say quietly grabbing him from his frantic mumbling that he was doing to himself. He hummed at you, his attention refocused on you as he did. ���Do you at all regret the deal.”

Lucifers eyes blew wide, his lips puckering as his fingers fiddled with each other. “Regret is a very loaded work y’know- uh, I think- eh, maybe if- okay so,” He fumbled his wings popping out feathers flying around as they did, they puffed out with stress making you gawk. “Uhm, I wouldn't do it again if I had the choice! But still I would've wanted the sex!” Finally he pumped his chest proudly, meanwhile you rolled your eyes. “That’s what most men would do, yeah.” Your tone was bitter, catching him off guard a bit, to be fair he didn’t know what you wanted from him. Normally deals were two sided, but this one you benefited nothing from, except trauma and an early grave.

“I didn’t mean that,” Damn he really lost his way after Lilith huh, every flirtation came out so naturally but now it seemed it was so unsure, no king of a whole mini word of demons should be unsure, he mentally scolded himself for being so unfit.

“Listen can we figure this out later, I still feel the pain from when I died, so I would love to sleep that off.” You say plopping yourself back on the comfy mattress. “Yes, yes of course go ahead! We’ll figure this out together hm, shedevil? Won’t leave you in the dark!” This time his exclamation sounded certain as he jumped into the bed with you, snapping his fingers so the lights blinked out. You hummed too lazy to respond and crawled underneath the covers, it was nice, warm and smelt like him, underneath the covers you felt him slip in with you, his body heat emitting off of him in waves.

You hoped your mind was less clouded tomorrow, hopefully you could have a better conversation with the king about this deal, get things sorted out.

[wholoveseggs]

I see ur taking requests 🙈🙈 can u maybe do an Elijah smut where he’s gentle af with reader cuz she’s human 🤭 I think it would be cute.. also I love ur writing

Gentle

18+ ---- {Masterlist}

As movie night with Elijah gets heated, you voice your insecurities and he dispels your fears.

~Thanks for the request anon ♡♡ I believe Elijah is always gentle, unless you ask for him not to be (◕‿↼)~

2.7k words - Warnings: smut, riding, oral sex.

You had been with Elijah for about three months and things had been going well. However, the only problem was that you hadn't had sex yet. You'd wanted to take it slow and he was completely fine with that.

He was a vampire, one with centuries of experience, it intimidated you. He had been nothing but a gentleman and had always treated you with the utmost respect. But the fear still lingered in the back of your mind, was he expecting someone who knew what they were doing? Someone who knew what they liked? What if you couldn't satisfy him? Or he could hurt you, not intentionally of course, but he was a lot stronger than you.

You couldn't voice these fears to him, afraid he would think less of you or leave you. You really didn't want to lose him, especially over this.

That was until one day you were at his place, cozying up to him on the sofa as you watched a movie. There was a particularly erotic scene playing on the screen and it was causing all sorts of reactions in your body. Elijah had an arm draped over your shoulder and you felt his eyes on you. Your breath caught in your throat as his gaze darkened, the desire evident. He looked away, trying to concentrate on the film but you weren't making it easy. The tension in the air was palpable, causing you to squirm slightly. You saw his eyes dart to the movement and the corner of his mouth turned up in a slight smirk. A gasp escaped your lips as he pressed a light kiss against the crook of your neck. You arched into the touch and the hand on your shoulder began tracing up and down your arm. He pulled back, looking deep into your eyes, his gaze full of lust.

"Are you enjoying the movie?" He asked, the smirk evident on his face.

"I, uh…"

"You seem rather distracted." He pressed another kiss against your neck and you could feel the smirk against your skin.

His lips captured yours, the kiss slow and gentle. You tangled your hands in his hair, pulling him closer. His hands ran down your sides and gripped your waist, pulling you onto his lap. His hands rested on your hips and he hummed into the kiss.

Your hands began to tremble, your heart beating wildly in your chest. This was the most heated the two of you had ever gotten, it was only a matter of time before things progressed. You wanted it, you really did, but you were just so nervous.

"Tell me what's wrong," he mumbled, pulling away from the kiss.

You shook your head. "It's nothing."

"I can sense when you're nervous, it's radiating off you."

You bit your lip, his brown eyes searched your face and you knew he could sense the doubt inside of you. You wanted him, your body was practically screaming out for his, but you were afraid.

"I've never been with a vampire before. What's it like? Is it different for you?" You asked

"I've never had any complaints," Elijah replied, a cheeky smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

He could sense that his answer didn't make you feel any better and his expression softened. You looked down, unable to meet his eyes. He took hold of your chin and gently made you look at him.

"You have nothing to be nervous about. It's just you and me here. You don't need to do anything you're not comfortable with." He said

You gave a nod. He brushed his thumb over your bottom lip before he leaned in and pressed a kiss to your lips. Your fingers went to the buttons of his shirt, undoing them slowly, with shaking hands. He watched you closely, smiling softly as he allowed you to pull the garment off his shoulders, tossing it somewhere to the side.

