#Ya gotta know when to hold em and know when to fold em

[chronurgy]

I keep seeing people saying it's ridiculous for people to decide they're not playing the game over this but.... Why? People play video games for a number of reasons and if any one thing was what interested them in the game, why would it be ridiculous not to play a game that doesn't have the things they're interested in?

[ladamedusoif]

Fuzzy socks (Joel Miller)

A Merry Fic-Mas - December 9

Characters: Joel Miller, Ellie Williams. References to Stargazer F!Reader from Starry Night.

Warnings: None; set in Jackson post-events of part one/S1; references to Christmas but secular; some swearing because Ellie

Summary: The best gifts are homemade.

Word count: 893

Part of A Merry Fic-Mas: A Holiday Fic Calendar - click for masterlist.

Follow @ladameecrit for my writing updates!

With thanks to @agentjackdaniels for inspiration for Joel’s gift, and to @sin-djarin for their beautiful little story and post about Joel making footprints in flour for Sarah, which inspired his memories.

For a long time Joel just didn’t think about the holidays. It was easy not to, living the life he did for all those years. They were best ignored when you were surviving on raids and scavenging missions, or just trying to make it through another day at the QZ.

Jackson forced him to think about the season again, with its illuminated tree and programme of community festivities marking the winter holidays. Ellie’s excitement was both a useful distraction and a painful reminder of an absence that could never be wholly filled.

He insisted he didn’t want gifts, that first year, but he did call to your door the day before Christmas Eve, somewhat sheepish and asking for help in getting something for Ellie.

“She deserves a gift on Christmas morning,” he’d explained. You gave him an old set of maps of the heavens - you’d manage with your atlas, knowing the night sky over Jackson well enough by now.

“She’ll know what to do, but send her my way if she’s got any questions.”

He held the maps in his gloved hands and thanked you quietly, a smile on his face but eyes shining with tears.

This year, Joel has carved and painted a little wooden sheep as his gift. The wooden base is painted to resemble the surface of the moon, and the sheep’s woolly coat is dotted with tiny painted stars.

He wraps it in faded green tissue paper and places it by the fireplace in the living room before going to bed on Christmas Eve. Ellie was way beyond believing in strange men climbing down chimneys, but it just seemed like the right place to leave a gift.

When sleep finds him, he dreams of happier holidays, of flour scattered on the floor and boot patterns stomped through, of laughter, of stockings and eggnog and old movies watched together on the couch.

Ellie’s knock rouses him the next morning. “Merry fuckin’ Christmas, Joel!”

He sits up and hears her thudding down the stairs, reaching for his jeans and his shirt and sweater before dressing and coming down to join her.

She’s already sitting on the sofa holding the little green-wrapped gift from him, positively bouncing with anticipation. There’s a strange, unfamiliar look in her eyes, and Joel worries what she’s got in store.

“You can open your gift, Ellie.”

She shakes her head. “You gotta open yours, too.”

Joel quirks his eyebrows in surprise. “Mine? But I don’t want any gifts. Said it last year, didn’t I?”

Ellie shrugs, turning her gift over in her hands. “You don’t want it, I’ll take it. Just open it, will ya?”

He looks down at the fireplace where a small brown paper package is tied up with string and his name inscribed on it. He takes it and sits beside her on the couch.

“You first.”

Ellie rolls her eyes and opens her gift, falling around the place laughing when she realises what it is. “A fuckin’ sheep in a sheep farm on the moon? This is awesome!”

Joel smiles, enjoying how something so small can make her so happy. Ellie nods at the parcel in his hands and he notes that she seems a little nervous, now.

“Your turn.”

The parcel is soft, pliable. When he carefully undoes the string and folds back the paper, he is astonished at its contents.

A pair of fuzzy, woollen socks, evidently hand knitted, and made up of multicoloured stripes of yarn. Joel runs his thick fingers over the soft material and turns to her.

“Where’d you get these?”

Ellie shrugs. “Made ‘em.”

He can’t hide his astonishment. “You made ’em? You made me socks? You?”

She looks indignant. “Yeah, me! Fuckin’ rude.”

Joel turns the socks over. They’re a little rough and ready in their construction, but warmer than anything he’s had in years. And he cannot quite believe that Ellie made these.

For a moment the image of Ellie, knitting needles in hand, threatens to make him laugh. He restrains himself.

“But…how?”

She shrugs and mentions your name. “A while back I was over at her house lookin’ at the sky and I said I wanted to make you something. And we talked and I said you were always wearin’ two pairs of socks cos yours are all fucked up, and she said could I knit, and I said no because what fuckin’ good is that, and she said it was a lot of good and -”

Joel chuckles. “But where’d you get the yarn?”

“Here and there. She gave me some, got some from Maria, couple of people around town. That’s why they’re all weird colours and shit.”

“They’re perfect, El. And she taught you how to do this?”

Ellie nods. “Yup. And next I’m gonna make a whole sweater.”

He feels a surge of pride in his chest at the determined way she sets her next goal. She’ll do it, too.

“Well, let’s hope I get that sheep farm on the moon, huh? You’re gonna need a lot of wool, all these knittin’ plans you’re makin’.”

She grins. “Ain’t no stopping me, man.”

[chaosandthe-deadblog]

Sunny's unnofficial rendering tutorial because idk why but people say they like how I color

Hey kid. So you got your drawing, right? And you have your flat colors, now you gotta render 'em, right? Then you find that BAM, you have no idea how to make it look cool? Neither do I! But here's what I do (I've been told that my coloring is cool)

1. Place your flat colors

Imagine these are your flats. A few things: you want your base colors to be all around the same hue, that way they look better together. See how all the blacks, greys and whites are purple/blue-ish? That's on purpose babey! But how do you acheive this? idfk. jk, you have to stay on one (or two) areas of a hue wheel.

This way, all the colors look like, nicer around each other. You're not FORBIDDEN from going outside an area you picked, but you should still try to make sure everything is in the same hue so you have to do less overlay layers later.

(FYI: I do this because it saves me time on rendering. I don't think it's mandatory, there's no rules to art. Go crazy!)

2. Shading

I think shading makes or breaks a drawing. Personally I don't have a lot of rules about it, but there are still tips I can give.

So here's what you gonna do. You're gonna pick a color that's somewhere on the opposite of your main hue, alright? Here, my hue is mostly cold colors, so I'm going to pick a warm tone. You're gonna make sure it's dark enough so it's like, a shade, but not enough so it becomes black when you set the shading layer to multiply.

(Note: I never get this right on the first try)

(Another note: as you can see, I have the entire drawing, including the lines, inside a group. Don't worry! I'll explain this later)

Personally I like to use a paintbrush-esque brush because I like the look of it being hand-painted that it gives my art. Mine is the default paint tool sai brush, but I'll leave the settings down here just in case.

I don't. Really know how to explain the way I shade, I mostly follow the lines I already placed in the lineart phase, and give them depth. I guess my biggest tip would be to FOLLOW THE CLOTHING FOLDS!!!

Idk how to explain this. But people always tell me that they like how I shade the clothes, it's because I follow the fold lines I place on the lineart phase! Not only does this give the clothes depth, it also makes shading a lot easier. Follow your lineart, idk what else to tell ya.

Now you're gonna set the layer to multiply...

And lower the opacity as much as you want until it looks good. No real rules to this, it's kind of depending on the vibe you want your piece to have.

Now, and stay with me here, grab a blending tool, okay? This is the one I use, I have a textured version for when I'm feeling brave, and a regular, flat version (the one I use the most) Here I'll use the flat version.

And. Stay with me here. I want you to blend the FUCK out of this. Just absolutely destroy those borders. Okay? Trust me. If it looks messy you're doing it right. You're gonna want to follow the shape of the shadows tho, this way you don't lose the shape of the objects you're shading.

Woah! Suddenly everything has depth! Let me go back to the clothing folds, because holy shit, the clothing folds.

See how I'm adding depth to the shadows I placed by kinda. Following the line I drew and blending the outside? Idk how to explain this. You blend whatever isn't touching the line, okay? Trust me.

3. Lighting

Ok. I'm holding your hand gently. You have to do lighting on your art, okay? You have to. It adds depth to the shapes and also is sososoososo easy. Here's how. It's so easy.

Grab your airbrush tool. Yes, that one. Hear me out okay?

Pick a light, warm color between yellow and orange.

Stay with me. Make a new layer, set it to whatever lighting mode you prefer. I use luminosity because I live dangerously.

Now.

Airbrush everything that the shadows aren't touching. Yes. I'm serious.

It's gonna look ugly as shit. DON'T BE ALARMED. This is part of the process. I want you to take the blur tool. And blur the ever loving fuck out of this. Just go fucking ham.

Good. You're doing so well. You're being so brave. Now lower the opacity as much as you want, until you like the way it looks.

Like so. I also like to add a few brush strokes and blend them on an up-and-down motion for the hair and certain details, but this is optional. Same as before, you're gonna take a (slightly warmer, but still bright color) and make a new layer on luminosity mode.

Take the blending tool and make it small, only slightly bigger than the brush strokes, and blend these lines until they look nice. Adjust the opacity, and voila!

Now, I could stop here. But I'm extra so I keep going.

4. The pizzazz

AKA, "Ah fuck the colors don't look the way I wanted them to!"

Do not worry! I have a solution that's almost never failed me.

Overlays. Just a whole fuckton of them. I don't really have a method to this, I just kinda try colors and layer modes until something looks good.

For this one, I felt like I wanted the colors to be warmer, so I picked a warm color and overlayed it on multiply. Then, I noticed that the darker colors came out darker than planned, and you couldn't really tell them apart, so I picked a light warm color and overlayed it on screen.

Voila! We're not done! There's one more thing I like to do, and here's where the layer folder comes in!

Remember how I said I keep everything, including the lines in a folder? This is why!

Make a layer that's on top of everything, like this. Pick whatever color you want, make sure it's bright. (Personally I like using pink). Take the airbrush tool again and airbrush whatever edges you want to give a little more pizzazz to.

Blur it as much as you'd like...

And adjust the opacity and layer mode however you like!

5. And done!

Sometimes I add white highlights. Sometimes I add more shading, or more lighting. It depends! But this is the method I use in a nutshell.

Hope you enjoyed it, or at the very least realized idk what the fuck I'm doing!

[marinerainbow]

And Henry, (you bastard), I have 2 for you.

6- What is the hardest thing you've ever had to do? (I want to know what's hard for him, if abandoning a sweet woman and taking everything from her isn't! Very genuinely intrigued! ^^)

And 13- You're given an unlimited budget to build anything you want! What do you build and where do you build it?

-👠🐊👠

Ah, the bastard. We just need Ben to complete the set! XD

6. What’s the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do?

"Me? Bah. Nothing's hard for me." The fox claimed, folding his arms over his chest with a smug smirk. His tail behind him was swishing similarly to a feline, "I just do what I gotta do. Ain't nothin' to it."

When you mentioned the name of a familiar face, that rabbit actress, his grin falters ever so slightly. He didn't think that nane would be mentioned again... Though his smirk quickly came back, and he just waved a dismissive paw, "Her? That was her name? I thought it was Posey or something- that was gonna drive me crazy all day, so thanks... But yeah, it took a bit longer, but she was pretty loaded for a while. Can 'ya blame a guy for sticking around?"

(Henry is a sly fox... But Poppy was the only woman he took his little 'I love you' scheme as far as he did. She was supposed to be a one night stand.)

13. You’re given an unlimited budget to build anything you want!  What do you build and where do you build it?

At this, the fox's eyebrows shot up in intrigue, "Whatever I want, eh? Unlimited budget? You tryin' to get me to run off with it?"

