#a thought for the poor people who don’t even have time to save *a little bit* in order to make this last episode krkrkr

[awne]

I beg you pardon? 💀 Already?????

[rae-writes]

An Angel?

om demons x reader (+Simeon, Solomon, Mephi, Raph)

wc : 2.k

warnings : more simping bois, more humor, a lot more sprinkles of suggestive comments

synopsis : a deviltok trend has the boys on their knees for you, part two: electric boogaloo

a/n : for the record, Luke was in the room while Mc was making it, cheering them on, doing his cute little “Waahhh!” // idea brought to me by the lovely [your-next-daydream]​ // AND, as usual, let’s not talk about how ridiculously long this took me to finish ahaha rip me-

demon ver. 

<Simeon> Mc looks rather...heavenly, don’t you agree? 

[attachment sent] 

Intrigued, he wasted no time in clicking on the file, grinning when he realized it was one of your deviltoks. Decked out in your RAD uniform, you sat in a chair with your hands clasped together. 

“Who are you?” 

Smoothly, almost as if you were floating, you stood and took a few steps towards the camera with a rather shy smile. 

“An angel.” 

You bowed ever so slightly, flitting your gaze to the floor. 

“What’s your name?”

You spun suddenly, sending your red accessory swooshing in front of the camera, covering everything from view. 

“Michael.”

As fast as the transition happened, it ended; the view was cleared to reveal you— angelic down to a T and beautiful wasn’t even enough to describe you. 

You were adorned with sheer, white clothing that was loose and flowy, probably swaying due to a fan that was off camera. Light blue accents were scattered here and there- including an extension piece in your hair of the same color. Sparkling gold accessories glinted under the light, but not as much as the halo that hovered above your head. It was a gorgeous molten gold tint, partly transparent with glitter floating around inside (with a few cracks decorating the outside of it). It only brought attention to the snowy wings spanning out behind you, flecks of iridescent scattered amongst the feathers. 

[9 people saved a video attachment]

Lucifer

Ah. Yes. He’s not combusting on the inside, not at all. 

*insert internal screaming*

Ahem. Now that his jaw has been picked up off the floor, he is immediately wondering how the fuck Simeon of all people got access to the video before him

Don’t get him wrong though, he is on the way right now- leave the door open, Mc

He has to put his marks all over your body to get rid of the fact that you looked that pretty while using Michael’s name

Possessive urges aside, please keep the outfit on

Does not care if you’re dressed up like an Angel, he will gladly corrupt you

In fact, he wants to corrupt you- let him see that pact mark of his while you look so angelic, yeah?

might be into role playing it if you’d like

Mammon

Blinks a couple times before looking around slowly; poor boy really thought he’d been yeeted back to the celestial realm for a minute there

It’s all quiet before suddenly everyone in the house (and probably outside) hears “HOLY FUCK WHAT”

You never cease to amaze him, by the devils, is he in love 

The blush on his face- if he was anything other than a demon- would look severely concerning. Like no, it’s not a red beacon of light, it’s just him coming through the halls

Is creepin outside ya door practically on his knees. Please let him in. His greed is flared and you’re the only cure even if you’re also the reason

He is dying to have a diy photo shoot of the two of you in your angel fit

Step on him. Do it- it’s the perfect angle, the shot comes out beautifully and he is putting it right in his wallet once it’s developed 

Will step on you in return if you ask

You’ll let him kiss all over your body, wontcha, Mc? (he’ll even be gentle with his fangs when he nibbles around that golden necklace you’ve got on)

Levi

*cue his very nervous yet giddy laughter*

This is just like that anime he saw last week called ‘Help! My human s/o just turned into an Angel but I’m a demon and actually kind of into this?!” 

Seriously though, you look so beautiful, Levi was immediately down in the floor with his face covered and tail wagging 

Please allow 3-4 business months before he can recover 

Jk lol he’s hovering in your doorway before you you can even click on his contact

Shyly asks if he can touch your halo and wings (and ends up with his tail wrapped around you, knocking you side to side because it’s still attempting to wag) 

Unlike the eldest brother, Levi practically begs you to roleplay this with him and have a cosplay photoshoot 

Will shamelessly keep you to himself for the rest of the day and hiss at everyone who gets too close 

Please sit on him and call him mean names while also holding him sweetly 

Satan

Sign him tf up- he’s got a pen at the ready 

Irony aside, Satan thinks you look absolutely stunning— straight out of a fairy tale 

Irony not aside, Satan is actually so into this and craves to play it out with you

He was never an Angel to begin with, he was born a demon; just thinking about making your ivory wings turn black makes him excited 

Satan understands it’s just a simple spell you’ve casted so he won’t get too out of sorts (but if you like it, then what’s the harm?) 

Wants to read a forbidden love trope book and maybe act out some of the scenes while you’re still dressed like that 

The hopeless romantic in him is front and center the entire time

If you think he’s gonna let you go now, you’re sorely mistaken— let his brothers try and take you away 

He’s got tons of scenarios to act out if you can handle him 

Asmo

That weird high pitched sound you hear from across the house that should be something only dogs can hear? Yeah that’s Asmo squealing

Posting your video EVERYWHERE bc everyone needs to see how fucking gorgeous you look 

You can hear his footsteps from a mile away as he hurries to your room 

He MUST see your outfit in person ASAP

Azzy. Is. So. Fucking. Down. For. This. Shit. He thinks he’s dreamed about this once actually  

Please let him just examine every inch of you, he’s begging

Once again his camera is out and ready for a photoshoot and his demon form is out right alongside it 

He will be keeping you for the next 24-48 hours thanks

Beel

Choked. Again. 

Don’t be alarmed by the loud rumbling sound— it’s not Beel’s stomach for once, but instead a growl

He didn’t mean to make that sound but you just look so— and he just— and you— and and— A a a A A 

Has that cute little blush plastered over his face all. day. 

Might be tempted- or actually try- to take a bite out of your halo or something else ifykyk

Rewatches the video at least ten times because you're just. Wow. Wow. W O W. 

Is now in the mood to eat some celestial realm food with you 

though his appetite is half for food and half for you 

Pls don’t mind his staring or the way he’s probably drooling a bit, he can’t help it :(

Belphie 

“...wait, what?”

Lays there staring at the ceiling for a moment bc PHEW you got him sweating and he hasn’t even moved yet-

Manages a straight face all the way until he enters your room and sees the outfits in person

To which he is, once again, dropping right at your feet with a look of ‘PLEASE’

He needs a whole ass minute or two to catch his breath from how fucking gorgeous you look and then he needs another whole ass minute or two to scan you over again

Please sit on him

Is uncharacteristically stuttering through every sentence— how can he possibly concentrate on stupid words in these [amazing] conditions?!

Gatekeeping you AGAIN

Underneath you the entire. time. 

Barbatos

*windows shutdown* 

*windows restart*

…aaand we’re back ladies and gentlemen and every cool dude in between but Barbatos is still fucking astonished— absolutely flabbergasted at how badly he’s got it for you

He dropped everything he was carrying in that moment and swiftly picked it back up, hoping no one saw

Diavolo saw. He recorded the entire thing and sent it to you, zooming in on Barbatos’ blush

There’s just something primal in him that makes him want to sink his teeth into you and coil his tail around your body so that you won’t be able to go anywhere else until he lets you

Everyone be damned, Barb will be having you to himself for the entire night

Will also run his fingers along the faux wings and halo before he absolutely ruins you until the magic dissipates

He is…totally normal about the entire thing..

Diavolo

His father help him— Diavolo is so incredibly thankful for the exchange program

Is OUT of the castle at mach speed before Barbatos can even say otherwise

And then he’s speeding right back and summoning you to him instead so he can have you to himself

Mans is kneeling at your fucking feet the second he lays eyes on you

And while it isn’t ‘proper’ for someone who wants unity between all three realms to want to corrupt you— 

—he does. So badly. He thinks he might even beg you for it 

Also wants to take a picture of the two of you with him in his demon form (it’s the it picture for weeks after he posts it)

Cannot stop looking at your halo; please let him touch it

(If you slowly begin altering your wings to bleed black, he’s practically foaming at the mouth—) 

bonus: 

Simeon

*sharp inhale* . . . *yeets halo*

He deadass forgets he’s an Angel himself for a few minutes bc he’s too busy simping fawning over you 

God who?? Like get tf outta the way, beep beep, archangel on a mission comin through 

Is begging as soon as he steps foot through your door. Please, please let him touch you and explore— he should be ashamed with how unabashed he is but fuck look at you 

Will let his own wings out just so you can compare your angels forms (melted on the spot when you brushed your wings against his)

Honestly can’t decide if he wants you to corrupt him or if he wants to corrupt you…or both at the same time

He’s not sharing you. Not now. Not like this. 

You may look like an angel, and he may be an angel, but he won’t treat you like one tonight 

If you do the fancy trick of letting your wings turn black, he’s completely bowing down to whatever you wish right then and there 

Solomon

Kinda forgot he was immortal for a split second and wondered if he’d either died or accidentally traveled to the celestial realm

Gains his bearings rather quickly, but the hold you have on him is still very much there

And he’d like you to have a hold around his throat— what? Who said that??

His pretty little blush where he averts his eyes all nervously? YEAH THAT

He’s taken aback for a couple moments before his usual shit eating grin comes back but that blush? Still there. 