"It does feel different for vampires," he began, his hands slowly moving up your thighs and under your dress. 

"Everything is heightened, each sensation is more intense," he paused to kiss your neck as he pushed up your dress, bunching it around your waist. 

"More pleasurable." He continued, lifting your dress over your head, so you were only in your bra and panties.

You reached around and unhooked your bra, letting it drop, his eyes remained on you the entire time. He grabbed your ass and pulled you closer, a pleasured gasp leaving your lips. His kisses were light, teasing, grazing across the sensitive skin of your neck. You fumbled for his belt, trying to get his pants undone. You felt like your fingers were heavy and clumsy, as you struggled to unbutton him. He chuckled softly as your cheeks flushed from frustration.

"Let me."

His lips claimed yours once more, a deep kiss, whilst his hand went between the two of you and made quick work of the button and zipper. You grabbed the waistband of his boxers, tugging down. He raised his hips, helping you push his clothing to his ankles. Once he was bare beneath you, you couldn't help but run your hands all over his chest, abs and pelvis, moving lower.

"You feel nice," you mumbled, your fingertips grazing over his cock.

"Mmm, you feel nice too." He hummed

His grip tightened on your ass and he pulled you forward a little more, so his cock rubbed against your panties. You gasped from the contact, it created a delicious friction, causing you to press yourself down on him, grinding into his erection. Your breathing picked up and your cheeks flushed.

His hand traveled down between you and he slowly pulled your panties aside. He curled two fingers in you, groaning at the tightness. He began slowly pumping you with his fingers, rubbing his thumb against your clit. Your eyes shut and your hands gripped his shoulders.

His lips remained on your skin, kissing and sucking, leaving marks on your flesh. You were incredibly worked up, moans tumbled out of your mouth and you cursed under your breath. Soon enough, your wetness was coating his hand. His other hand held you tighter and pulled you against him. You bucked your hips, rolling them back and forth, pressing down against his hand, riding his fingers.

Elijah pulled away to watch your face, admiring the blissful look that fell over it. Your cheeks were flushed pink, your eyes glazed over, as a silent moan got caught in your throat, your hips stuttering. You came undone, letting out a soft moan as you tightened around his fingers. He slowly pulled out of you and wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as you came down.

"Fucking beautiful," he murmured in your ear. You couldn't help but giggle at his comment, pressing your body against his, humming happily.

You leaned back, your eyes traveled south and you took in his impressive erection. Your heart began to speed up, your anxieties returning. It had been so long since you had sex, not to mention your last partner was human, they didn't have super-strength or centuries of experience. Your body tensed as a wave of uneasiness washed over you. He was perfect and you were afraid.

Elijah shifted you a little further down his lap, so his erection wasn't pressed against your pussy and placed his hands on your hips. You held him by his shoulders, gripping him tightly. The more your gaze lingered, the more uneasy you felt. This was Elijah. He wouldn't hurt you. But the doubt lingered, was he expecting someone with years of experience? Someone who knew what they were doing? What if you were the most disappointing fuck of his life?

"What do you like? Do you like it rough?" You asked nervously, your fingers tracing patterns on his chest.

"No, sweetheart. I want to be gentle and slow, to make you feel good." He spoke, his voice soft and tender. 

Your stomach did a somersault and warmth spread between your legs. He was looking into your eyes, running his hands over thighs. He cupped the back of your neck as he pulled you in for a kiss. Soft, sweet and slow, he didn't rush it, like he was savoring you. 

When you pulled back, your eyes slowly opened, pupils blown wide and heart racing in your chest. He reached up and brushed some hair from your face, placing a quick kiss to your forehead. You glanced down at his chest, feeling a bit shy, the anticipation making you dizzy.

"Would it make you feel better if you were in control?" he asked.

You bit the inside of your cheek. That actually sounded like a good idea, starting off in a position you could control. You nodded your head in response.

"Okay." He said simply, leaning forward kiss you.

You moaned when you felt the tip of his tongue slip past your lips, granting him access. His hand slid from your waist down to your thighs, nudging your panties aside, gently circling your clit. You were thankful that he wasn't rushing things and that he wanted to put your anxieties to rest first.

You sat up a little, guiding his cock to your cunt, lowering yourself slowly on to him, gasping once you were fully seated. One of his hands rested on your thigh, the other stroked your side, soothing you. He wouldn't rush, taking time to let you adjust and enjoy the feeling of him. You kept your hand on his shoulder for balance and you slowly began to grind against him.

His lips found yours and you could feel him everywhere, inside and out. Your moans were muffled by his kiss, his hands soon found your waist, helping to guide you. Your forehead pressed against his as you tried to catch your breath. The feeling of him inside you was intoxicating and you just had to have more. You sat up straighter and moved your hips, riding him slowly.