Henry laughed, but he didn't reassure it was only a joke. The toon leaned back in his seat and scratched his chin in thought for a quick moment, "Hm... A bar. A really nice one, too. All I gotta do is hire some staff and make sure everything runs smoothly, and cash will be flowing soon enough! Maybe I can convince that little thief at the club to pick pockets for me, too..." seeing the look on your face, Henry just scoffed, "What? You have any idea how many drunks there are in this town? I can bleed those assholes dry. You wanted honest answers, you got 'em!"

When Hebry finally managed to get away from this 'interview', or whatever it was meant to be, the fox let out a huff before reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out a photo.

The photo was of a little baby fox, all happy and smiling like nothing was wrong in his little life, while holding a big, fluffy brown chicken in his arms. Even though the fox in the picture and the fox currently holding it looked identical, it'd b difficult to believe they were the same person, "They must never know..."

(This is kinda a joke, but kinda not; Henry really wants that chicken farm XD)

Thank you for asking! It helped me develop Henry a bit more ^^ if you have any other questions, for Henry or my other characters, I'd love to hear! ^^

[justicefanged]

"You're friends with Raymond, aren't you? Could I ask you a favor?" Ethlyn holds out the jacket Raven left behind as he made a quick exit from their earlier encounter. It's very carefully folded and she's done her best to brush off any grass or dirt that got on it while she was sitting on it. "Could you give him this for me? He forgot it."

She knows better than to return the jacket herself. She can't imagine Raven wants anything else to do with her tonight and she isn't sure she's ready to see him again yet either. But she wants to give it back. She wants him to know she's still thinking about him.

It was sort of hard not to notice that this woman was...not having the best night. As someone who often drank too much and tended to angry cry, Linus recognized the look and the way such upsets clung to one's voice.

And yeah, he may be buzzed as hell right now, but he could have some tact! Rare, but it happens!

"Raymon--? Oh. OooOooh! Red?" Linus fumbles a bit, snorting back a chuckle. Raymond. What a fucking name for that guy. Didn't suit him much. "Sure, sure! He's me best pal! I can do ya a favor, no problem! Figure he'd probably like to see a pretty lass like you instead'a me, but the poor bastard's just gonna have to deal with the Dog!" He swipes the jacket -- ah, so nicely folded...it won't stay that way -- when she holds it out, but doesn't immediately take off like he normally would; instead pulling Ethlyn into an overly familiar, one-armed sort of jostling hug.

"If he made ya cry or somethin', lemme know. I ain't got a problem beatin' some manners into 'im! But," he pauses, grin hedging a bit into something less wild, "If it's somethin' else, ya know...People do stupid shit -- I mean, lookit me, 'm, like, poster boy for that -- but it ain't always the worst thing to do. Takes a lotta courage to put your foot forward, even if it ends up bein' a misstep. Take your time, but don't tilt when the world comes at ya hard, lass."

Linus had no clue what had happened between them, but there were only so many reasons an upset woman would go this far out of her way to properly return a jacket left behind after a fuck up.

"Ya had the guts to do somethin' with him, yeah? Well, you'll find 'em again to sort it out with 'im later, too. He's a prickly sort, but that jus' means ya gotta have strong hands to deal with the guy," Linus shrugged, giving Ethlyn an encouraging ribbing before finally releasing her.

"So! Anyways, hey, 'm Linus, I talk a lot!" he barked out a laugh, "But, for real, if ya want me to punch him a li'l, offers open. The Mad Dog is always happy to help a pretty lass when she needs a big, dumbass distraction!"

[mingot-studios]

Re; DOOM!: Blendinians, Sonar, & Critters (script)

(the doors of the lab open, and Zim enters)

Zim: Caroline?

(Zim walks in further, then stops)

Zim: [yelling] Caroline!

(Zim Walks up behind Caroline)

Zim: [shouting] CAROLINE!! WHAT are you DOING!?!

(Caroline whips her head around from Fibi to look at Zim)

Caroline: SHHHH! Be nice! You’re ruining my concentration. (turning back to the restrained Fibi) Now hold still, will ya!?

Zim: Ugh! I can’t believe this! You’re not working the top-secret and super deadly ketchup gas!

Caroline: You know, you really gotta start thinking about the bigger picture.

Zim: [sputters] -What!? That’s exactly what you said about your tickborg nanobot-repellent floor wax!

Caroline: Now look, that stuff tested just fine on the chipmunks.

Zim: IT BURNED HOLES THROUGH ALL OF MY MACHINERY!!

Caroline: Well, you can’t make big breakthroughs without taking risks.

Zim: RISKS? RISKS!?! (Zim pokes Fibi between the eyes as he speaks) That’s a blendinian, you idiot! They’re a rarity all across the galaxy and worth a fortune! And here you are, trying to stick sonar in it’s head!

Caroline: but do you ever stop to think why I’m STICKING SONAR IN IT’S HEAD!?!

Caroline: Think of all those long nights, us pulling critters out of traps…

Zim: And finding them takes ages. WHAT’S THAT GOT TO DO WITH-

Caroline: Will you JUST SHUT UP!? Yeesh. Look. You and I spend like, what? 20 hours each week catching critters? That’s 20 hours we could be spending working more effective heat rays, chemical weapons, poisons, shrinking pills, soft drinks that turn people into marsupials, Look here. (Caroline pulls down a screen)

Caroline: We have traps everywhere, right? And when animals get caught in them, the traps send out a sonar beacon, right? Then, we have to drop whatever we’re doing, go out, pick ‘em up, bring ‘em back, (as she speaks the screen changes to depict the tedious process she describes) But with my sonar-enhanced blendinian, it finds the traps, it brings the critters to us! He-he. (The screen then depicts the sonar enhanced Fibi retrieving the critters and bringing them back to the base) More critters, more research, more experiments, (folds up screen) It’s flawless!

Zim: Caroline, I apologize. You are a genius!

[drakenology]

the yakuza wife - yakuzaboss!bakugo x housewife reader - inspired by @hanji-is-life ‘s sexy ass. 

yakuza au

tw: violence, sadism, mentions of blood, smut, cum, cussing, daddy/ddlg kinks undertones, mentions of guns, very much harley quinn and joker only joker actually loves harley in this ya know?

“where the fuck is my money?” bakugo asks this bludgeoned man tied up to a metal chair in some god forsaken warehouse god only knows where. 

“please sir, i’ll get it to you as soon as I can! please stop!” the man pleads, flinching when bakugo raises his fist to land a mean left hook into his jaw with a dark chuckle. 

“you know you shouldn’t borrow from people if you have no intentions in payin’ em back. it’s fuckin’..” he pauses before taking a crowbar and bashing the man in both his knees, blood curdling screams filling the empty space. “rude!”

bakugo smirks as the man begs for mercy, pulling a set of pliers of his pocket and holding them up to the man’s face to tease him, grabbing by his neck to make him meet his intimidating gaze. 

“shoulda thought of that before trying to playing me for a fuckin’ fool.. hey, I wonder how many teeth I can pull outta ya before your weak ass passes out.” he grunts, waving the plier in his face until the sound of his phone ringing stops him from doing anything.

“you’re lucky I gotta take this.” he mumbles, taking a piece of dirty cloth and shoving it into his mouth to keep him quiet.

bakugo turns away and rolls up his sleeve, setting up his tools for torture as he answers the phone. 

“hi baby!” you chime, at the mall having the time of your life with his credit card. 

“hey. ‘m workin’ whaddaya want?” he says, holding up his pliers and sitting them down on the table as his hostage screams in the background. 

“just checking on you, dummy! whatcha want for dinner, hm? i know you haven’t eaten yet.” you say, holding up different dresses to your frame to imagine yourself in them. “hey, pink or powder blue?”

“pink. and ‘m not hungry. you’ve got security with you, right baby?” he asks, kicking the man onto the floor with a loud thud. 

“of course. you won’t let me leave the house without them.” you respond, not even paying attention to the muffled screams you hear in the background. you’ve learned not to ask too many questions when it comes to being a yakuza wife. 

“gotta keep my baby safe, right? listen, princess I gotta go. i’ll be home before 9 okay?” 

you suck your teeth and roll your eyes, “fine. be careful okay?”

“always am. love you baby.” as he hangs up and returns to his task. 

the difference between you and katsuki was night and day. everyone knew you to be so sweet and kind; unbeknownst to them all how you ended up with a cretin like Bakugo. even though Katsuki was immoral in many ways, he knew marrying you was the right thing to do. who else would want to dress his wounds and pick out his suits for the day?

katsuki demanded you quit your job. in fact he came with you to put in your two weeks notice, tough scowl staining his features as your boss signed the approval with shaking hands.

from that day on he ensured you were well taken care of and that marrying him and becoming his housewife came with many perks.

for starters, your husband was loaded. all those years of extorting and money laundering paid off every time you come home with a couple shopping bags from the mall.

katsuki loved lavishing you in the finest of everything, adoring how you look in designer. so much so, he fucks you by the bay window of your luxury penthouse, the Chanel dress he just bought you hiked up over your ass as his calloused fingers make way into your mouth. you’re pinned to the glass, bare breasts pressed against the window as he railed you from behind. and he wonders why you turned out to be a spoiled brat.

your gifts always made you stand out above the rest. many men fawn over you and he knows this. just a small price to pay for having a fine ass wife. but if anyone ever forgot their place, if anyone ever got to close. well. that’d be the last time you’d ever see them. course you have no idea why. but even though katsuki loved you with all his heart, you could be a real pain in the ass. you were so bratty, especially when he was busy. 

one day you came trotting into his office in the middle of some business deal. whatever. your jimmy choos popped and you needed a new pair before the yacht party you were attending started. 

“daddy’s taking care of business right now, okay? go wait outside.”

“no! you promised we’d go shopping! I need new shoes what the fuck am I supposed to do with these?” you whine, pouting like usual to get your way. bakugo’s brow raised, walking towards you and gesturing for the meeting to continue without him. his hand rested on your lower back as he escorted you out.  

he fucked your brains in in the next room for disobeying him, panties around your ankles, your charm anklet jingling as he picked up your legs. 

“spoiled fuckin’ brat. told you to wait didn’t I? hm? or did you make a scene ‘cause you wanted my dick?” your head hangs back as your hips are held down by him, thrusts brutal as you cry for him to slow down, face turned away from his. he grabs your chin and turns you around harshly with his scarred and calloused hands, bruised knuckles turning white with a tight grip. 

“look at me when i’m fuckin’ talkin’ to you.” 

he came inside you when he was done, pulling your panties up for you as it dripped down your leg. 

“now.. back to what I was doin’. tell the driver to take your ass home.” he huffs with a zip of his pants and a shake in his sleeves to fix them. bakugo leaves you on the desk, leaving the door cracked for you to leave when you got yourself together. and when you did you could hardly hold yourself up, holding your high heels in your hand as you limp to the car waiting outside for you. 

having a yakuza boss as a husband was always exciting. something in you liked the danger; the thrill.

you tell this tale to your other socialite girlfriends and they almost never believe you.

you were out with bakugo on a date when work called. to your dismay, he had to get up and leave. you insisted on being brought along, hating being left alone in that big house that was often empty without him. he agreed but only if you promised to be quiet like a good little girl. 

when you arrive at some warehouse (the same one mentioned earlier), a man was already hog tied on the ground, muffled screams behind a piece of duck tape as bakugo ripped it off. you sat by a table, legs folded in annoyance. this interrupted date night? you scoff and fold your arms. 

“ah. good seeing you old friend. remember me?” he asks, taunting him a little with a gun in his hand pressing it against his jaw as the man let out muffled pleas for him not to shoot. 