Backs you against a wall, in a corner, and let’s his hands roam with a small laugh, quietly asking how you manage to make him lose composure so easily 

Is so soft and sweet for a minute before his eyes darken and that SEXY smirk crawls onto his face

Plucks that halo right from above your head and tosses it behind his shoulder because how could he possibly do what he has planned if you’re an angel?

Makes your wings bloom black himself (and challenges how long you can handle him)

extra little bonus: 

Mephisto 

Simply raises a brow and wonders why the hell his body got so hot all the sudden 

Ignores the video for a couple hours until he realizes he can’t stop fucking thinking about it 

Promptly decides he’s going to go straight to you and demand how dare you invade his thoughts like this 

And then promptly decides he’d rather just revert to using his hands instead when the sight of you makes his mouth dry and water at the same time

Will take it upon himself, right then, to corrupt you

Because there’s no way in the seven rings of hell he’s letting you switch sides and he’ll break the magic you’re using as proof

After though *cough cough* he will bashfully tell you how gorgeous you looked…

Raphael

Let me tell you, mans was not ready 

Like if you’ve seen the video of the person with a stacked ass on the stretcher being carried by and the news reporter’s face afterwards, that’s Raphael. 

Luke takes a picture of his expression and makes a meme

Won’t address it until the very next day, stiffly telling you that your outfit was very pleasing to the eye (he thinks you’re drop dead gorgeous, okay, he’s just struggling)

If you offer to show him in person, he is ascending right back home. Won’t deny, though. Like please do. 

In awe for the whole experience 

And blushes an alluring deep shade if you show him some ‘corruption’ tricks you have up your sleeve

[crownofgildedlilies]

my peaceful nights belong to you

in which: a son of poseidon has himself convinced a daughter of athena doesn’t want to listen to him complain.

pairing: percy jackson x daughter of athena!reader

warnings: angst, my poor percy has been through TOO MUCH

tropes: hurt/comfort, best friends to lovers

word count: 2.1k

a/n: friendly reminder that request r open (esp for headcanons) and bc I have a four hour layover tmrw I will be absolutely active on here. plz enjoy. also, this is inspired by a tiktok I saw that said Percy's trauma is so overlooked. so here's me not overlooking it.

All eyes were on the great Percy Jackson.

Yours were, too, don’t be fooled. You had always found him impossible to look away from. But it wasn’t admiration you were studying him with as tales of his quests were told and retold and embellished around the bonfire. Quests you had been on, each and every time.

No, you were watching him with concern.

Because the son of the sea was drowning in all the attention.

It was almost painful for you to watch, but you couldn't look away.

A beautiful train wreck, you supposed, studying Percy's uncomfortable but obliging conversation with one of the newer sons of Ares who hadn't been around for Kronos or Gaea and simply thought fighting in those wars had been fun.

But people had died. Your people, your friends. It was war, and it was painful, and even though you were the daughter of the war goddess, you hated it with every inch of your being.

No amount of planning on your behalf could have saved Beckendorf. There was no stopping Leo from sacrificing himself.

"That's called being a demigod," Percy had told you one day, offhanded, sometime between nearly dying in a volcanic explosion and being stolen from her by Hera.

"That doesn't mean we have to stand idly by and accept it," You had countered, frowning, and Percy must have realized he'd said something that had upset you, because he had pulled you into a hug and muttered an apology you still hadn't worked out was necessary or not.

But what you did know was that he was your best friend, that you had been in love with him since you were both fourteen, and he absolutely did not want to talk about all his past glories like a good little Greek hero.

Seated on a front-row bench with Grover on on side and an assortment of other campers you knew he wasn't close with surrounding him, you knew you had to run a rescue mission.

Especially since Grover was too distracted by eating his marshmallow roasting stick to realize how tense Percy was as the Ares kid went on and on.

"Perce, there you are." You wedged yourself into the not-entirely open spot next to your best friend, smile on your lips and a sly look in your eyes. Percy's own widened in sight relief, his arm wrapping loosely around your shoulders in a casual movement that was entirely too familiar. "Thought you ran off on me."

"Never," He sighed, some of his tension already dissipating. You grinned a little unevenly at him, not wanting to give the others watching any clues that the great Percy Jackson wasn't completely and utterly alright.

"Good," You bumped him with your shoulder, and he squeezed his arm around you for just a brief moment, tugging you close to his side. You had to turn and face the young Ares boy to keep yourself focused. "How are your archery lessons coming?"

The new camper looked slightly put out about the change in conversation, but you pinned your stare on him and didn't back down. For a moment, you thought he would continue to pester Percy with questions about fighting in two wars, even with you sending up very clear signals that neither of you were interested.

But the boy made the right choice, launching into a rant about how long range combat was not his strength.

Halfway through the story about almost shooting Connor Stoll's foot, you felt Percy lean towards you, his breath warm against the shell of your ear as he dropped his voice to a whisper, meant only for you.

"Thank you,"

Since you had taken half a seat, your body was pressed firmly against his from your ankles to your shoulders. His touch warmed your skin like a sunny day on the beach, and you weren't sure if it was a son of Poseidon thing or a Percy Jackson thing.

So instead of answering him, you set one of your hands on his leg, just above his knee, and squeezed.

The moon was shining over camp when you gave up on finding sleep and decided to sneak out.

You’d been around long enough to know just how to sweet talk Mr. D into letting you be out past curfew, and Chiron had a soft spot for you, since you helped save the world. Twice. It was the harpies catching you that you were afraid of.

Travis Stoll had almost learned the hard way that Mr. D was not kidding about them eating campers.

But children of Athena had passed on the secret to sneaking out through generations, and you were exploiting that very information for a midnight trip to the lake to stargaze there when you spotted movement on the roof of Cabin Three.

Really, you weren't in control of your own actions as you turned swiftly to change course. Maybe it was Tyche with her luck or Aphrodite with her meddling in the affairs of the heart that had you scaling the side of Poseidon's cabin, a path you had taken more than once.

Or maybe, for once, you couldn't blame the gods. Maybe you were the only one making the choices that had you settling on your back beside Percy on the slanted cabin roof.

He hadn't seemed all too surprised to see you, but all he offered in way of greeting was a nod before he returned to studying the sky above.

You only let the silence last for three minutes, a gnawing feeling in the pits of your stomach unable to let it be.

"Do you want to talk about it?" You asked, voiced simultaneously quiet and startlingly loud in the otherwise silent night. With your head turned to watch his side profile, you watched him tumble from his thoughts and back onto that rooftop, with you.

"What?" He was playing coy, you knew him well enough. What you didn't understand was why he was holding back with you, of all people. You, who had been there with him from the night Grover dragged him over Half-Blood Hill. Who had followed him and Grover and Annabeth across the country to save his mom, who fought Luke and Kronos with him, and mourned the loss of so many friends.

You, who hadn't slept for six months when he disappeared, only to find him in New Rome with the claim that he had forgotten everyone and everything but you.

His tether to his life. His best friend. His something more.

"About whatever is bothering you so much tonight." You shot him a flat look, but his was still doing a good job at avoiding your eye. Frowning, you nudged him with your elbow. "I saw you at the bonfire, Perce. Something is eating at you."

For a moment, it was silent. And then Percy drew in a deep breath, like he was readying himself for something, but he still hadn't looked at you.

"I guess I’ve just been thinking about just… everything." He sighed, but you could hear the apprehension and exhaustion in his voice. He was still keeping things back, but you couldn't understand why. And that killed you, as a child of Athena. "I've been fighting since I—we—were twelve. It's too..."

"Too what?" You prompted when he trailed off, his voice dying in the warm night air. Your hand brushed against his on the rooftop between your bodies, and you considered the risks of just grabbing his hand and squeezing to offer comfort while he sorted through his thoughts.

"Forget it." He shook his head, and your heart sunk. "You don’t want to hear me complain."

You frowned, twisting to face the sky and wracking your Athena blessed mind for some way to prove to him that you did, in fact, want to hear it. You wanted to hear anything, ever, that he had to say.

But when words failed you, actions didn’t, and you finally stopped pretending to accidentally brush your pinky against his and just wrapped your hand around his.

You both stayed like that for a while, quiet and thinking, until you turned your head to face him, unsurprised to find a stormy look on his face while he still studied the stars. Maybe he was thinking of Zoë, of all the others the two of you had lost over the years.

But you were thinking about him, only.

"I’ve been fighting with you since you came to camp," Your words were quiet, little more than a summer’s breeze brushing across Percy’s skin, but you knew he heard you. "But maybe now we’re not fighting monsters anymore. Maybe we’re fighting the memories and scars they left behind. But I’m still fighting with you, Percy."

He turned his head, then, his eyes finding yours like they were always meant to. And, deep down, part of you knew they were.

Every shared glance during combat, or after a stupid joke, or when a battle ended and all either of you could do was search the carnage for a hint of the other—those eyes had found you.

"I’m just so scared I’ll never get to live my life.” Percy confessed, voice hauntingly hollow. You squeezed his hand, and he squeezed back like a lifeline. “I don’t know if I’m running away from what’s already happened or into the next big mess. And what if next time… what if…"

He trailed off, eyes wide in panic, a bit of desperation. You squeezed his hand again, because you couldn’t give him the words. He needed to find them himself.