He groaned from the sensation and watched you with adoration, his hands firmly holding your waist as you picked up the pace, setting a rhythm. His hands moved to grab your ass, gently guiding your movements, hitting a particular spot that made your vision blur.

He kissed up your chest, neck and jaw, leaving soft bites as he went. A quiet, drawn-out moan escaped your throat and he swallowed the sound with a kiss. His hands went to your lower back, pulling you against him, you melted into his touch. Gasping, crying, moaning into the kisses and getting high on the lust you were exuding into the air.

"Do you know how beautiful you look right now?" Elijah whispered between kisses.

Your hands slid from his shoulders to the back of his neck, clasping there. He pressed you closer, and all of a sudden, he lifted you, keeping your bodies connected. He'd flipped your positions, you were now lying on the couch, Elijah above you.

"You're so perfect," he mumbled, a soft smile on his lips.

His hands moved your legs further apart, so they wrapped around his waist. His arms slipped under your back and he held you close, as he thrusted his hips slowly. You couldn't take your eyes off him, watching his face and enjoying the expression that overtook his features.

Each thrust was deep and slow, pulling soft whines from your mouth. There was a feeling of fire burning beneath your skin and all you wanted was for him to set you ablaze. You rocked your hips back and forth, meeting his thrusts. You clawed at his back, your nails leaving temporary marks. His hair hung in his eyes as his mouth trailed kisses across your neck. He tilted his head up to suck at your jawline. The sound of skin slapping skin and heavy breathing filled the room.

He was rolling his hips hard, the sound of your pleasured moans reaching his ears and his eyes roaming over your face. He was in awe, as he enjoyed the feeling of being inside you. You could tell he was close as he grunted and pounded into you, he still had enough sense to drag out your pleasure, his fingers rubbing against your clit. It was more than enough to push you over the edge.

He held you tightly, his hips moving erratically. He was moving much faster now, chasing his own orgasm. His teeth skimmed over your sensitive skin and his breathing was short and erratic. Your name tumbled from his mouth as he came, resting his forehead against yours as he closed his eyes. After he had caught his breath, he lifted his head and began to pull out, making his way down your sweat covered skin, covering your abdomen and hip bones in kisses.

He hooked your legs over his shoulders, pulling you further down the couch. You felt his nose run along the length of your pussy. You lifted yourself on your elbows to see him eye level with your cunt, his pupils blown wide with desire, his tongue running a stripe up your soaked slit and then slipping into your heat.

Your hands tangled in his hair, tugging at the strands in pleasure, murmuring his name. He began to suck on your sensitive clit, rolling his tongue over it. Your other hand gripped the couch, your toes curling, head tilting back and eyes squeezing shut. Your legs were already shaking and you felt like you were going to fall apart at any moment.

Elijah began to suck harder, drawing out your pleasure. His tongue was dancing back and forth across your clit as he pressed two fingers into your wet pussy. He curled them just right and hit your sweet spot, making your legs twitch and a moan of his name fell from your mouth. He increased the pressure and started pumping his fingers, pushing them deep inside you, your arousal dripped over his hand and your legs quivered. He sped up his efforts and a minute later you were gasping, letting out a long, drawn out moan as you came.

Your body sank down, breathing heavily as you came down from the high of your orgasms. His gaze remained on you, his eyes wandering over your body. He moved to lay next to you on the couch, pulling a blanket over you. His arms wrapped around you and your body molded to his, fitting perfectly, humming happily. You curled up against him and took hold of his hand, intertwining your fingers together.

You looked up at his face, his features soft and peaceful. He met your gaze and gave you a lazy smile, you leaned forward, placing a slow kiss on his lips. You snuggled closer and sighed, closing your eyes, getting lost in the feeling of happiness you felt.

"I'm sorry I was so nervous," you apologized, tracing circles on his chest.

"You have nothing to apologize for. I enjoyed it, as I do with every aspect of my time spent with you," he replied

His words were gentle and sincere, the praise did not go amiss and a smile tugged at the corner of your mouth. He moved his head, his mouth brushing over the shell of your ear.

"I enjoy every single second with you. Especially when you are moaning out my name. I can't wait to hear it again," he whispered.

"You're not tired?" you teased, a soft chuckle left your lips as you met his gaze.

"Vampire," he murmured, kissing your cheek. "Means I have an incredible refractory period."

He raised one of his eyebrows suggestively and wiggled them at you, making you giggle and playfully shove him, as you tried to stifle a laugh. He captured your mouth in a sweet kiss.

"Round two then? Or maybe three," you smirked against his lips.

He smiled as he pulled you closer, you were eager to continue what you started and neither of you were tired enough to stop yet. He definitely wasn't complaining.