“you tried stealing from me. fuckin’ idiot. my boys caught you in some hotel with your little girlfriend. did you think you were gonna have a victory fuck after you made off with my money, hm?” bakugo asks, hitting him upside the head with the butt of his pistol.

you jump at the sound of the blow, a small part of you turned on watching your husband beat the crap out of a complete stranger. your pussy starts to ache when you peer over at bakugo’s strong tattooed arms as he flung his jacket aside, rolling his white sleeves up to ensure his expensive suit doesn’t get soiled. 

“oh fuck, where are my manners? this is my lovely wife, y/n. say hi baby.” he coos at you, a switch from rough to gentle when he spoke to you. you smile and wave, the hostage sobbing out a weak greeting when bakugo demands him to. 

“anyways. what’d you do with the money, asswipe? gonna tell me or are you gonna make me fuck you up in front of my pretty wife. god, look at ‘er, ain’t she gorgeous? you know I was about 30 minutes from railing her before you had to go along and ruin our night. I should kill you right here.” bakugo turns his head towards you with a sick look in his eye. 

“whaddaya think, princess? what should I do to this motherfucker, huh?” he asks. 

“smack him again. he ruined date night.” you grumble, folding your arms. 

“he sure did, baby.” bakugo says, punching the hostage in his jaw. he gestured for his men to crowd around him, all of them taking turns kicking and beating him with metal bars. katsuki walks towards you and pulls you into a passionate kiss, a bit of blood on his knuckles as he pulled your hair. god, this whole situation was sick. but why was it so hot?

bakugo carries you away to the car, tells the driver to fuck off somewhere while he rails you in the back seat, knowing his men will take care of the rest of what he started inside the warehouse. you straddle his lap, bouncing up and down on his stiff cock as the car rocked back and forth. the car windows fog up as your body heat commingled throughout the space, your hands pressing against the glass to gain to balance as you rode his fat cock. 

“fuck, daddy. you’re so hot when you’re handling business. ooh, you’re dick’s so hard.” you purr, bakugo’s hand pinching and playing with your breast as his hips thrust upwards. He smirks at you, almost a bit shocked you got as turned on as he did from the pain he inflicted.

“hmm, I know baby. god, you’re sick. getting this wet from watching me beat up some punk. dirty fuckin’ girl.” he huffed into your hair, leaving sloppy kisses on your neck followed by harsh nibbles.

truth is even though you were so sweet and caring, you had a dark side no one knew about. I mean why else would you marry into the yakuza? 

you were both fucking insane. 

[dyshonor]

-- RANDAL EMPLOYS AN OLD hangover recovery trick: count backwards from three and push yourself up, headache be damned. It works for the most part, giving himself a half-sturdy thing of a posture as he tries to pinpoint where Griss is in his line of sight. The man mutters something about... a skeleton? Alright, then.

"Sure there is, kid," he sighs. "But if ya think I'm gonna walk into th'dark after a trick like that, yer nicely mistaken." He makes a messy gesture forward with something that's half-bow, half-flourish. "You don't mind pointin' me towards it? Not too old ta play, but, huh," he taps his forehead with two fingers. Moving them through the air feels thick. "Too old t'see, mayhaps."

Griss tilts his head, curiousity chasing his gaze. "You serious?" A snort, but his grin brightens a little. "I didn't hurt you bad enough, huh? Looks like I gotta aim for your knees next time. Wonder how you'd walk with 'em turned backwards... hehehe..."

Randal rolls his eyes. "I ain't one t'preach honor, but surely there's better entertainment t'be found than jumpin' someone unawa--"

The Steercerer, evidently a kinder fiend than its newfound owner, lifts its light to the darkness again.

Randal sees the skeleton, pauses, whistles. "Ain't a 'Happy'land for all o' us out here, huh?" he quips. Temptation kills any dredge of caution in him and, with that, he takes a step forward and gives the skeleton a sharp tug on the arm.

The skeleton doesn't budge. Instead, the immediate response to Randal's actions is a darkness that swallows the room even further, challenging even the Steercerer's light. Unseen eyes prickle on the back of Randal's neck and whispers chase his ears- or his head? He can't tell.

Whatever. He takes a step back from the skeleton, hands raised in mock defense. "My! Are there some folks here whose residency we've disturbed?"

Griss, of course, begins to laugh, shoulders twitching. At least one of them's having a good time. "Now, this seems familiar!" He steps up to the box in the middle of the room again and raises both of his hands. "Whatever's in here has gotta like blood, right?"

Randal watches as Griss deftly rips open the flesh of his thumb with his teeth, holding it out to let the blood drip, drip, drip onto the box. "A few more candles in here and it'd be just like the fell rituals back home," he notes.

Randal opens his mouth-- maybe to scold Griss, maybe for another odd quip-- only to cut himself off with a groan as a sharp pain slices through his head. Something is attacking them, or at least retaliating; not with steel and stone, but of the mind. Absolute bummer. Randal's never enjoyed fighting that which he can't cheat back.

Still unsteady from Griss's earlier onslaught, he takes a knee to the floor. "R-right, might've had tha' one comin'," he squeezes out, clearly fighting for consciousness. "Kid. Griss. Can you cool it for a sec?"

He can't tell if Griss actually felt what he did, what with the way he laughs-- oh, no, he must feel something. The way his knees buckle and he folds over the casket, that certainly can't be pleasant.

"Cool what?" he says in between breaths. "You were the one... who wanted to look at that... skeleton."

He's got him there. "Hardly the first mistake I've made in m'life!" Randal wheezes. "At least I'm not-- hah-- spittin' blood onta th'coffin."

Fuck. He doesn't know what happens when he passes out here, not like with those flowers from the tea party. He should've tactically retreated long ago, but, well. Better late than never. He tries to scoot himself back towards where the entrance to the room had been. Still was? He can't tell, with how dark it is.

Griss seems unamused. "What?" He raises himself from where he's knelt and twists around to watch Randal stagger back to the door. "Givin' up already!" Steercerer, unaffected by whatever is tormenting these humans, just looks between the two of them. Ear flicks. "What about those sticks you got?"

"Rather retreat than pass out an' let you rob me blind," Randal says, but pauses. Right. The things Connard had slipped him, before Griss had swept them back up. Randal grimaces and pulls them out from underneath where he's stored them in his sleeve. They're slick with sweat and blood, but he raises them up to what remains of the Steercerer's light nonetheless.

"I'm not rightly certain they'll be o' much use, but," he holds them up, ends within Griss's reach, "if y'got a lighter, be my guest, ser."

Griss gives the Steercerer a nudge and the fiend inhales, then blows a stream of fire onto the end of the stick. "Hehehe, nearly as useful as one of those Emblem rings." And Griss looks a little proud, maybe.

But it's just incense. They're lit, they smoke up, and nothing happens. Well, Randal coughs at the sickly scent. "Lovely thought, kid," he chokes out.

Griss grins and then sinks down to the ground beside the casket. “Do you do everything you’re told?”

"..." Randal could count the number of people who would choke to death on their laughter if they could see him now on both hands. Being called obedient. Who would've thought? Maybe it'd do his mother proud, bless her soul.

"Some folks'd laugh themselves sick 'fore they'd fit that qualifier on me," he settles on, raising an eyebrow at Griss. "But I've figured s'best t'be more agreeable. I'm startin' t'get a feelin' that ain't worth its weight in shit with you, thought."

"You got that right," Griss snaps back. "Might even call it a sin. But look at you, bein' 'agreeable', lettin' me take your stuff... you gotta have an angle, right?"

What a way of putting it. Randal always has an angle. Winning a mansion had been a sly move, teaming up with others just because they bothered to also be world-hoppers was for his benefit, making a life-changing wager-- that had probably been a selfish choice, if Randal could remember it. But this?

It's just another one of his useless gestures to kill the time he's constantly fighting for. "Letting you?" he scoffs. "Y'nearly knocked me out cold, kid. Jury's still out on that, n'fact," he adds with a wince as a particularly strong headache pierces him by.

"I would'nt call what I've got an angle, just... Call it self-preservation. You find your fun in chasin' life away, I find it in clinging ta it as long as I'm able." He grins lopsidedly, toothily. Memories of a boy who scoffed at honor and delighted at every wet-eared pawn he met smile back at him. "If I met you when I was younger, we might've got along better. I'm almost jealous o' the' way you can get goin' with handlin' things."

"Fer now," and he slaps Griss as best he can across the shoulder, "you're just annoying, kid."

Like before, Griss bats Randal's hand away and then heaves himself up to his feet. "Jealous? That's a first," he mutters, halfway to a scoff. Randal idly wonders if the man's embarrassed, if he even knows how that feels. "You got a funny way of savin' your own ass, but I guess gettin' in good with the wolves is one way to get outta bein' eaten." He stops and eyes Randal. "You're definitely more durable than you look, old man."

Randal chuckles, a sound low in his throat. "Eh. More folk should consider takin' after roaches." He pushes himself up on his knees, winces, and stares at the ceiling.

He's dully aware of the fact that they have a time limit; have they reached it by now? "If ya get t'my age, I hope you stay th'same." He makes a vague gesture with his hand. "Life's more interestin' with folk like you stirring things up. Preferable t'do it a good few worlds from me, though!"

-- END.

gambler and hound

happyland 2024: week two (south island)

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Nothing’s more annoying that interrupted morning orgasms 😤 my thoughts are with you

I was wondering if there’ll be a part 2 of Love 'em and Leave 'em 👀

It was a terrible loss and I am still in mourning over the missed opportunity but it is good news for you lovely readers because I will take my sexual frustrations and turn them into some smutty fics.

Love ‘em and Leave ‘em [pt.2] || Bucky

Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, mutual masturbation, phone sex WC: ~950

main masterlist || bucky masterlist || part one || part two || part three

Your nights had been lonely while Bucky was off on some mission and there was no knowing how long it would be before he returned. Twice you had almost made it to his door before you remembered he wasn’t there and had to leave unsatisfied. It sucked. Safely locked away in your room you had grabbed your vibrator from where it had sat dormant for weeks and growled as you found the batteries dead.

“Uggggh.”

Your frustrated growl echoed in the room and you haphazardly tossed the silicone device away. It seemed like you could not catch a break. You had just opened your laptop and searched for some porn when your phone rang. You frowned at the unknown number and assumed it was a scam considering it was the middle of the night but you answered it anyway.

“Hey, doll.” You could see the smirk on his face just by the tone of his voice and your video loaded at that moment, the unmissable sound of Pornhub’s tune playing on the speakers. “I caught you at a good time I hear.”

“Not quite.” You muttered and reclined back on your pillows with a sigh. “I’m guessing you didn’t call to talk about the mission.”

“Not quite.” He chuckled. “You sound like you could do with some stress relief.”

“I’m trying but someone rudely interrupted me with his call.”

“Maybe I can help, doll.” He purred. “You just gotta start by sliding your pretty panties down those sexy legs….hmm?”

You licked your suddenly dry lips and hummed in agreement as you took them off and tossed them aside.

“You’re already fucking wet, aren’t ya baby.” He chuckled, the sound of his clothes being discarded following yours. “Bet you’re fucking dripping for me. Spread those pretty lips and tell me how wet you are.”

You did as you were told, you finger brushing over your clit with a soft mewl before they dipped between your folds. Your fingers glided easily over the desire that was already leaking from you and you listened to the salacious sounds it made as you gathered it over your fingers.

“Christ, I can hear it from here.” Bucky groaned.

“Do you miss her? How she tastes?” You hummed as you sucked your wet fingers into your mouth and worked your tongue to lick them clean.

“You’re trying to kill me.” He panted as you heard the opening of a bottle and a squirt of liquid before he moaned softly. “I’d have you pressed up against the wall with your legs over my shoulders if I was there, sucking your clit until you scream my name, tasting that sweet cunt until it was overflowing.”

“Oh god, Bucky…” His name fell from your lips as your fingers attempted to please you like he did but it wasn’t the same. “My fingers can’t stretch me like you do.”