Percy screwed his eyes shut and darted forward, slotting his mouth over yours in an unexpected, horribly angled kiss. Teeth clashed together, your bottom lip caught in the mayhem and you gasped at the slight bite of pain.

He jumped back like you had burned him, propped up on one arm as he leaned on his side next to you.

"I, shit, I shouldn’t have—" He fumbled for words, already trying to shuffle further away from you, but you held tight onto his hand to keep him close, sitting up to follow him. "Please, let’s just forget about this, okay? I just, I got caught up in everything and—"

"Tell me you didn’t want to kiss me, then." You promoted, brows knitted together as you studied his face, desperate for a glimpse of how he was feeling revealed to you in the moonlight. "Because if you can’t say it meant nothing to you, you need to tell me, right now."

"I… can’t say it."

And just like that, you were the one kissing him, one hand curving around the back of his neck to keep him close while the other remained threaded through his fingers. His free hand reached up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing against your skin as if he needed confirmation that this was real, that you were real.

When you finally pulled apart to breathe, you didn’t go far. Not from him. Never from him.

"I was worried next time I wouldn’t get the chance to do that." Percy finished his thought from before, a little dazed from the kiss you both had been long awaiting, apparently. You smiled softly and closed your eyes, pressing your forehead against his.

"If you’re running towards the next prophecy, I’ll run with you." You promised, pausing only briefly to shift your position so you and Percy were laying on the roof again, only this time your head was propped on his chest and his arm was wrapped securely around you. "But if you want to sit up here and talk about the monsters you’re running from, I’ll do that, too."

"Thank you." He echoed his words from the earlier bonfire. And you could tell from his voice that he really was thankful. Because as tough as he was, Percy Jackson was still half mortal. "I…" He started, the air thick with tension about what he was going to confess. "I keep having dreams about Tartarus."

You let him talk, devoting your attention and mind to him, tracing shapes and stars and waves against his chest by your head while he spoke.

Time moved quickly that way, with talk of his fears and what weighed heavily on his mind broken up only when his throat would clog with emotion and you would tilt your head up to kiss away the memory long enough for him to regain his composure.

Because no one knew him better than you, and he didn't have to be the great Percy Jackson with you.

He could just be Percy, the boy who was haunted by his past and terrified of his future.

And you would give him all of your peaceful nights for him to have only one.

[love-of-the-red-star]

That time I got reincarnated as an Aeon

(Series)

Chapter five: Discovery Channel (In which you find out you have fans)

Warnings: Idk sort of Hi3 lore spoilers? Void Archives is his own warning

Why the hell did you even bother to think you could fix the absolute red flag that’s the divine key sitting on the chair next to your bed?

The more the Kirschtaria look alike spoke, the more you were convinced he should have been booted off the train. Too bad you couldn’t let your intrusive thoughts win in the meantime— Welt doesn’t know just how worse this guy could get, shared goal be damned.

“Okay so uhh, you were with Welt to fight a bunch of people in the sky right?” You said, trying to go along with whatever the fuck he was saying— it wasn’t like you didn’t know what they were doing beforehand, but it was easier to pretend you didn’t know shit.

“Yes, and we were in luck because Himeko had saved us.” He said, smiling. For a moment you would have been utterly bamboozled but you knew better.

You thanked your new brain that functioned as fast as a supercomputer, because you knew everyone in this train would be dead meat if you were slow.

“I see… that’s good to know she managed to get to you in the nick of time then.” You told him with a light hearted laugh, you swore that the more he looked at you, the more suspicious he became. If you were going to kick this man off the train it would have to be a vote of majority, but since he wasn’t acting up just yet you were going to postpone that meeting.

He was still on your watchlist, though.

Void Archives opened a bottle of expensive looking whiskey and poured it on a cup, and then another, and handed one to you.

“A toast.” He said, but you heard “An offering of friendship”. It was at least good to know he knew he shouldn’t fuck around with you.

You accepted the glass, drank it and grimaced.

“Not a fan I see.” He shook his head as if to mourn your lack of taste in the finer things in life. But what would he know? He’s a cube.

“I don’t like it, but I can drink it.” The taste of the whiskey burned in your throat. “Tastes a little funny though.” You murmured, Void Archives didn’t react much to your statement and continued to drink til he emptied the bottle.

It took him an hour, but at least the empty bottle signified he overstayed his welcome in your room.

“Let us meet again tomorrow morning, I want to speak with you soon.” He told you before he left.

Good grief, what a creep.

———————————

You never did end up speaking to him, instead heading towards Welt Yang, who you want to vaguely warn.

“I know you knew Void longer than you know me,” you began, but you already know Welt was more likely to believe you than the cube. “But keep an eye on him, he gives me a bad feeling.” Plant the seed of doubt, slowly but surely, so that the damage to the express can be minimized.

“I’ll.. keep that in mind.” Welt inhaled, stiffly nodding at your words as you patted him on the back.

“Great! Also, if things come down to it, you have my say in kicking him off this train.” You grinned, waving before disintegrating into particles as you returned to your original body.

Famous last words to be spoken.

Because five years later, on a Christmas Eve of all occasions, shit happened. And Void Archives was booted off the train like the red Amogus on a community vote.

Was it chaotic? Yes. Was it like a court hearing than an actual community vote? Also yes.

You had plenty of evidence presented, including the first instance you invited him to your room— because what do you know, the whiskey he gave you was drugged.

He did plenty of horrible shit, and even Himeko, poor patient Himeko, had enough.

You felt a little bad for Welt though having to deal with the aftermath, needless to say, everyone, except you, needed therapy on that train.

On the upside, someone better did replace the blonde and that was Dan Heng who joined you a few weeks before Void Archives was booted off the express.

“Well,” you blinked. “That was something.” You said out loud as Dan Heng shook his head. “Sorry you had to meet that guy.”

Dan Heng brushed it off, instead focusing on staring at the Christmas dinner that Pompom prepared for everyone and poked the turkey on his plate with a fork, before properly digging in.

It wasn’t exactly an ideal way to start your holidays and welcoming someone in the crew properly in a celebration, but you supposed it’d have to do.

It was at least one less toxic bitch off the train.

——————

You didn’t expect you’d deal with your own information being displayed in the databank though. Dan Heng wasn’t creepy about it at least, not that he knew you were an Aeon— specifically, the Aeon that ate Akivili (you still feel bad about that).

“Libertas, huh.” You let out a snort as you read your own little book. In there, it was written on how you were discovered, and what you stood for, along with a group that eventually became your followers.

You hummed, thinking it was rather endearing to see the Avgin there as some of your believers. It was interesting on how you got a following, no matter how small, in the few decades you existed in this world.

It wasn’t just the Avgin, there were others who you did not know too who believed in you, and others who you did see when you had peered into planets to see what people were up to.

It was sweet in a way, for them to cling to you for belief as they sought true happiness in the way of freeing themselves and others.

You wanted to keep it that way.

You read into the pages more, finding out what kind of worship people dedicated to your path; there was a statue of you in one city in some planet hundreds of light years away, in another planet there was you in a tapestry, in another you had a statue and a painting inside of a massive church akin to the ones you saw in photos of Rome.

It was a little overwhelming, and you felt a little shy at the recent discovery of all of this.

You closed the book and put it back on its shelf, exiting Dan Heng’s room to ask Pompom for tea after helping them with their chores.

—————————

Unbeknownst to you, Dan Heng knew you were an Aeon— and an Aeon he believed in in some way when he had heard of you in the whispers of the guards in the recent years he’s stayed in the Shackling Prison. It wasn’t exactly difficult to piece things together with the context clues around the place, not to mention, Himeko did end up telling him.

You wouldn’t be angry about it, she said to him. You were apparently rather human-like, and kind.

Himeko wasn’t wrong, and Dan Heng was going to trust that judgement. Is he wary? Yes, you’re an Aeon after all, you were plenty big of a deal.

But Pompom didn’t seem to be scared of you, and Welt spoke to you with a sense of respect. You regarded everyone in this train with a certain familiarity— Dan Heng did feel like you were a bit strange due to the feeling of “uncanny valley” you gave him, but you were kind to him and you were welcoming.

He was welcome in this place, he had a place to stay, and a purpose, as meager as it was.

Dan Heng thinks things would be alright from now on.

————————

Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI (HERE), Part VII, Part VIII

Yeeeee this took a bit!!! Thanks for the wait yall, I know it’s calm rn, but it’ll get rowdy again at some point I promise.

[charliedawn]

slashers(Jason,Michael and Brahms only) with beautiful undead yet friendly bride Reader who is like Emily(from Corpse Bride) and She refers them as Her "Victor" (btw,are you fan of Tim Burton? if not then that's okay)

(Here you go ! Thank you for the request and indeed, I am a big fan of Tim Burton. Hope you’ll like it 👍)

Jason Voorhees:

Jason was scared half-to-death (see what I did there ? 😂) when he saw that rotten bride just sprang out from the very earth he usually buries the bodies of his victims in. Not gonna lie, he kinda ran back to his cabin when he saw you—‘cause if his mama taught him anything ? It was that dead people don’t come back to life for no good reason. The poor boy locked himself up twice. But, it wasn’t enough to stop you. You eventually came in and started haunting him. He tried to shoo you away at first because Jason likes his loneliness, his space. Actually, he doesn’t like people in general—dead or alive. So, Jason tried everything to get rid of you. He swung his axe at you and tried to catch you or trap you, but all his efforts were fruitless. He finally gave up and let you haunt him. But, he didn’t regret it. As you are a ghost, you could guard his home and warn him of any danger nearby. It was nice having someone watching over his back for once.

…But then, you saw it.

The machete that killed you.

On his wall.

You looked back at Jason and your undead heart squeezed in your chest. Had he…? Was he the one who had killed you ? On your wedding day nonetheless ? Wasn’t he your Victor ? And if not. Who was he ?

Brahms Heelshire:

Brahms likes to play pretend. He dreamt of having that special someone he could one day propose to and have his happy ever after moment. He was thinking about it and had one of those gummy rings he had saved from his snack time. He was in the forest and had decided to have himself a little repetition for the unforeseeable future and that’s when he saw one peculiar branch that looked like a finger. He didn’t think more about it and did his little game of pretending…and when he put the ring on the finger. Well…He certainly didn’t expect some half-rotten bride to spurt out of the earth and shout:

"I DO."

But it did. That happened. And then, you wouldn’t leave him—not that he minded. Far from it. He was happy to have a wife (even though the kisses and hugs were a lil’ cold) He wondered about telling people about his…well…new ‘bride’. But, he thought better of it when he realised how lonely and sad you were. It didn’t matter that you called him Victor. Or Marvin. Or Hector. Or Derek for that matters…He would take any name if it meant you would stay and love him. And you had said ‘I do’. No takebacksies now.

Michael Myers:

Michael was confused when he first saw you sprang up from the earth. Weird. His victims usually stayed dead. He tried to stab you but…Oops. Already dead. He quickly realised that you must be like Jack Torrance—a ghost. He also understood that stabbing you would be a waste of time. He tried to ignore you, but you would then appear at random times and tell him that you were married and that he was your Victor. As Michael doesn’t speak, he couldn’t rectify you.

Hence, he became ‘Victor’ to you.

At the end, he learnt to tolerate your presence. Especially at night when he would normally sleep alone with his regrets, he would feel your hand stroking his head and your voice singing him lullabies…Maybe having a dead bride wouldn’t be that bad…?

One day, you showed him an old picture of you. He looked at it and you could see that something was bothering him. You asked him about it, but he didn’t say anything. He didn’t tell you he remembered you. He didn’t tell you he remembered your wide frightened eyes when he plunged his knife deep into your heart the day you were supposed to marry…or the way he mercilessly beheaded your betrothed.

That was a story he would rather never share with you.

[stellaaarree]

thinking of jacking miguel o’hara off while he tries to keep his pride 😇.

handjob, degrading, sub!miguel. G/N!reader

sat on his lap, lips attached to his already abused neck as you whisper shameless things to him. being greeted with a look or grunt full of disdain. as you continue your tactics of breaking him down the lightest sigh departs from his plush lips.his cheeks instantly turning pink as he forcefully scrunches his eyes and lips shut, gauging the endless teasing from his slip up.

“what was that, baby?” your voice coos, thumb coming up to put pleasurable pressure on his throbbing neck. getting him to speak. “d…don’t call me that.” he groans, unexpectedly getting the blissful feeling of miguel’s hips jerking up into yours by instinct. his lips drop open into an ‘o’ full of shame and need. you’d successfully broken him. not like he was gonna still fully submit though.

your thumb leaves the throbbing mark on his neck to the crotch of his suit. the digital hologram faltering as his fully erect cock and all of its girth goes straight against his stomach. so he does go commando, lyla had mentioned that once or twice. as miguel hears your snicker his hand comes to grip your hip. “don’t.” he warns sternly, a part of his pride joining him again. completely disintegrating as your thumb circles his pink mushroomy tip. “fuckkkkk..” his words strained. you had barely touched the man and he was already trying to push himself through an inexistent hole in your hand.

your hand ever so slowly sinks down, feeling every hard inch of him. finger pads feeling through the neediest veins. “don’t fuck around.” he chides replied with a snarky, “thought you didn’t want this? you’re waayy too proud for some pleasure. got a multiverse to save, right?” your words shameless. as soon as he composes himself to gather some words your hand jerks him fully. balls to tip. trying to purse his lips, fangs sinking in drawing a trickle of blood he has to moan. pushing his hips up for more friction he’s met with a grip around his tip that can only get him to melt backwards and let you continue.

“fuckin’ needy. you know that? what would people think if they saw you like this. getting your needy cock stroked by your assistant. bet you do this with everyone who gives you the chance huh?” your degrading words just getting him to moan and attempt to buck further. he had a thing for that to i guess. your other hand comes up to his abdomen, circling around his base and balls. “you like this?” you ask rhetorically, being greeted with no answer just more moans your hands both wrap around him. one stroking him harshly upwards while the other circled and pressed on his leaking tip. “sí, sí joder me gusta.” he pleas in spanish. poor little head not being able to comprehend english while he was being pleasured so good :(

“i’ve barely even touched you.” you scold. “gonna cum ,you slut?” this was the one time you had control of him. it was being used to the advantage clearly with all the degrading words. not knowing if it was your words or your actions, maybe both he comes. the substance dripping onto your fingers as you jack him through his high. while his mouth was temporarily open in bliss your cum-coated fingers stuff his mouth full. without thinking miguel’s tongue instantly slipping around and sucking your fingers. collecting his own pleasure as he swallowed harshly. a sour taste throughout him. it was nasty. nobody would have expected this from their set on professional boss.

“good boy.” you praise for the first time. other hand working through his still hard cock as you took him through his second orgasm, hips bucking as his thighs shook. if this was what he was like over a simple handjob, blowjobs and cowgirl would certainly fry his now needy brain as he panted for more.

a/n, omd sorry i dipped for like a week haha, i really jus wasn’t feeling it. but i’m back and horny as ever😚😚!!

[ambriel-angstwitch]

Tim Drake Pride Thoughts Part 2

Link to Part 1 for those interested

I love Tim’s internal monologue and how it’s visualized on the page. The way he’s in the Robin costume even though he’s not actually and then it fades away.

Gosh his identity issues. His need to save people and self destructive tendencies. I love him.

Then Tim beats the crap out of the unsuspecting cultist and steals their stuff like a boss but it wasn’t shown we just cut to the cult after the reveal of the multiple “chaos gods”

I love that he says what would Batman do like it’s what would Jesus do. He even acronynmed it earlier. I used to have those bracelets.

Tim’s always trying to fill a role and that’s so fascinating. Robin was just a role that needed filling that he just happened to be able to do but now that there’s another person in that spot he’s trying to emulate Batman since he’s working alone and Batman’s his idol.

Oh also the fact that it was Bernard who was about to be sacrificed is interesting. Like he’s one of the most recent kidnappings so it’s interesting that they’d choose him

Also the fact that Tim is taking the Tim to judge them when his friend/crush is literally about to be sacrificed. Can’t stop being a hater I guess.

Love that Bernard is a fanboy just like Tim was.

Also Tim’s little gay panic there. He holds a boys hand and is immediately like “Is it supposed to be this warm?”

Love how Bernard immediately notices that Tim’s acting different it could be due to his Robin obsession but I also just think it’s cool how easily he understands him.

Bernard really just almost got sacrificed and pops up ready to fight. He’s probably been waiting to fight alongside Robin for a long time since he is a fanboy

Oh Timmy Batman isn’t alone and you don’t have to be either. You have the Batfam. I find it silly that this idea is coming from Mr. “Batman needs a robin” himself.

Though perhaps he doesn’t mean physically alone. Because the Batfam isn’t keen to share their problems. They tend to try to be islands. Each individually dealing with their issues and hurts rather than opening up and leaning on eachother. They’ve learned their poor emotional communication from the best.

Close enough welcome back Arthur Pendragon!

I have talked to friends and I have confirmed that I’m not the only one who thinks that first panel looks like Arthur (Come to think of it Tim looks kind of like Merlin too. Reincarnation au?)

Anyways I promise I had an actual thought regarding this interaction too. I love how Bernard is telling his crush to tell his crush that he wished they’d finished their date. Tim is just internalizing this and probably with that last word realizing what they could be.

Like I said Tim’s having realizations.

Also I just love this page layout. The different sizes and shapes to represent the chaotic-ness of a fight. Bernard being the focus of the biggest moment to visually show the lightbulb moment and Tim’s fixation of him. Both of them just being flashes of certain moments almost like we’re Tim or Bernard glancing at the other to see what their doing. Ahhh! I love it!

More Tim tech lingo! I love the focus on Tim being Techie and how that can cause him to think differently like he’s also just a computer with simple problems to fix. His realization that he’s different. That sure he didn’t realize he was Bi before but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t

I know that the whole Batfam not choosing being vigilantes is a thinly veiled metaphor for Tim’s being queer (which is kind of funny because I feel like that almost implies that the rest of the Batfam is queer or maybe it’s just the inherent queer subtext of hidden identities), but also I do think that the police has a point in them not really choosing the vigilante life I mean sure they theoretically could have not been vigilantes, but it’s just a fundamental part of who they are so even if the law tells them not to they’re not going to turn back now. I don’t think any of them at the beginning could have seen the pain and problems that they did and not tried to fix it.

Also the I want over Bernard and how the next page is going to be him.