“I’ll stretch you nice and good when I get home. You’re gonna feel so fucking tight.” His breath shuddered and you both moaned, your toes curled and you back arched. “Gonna cum in that pretty pussy of yours, doll, fill her up till she overflows.”

Your eyes were fluttering shut as you tried to hold off your release but the bed was starting to quiver with your trembling legs. “Fuck, Bucky, I’m gonna cum.”

“Good girl, now don’t be quiet, I wanna hear you.” He grunted as his hand worked even faster, his grip tightening as your gasps filled his ears. “I don’t want you to stop, not until I say you’re done. Hear me?”

“Mhmm.” You agreed as your mind went numb and your core clenched around nothing, your fingers twirling your sensitive clit as waves of pleasure wracked your body. “Ho-holy shit, Bucky…”

“Keep going babygirl.” He panted as his cock began to throb in his fist and the deep pressure in your pussy grew until your entire body froze, right down to your ability to breathe. “Keep fucking going. Ugh.”

His groan awoke you and the waves of pleasure turned to just waves, your head shoved back in your pillow as liquid gushed from your cunt. You were an incoherent mess as you listened to Bucky’s rapid breathing and it was almost as if he were right beside you as you came down from your high.

“Fuck. Me.” You sighed as your body twitched and spasmed, your eyes wide at the pool of liquid between your legs. “I just fucking came everywhere.”

Bucky’s head fell heavy against the headboard in the cheap motel, his hand slick with his cum that he smeared along his shaft as he lazily stroked himself. You could hear his own soft sounds as he came down from his high.

“I wish I was there with you.” You whispered as you curled onto your side and hugged a pillow, then you realised how that sounded and you cleared your throat. “I can only imagine the mess you’ve made all over yourself, your cock probably still hard just begging to be licked clean.”

He chuckled into the phone as he wiped his hand with a tissue. “I wish you were here too, doll, for no other reason but to have you all to myself.”

“Bucky…” You sighed as you pulled the phone away from your face and slammed your laptop shut, no longer in the mood for what was showing.

“Just hear me out, please.” He asked, water running in the background. “When I get back, all I ask for is one night. Stay with me one night, if you wake up and can’t stand the sight of seeing me on the pillow beside you then fine, your rules win. But it could surprise you.”

“What’s that?”

“You might just like it.”

Part three click here.

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[devildomdisaster]

Mc you're hurt! The case of the mistaken period. (Part 3: Mammon)

The last part of a request:

In which Mammon smells blood on the MC and thinks she is injured. But MC is just having her period.

Part 1: Diavolo, Part 2: Barbatos

Content warnings: Periods, Blood, Demons who are sometimes stupid when human biology is concerned.

When Mammon smells human blood, your blood he is frantic. He’d just stepped in after you were picking a fight with some lesser demons outside of RAD. Which was stupid Mc! Hot but Stupid!

He’d walked out of RAD minutes after you, strolling leisurely to the flowering tree you meet him under each day he walks home with you. Nothing should be different today. Only he walks in on three lesser demons advancing on you. And you, you ridiculous, stubborn, beautiful human are standing your ground, wicked twinkle in your eyes, taunting them. Throwing insults in the face of three beings who could snap you like a twig. Mammon is there just in time to jump between you and the first lunging demon. Full demon form, growl ripping from his chest. No one touches his human.

Mammon bats the first demon away easily. The other two take one look at their companion and beg Mammon for forgiveness. Mammon scoffs and waves them off, allowing them to pick up their unconscious friend before running off.

He turns to you, and you’re caught breathless in awe and fear at his display of power. ‘Hot,’ you think to yourself, shaking your head to quiet the inappropriate thought.

“What were ya thinkin Mc? Do ya realize how much danger you were in?” he demands.

“I-I didn’t. I…” you breath shakily. Latent fear washing over you as the dam of adrenaline breaks. Mammon sees you start to shake and immediately folds his wings away, demon form dissolving back into his more human appearance. He takes a hesitant step forwards and when you don’t back up he wraps you in his arms. Fingertips running soothingly up and down your back.

“Hey Mc, yer alright. I got ya. Ain’t no one gonna hurt you when I’m around.”

You pull yourself closer against his chest, shaking subsiding as he comforts you. “Don’t know what I was thinking,” you murmur against his chest “they just came outta nowhere and I knew I couldn’t outrun them. So-so I just figured if I could buy myself some time until you got here…”

“Hey, hey Mc, ya did good. That’s good thinkin what you did, no way they’d expect a human to stand her ground. Gave ‘em pause long enough for me to get to ya. Not to mention it was kinda hot to see ya hold yer own against them.”

That made you laugh against him “Take me home Mammon?”

He’s about to nod when he gets the first whiff of your blood and all-out panic consumes him. On your part, you know exactly what's happened. You can feel the blood drip out of you and you curse yourself for not wearing a panty liner this morning. Mammon’s guiding you to an arms-length distance from him. Still holding tightly to your upper arms he begins to search for the source of your blood. He lifts your arms up one after the other to search for cuts, finding nothing obvious he begins to panic more as the smell of blood gets stronger.

“Mammon I-”

He let those demons go because they hadn’t touched you, but now? Now that he can smell your blood he swears he’s gonna hunt them down and make them wish they’d never been spawned. But first, he’s gotta get you help. “We gotta get you back to the house!” He cuts you off “Figure out where you're bleeding from when we get there.” He’s picking you up and cradling you in his arms before you can get another word out.

“Mammon!” you squeak as he shifts to his demon form again, and takes off into the air to get you to the house of Lamentation quicker.

“S'alright human, I’ll get ya help. Where’s it hurt Mc?”

Half distracted by flying in his arms for the first time you can hardly process his words. “Hurt? Mammon I don’t. I’m not hurt, I-”

“Course you are, I can smell your blood. Shit. Must be worse than I thought if ya can’t tell me where you're hurt.”

“Mammon I’m not bleed- fuck,” you realize. He’s smelling your period. That’s mortifying. “Ok so I am bleeding but it’s not what you think. It’s just my period.”

He swoops down to land in front of the house of Lamentation, “Mc, I don’t know what that is but there's a lot of blood so we gotta-”

“No! Mammon! I’m not hurt!”

He looks at you like you're crazy, thinks maybe blood loss has made you loopy. “Mc…?”

“S’just my period Mammon!...er menstrual cycle?” you try. Relief floods through you as a look of dawning realization come over his face, followed closely by a look of horror as he realizes how much of a fool he’s just been.

“You know what that is?” you ask, needing to know that he doesn’t still think you’re dying.

“Sorta. Mean it’s somethin human bodies do when they ain’t pregnant. But the blood?”

“Yeah, the blood's part of it. I thought I had a few more days till it started but, guess not.”

“So you ain’t hurt treasure?”

“No. I’m not hurt.”

“I thought those demons…”

“I know. Thanks for taking such good care of me Mammon.”

“Course, I can’t let nothing happen to ya treasure,” he’s silent for a moment and then “I know the blood’s part of it and all, but where’s it come from?”

You feel your cheeks heat up in a wave of embarrassment, “i-it’s the uterine lining Mammon.” You gesture to your lower body and between your legs.

“Oh right, yeah. That makes sense.” Red blooms across his face but he takes your hand and leads you inside anyway. “You wanna get cleaned up treasure? Then we can watch a movie or somethin?”

“Thanks, Mammon, that’d be nice.”

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 5,340 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: Hershel's Farm Warnings: Language, domestic violence, fear and anxiety A/N: Here with some Protective!Daryl for ya'll! Summary: When Daryl finds the reader outside in the rain in the middle of the night, he gives her a dry place to sleep, but the next day it causes problems with her asshole of a boyfriend.

Your name: submit What is this?

Daryl couldn’t sleep. He’d tossed and turned restlessly in his tent and finally decided to get up and do a perimeter check just for some goddamned thing to do to pass the time. A heavy rain was falling and it bothered him not being able to hear anything over the deluge.

He shouldered his crossbow and sheathed his knife, grabbing his flashlight from its place next to his cot. He slipped out of his tent and started through the maze of tents. That’s when he saw you. It looked like you were sincerely hoping he wouldn’t, like you were trying to blend into the tree trunk you were leaning against, sheltering as much as you could beneath the oak, obviously somewhat wet from the rain and shivering slightly.

Daryl’s brow drew down over his eyes and he headed straight for you. “What the hell are ya doin’ out here alone in the dark in the middle of a damn thunderstorm?”

You didn’t answer but you did raise your eyes to his, hugging your arms more tightly around yourself. He watched another shiver wrack through you. The archer frowned. “Why ain’t ya in with your guy?” he asked, jutting a thumb in the direction of the tent you shared with your boyfriend. Daryl didn’t like him at all... Frankly he thought the guy was a controlling piece of shit, and he had a hunch that he might be worse even than that.

You avoided his eyes again. “We, uhh—had a fight,” you murmured. Daryl could easily read the embarrassment and shame on your face.

“That don’t explain why you’re out here in the rain,” Daryl drawled.

You continued to avoid his eyes and didn’t answer. He could think of a couple reasons why you’d be out here instead of inside the dry tent, and neither of them were good. Either he’d kicked you out or you’d left because you were afraid of him, afraid of what would happen if you stayed. Either way, there was no way in hell Daryl was gonna let you spend the night outside in the cold autumn rain.

“Ya ain’t stayin’ out here in the rain. C’mon,” he said, nudging his head back in the direction of his own tent. He turned to lead the way and glanced back over his shoulder to see you hesitating to follow him. “If ya stay out here all night, all soakin’ wet like ya are, yer gonna catch yer death. C’mon.”

This time you followed him, still shivering.

Daryl held the tent flap open for you and you stepped inside, your arms still wrapped tightly around yourself. He followed and zipped the flap closed on the rain and night. When he turned you were standing awkwardly in the middle of the tent. Daryl set his crossbow down and clicked on the lantern next to his cot. He replaced the flashlight and pulled off his jacket. He held it out to you.

You gave him a questioning look.

“I can see ya shiverin’. Take it. Can’t have ya gettin’ pneumonia. We’ve already gone through too many of Hershel’s antibiotics.”

You accepted it from him. “Thanks,” you said.

He watched you pull it on, anxiously chewing his bottom lip as the fabric swallowed up your frame. He sat down on the floor across from you and pulled his knife out and his sharpening stone, just for something to do. He needed to busy his hands, because with you in that small space with him he was suddenly feeling nervous. “Make yourself at home,” he said, nodding toward his cot on the opposite wall.

You sat down on the edge a little gingerly and watched as he drew the blade of his knife across the stone.

He kept his eyes fixed on what he was doing but his deep voice broke through the pattering of the rain on the tent. “Ya wanna talk about it?”

You shrugged deeper into his jacket. It still held the warmth of his body and it smelled like him—musky leather, campfire smoke, and the outside air. “I don’t know,” you admitted.

The sharp noise of his blade punctuated the silence. “He kick ya out or… did ya need to get out?” This time his eyes flickered up to your face.

He watched you gulp, but you held his eyes. The warm lantern light threw the angles of your face into sharp relief. Your eyelashes cast long shadows on your cheeks.

Daryl’s light blue eyes moved back down to his hands. “S’alright. Ya ain’t gotta say.”

You bit at the inside of your cheek and couldn’t help another shiver that ran up your back. The archer looked up at you again immediately, concern furrowing his brow. He set his knife aside and climbed to his feet.

He unzipped the flap of the tent and stepped out. He met your questioning gaze with a nod. “I’ll be right back.”