And that’s the adorable conclusion. I love them! The way their figuring it out together! They’re both new to this. I love when couples don’t have to have it figured out. There’s no one right way to have a relationship

[ofallthingsnasty]

Idk if your still doing yandere monsters

But a big strong tall orc who seen the horrors of war and is seen as heartless by his people finds chubby reader lost in the woods after her husband abdoned her and grows obsessed soon they go from being scared in the woods to being scared as a orc bigger and stronger in everyway carries them everywhere and constantly showing them off and making sure his captive is dressed in the finest pelts and spoiled but constantly punished to make sure their a perfect little soft mate

your brain, anon.... i want it... this is so juicy 🤤 i really want to write a little one-shot for this and i will!! one day haha -- until then, have some rambles

tags: yandere, heavy dubcon, exhibitionism, minors dni, kind of kidnapping?, f!reader word count: 0.8k

That thought is so cute... Just this is big, burly and scary orc treating you like his most prized possession (well, you kind of are), both gentle and patronizing. To go from being absolutely distraught and scared, all alone in the wilderness, to being saved and cared for by this huge man who looks like he has taken more than dozen lives yet cooes down at you as though you’re a little lap dog - how dizzying that must be. Your poor little head will spin during these first few days, for sure. He is so patient at first, as well - listens to your tearful words and decides then and there that that poor excuse of a human being didn’t deserve you in the first place, that you are way too precious to be treated with so little respect. He’s getting in on the years, craves a little stability, someone to hold - and you are just so cute and helpless, perfect to keep. (And he deserves this, he thinks. He found you out there and saved your life, it’s what you owe him.) He’s never mean but he can get quite stern with you. If you request to be let go, to go back to your family to lick your wounds, he’ll explain to you that he basically owns you now - and that it’d be terribly ungrateful to run from your savior like that. He doesn’t force you to do things you don’t want to do - he can wait to split you open on his cock, he doesn’t mind. You still need to recover from that terrible injustice your former husband did to you - but he’ll make sure to fuck you on his fingers, to have you ride his strong thighs until you cum, again and again. He enjoys seeing your face contort into absolute bliss, to feel how you let go.  And when you finally let him fuck you, it’s all the sweeter. He’s gentle with you at first, knows how big he is compared to you but he’ll train you to take him fully and without any trouble in no time. He loves to just pound into you, to watch your helpless little face and your tits bounce with every thrust, loves to show you that he owns you now. 

He isn’t afraid to do it in public, either. You better lose all of your inhibitions quickly because he’ll have you on his lap during nights with his friends, bends you over the table during lunch. No one will even bat an eye when you suddenly cum right in front of them or when he empties himself in you. The nights he spends with his friends will become more than just treasured memories when you cockwarm him, yelping and sputtering at every jolt of laughter that runs through him. He isn’t the type to take out his anger on you, ever - but you will get punished when the need arrises. He’ll keep it short and simple. Often a spanking is sufficient for him, especially when he gets to make sure your skin runs hot from the hits and you get all teary-eyed and stuttery. It’s just too precious to him, his little wife weepy and apologetic - and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t fuck you afterwards, mouth full of condescending praise and proclamations of love. He needs to keep you in check but it’s all part of the fun for him - so if you’re a little feisty, he’ll enjoy that, too. It just means that he gets to laugh at your sharp words and useless slaps against his chest - and then make you eat your actions with the palm of his hand. You’ll never want for anything - as condescending as he can be, he acknowledges you’re your own person, that you have interests and needs. Whatever it is you like to do, you’ll get all the supplies for it and then some. He loves the way your eyes light up when he presents you with an expensive gift, the way you bite your lip shyly while accepting it. He loves to drape you in jewelry, as well. Seeing you wear nothing but delicately crafted necklaces and rings and bracelets appeals to something deep within him that wants to provide for you, that preens at the thought of him being able to dress you in luxurious items - he’s your husband now and he loves to spoil you.

All in all, he may not be the easiest to be with because he keeps treating you like a pet but it’s simple to figure him out and satisfy. Never sadistic, too - when you’re good, you’re good - but a little on the rougher side. You’ll be provided for for the rest of your life - at the teeny, tiny cost of being fucked raw every single day and cooed at like some lap dog.

[metalomagnetic]

Snippet for 'It runs in the bood'

I was so moved by all the lovely comments I got, that it made me want to work on the new chapter immediately, even if I probably should rest, instead.

Anyway, here is a little taste of Sirius being his horrible self.

-----

He finds Snape crowding Quirrell against a wall, acting all intimidating.

However, he’s a fucking looser that can only intimidate little children; it’s only when Sirius shows up that Quirrell bolts, making himself scarce so quickly, Sirius could swear he more flew away that walked-

I must be tired. Sirius must be seeing things that aren’t there. He had a very rough Samhain night, like all Samhain nights are for him, and after that, he had to open a letter to read Harry fought a fucking troll.

“That’s how you do it, Snivellus,” Sirius barks at him. “See, I just have to show up and people flee from me.”

Now it’s Sirius that crowds the miserable twat against the wall. “I hear you’re trying your hand at bullying, Snivellus. The problem is you’re trying it with my boy. I thought I should remind you why that is a terrible idea, the worst you’ve had in ten years.”

Snape glares at Sirius, with those black holes he has instead of eyes.

“How is it possible you got even uglier?” Sirius asks, wrinkling his nose in distaste.

Snape pulls out his wand, face twisting with hate.

Sirius laughs. “Really? You want to curse a Hogwarts Governor? Not only you got uglier, but stupider, too. Truly, life doesn’t seem to agree with you. Shut up!” he growls, when Snape opens his mouth. “I don’t care to hear what you have to say; I never did.” He steps closer, towers over Snape, who still holds his wand firmly, but hesitates to do more with it.

“You know what I think, Snape? I think you should have another moonlight encounter with a four legged, furry animal. I think the first one wasn’t enough to teach you a lesson. You know why it wasn’t enough? Because James saved you. But you got him killed, you sniveling worm. You got him and Lily killed, and now there’s no one to save you when I send Greyback after you. And I will, if I hear a single complaint against you from Harry. You know I will.”

“You-” Snape hisses, going red and deathly pale at the same time. It’s a funny combination. “That’s all you do these days, threaten to set the werewolf on people? Brave Gryffindors should fight their own battles-”

“You’re unworthy of my wand. Curses are wasted on you. I even feel sorry for Greyback, to stain his fangs with your disgusting body…a pity. Alas, that’s why I have minions, to spare me of such undignified tasks. You’d like to have minions, too, no doubt. You’d love to have the means to set a werewolf on someone; that’s why you’re on a power trip with the children, you fucking arsehole, because they’re the only ones powerless enough to listen to you. But you don’t have anything, that’s the truth. Remember, I used to tell you, when we were kids ourselves? That you’ll die alone and unwanted? Seems I was right. No doubt you’re still sleeping with Lily’s picture on your pillow, since the poor photograph can’t exactly protest to your pathetic presence. At least have the decency not to antagonise her son- the one that you orphaned.”

“Sirius,” a firm voice calls from the end of the hallway.

It’s Dumbledore’s no nonsense voice, very different from how he sounded half an hour ago.

“Oh, sorry,” Sirius hisses at Snape. “I forgot you do have someone. A master to serve. A new one, that is. You’ve forsaken the first one, after all-”

“Sirius!” Dumbledore’s voice gets even steelier, and it’s coming closer.

“Stay away from Harry, you greasy pice of shit!” Sirius warns, and then turns and storms away.

And if that weird Quirrell stalks after him again, he’s going to meet the bad end of Sirius’ wand. He’s reached the limit of his patience for the night.

For the entire fucking year, actually.

[sashaisready]

This Must Be The Place: Chapter 2 -Feet on the ground

Biker!Bucky x Femme Reader

Back at your beloved late grandmother's home to pack up her house, you have a run-in with the town's biker gang 'The Howling Commandos' and find yourself entangled with the metal armed President.

Series Masterlist

No specific warnings in this one (apart from Biker!Bucky of course). Some brief references to grief. Sorry it's on the shorter side, just need to set up our story. Thanks to all who have reblogged/commented, it means a lot!

You sipped your drink as you told Bucky all about granny and moving into her house. He nodded solemnly as he leaned on the bar and listened intently, the depth of his attention surprising you. You didn’t expect him to be so easy to talk to. Behind you, Wanda and Vis were very obviously pretending to be chatting, while clearly eavesdropping on your conversation.

“Oh yeah, she was a nice lady. I’m sorry for your loss,” Bucky told you with sincerity after you’d finish the whole tale. “She was a tough old gal”.

“Uh, thanks,” you replied quietly, not realising until now what an emotional gut punch it still was to talk about her. “And yeah…she was”.

You cleared your throat and changed the subject. You cocked an eyebrow and looked at him curiously.

“So…what’s your deal?”

He grinned, “What’d you mean?”

“You know,” you pointed to his kutte, “all this. You’re one of the top guys, I guess? I’m sorry, I don’t really know the lingo…”

“I’m the President” he smirked and pointed to one of his patches, clearly a little amused by your ignorance.

You peered over at the fabric square. “Mm. So, what, you drive around town on your bikes causing mayhem and throwing darts at women’s butts?”

“Something like that, yeah,” he laughed. “But mostly we’re here, or at the auto shop across town”.

“Busy, busy” you teased. “I’m sure its all legitimate and above board…”

He winked. God, what a dangerous wink. You instinctively knew that wink had ruined lives.

You both exchanged a small smile.

“You’re not afraid of me, huh?” Bucky teased.

“Should I be?” you boldly shot back.

He grinned. “No. But a lot of people are”.

“Well…your aesthetics aren’t super warm and fuzzy”.

“No…guess not”.

You continued to sip your drink as you tried to fight off the nagging voice telling you to back off. God only knows what he gets up to when he’s not at the bar or fixing cars or at whatever other business fronts they had. You didn’t need another dangerous, no-good man in your life…You were only supposed to sort the house out, live quietly for a little while and then leave. Not get embroiled with the locals, and certainly not with the President of a probably criminal motorcycle club…

…and yet…

“So…you working while you’re staying here?” he asked curiously.

“Mm. Maybe. I have some savings. And thankfully the mortgage at my grandmother’s place is paid off, so at least that’s one less thing. But I might get something part time to keep the lights on”.

Bucky smirked and held his arm up to the bar behind you. “Work here”.

You laughed. “What? Yeah, good one…”

“I’m serious. You need extra cash. We apparently need some help here after you tore my poor bartender apart. So why not? Sounds like you have some experience…”

“I do yeah…but…”

“But what?” he asked, a hint of interrogation in his voice.

“Well, I was thinking more like a coffee shop or delivering pamphlets or something. Not working nights with drunks…”

“Oh, but we’re friendly drunks. Plus, the regulars tip well,” he pushed. “You can spend the days working on the house and then do a few evenings here until you move on. It’s perfect”.

You frowned. It was pretty perfect, actually. You thought about protesting, but as you looked back at Bucky’s expression you immediately understood that this was someone who was very used to getting his own way.

“You’re not gonna drop this, are you?” you asked.

“Nope” he responded, popping the ‘p’ and shaking his head.

You sighed, chewing your lip with hesitation.

“Will your club mind? I mean…they don’t know me. All they know is I yelled at one of them”.

“Eh. Everyone yells at Parker”, he shrugged. “You’ll fit right in”.

You frowned, then looked back at him suspiciously.

“But…Why are you doing this? You barely know me. I might be a serial killer for all you know…”

He chuckled. “Well, I’ve met a lot of bad guys in my time, Sugar, and trust me, you get pretty good at figuring people out. Plus, I get it, grief is tough, and your grandmother lived here all her life and was a big part of the community. And you’re her family. We do look out for one another here; this is our home after all”.

You blinked in surprise, not expecting that answer. Your sceptical side half believed he just wanted to get in your pants, but he sounded sincere regardless.

You looked over at his group who were laughing and drinking jovially, then across the room at the wide range of clientele. You’d certainly had worked at worse places.

Sighing, you turned back to Bucky. “Well…fine. Let’s do it. But I’m not wearing booty shorts or anything ridiculous for a uniform”.

This coaxed a belly laugh from him. “No…only the male bartenders wear those,” he quipped. “Jeans and tees are fine. Maybe a flannel if you really wanna mix it up”.

You nodded. “Okay, I can do that”.

He smiled back at you sweetly, but a hint of something edgier lay beneath. The way he eyed you made you feel…exposed. Like you were a doe caught in the crosshairs. It wasn’t unpleasant, no, in fact it made your lower belly surge, sending a wave of butterflies through you.

“Welcome aboard, Sugar” he grinned.

You smiled back, once again knowing full well you were treading into dangerous territory...but unable to stop yourself.

[dangopango00]

COLLEGE AU TIGHNARI ROOMMATE HCS

Tighnari x gn reader

A/N: AUGGGHHHHH IM INSANE AGAIENEBWFWFWWGQ Missing tighnari hours oue so I will write out all the roomie hcs I have to share; per usual its self indulgent as hell

If im being fr this is probably gonna have a part 2 soon i always forget something 😭😭 also my art of him is down there somewhere!!!!

Cw: long af oh my god

more utc

First Meeting:

- You’re a biology major or something similar and just visiting the college you’ll be attending

- You were definitely going to move into the dorms but you heard about and later witnessed some student running around like a maniac looking for a roommate

- You even got emails about it, found flyers on some of the pinboards around the school and even saw ads online (whether that be in some college gc app like zeemee or whatever)

- Eventually you did a bit of basic research on this guy by asking some of your friends or people who know him and you found out his name is Tighnari and he’s double majored in biology and botany

- You let him go on for a few days-a week before you realized he really wasn’t going to find a roommate this late in the game; feeling both pity and admiration for his dedication, you approached him with one of the flyers in your hand as the poor guy took a break from his ad campaign

- “Um… about this flyer…..”

- Tighnari’s ears immediately perked up oh you just made his week, no his month— maybe even his year

- “Yes? Are you interested in moving in? My previous roommate has begun living elsewhere” he explained.

- You’re hesitant, hoping you aren’t making a mistake but eventually steel yourself and figure you only live once right? Plus he could always help with your work! You give him a firm nod.

- Tighnari got a bit overexcited, asking way too many questions at once, “When can you move in? How will you be paying rent? Are you alright with plants? Right, by the way I’m Tighnari. I am a biology and botany major”

- “It’s nice to meet you! I’m (Y/n). I can move in soon and plants are fine! Uh …About rent! I’ll have to find a job but I do have some savings!” you confessed nervously.

- To tell the truth you weren’t planning on getting a job this early on, planning to get the hang of the new workload first but desperate times call for desperate measures (Cute guy in trouble 😤)

- Tighnari however, was unamused. His face completely dropped as if you’d just told him his entire family dropped dead, “You don’t have a source of income already…? Then why would you…. Sigh Nevermind. Its fine. This is fine. I’ll even help you job search”

- “Greeeaaatttt there goes my credit” he thought. And it showed on his face too.

- You just shoot him a silly smile and over the course of the days it took to move you into his apartment you establish some ground rules

Rules:

- He will do the cooking and he’ll cook for you if he’s cooking for himself (if he’s not cooking then you’re on your own)

- In return you do a majority of the cleaning although it’s still pretty split kinda like a 60/40 or 55/45 kind of deal

- You pay the water bill while he pays electricity (you take long showers and his plants and such sometimes require lamps + he just uses a lot of electricity I feel like it’s not usually for him but his plants and work)

- Visitors are pretty much always welcome but you have to let the other know beforehand

- Although the previous rule is true none of those kind of visitors are allowed. Tighnari has sensitive ears he don’t wanna hear that 😭😭

- Be cool and communicate if you have a problem

Apartment:

- SO MANY PLANTS. LIKE THEY ARE TAKING OVER THE APARTMENT . This is a big part of why Tighnari didn’t want to live in the dorms since he wouldn’t be able to have as many plants as he wanted

- It’s a little funny Cyno has really bad allergies so he never lived with him and Collei lived with him for a long time but moved out to move in with Amber (oue shes leaving the nest) (she’s in the apartment right below yours)

- You, as a biology major, on the other hand LOVE the amount of plants in the apartment and Tighnari is ecstatic because he was sooo worried you’d try to make him get rid of them or something; is even more glad that you like them as much as he does

- Also has a big tank of worms where he dumps all the leftovers neither of you eat. He then uses the compost as plant fertilizer

- Despite the amount of things in the apartment its very neat and organized; there are little notebooks next to every living thing to keep track of when and how to feed them

You and Him:

- He has a very old ass car but only uses it for emergencies because he’s not a fan of carbon emissions (usually goes places by public transport, walking or hitching rides) (its the little things that make a big difference ok)

- He works two jobs: One at a plant/flower shop and the other at the school library

- He sometimes brings home new plants because all the plants no one will buy are always given to him by management

- You work one or two jobs likely on campus maybe in the newspaper or the school cafe etc

- Either way whenever you get home tired or after just having a bad day he’d comfort you so much no matter how many days in a row you do the same thing, flopping on the couch and groaning

- When you first did it you two weren’t close but he still stroked your hair and offered you some words of praise but when you two became more comfortable he’d straight up hold you to his chest or let you lay on his lap while stroking your hair if you don’t mind

- “I really need to stop coddling you” he’d say this all the time but never follow through on it and you’d be in his arms as we speak 😅

- He never did stop coddling you. Whenever you watch a show or anime he’s right beside you on the couch reading his book as he glances up every now and again; sometimes gives his two cents on what’s going on in the show (my personal fave is him getting mad at the usopp going merry arc in water 7 bye)

- He has little black rectangular reading glasses idc idgaf he dresses like an old man too with cardigans and sweater vests, maybe overalls if he’s going out to do garden work (he has no sense of fashion we know this)

- If you’re willing to listen he will yap so much about his plants and about wildlife; his heart melts in his chest if you seem genuinely interested and are paying close attention

- You have a snail named Saniel/Saniela. You almost stepped on him and brought him inside, putting him in a little terrarium thing.