This left you alone in his tent for a short time, just the hammering of the rain to keep you company. Your eyes wandered around the contents. It was a little unkempt, with clothes piled haphazardly in one corner and the edges of the canvas floor cluttered with tools and random items. There were half-finished crossbow bolts piled on a box that was serving as a side table, but something beneath them caught your eye. You gently brushed aside the wooden shafts and carefully lifted what had drawn your attention. It was delicate and brittle but you recognized it immediately as you carefully laid it out flat on your palm.

One day in the summer you had been collecting firewood for the group, eager to do something useful and needing some space for a while. You’d come upon a vine bursting with crimson flowers and as you’d stood and admired it, such a simple but beautiful thing, you’d watched hummingbirds flitting between the blossoms.

Wanting to know the name of the plant, you’d plucked a bloom and brought it back to the archer to identify. He’d taken hardly a glance at it before telling you its name. “Coral honeysuckle,” he drawled. “Ya can crush the berries and use ‘em on bee stings.”

“Coral honeysuckle,” you repeated. “There were tons of hummingbirds on it.”

He nodded. “Mhm. They like the nectar,” he said, holding the flower back out to you.

“Keep it,” you said with a smile, “as payment for your identification services.”

Daryl’s heart jumped at the smile on your face and he twirled the bloom between his fingers as he watched you retreat back toward the group.

This looked like the very same flower you had picked. He’d obviously pressed it underneath something to preserve it. The vibrant red petals were only slightly muted in color. He’d kept it all these months? You puzzled over this as you replaced it where you’d found it and arranged the crossbow bolts over it again. It was hard to ignore the warm feeling growing right between your lungs, threatening to spill outward.

A few minutes later, Daryl came into the tent again. There were raindrops on his shirt and caught in his hair. He had a small mug clutched in his hands and you could see spirals of steam rising from the surface. He extended it toward you and you accepted it, puzzled as you looked inside.

“Tea?” you asked, looking back up as Daryl settled onto the floor again.

He nudged his nose up at you in a nod. “Mhm. I dunno if it’s any good. I think it’s some ginger-lemon thing Maggie brought to help with Lori’s nausea. But it’s hot. And you’re still cold,” he said. He felt nervous under the bewildered gaze you were giving him.

This man had just gone out into a thunderstorm to heat water for you and bring you tea simply because he’d seen you shiver. Not to mention that you were wrapped in his coat and he was sheltering you from the storm when your own boyfriend had—his voice broke your train of thought.

“I told ya. Can’t have ya gettin’ sick.” Daryl picked up his knife again and went back to sharpening it.

It was silent for some time as you sipped at the tea and watched the archer work on his knives diligently. You didn’t know that he could feel your eyes on him and it was driving him crazy. His body seemed to respond to you like you were a drug and he was an addict. He did his best to keep it under control. After all, you were technically spoken for, even if the guy was a complete douchebag at best.

But finally you spoke, setting the empty mug aside and sitting farther back on his cot, pulling your boots off and folding your legs under you. “Can I ask you something?”

“Mhm,” he hummed, grabbing the next knife that needed sharpening from its sheath.

“What do you think of—of my boyfriend?” you asked. Your cheeks immediately flushed. You felt stupid even asking the question. You already knew the answer and you knew where this conversation would lead. You knew what you needed to do, but you were afraid to do it. Did you really think someone else saying what you thought out loud was going to somehow give you the courage to go through with what needed to happen?

Daryl’s hands froze and he looked up at you, his eyes narrowed and fixated on your face for a long moment. He averted them back down and resumed his work again just as suddenly as he had stopped. “Don’t matter what I think.”

“It matters to me,” you said quietly.

The silence between you was suddenly thick, like a stagnant room full of humidity, the air heavy. The raindrops on the tent seemed to surround you and insulate you from everything else, from the rest of the world. The atmosphere was almost intoxicating, disorienting.

Eventually, Daryl’s blue eyes lifted again and fell on your face. He sighed heavily. “Ya really want to know what I think?” You nodded. “I think ya deserve better.”

Your heart skipped a beat as your eyebrows lifted in surprise. You’d expected Daryl to call him an asshole. You hadn’t expected that stated so explicitly. And you really didn’t expect him to go on.

“Either he threw ya out of your own damn tent into a thunderstorm in the middle of the night, or ya had to get out because being outside in a thunderstorm in the dark was a better option than bein’ in there with him. What kinda man is that?” He scowled for a moment as he thought about how much he wanted to drag the guy out of your tent, give him a few good punches, and leave his ass in the rain. He turned back to his knives.

You were silent, consumed by your thoughts, but eventually you yawned and Daryl looked up immediately. He systematically put away his tools and then he grabbed some balled up clothes to use as a pillow. He also grabbed his poncho. His eyes lifted and met yours. “Ya take the cot. I’m good down here,” he said.

“Oh, you don’t have to—I’ll go—”

Daryl let out a scoff. “What are ya gonna do? Go sleep out under that tree?” He shook his head and settled down on the floor, leaning back onto the makeshift pillow and draping his arm over his eyes. “Wasn’t a question anyhow. Just get the lantern when you’re settled in.”

You couldn’t help smiling at him on the floor where he was stretched out under his poncho, a knife right beside him. You watched his ribs rise and fall with his breathing a few times and the butterflies in your stomach made you realize that you were most definitely in trouble… in more ways than one.

You clicked off the lantern and laid down on his cot, still wrapped in his coat. You slept peacefully until morning.

_ _ _ _ _ _

You woke early as the orange glow of the sun struck the tent walls and you shot up straight at the sound of Daryl stirring.

He nudged his nose up at you in a greeting and you gave him a small smile. His heart jumped at the sight of you in his jacket, on his cot, that sleepy smile and your tousled hair. He tried to ignore how many times he’d fantasized about this very scene, but with a slightly different context where that was right where you were always supposed to be.

“Hey,” you greeted him.

He stood and shouldered his bow. “I’m gonna go hunt. Ya ain’t gotta get up yet. Sun’s barely up.”

You bent and started pulling your boots on. “It’s alright. I’m already up.” You slipped his jacket off and laid it on his cot. “Thanks,” you murmured, tucking your hair behind your ear and trying to smooth the strands a little self-consciously. “For everything last night.”

He shrugged and chewed his bottom lip a little anxiously. “S’nothin’.” For some reason this made you smile and he thought your cheeks grew a little pink.

“You always downplay everything you do. You shouldn’t,” you said kindly, standing up. “It was way more than nothing.”

Daryl gulped and simply opened the tent flap and stepped out. You followed him and gave him another small smile as he nodded at you one more time and then headed for the woods.

You decided to do some of the morning chores since you were already up and set about gathering more and restacking the fire wood and doing some preparation for breakfast. You grabbed the water canisters and headed toward the well to fill them. You were filling the second container when you heard footsteps in the grass behind you. You turned to see your boyfriend striding straight toward you. Your stomach churned.

“Morning, Y/N,” he said, coming to lean against the side of the well. His affect was flat and you were immediately on edge.

You avoided his eyes and didn’t say anything, just continued your work.

He reached over suddenly and pressed the pump handle down hard to stop the flow of water and your eyes shot up to his face. His expression was dark.

“You know, it’s weird. I got up while it was still dark and went out to look for you. Even went up to the house, but,” he shrugged, “you were nowhere to be seen.”

You stared back at him, your heart starting to rush a little in your chest.

“And I just wondered to myself, ‘Where could my girl have gone?’” He moved toward you, drawing himself up to his full height.

You stared up at him, gulping at the nervous tightness in your throat. “Seeing as you threw me out, I figured you wouldn’t care or come looking,” you said, reaching over and lifting the well handle again to start the flow of water, a little surprised at your own boldness to talk back to him in the way you did.

He immediately slammed the handle back down. “Well, I did. And imagine my surprise this morning when I saw you coming out of Daryl’s tent.”

You gulped.

“As soon as you found an excuse you just went running straight to that dumb redneck, didn’t you? Huh? How long have you been sneaking around behind my back? Did you have a good fuck last night?” He was right in your face now and you recoiled.

“It wasn’t—It wasn’t like that. I didn’t! It was storming. All he did was get me out of the rain. He—he slept on the floor. I just slept on his cot! That’s it,” you said, urgently grabbing the water and trying to rush back toward the tents and the group, sensing sincere danger not far away.

But your progress was stopped when he grabbed your arm and spun you back around. You dropped one of the water containers which spilled its contents onto the ground. “You really think I’m gonna believe that? How stupid do you think I am?” There was rage burning in his eyes. “We have a fight and you think you can go fuck whoever the hell you want? Do I have to remind you who you belong to?!” He was yelling at you now and you tried to pry his hand from your arm. His fingers were digging in painfully.

“I’ve never cheated on you! I wouldn’t—please!”

He sneered. “Why the hell should I believe that?! Huh? You’re mine! I don’t want to see you talking to another man. Hell, if I even catch you looking at that redneck again, you’ll pay for it.”

His grip on your arm felt like it was tightening by the second. “I swear nothing happened! You’re hurting me! Let go!” you pleaded, feeling your eyes going wide with fear.

He growled at you through his teeth. “I can do whatever the hell I want. I’ll break your arm if I want to,” he said viciously, starting to twist your arm behind your back painfully. You couldn’t help crying out, but that was the wrong thing to do, and you knew it.

The next moment you felt a blow across your jaw and tasted blood in your mouth. You fell to the ground, splayed in the dust, narrowly missing cracking your head against the cobbled stone of the well. Your vision was black. You could only hear a high-pitched ringing in your ears.

The blackness dissolved slowly and you climbed desperately to your feet, but another blow landed across your cheek and you fell hard against the stone well this time, your back colliding painfully with the jagged edges of rock. You had an arm up to shield yourself as you tried to orient yourself again, waiting for your vision to clear.

You were waiting for the next blow to come, steeling yourself as best you could, but it never landed. The next thing you knew Daryl had barreled out of nowhere and he had your boyfriend on the ground beneath him, landing blow after blow into his face and body. “You piece of shit! Ya think hittin’ her makes you a fuckin’ man?! I’ll kill you if you ever lay a goddamn hand on her again!”

You watched in stunned horror. The rest of your group members were tearing across the field toward the commotion. They’d heard the yelling and your surprised scream and raced to get to you. Rick and Lori were in the lead and suddenly they were there. Lori grabbed you and helped you to your feet, her face white as a sheet as she looked at you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and supporting you in your daze, leading you slightly back and away from the melee. When you glanced back over at Daryl you saw that he now had his crossbow aimed right at your boyfriend’s head. His chest and shoulders were heaving and every muscle in his arms were tensed. Rick was trying to talk him down.

“Daryl. Daryl, this isn’t the way. Let’s just calm down and we’ll decide together how to deal with him,” Rick was saying softly. “Just put your bow down and we’ll deal with him.”

The muscle in Daryl’s jaw twitched as he clenched his teeth. “This bastard deserves to die,” he growled.

“I know. I know… I see what he did. But we’ll talk about this and decide on it together. Alright? Let’s just calm down for a minute.”

It took everything he had, every bit of willpower not to pull that trigger and end the bastard right there. And if you hadn’t been watching, he might have done it. But he didn’t want you to be afraid of him too. Daryl lowered his bow and Rick pulled him off your boyfriend, who was cowering on the ground with blood pouring down his face from an obviously broken nose. His eyes were already swelling shut.

Rick grabbed him by the front of his shirt and hauled him to his feet. “You are comin’ with me,” Rick growled, dragging him away toward the barn.

Daryl ducked his head, his chest still heaving with exertion, and spared a glance in your direction. Your bottom lip was split and you had a hand pressed over the left side of your face, concealing the already blooming bruises from that asshole’s fist landing on your jaw and cheekbone. His heart ached, his stomach twisted, and he turned and stalked off after Rick.

You avoided the looks of pity and shock that the rest of the group was giving you and did your best to hold in your tears of pain and humiliation. You focused on Lori as best you could.