- Tighnari hates that thing (he doesn’t; he’s like a grumpy father with a new dog) if it gets out it will eat his plants, so watch it. 😤

- Posts it on his little conservation account (shoutout to the person who wrote that post where he had a conservation insta acc i cant find it) and it overtakes the page gn its his worst nightmare. First it steals his unofficial lover now his followers

- Yall would’ve been burned at the stake in the 1800s you’re always doing your “projects” in the house unless its dangerous (but you’ll still do it outside) like you seeing a girl on Tiktok grow mushrooms on a book so you try it at home…

- He always helps you with anyyyyything. You need help studying for this biology test? So does he, come on in. You need a shoulder to cry on? He has two!! You want a snack but you don’t want to ask too much of him? Don’t be ridiculous he’s making you something as we speak

- He’s actually such a sweetheart he worries about your diet so much; honestly he’s content knowing that you’re under his care bc then he knows you’re eating right

- He wakes up and starts his day INSANELY early and honestly if you manage to wake up before him he’d probably flinch seeing you up LOL he’s so not used to anyone being awake when he is let alone earlier

- Absolute hypocrite too, he won’t let you sleep too late no matter what day it is or whether you have class or not but when he does it he’s just busy smh

- Wouldn’t mind if you treated him the same although if it’s time sensitive he fears he cannot give in to your demands sigh

- He’s a worrywart and a leeeetle nagging but you can tell he cares and you care about him just the same

- You’re always doing whatever you can to take stress off of his shoulders like running errands for him, cooking for him/ordering takeout when he can’t cook, Taking care of his plants for him when he’s busy, etc

- If you work out in the house after moving in then it’s so over for him

- He’s insane. If you’re in the living room he will go “read” his book on the couch but he’s been on the same page the whole time, is he ever gonna flip?

- Not even like explicit workouts like squats or something; just seeing you push yourself to your limit and sweaty and grunting and— where was he again? Ah right page 52.

- It’s so much worse if you ask him to help in some way, he can’t focus at all especially if you ask him to sit on your back while you do pushups

- Also a fan of you being taller than him no matter the method. (Which isn’t hard to achieve bc I hc him like 5’1-5’3) Naturally tall? Great! Wearing platforms? Amazing! Standing on a stool? As long as he doesn’t look down then it’s hot

Funny Bonus from the ari:

Tighnari: do you know anyone who still needs housing arrangements?? pls I’m desperate 😭

Alhaitham: you could take Kaveh

Kaveh: WOWWWW…

[sadesluvr]

CAT & MOUSE. (II)

Miguel O'Hara x Black Cat! F! Reader Warnings: Discussion of sex, grief and implied masturbation. A/N: Brackets mean that it's a thought! Comment if you'd like to be tagged on future updates :) PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER | READ ON AO3 | SERIES MASTERLIST

Miguel had left you hanging. Rather literally. 

You weren’t one to give up easily, and so you tried to claw your way out, using your talons as a knife to break the straps. They were little help in trying to cut yourself from the red binds and you only ended up scratching yourself in the process.  

Of course, your failure could’ve come from the fact that you were horny, and simply couldn’t think straight. The moment had been perfect; the both of you at each other's whims in an abandoned alleyway, and yet he hadn’t given in. Certainly frustrating in the moment, but even more interesting in the long run.   

You loved a chase.  

Even though the life of a vigilante was destined to be lonely, you found that the universe had brought you one constant: Spider-Man. In your specific case, Miguel O’Hara. 

Despite how it could come across to an outsider, you hadn’t known him all that long. Only about 18 months, to be precise. As cliché as it sounded, with him it felt like years.  

(You’d always hated that sappy stuff.) 

What started with an impromptu team-up on a mission had transformed into an ally ship. Miguel was serious and brooding; a man who was dedicated to order and confinement, whilst you were playful, unpredictable, and reasonably messy enough for him to continue to tolerate you.  

Despite this, you could sense that though he was dedicated to those things, you could tell that it hadn’t come naturally.  

Frowning and looking rather stupid, you were about to give up entirely until another portal opened. Straightening your back, you hoped it was Miguel, but your grin dissipated once you heard the familiar rev of an engine swing your way. A complimentary barrage of red, black, hints of yellow, and brown, paired with big Afro hair and shiny earrings…It could only be Jessica. 

She was a gorgeous woman, no doubt, but the Spider-people could be so dramatic - always with an entrance. No wonder you hated them at times. 

Pushing up her goggles in shock, she placed a hand on her hips as she glanced at you knowingly. 

“Hey Jess.” You grinned, flatly smacking your tongue over your teeth bluntly. You could only describe your relationship with her as curt, but cordial. Smirking, she nodded before greeting you back. 

“Jeez…” she began, looking you up and down. “What did he do to you?” 

You rolled your eyes, and she took that as a sign to start unhooking you, providing a much-needed relief to your aching arms.  

“It’s not what he did, it’s what he didn’t do,” you snickered, brushing yourself off as you became free. “I’ve had worse, believe me.” 

She hummed, but didn’t say anything, and crossed her arms over her chest.  

“...You know I have to send you back, right?”  

“Yeah, yeah…” you huffed. “Where’s Miggy? Too lazy to clean up after himself?” 

“Actually, he’s yelling at some poor Spider right now,” Jess said matter-of-factly. You straightened your back at the statement, somewhat remorseful but more amused. It was so easy to push the man’s buttons, laughable considering the whole situation had come from something that had nothing to do with him in the first place. “They’re suspended from missions for six months because of you.” 

“It’s not really my fault though, is it?” 

You’d swiped the watch off a Spider at their most vulnerable moment. It had only been a onetime thing; you’d been bored, and they’d succumbed to their baser urges, evidently having been using their device for things other than saving the universe. The act had meant nothing to you; your love of shiny things (that didn’t belong to you) clouding your sense of intimacy, and, of course, only having eyes for Miguel. 

Jess shot you a pointed look.  

“Don’t do this again,” she said, running something through her own device. “Miguel doesn’t want to see you.” 

Creasing your brows, you felt a chill run across your chest - of which you were certain hadn’t come from the cool wind running across the tips of your exposed bosom. The sinking sensation was quickly replaced with a discomfort, an anger, pooling in the back of your throat and within your arms. This is what you hated about men; you always think you know them, right until they pull a rug up out under your feet. 

“What?” you said, voice trembling with anger as you took a step towards Jessica. 

“He’s not chasing after you anymore. His words, not mine. If you fall out of line, he’ll send someone to put you back in.” 

Wincing, you took a deep breath and muttered, watching as the woman opened the portal, stepping aside for you to see yourself in. “Kind of like what he’s doing now, huh?”  

She pursed her lips and shrugged, taking one last glimpse at you before you disappeared. 

“I wouldn’t worry. Knowing the two of you...this won’t be the last time.” 

“If you can’t even keep your items safe, how am I supposed to trust you with keeping the multiverse afloat?” 

“I --” 

“Black Cat was running around doing whatever she pleased, all because you couldn’t keep it in your pants! You could’ve cost a universe, and for this I have no choice but to ban you from missions for six months.” 

“But --” 

“Don’t say anything that’ll make me make it a year. Might I suggest you practice some self-control whilst you’re on the out. Sal de mi vista.” [Get out of my sight.] 

He could practically see himself as he spoke; brutish, with furrowed brows and a rigid body. You would’ve said he was a stickler for punishment. 

“All this anger and macho, just for me? You must really want me for yourself…” he could hear you say in that silky tone, your voice in the back of his mind like an omen. Of course it could’ve been the case that he’d just encountered you, but whether he was willing to admit it or not, your voice was one that he thought of often.  

You were virile, had stamina, and came and went as you pleased, revelling in the fact that each time you’d meet it’d be like moths to a flame; dangerous, but oh-so natural.  

(You’d met before. It was hardly your first dance.) 

He’d been annoyed, frustrated when you’d felt along his body, your touch apparently enough to have made him pop a boner, right in the middle of battle. 

Why? Because he wasn’t in puberty anymore. He knew better than that. 

Better than to succumb to his desires. He was supposed to be a leader. Leaders set examples, and even though he’d felt he’d done just that, he’d come too close to giving in entirely. 

(He envied the Spider that got to have you. He’d do anything to be able to be so carefree.) 

Indulgence, desires, dreams and want were all things that got messed up in his head and damaged heart. The selfish pursuit of them led to fatigue, insanity, boredom - loss, and he knew of loss all too well. He’d consumed himself in the fantasy of being a father, and that had brought him nothing but hurt. Sleep evaded him; his nights spent on his back as he stared aimlessly into the dark ceilings or slinging ferocious jabs at a punching bag in the gym. Anything was better than reliving the feeling of your daughter; your own flesh and blood, slipping away in your hands and knowing you couldn’t do anything about it. In some ways, it was worse than a traditional murder – at least there’d be a body to hold onto, something to bury...but this had been a sheer nothingness. 

(What if it was destined to be the same with you?) 

Love was a strong word, and he doubted that he’d ever be able to say it, let alone feel it again, but you were the closest he’d gotten to feeling it. Perhaps he was equating obsession with his fondness for you.  

Life rarely made it so that things were black and white. He indulged you, just as much as you did him. In essence, you were both a bit grey. 

And that was scary. 

(You’d deliberately grabbed her on the thigh. That’s just one example of a mixed signal.) 

On the surface, it seemed like you were destined for each other. He’d seen the lives of others, and even Peter Parker himself had run in with a form of Black Cat. In a sense, you were safe, as even after all your encounters the universe remained upright - by nature that was a good sign. 

But that was only because he’d kept a safe distance up until now. Your interactions were suggestive, but not explicit, even if it weren’t from your lack of trying. 

You hadn’t even kissed yet. 

It was silly; really. In an alternate dimension he had a child, and here he was, fussing over his first kiss as if he were some kind of schoolboy. He hated that you made him feel that way; that his grief had manifested so that he pushed people away when he very clearly wanted to bring them in. 