“Oh my God. Come here, honey. Let me look at you,” Lori said, moving in front of you and pulling your hand away from your face. Next, she noticed that your back was bleeding in a few places where you’d hit the stones and you winced as you tried to straighten up completely. Spots of crimson were staining your shirt. “Oh, Y/N. I’m so sorry. Come on. Let’s go clean you up. Come on.” She wrapped an arm around your shoulders again.

You felt like you were going into shock. You were disoriented. Lori led you up to the farmhouse and called out to Maggie and Hershel as you entered. They both rushed into the front room.

“Oh my God. What happened?” Maggie asked urgently, her eyes going round with horror.

Lori gave her a look and Maggie seemed to understand. There had been suspicions going around the group that perhaps your boyfriend was laying his hands on you occasionally, and they all seemed to now be confirmed.

Lori led you to sit down on a chair in the dining room. The vet-turned-doctor examined your face and determined that, luckily, no bones were out of place, but that you likely had a fractured cheekbone and a concussion, not the mention the injuries to your back and your split lip.

Lori guided you to the bathroom and started the bath tub filling with warm water. “Alright. Climb in there and I’ll be back in to help clean up your back, alright?” she said gently. She left and shut the door softly behind her.

You obediently stripped your clothes off, in a daze still, and stepped into the tub, wrapping your arms around your knees, holding them tightly to your chest. Lori knocked a moment later and you murmured a “come in.” She had a washcloth in one hand and sank down on the edge of the tub, immediately dipping it into the hot water and dabbing at the wounds on your back. The abrasions weren’t too deep, but it looked like most of your back would be badly bruised.

You were grateful she didn’t say anything. You’d seen the expression on her face and that was enough. She sighed heavily and climbed to her feet. “Come on out when you’re ready. Hershel says you can stay in the guest room tonight. We want to keep an eye on you because of that concussion, okay?”

You nodded and rested your chin on your knees. It was right then when the tears finally started pouring down your cheeks and you gasped in a shuddering breath. “Y/N. I’m so sorry this happened to you,” Lori said, rushing right back over and kneeling beside the tub, smoothing a hand over your hair.

“I don’t even recognize who I am anymore,” you said, rushing to wipe the tears that broke free from your eyes. “I think after everything fell apart, I just thought if I didn’t have something to cling onto from before that I—I don’t know—that I wouldn’t make it. But then he just… changed. And it didn’t happen all at once and I think that’s why I didn’t just—it was gradual. I almost didn’t notice it and then all of a sudden he just wasn’t himself anymore.” You hastily wiped at your tears again. “I feel so stupid and embarrassed and ashamed,” you admitted, unable to look at her.

“It’s not your fault. It’s not your fault. And you have nothin’ to feel ashamed about. And it’s all over now, alright? It’s over.”

You gasped in a shaky breath. “If Daryl hadn’t—”

“I know,” she shushed you. “I know. But he did. It’s all gonna be okay now, alright? Get cleaned up and I’ll be right outside in case you need anything.”

You gave her a grateful look and nodded. You sat in the hot water until it started to cool, your mind mostly blank. The adrenaline had worn off now and you were feeling every bit of pain. Your head felt like it was going to split open and you winced at the sight of your swollen and bruised face in the mirror. You pulled your clothes back on and ventured into the hallway. Lori was standing there with some clean clothes for you and she led you to the guest room and set them on the bed.

“Get changed into those clean clothes and then you need to rest. Hershel’s orders. He wants you in bed. We need to be careful because of that concussion.”

You thanked her again and nodded. You discarded your bloodstained shirt and dirty jeans on a chair in the corner and pulled on the new outfit before climbing under the covers. You couldn’t stop the tears from flowing out again and you squeezed your eyes shut against the pounding in your face and head.

Outside, the group was gathered to discuss what to do with your boyfriend. Daryl couldn’t stand still and was pacing angrily in front of the house. He looked up as Lori came out and the screen door slammed with a snap.

“How is she?” Rick asked, his face dark with concern.

“Alright, considering,” Lori said, slipping her hands in her back pockets. “Concussion. Bruised and swollen. Abrasions over half her back. Hershel thinks her cheekbone is fractured.” She caught Daryl’s eyes and gave him a knowing look.

“Oh my God,” Andrea said, exchanging a look with Carol, whose eyes turned down toward the grass.

Daryl swore under his breath and resumed his pacing.

“Well, what do we do?” T-dog asked. “We can’t just keep going on like everything is normal with him in camp. He’s got to go.”

“The question is how,” Dale said.

“That bastard ain’t even deserve to still be drawin’ breath,” Daryl drawled. He looked at Rick.

Rick sighed heavily. “Yeah…”

“I mean, I agree with Daryl, man. I don’t want that guy around any of us,” Shane said.

“What if we just take him out and leave him? Drive him way out and drop him off somewhere,” Rick mused.

Shane scoffed. “We might as well shoot him in the head right now. He’d never make it out there alone. That’s as good as killing him.”

Rick nodded. “I know, but it feels a little less like the blood is on our hands then... He has a chance.”

“He don’t even deserve a chance. I’m fine with his blood on our hands,” Daryl spat. “If I hadn’t been over there huntin’ he coulda killed her.”

Rick sighed again, the weight of the decision obviously weighing on him, and he rubbed a hand over his face. “Yeah… Let’s just take the day to think it over. We can decide tonight. And Y/N can have a say.”

The group nodded in agreement and dispersed. Lori went back in to check on you.

She knocked lightly on the door and you murmured for her to come in. “How are you feeling?” she asked you.

“I’m fine,” you said, lying about how much pain you were in.

She nodded. “We’re all going to figure out what to do about him,” she said. “You should think about what you want to happen. He can’t stay here, but as far as what that means—”

“Okay,” you interrupted her. You rolled over and looked at her in the doorway. “Is Daryl—?”

She smiled a little and nodded. “You want me to get him? He’s probably still pacing on the front porch.

You nodded. “If you could.”

“Of course.” Lori left and in a moment the archer appeared in the doorway.

You were in bed, your back to the door, but you turned and looked over your shoulder at the sound of his footsteps. Daryl’s stomach twisted at the swelling and red welts on your face. “Hey,” he said softly.

“Hey.” You pulled yourself up in a seated position and Daryl came around and sank down on the chair pulled up at the side of the bed. “I just wanted to say thank you,” you said, unable to meet his eyes and instead running the edge of the sheet through your fingers, staring at it like it was the most interesting thing you’d ever seen. “And I’m sorry that you got pulled into this mess…” you trailed off.

“I ain’t,” he said forcefully. “I’m glad I got to beat the shit out that guy. I just wish I’d done it sooner.”

You looked up at him and the glistening tears in your eyes made the colors in your irises stand out. His stomach flipped again at the sight of your injuries. “I feel so stupid. I never should have stayed with him.”

Daryl shook his head. “Ain’t that simple.”

You were grateful for his understanding. Daryl watched you struggling with some thought until you finally spoke it. “What if he gets out?” you asked, fear obvious in your eyes.

“He ain’t getting’ out. I tied his ass up myself,” Daryl reassured you. “But I’ll sit watch outside all night. Nothin’ is gonna happen to ya. It’s over.” The archer stood but your hand shot out and gently landed on his arm. He froze at the feeling of electricity that crackled from your fingers.

“Will you sit with me for a little while?” you asked. “Just—until I can fall asleep.”

He nudged his nose up in a nod and sank back down, feeling nervous and chewing on his bottom lip. Daryl watched as you settled back down in bed, pulling the covers up over yourself and shutting your eyes, your long eyelashes fanning out against your cheeks. The feelings welling up in him were getting more and more difficult to deny, and he knew now wasn’t the time—not yet. You needed to get through this first. But Daryl wanted to show you how you did deserve to be treated, even as he dared not hope that he’d have the chance, that you’d feel the same thing for him that he felt for you. He wanted to protect you, take care of you. He wanted to show you how strong you actually were, even as he thought of how much you reminded him of that flower you’d brought him; vibrant, sweet, soft, delicate, but always climbing toward the light. And he was determined to help you see it.

[diavolosthots]

Can I request headcanons for Mammon being just- older brother- (ex how he took blame for belphie breaking something in a chat but will NEVER pay levi back)

Thanks iysm💕

IDK why but I thought this was kind of wholesome

MAMMON Being an Older Brother

Mammon actually takes his role as an older brother pretty seriously. Of course, he thinks he holds the right to make fun of his siblings and give them a headache, but best believe he’ll be there if they ever need anything

As a side note, he’s also actually a pretty cool younger brother to Lucifer when he doesn’t steal from the guy

Anyway, as much as Lucifer says Mammon is a nuisance, there’s no other person he’d trust more with the lives of the rest of his siblings

Rumor has it that Mammon saved baby!Satan from burning himself when Asmodeus tried to get pictures of the kid in front of the fireplace because “the lighting is so good in his hair!!!” 

Actually kicked Asmodeus’ ass for that

Taught Beel how to cook simple dishes which Beel then perfected and added to. Beel wouldn’t have been half of the hungry, knowledgeable giant he is today if it hadn’t been for Mammon

Loved!!! Playing games with Levi until he realized he could make money off of said games 

While they were still angels, and when Lucifer was busy, Mammon was tasked with keeping an eye on everyone and it actually made him feel super good inside, like he was useful and also he really liked all the attention his younger siblings gave him 

Always makes sure Beel has a snack under his pillow, even long after they grew up 

On that note, he also always makes sure Belphie washes his pillow, or maybe Mammon will wash it for him in secret, because if no one washes that pillow, Belphie will sleep on it for ages, like, literally. 

Always takes the blame when he can. Always.

He’s surprisingly good at folding laundry? Like, shirt and pants are always folded spotless and Lucifer always has him iron his pants and button ups because Mammon does it the best 

Will scold Levi if the guy stays up too late or for too many days in a row 

Has turned off the Wi-Fi before because of that 

When Asmodeus has a nightmare, which usually leaves him a little shook up, Mammon is the first one by his side. Asmo refuses to tell anyone that Mammon sings him back to sleep, though 

On that note, Mammon is a great singer and if any of them ever have a bad day, they’ll go to Mammon in the middle of the night for some singing 

When Satan was just freshly detached from Lucifer, he was the only one who could calm the little guy without being bitten for a LONG time. Satan hated Lucifer by default, even though that’s not fully true because he just liked to bite and nibble on things, but he seemed to gravitate toward Mammon

Mammon actually gives really good advice depending on what you’re asking. Sometimes it’s short and sweet like “Ya just gotta kick ‘em in the ass!” And other times it’s this drawn out philosophical discussion

Mammon doesn’t actually feel entitled to or good about taking his brother’s things, but he never seems to get out of it. In private, he apologizes profusely. 

Surprisingly, besides Lucifer, he likes to think he gets along with Leviathan the most. Yes, he steals from the third born the most as well, but gamblers and gamers are kind of in the same boat, you know? 

Overall, he’s not as bad as people think he is and although he can be a bit of a dummy sometimes, he still has a heart, and he’d do anything for his brothers. 

[forestdalecomic]

Ya gotta know when to hold em and know when to fold em.

If you’re interested in supporting the growth of the series, why not become a supporter on buymeacoffee.com. Supporters get exclusive early access to pages not yet published on any of the currently active sites.

(credit to Nauyaco and Talos Lives for creating and producing this series. You can also follow their lovely series on Twitter and DeviantArt)

[angelamajiki]

Can I request something?!

We try to escape Overhaul but he catches us but as a punishment seeing as we don't like him he gives us to Rappa so he can do what he wants to us for a week and in the end we go back to him and he has you never wanting to even step out your room.

Is that fine? Anyways stay safe, drink water, wear a mask, and keep up the great work!

PARINGS: Rappa x AFAB! Reader

CW: yandere, watersports, noncon, facefucking, teasing, manhandling, scumbag rappa

AN: thank you nonnie!! <33

Kai had caught you trying to escape. Or rather, Rappa was the one who actually caught you, laughing and jeering at your cries and the pounding of your small fists on his back. Your captor was not amused in the slightest as his henchman emerged into his office with you tucked a little too snuggly over his shoulder.

“Caught your lil’ scrub tryin’ to escape, boss.” Rappa cackled, sitting you down on the chair in front of the yakuza leader’s desk. “Damn, does she squeal like a pig.”

He clapped his hand over your shoulder, squeezing it affectionately. The man had taken a liking towards you, meaning to say that he enjoyed watching Kai dole out punishments for when you tried to escape or otherwise upset him, which wasn't hard to do.

“Yes, she does.” Kai sighed, brows furrowed deeply in irritation. “What am I going to do with you, pet? Do I not provide for you, care for you? How can I get you to behave, hm?”

Tapping a finger against his forehead, he signed and closed his eyes, slumping back in his chair, hands folded in his lap.

“I’ll never stop trying to escape because anywhere else is better than being here with you, Overhaul.” You spat venomously, squirming under Rappa’s tight grip. The man behind you just chuckled darkly.

“Say, boss...if the little lady here is so unhappy with you, why don't you put her on loan to someone for the time being? Let ‘em show her how good you are to her, eh?”

Kai quirked a brow at Rappa, immediately picking up what he was throwing down. He had half a mind to punish Rappa as well for his blatant display of insubordination and to dare to think he’d willingly give up his precious pet to him like she was a mere stray.

Ah, but the man did have a point. His pet needed to be taught how kind her master is, and Rappa is the perfect opposition to do so. A degenerate at heart, his underling, was rowdy, filthy, and above all, a bigger sadist than Kai was.

He knew the man loved nothing more than to watch him spank the poor thing until she was a sobbing, blubbering mess of “I’m sorry, Kai!” gasping and panting for air like she was on the verge of death. What a drama queen he had on his hands. But he treated you like a queen nonetheless, but your attitude was simply out of control at this point.

“I think Rappa’s right, dear. Why don't you spend the week with him? Take a break from me if I’m so intolerable.”

Ice ran through your veins as Rappa unceremoniously scooped you up from your chair, opting to throw you over his shoulder. Kai’s chuckle and Rappa’s jeers mixed with your protests as you squirmed and squealed in his monstrous grasp.

“I thought you said anywhere else would be better than being with me. Remember, this is the choice you made, darling.”

“Rappa, you're dismissed.”

With a wave of a gloved hand, your fate was sealed. The bulkier man nodded and smacked a large hand over your ass.

“You and me? We're gonna have some fun, little piggy.” ——— •

Settled on Rappa’s bed, if you could call a sparsely covered mattress that hadn't been washed in god knows how long a bed, your nerves were set ablaze watching the man undress. And he certainly made a show of it, flexing his muscles and winking at you all the while.

“Like what ya see, sweets?” He groaned, striking a pose in front of you in nothing but a wife-beater and a pair of boxers. Oogling couldn't be helped; the man was built like Adonis. Strong, fierce, and big. Much, much bigger than you were.

“I hope so, cause I definitely do.” He smirked, licking his lips as he stalked over to you. “Don’t ya about a thing, little piggy. Papa’s gonna take real good care of ya”

Climbing over you, he pinned you to the mattress with one hand and used the other to feel you up.

“Yeesh, yer stiff as a board. Maybe a little game will help loosen you up, piggy.”

Fingers crawled their way up to your torso and to your mouth, leaving a searing heat in their wake. His fingers snatched your tongue from your mouth, shoving themselves down your throat to choke you.

“This little piggy wants to choke on my cock.”

His insenstant cooing and grinning had your stomach turning in knots, helping the fingers in your throat gag you even further. The thumb pressed down on your tongue before spitting a glob down your throat.

“This little piggy wants to be squeezed real tight.”

The sing-song tone in his voice only served to heighten your fear. Of course, the bastard thought this was all a game to him and you his toy.

His grin only got wider as his hand crept down your throat and ghosted itself there, barely touching before lunging. A panicked yip flew from your mouth as he pinned you by your throat.

There was hardly any pressure, just a cage of fingers keeping you locked into his impossibly firm grip. The hand was more than large enough to circle your neck. You smell the grim on his fingers, the labor of his love for the Shie Hassaikai.

“Almost got ya, piggy!” He teased, licking a long strip up your cheek. God, his breath stunk.

“Keep up now; the fun’s just starting.”

His fingers seemed to leave a trail of grime as they traveled down to your exposed breasts. They groped and gripped at your tender flesh without finesse or technique. So rough and worn from all the fighting he does. Your right tit was cupped in his hand before he gave it a hard squeeze.

“This little piggy wants to be milked.”

Onto your left, giving your nipple a good tug and pinch.

“This little piggy wants to be sucked.”

Your squeals and cries only made him laugh harder, grunting when you squirmed against the leg in between your thighs.

“Aw, is baby girl gonna cry? Cause I’ll give you something to cry about.”

Every touch of the pads from his fingers made you even sicker than before. You could feel every place he touched, the disgusting filth they left in their wake. The continued down your stomach, stopping to tickle you softly on your sides.

“W-What are you doing?!”

Your laughter couldn't be contained as he got rougher and rougher, chuckling along with you as he pressed his face close to yours.

“Stop it! I-I’m going to pee!”

“Good. That's what I like to hear.” He grunted, pressing his elbow hard into your bladder all while tickling you. Shame and piss flushed out of you as he groaned, grinding his knee up against your wet, sloppy cunt.

“Look at that! Piggy’s finally rolling around in filth where pigs belong.”

“I can't wait to make a mess of you.”

Humiliation flushed your face and your body, feeling even more disgusted as you felt your own piss on your lower body.

Rappa stood up and took a good look at you, admiring his handy work. A flushed, tearful expression that could be fucked up even more, his favorite face to see. Especially on someone as beautiful as you.

Sitting you up, he sat behind you and took your hair into two separate ponytails before trying them off.

“There, perfect for gripping.”

A rough push landed you on the floor, naked and afraid. One hand grabbed both your ponytails at the same time and steered you to be seated facing his crotch.

“Open wide, piggy.”

You shook your head, already feeling humiliated enough for one evening.

“Are you deaf? Open up, you bratty little bitch. Don't make me ask again unless ya fancy fighting me instead.”

Now that was a truly horrifying thought. The man could quickly kill you with a single punch and let Overhaul bring you back to life, only to do it again and again. Those men, especially Kai, had no qualms about taking your life when you decided to misbehave.

Considering your choices, you cut your losses and nodded, opening your mouth slowly and braced yourself for a brutal facefucking.

The man sunk himself into your throat, sitting there when he bottomed out. His hips twitched as you choked and gagged around his massive dick.

“Yeah.” He groaned, pulling out only to slam back in. “That's what I’m talkin’ about. Finally got ya to shut your mouth and put it to good use.”

Hips thrusting, he set a brutal pace into your mouth. Heavy balls slapped against your chin as your spit and tears made a mess of your face. He paid no mind to your shaking and struggling, only moaning when you choked particularly hard.

“Guess I gotta let ya up to breathe, huh piggy?”

Pulling himself out, he gave you a few seconds to cough and gulp in the air before nudging his way back into your warm, wet mouth.

“Can’t spoil you too much now.” He chuckled.

One hand gripping each ponytail, he tugged them tight and fucked your mouth with vigor. His hips slammed against your cheeks, sure to leave bruises as they started to sputter.

“Y-You’re just so cute, piggy. I can’t last long when you look at me like that.” He grunted, pulling your hair even tighter.

His cock hurt your throat horribly. You could feel the burn of every stroke and spasm into your mouth, tears streaming down your face even more from the pain. Your hair felt like it was going to be ripped out from the sheer amount of strength he was pulling it with.

His thrusts increased in pace as he chased his orgasm, opting to hold the back of your head flush against his crotch when he finally did cum. Making sure to swallow every last drop, Rappa didn't let you up until he was completely finished.

“Such a good girl for Papa.” Rappa jeered, picking you up off the floor by the throat and pressed a sloppy kiss to your mouth.

Tossed onto the bed, he spread your legs wide and pressed a thumb to your dripping hole.

“And this little piggy wants to get fucked all night long.”

[chiwhorei]

team spirit

pairing: k. sakusa x fem!reader x a. miya

genre: college!au, smut, 18+ minors dni

word count: 2.6k

warnings: threesome, semi-public sex, daddy kink, spitting, a spank, a tiny bit of choking, tit-fucking, degradation, a little coercion, curruption, gaslighting, voyeurism, a subtle age gap (freshman vs. senior in college), cum play, cum eating. nothing too crazy and everything is consensual- it’s just pretty dirty lmao

a/n: in a radical act of self care i have given up on kinktober as it was killing all love that i had for writing. i present to you a piece written solely because it made me h-word. thank you to the love of my life @hqbbg for beta reading, you have my soul and share my desire to be mask-man’s little bitch.

hymn: smells like teen spirit by: nirvana

“Didn’t I tell ya’, princess?” Atsumu’s voice is low and sharp against the shell of your ear as he brushes away a rogue strand of hair from where it fell from your high-pony. The action gentle, the tone unmistakingly galled. “I told ya to behave, but ya’ never want to listen to me.”

The grip he has on you is bruising, fingers nestled on your hips, large hands scrunching your pleated cheer skirt and exposing you to the almost empty locker room. Your boyfriend’s hard-on is distinct against his shorts, pressing against your bare cunt. Your hips buck desperately in his hold, but any fight is useless. There’s no way Atsumu will give you more than just minimal friction; only enough to make you dizzy and malleable in his capture.

Atsumu isn’t oblivious. He’s fully aware of how sweet you look every week, cheering on the sidelines of his games, donning his jersey number in a heart on the apple of your cheek. Having the prettiest little member of your college’s cheer squad in his bed every night never fails to fill him with an almost evil pride. Ever since the beginning of the season, your first year in college, Atsumu has been on you. The moment he first saw you, skin sheened with a layer of sweat and workout shorts riding up high enough to see the angelic curve of your ass cheeks, you were his. He totes a fine line, dancing between cockiness at his prize girlfriend when you’re hit on or ogled, and egregious rage.

Game-night started the same as any other: Astumu sneaking away before warm-ups to kabedon you against the wall when you walked out of the girls locker room. You always flush red-hot, no matter how many times he traps you, fiddling with the pom-poms in your hold. He grabs them from you, tossing them without care onto the ground to pull you tightly against his hard chest, your wrist pinned against the front of your uniform top in one of his hands. The rest of your squad walks by the two of you without much thought; the scene unfolding is rehearsed at this point. It seems like the whole student-body ignores the two of you.

“You act more like a horny teenager than a senior in college, Atsumu.” You puff your cheeks out and glare at him from the fringe of your perfectly curled eyelashes. The fake-blond towering above you snorts at your defiance.

“Well, you act more like an old prude than a freshman in college, princess.” His lips dip lower to fan over yours, “And my name ain’t Atsumu.”

Your knees feel weak trapped in his grip, his presence a strange mix of comfort and distress. You’re welcomed home into the den of a lion. You gulp down a painful air bubble trapped in your throat and mumble an apology.

“I’m sorry, Daddy.”

It seems to please the arrogant setter, earning you a chirpy laugh as he twirls a piece of your hair in his finger. You hate when Atsumu seems upset with you, so relief washes over you at the light gesture. He releases his hold on your wrists and pulls you into a sloppy kiss. You melt into the feeling of his lips, his hands rubbing up and down your arms lazily, causing your body to slack against him. Atsumu’s attention always renders you compliant (often against better judgement).

“I’ve gotta go, but make sure I hear ya’ cheering out there for me, sweetheart,” he says after letting go of your lips with one last nip. So begins the quick restoration of your uniform from where it was misplaced by setter fingers. After you’ve collected yourself under the watchful eye of your senior, you bend at the waist to pick up the stray poms and feel the swift union of Atsumu’s hand against your ass. You scoff at his childishness, even though you had expected it. Game nights are always the same.

The same round of cat and mouse, the same suffocating sexual tension and embarrassing public display.

The only anomaly tonight is the lecherous stare of your boyfriend's teammate on your folded body. A stare that shouldn’t belong to the curly haired man fixes onto you and the view of your tight pair of spandex has turned him into stone.

Pride is a cardinal sin, and so is lust.

“Do ya’ like what ya’ see, Omi? She’s a pretty little thing ain’t she?” Your eyes snap up to meet the gaze of the man in front of your disheveled form. Sakusa’s eyes are dark and cold; his expression reads indifference, but the hard cock in his shorts is clearly seen. He’s frozen in place a few feet in front of the bench you’re displayed on. Your crisp white sneakers are on either side of Atsumu’s built thighs, knees bent and held in place by the man under you. Your uniform top and bra have been pushed up unceremoniously, freeing your tits to bounce slightly with every squirm. Sakusa watches every jiggle of soft, supple skin in front of him. The tent in his boxers is becoming painful with every heave. Both hands are pressed stiffly to his sides, left hand clutching your white, cotton panties. The fabric is damp, sticking slightly against his fingers and making him cringe. Disgusting.

Atsumu’s hand wanders down to spread the puffy lips of your pussy, long middle finger proading against your tight hole. Atsumu growls at the feeling of your arousal, not wasting any time sticking a digit into you with practiced movements. You whimper at the intrusion, legs feeling weak and shaky from their strained position as Atsumu adds a second finger with ease. He always knows exactly how to work you over, rendering you at a loss for words with his prodding against the spongy anterior of your pussy.

“Y/n is always such a little mess on her daddy’s fingers.” His middle and pointer finger are pulled out with a resounding pop and his palm lands a harsh pat against your clit. “Do you like putting on a show for Sakusa-san? He seems to fancy ya’, doesn't he?” You’re asked a question but can only yelp in response as Atsumu’s fingers are shoved back into you, pumping with fervor.

The tall man in front of you is only partially familiar; aside from volleyball games and visiting your boyfriend at practice, you’ve only seen Sakusa at the occasional party or team dinner. He’s never seemed too keen on getting to know you before, but now he’s palming himself at the sight of your most intimate angles completely open for his viewing pleasure. Sakusa’s slightly flushed cheeks and boring stare causes your cunt to clench around Atsumu’s fingers. Ever the painfully observant man, neither the tightening muscles nor the reason behind it is lost on the blond.

“Ya’ like being watched, that’s why yer sloppy pussy’s extra wet tonight, huh?” You shake your head frantically, not wanting to admit that the heat rising in your stomach is due to your voyeur’s deep brown eyes. Atsumu is a prideful man, some would say too much so, a fact he’ll have to atone for later. One thing he isn’t? Greedy.

“Omi-omi~” The singing of the stupid nickname seems to snap Sakusa out of his stupor as he flicks his eyes to meet Atsumu’s. “Don’t be shy, c’mere.” Sakusa is still working long strokes over his confined cock, stepping forward to further invade your personal space. Atsumu’s chin rests against your shoulder, face amused and casual, disconnected from what his hands are holding.

All you can do is look up at the looming figure, black hair falling in front of his face and mouth set in a harsh line. You’re eye level with the bulge in his shorts now, so close you can almost feel the fabric against your lips. Every sense is overwhelmed, crowded in the abandoned locker room with your boyfriend working you open in front of his teammate. Sakusa reaches out and runs his finger over the uniform top that sits wrinkled up above your breasts. His calloused pad runs over the article in a moment of contemplation, before pinching your hardened nipple. A surprised yelp falls from your lips along with the already tumbling whines.

Distracted by your new company, Atsumu’s cock releasing from his shorts goes unnoticed. With the dark, inky stare keeping you hostage, you only realize his fingers are being replaced when the hardened tip is pressing into you. A pathetic squeal rips through your throat at the breach. No matter how many times Atsumu stretches you out on his fat cock, it burns every time.

“I think ya’ should help Sakusa-san out, princess.” Another few inches disappear, your shaky balance is corrected with one of Atsumu’s hands wrapping around your neck, “Since it’s yer dirty little body that’s got ‘em all hard.”

The intonation wracks you with guilt, looking up at Sakusa with bleary, begging eyes. You’re not sure what exactly you’re begging for.

There’s no restraint left in Sakusa, having used most of it up when your panties were ripped off and tossed to him with a cheeky wink from his setter. He shoves said garment into his pocket before pushing his shorts and boxers down enough for his cock to spring free. Your eyes roll slightly at the sight in front of you, impressive in length and pleasantly veiny. Right under his head, you see two freckles, noting they almost mimic the ones right above his eyebrow.

Atsumu’s cock is snugly inside you, buried to the hilt, and you're pulled back into his broad chest by the grip on your throat. Sakusa holds himself at the base, stroking upwards and swirling his thumb against the precum collecting at his tip. He leans over you, slapping his head against your tits experimentally. The reaction Sakusa gets seems to be the one he was seeking, as your whispered cries thump to the same beat of his length against your skin.

“Such a nasty girl. You always look so sweet and innocent cheering for us. Does he fuck you like this after every game?” Sakusa has found his voice, regarding you coolly. Tears prick at your eyes, any retort caught behind your teeth as you stare back dumbly.

“Answer ‘em princess,” Atsumu lifts you up slightly to slam you back down onto his heavy cock; the sound is squelching in the stale air around you, “tell ‘em how you cream on Daddy’s cock after everyone leaves.”

“I- please, I-” You’re cut off by your own mewl when a string of saliva breaches Sakusa’s lips and falls towards your chest, watching as it ascends onto the valley between your tits. As it rolls down your sweat-sheened skin, the black-haired man rubs his weeping cock down the map his spit makes. Your brain is fuzzy at the attention of both men, warming your boyfriend's cock as his teammate grinds himself on your naked chest.

Sakusa grabs your wrists, causing your thighs to wobble weakly from their squatted position, and presses your palms to hold your breasts against his shaft. The pressure has Sakusa’s head falling back as soft, warm skin welcoming his shallow thrusts.

“Such a complaint little pet you have, Miya.” His hand brushes against your cheek and trails downwards to find purchase on your chin. “Dirty little girl,” his voice coos you, “Open wide.”

Your mouth falls at his order, fussing weakly at the nickname. Another sharp putt meets your ears and his warm spit hits the fattest plane of your tongue. Tears escape at the sides of your eyes with the overwhelming presence. Atsumu begins a slow assault on your aching pussy, removing the hand on your throat to pull your hips against his lap. The rhythm is a salacious duet with the cock nestled between your tits and has you clenching even tighter.

“Ya’ better not swallow Omi’s spit until I say so, princess. Keep that wicked tongue out for him to paint.” You do as you're told, as always, tongue lolled out with a pant. At your passivity, Atsumu rewards you with tight circles to your throbbing clit. His cheek presses against your own, peering over to watch his friend’s cock against your chest with wonder. Such a distinct beauty is found in the ruined body on top of him. As much as Atsumu appreciates the sweet, loving moments that he shares with you, the sight of your precious body bent to his will makes his dick twitch acutely. It’s sick how much he enjoys seeing how far he can push you-

“I’m going to cum on your girlfriend's sweet face, Miya. Christ, it’s disgusting how much she seems to want it.”

However, your enjoyment in your own depravity and humiliation is much more sickening.

Atsumu’s pace picks up, skin slapping against your sore pussy with new resolve. He wants to see you break into pieces right on the locker room bench. Your vision is spotting at the pressure on your clit, mixing with the dulled sting of being split open on the blond setter's thick cock. All you can do is produce a garbled squeal from around your dangling tongue. Sakusa pulls his cock from your chest, pumping his hand feverishly against the soft skin. The sight is almost unbelievable: a man who barely allows his teammates a high-five has your hair wrapped around his other fist. Your head is yanked back, eyes entrapped by Sakusa’s. Atsumu’s fingers are unrelenting against the bundle of nerves that now feels more like a ticking time-bomb.

“C’mon princess, don’t hold back on us. I wanna see ya’ cum right in front of Omi. Show’em how much team spirit ya’ got.” Atsumu’s teeth bite down onto your neck, angling his tip to press against that deepest spot inside of you. The fraying cord in your stomach is pulled taught, snapping at the feeling of Sakusa’s hot cum against your face, thick spurts landing on your cheer uniform and splattering against your already marred tongue.

Your own orgasm tears through you, burning deeply through every vein in your body. It’s sinful how your body reacts to the messy splotching of a stranger's cum against you, thrown head-first into release at the ministrations of the men on either side of you. Your tight rings of muscles pulsate around Atsumu’s cock, coaxing his own orgasm out to meet your silky insides. There’s nothing better in the world, Atsumu thinks to himself, than fucking his hot cum into your sweet, submissive body.

As the pair of volleyball players steady their own breathing, another menacing laugh escapes your boyfriend’s mouth. He peers over the mess in front of him, strings of cum drawing random patterns against your chest and cheeks. He turns your face towards him and smiles, finding that you did exactly as he asked. Your mouth wide, tongue still stuck out and awaiting further instruction. Such a perfect girl you are, letting Atsumu’s most debased fantasies play out on your innocent little body. Your job is to motivate his team after all, and there’s no better way to boost comradery after a win than to celebrate the best way he knows how.

“Team spirit, huh?” Sakusa tucks himself back into his shorts, leaning in to swipe his cum against your lips as a parting gift. You watch him with glassy eyes and suck on the digit when pressed against your tongue.

“That’s for sure.”

all writing is dymphnasprose’s original content, please do not repost or modify. do no read my content as asmr.©️

[elysianslove]

itadori is always gotta be touching u somehow and those innocent touches usually ends in u becoming a mess and him being unaffected cuz mans so fucking level headed. i can picture him casually fingering u behind the classroom full of people during a lesson and ur nearly biting ur hand off to keep quiet (this is before the whole sorcery thing going on)

oh my god i just know yuuji’s really, really clingy and touchy. like 70% of the time yuuji’s not trying to leave you hot and bothered, he just wants to touch you. but he’ll wrap his arms your waist a lot of the time and squeeze really tight just cause he wants to but for some reason it feels real good. and a lot !!! of the time !!! he’ll slip his hands underneath your shirt and just hold and squeeze on your breasts but he’s not doing it cause he’s horny he just likes holdin em

except it gets you hot and bothered and it’s so frustrating. so he’s like fine ok you’re horny ill give it to ya now. you’re literally in the middle of class and he just nudges your legs apart and slips his hand underneath your skirt. he teasesss omg. does it till your panties are drenched, and then he pushes them aside and swipes his thumb along your folds, only to lift his thumb to his lip and lick it but it doesn’t look off !!! and then he’ll bring his fingers down to your cunt again and just start fingering you so fucking hard like you’re pretty sure the students are you can fucking hear your pussy squelch around his fingers holy fuck 

won’t care if you’re called upon to answer a question, only curls his fingers to make it even harder for you 

and when you come and drench the chair and your skirt and panties he’ll just take his fingers out and wipe em on a spare tissue and you look absolutely fucked 

takes you to the bathroom after and just gets in a stall with you then stuffs your cunt with his cum, has you walking around with your panties soaked from both your arousal and his cum seeping out of your cunt and —

brb gotta go turn the ac on lmfao