(If he gave in, would he be able to keep up with you? He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had sex. Would he lose control, or would he shut down entirely?) 

(He’d have to leave before the dreaded morning after conversation. That's when true problems arose.) 

(All those feelings.) 

He turns off his mind as soon as he steps in the shower, careful to turn the heat so that it’s almost scalding. Steam quickly permeates the room, clouding the glass panels as heavy strands of wet hair fall into his eyes. He knows that he’s alone, but he can see you, the outline of your body a visage amongst the fog.  

You’re still in your sleek leather catsuit, but you’re exposed, your eye mask crumpled at the corner of the room. He can see the entire scope of your face now, and it’s even more alluring than he’d thought.  

It’s interesting how he’d never seen you without them, yet he’d shown you his entire face.  

He takes a sharp inhale as you embrace him, just as he begins to stroke his cock. His baser, destined desires are all too clear – he should’ve fucked you right there in that alley – right up against the wall. But he didn’t, because he was stubborn. And scared.  

A cold shower would’ve woken him up, but it was clear in his mind that he didn’t want that. Just for a moment, he wanted the haze, the slow undoing of the knots in his back from the therapeutic heat - the smoke and mirrors of it all. Gratuitous escapism.  

Indulgence.  

Taglist: @slut4oscarissac23 @honeyluvsatj

[sparkles-and-trash]

todobaku ft Izuku who loves his friends so much!

Listen, Bakugo understands that watching him and Shouto dance around each other for years have been annoying.

He understands that they’ve both been thick idiots who both refused to believe the other could like them back.

But they’ve finally worked it out, a little while ago actually, but the just shared the news last night, and fuck him, he kinda expected people to be sorta happy for them.

And to be fair, most people have been.

So why the fuck is Izuku looking like he’s about to tell Bakugo that they both fell off the charts and are getting their hero licsenses revoked?

Bakugo isn’t scared of much, but when Izuku gets like that he’s fucking terrifying, okay?

At least the fucker still has tje decency to knock, even though all the walls are glass and there’s really no need, but that one is forever polite.

Bakugo gestures for him to come in, and Izuku walks solemnly up to him and sits in the chair on the other side of the desk.

«Kacchan, we have to talk.»

Bakugo huffs.

«What, ya gonna dump my ass?» he asks cheekily, but Izuku doesn’t humor him.

«I understand you’re finally dating Shouto-kun?» he asks instead, and Bakugo only nodds, and Izuku contuines.

«You have to be good to him, Kacchan.»

Bakugo blinks.

«Wha- the fuck you sayin’ that for, huh?!» Bakugo asks, highly offended.

Izuku doesn’t even flinch.

«He’s so *good*, Kacchan,» he says instead.

«You can’t hurt him.»

Bakugo rolls his eyes, but he feels a little flustered at this point.

«Tch, you think I don’t fucking know that, huh?» Bakugo shoots back.

«You think I haven’t thought about it for every goddamn day since we were sixteen?»

Izuku’s face softened a little.

«I know, Kacchan, but Shouto’s my best friend,» Izuku says, still serious, but a little softer now.

«He’s the kindest person I know, and I know a lot of kind people.»

Bakugo just «tch’s».

«And what, knowing me since we were kids isn’t good enough for you? You think I’m gonna fuck it up?»

Izuku sighs.

Dramatic ass.

«I don’t, Kacchan, but this is just something I felt like I had to do,» he explains, and Bakugo crossed his arms.

«If you hurt him, I will kill you.» Izuku says seriously.

Bakugo shivers.

«I believe that,» he says earnestly, and Izuku smiles.

«It’s not just me, you know?» Izuku says, and Bakugo raises his eyebrows.

«Kirishima is over at Shouto’s office doing the same thing right now.»

Bakugo shoots up from the chair before he has time to think.

«That idiot is WHAT?!» he shouts, and bursts out of the office, heading for Shouto’s own down the hall in record speed, not noticing Izuku’s chuckles as he goes.

It takes all the self-control he has to not use his explosions tl go faster, but as he comes to a halt in front of the big glass walls in front of Shouto’s office, he realizes the situation he has to save Shouto from is very different than the one he just faced with Izuku.

Inside the office is a very stiff and awkward Shouto, awkwardly patting Kirishima’s (thankfully) not styled hair as the red haired hero is fully sobbing on poor Shouto’s shoulder.

Bakugo can hear his sobbing from out there, and in between he catches some words like «so happy» «finally, man» and worst of all, «bro-in-law».

When Shouto spots Bakugo his wide eyes softens a tad, and hus posture relaxes as he points down at Kirishima with wide eyes, clearly asking for help.

Bakugo only grins back at him, but Shouto knows him and makes that stupid pouty face he knows is Bakugo’s biggest weakness, and -

Well, if both Bakugo and Shouto has to walk around for the rest of the day with Kirishima’s snot and tear stains on their shoulders for the rest of the day, then that would be a small price to pay, after all.

//

ahh my first tdbk piece ever?? I hope y’all are okay with me branching out a little on my ships, but I promise the dabihawks stuff won’t suffer from it!

[shellshocklove]

Maybe a blurb about Peter freaking out on trying to find a gift for reader for Christmas cause he waited until the last minute and all reader cares about is that he makes it home safe? 👀

that was the worst christmas ever! | peter parker

pairing: peter parker x female!reader

word count: 1.6k

warnings: christmas stress, self-deprecating peter, fluff

a/n: ok so hi! It’s been a while. these last few months have been hectic af– like on another level of hectic. i’m trying to get back a little to writing now that things have calmed down a little bit– so this is me dipping my toe into writing again. i hope there’s someone who’ll like this and merry christmas if you celebrate <3 (btw the title isn’t really connected to the story but gold star to the people who recognize the song)

main masterlist / ao3

Slow. Sweaty. Loud.

The buzzing of humming conversations. People’s winter shoes clacking obnoxiously against the tile floor. A distant ‘Ho-Ho-Ho’ from the creepy mall Santa, slapping the thigh of some poor little girl screaming for ‘Mommy’ as the camera flashed with saved memories.

The guilt gnawed at the back of Peter’s neck as he hurried from store to store.

“Sorry, that’s out of stock.”

“If it’s not on the shelf, we don’t have it.”

With every no, Peter’s guilt was starting to mix with panic. His winter jacket was too hot, suffocating him like the thought of you tomorrow morning with no present from him to unpack. He knows he fucked up. Who in their right mind buys his girlfriend her Christmas present on Christmas Eve?

Peter Parker– that’s who.

He didn’t intend to leave it to the last minute – it just happened! He swears!

With a sigh and a shaky hand running over his face, Peter fished out his phone from his pocket. Entering the notes app, he felt his stomach start to turn. Reading over your wish list, he scrolled to the bottom where he hovered his thumb over the red x emoji. Ready to mark himself a boyfriend failure.

Suddenly, his phone came alive in his hands. A picture of your smiling face lighting it up. Guilt’s teeth scratched harder at his neck as he pushed the little green button.

“Hi baby!” Peter greeted, a fake smile spreading over his face even though you couldn’t see him.

“Oh, thank god! Peter– where are you? We’re leaving for your Aunt May’s in half an hour.”

Peter could hear the worry in your tone. He couldn’t help but hear it every time you called. A worry that he wouldn’t answer because something had happened. That he was lying in the street somewhere bleeding out.

Peter squeezed his eyes shut while a hand came up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Yes,” he nodded to no one, “I know! I’m-I’m on patrol and I lost track of time– But I’m heading back now.”

“Peter,” you sighed down the phone. Peter stayed quiet, just listening to your breathing. He knew you worried about him – how could you not? You had every right to worry.

When you didn’t say anything, Peter drew a shallow breath, “I know– I’m sorry.” And he meant it – he always meant it – even when it felt like ‘Sorry’ was the word he told you more often than ‘I love you’.

“Peter– It’s okay… It’s okay just– just please hurry home.”

“I love you,” he hurried. A band aid over his bullet wound of disappointing you.

“I know– I love you too, Peter.”

Hot air washed over him as he exited through the revolving door of the mall. Out on the street he didn’t linger long. Busy New Yorkers hurried past him, splashing wet snow with every step. Digging his hands in his pocket, Peter made his way down the avenue while the wind bit at his cheeks.

Aunt May’s hugs were Peter’s favorite. The way she squeezed him just a little too tight, the smell of her signature perfume she’d worn since forever, and the wet kiss placed on his cheek. A few years ago, he’d playfully groaned and rubbed the kiss from his cheek with a roll of his eyes, but now as a twenty-something, he embraced them.

You were late, and it was Peter’s fault, but Aunt May didn’t seem to mind. The apartment looked the same as it did the last time he was here, sans the Christmas decorations and the smell of… cooking? Peter couldn’t believe his own nose as he snuck sneakily into the kitchen, leaving you and Aunt May in the hallway to catch up.

“May! Don’t tell me you actually cooked,” he called out with a disbelieving laugh.

Soon he could hear footsteps approaching before Aunt May passed through the doorway with you in tow. Peter caught your eye. Those kind eyes he always got lost in. He forgot to breath for a second. After three years together, you still managed to steal his breath.

“Damn right I’ve cooked,” Aunt May replied, a teasing lilt to her tone, “Don’t sound so surprised, Peter.”

“I’m not surprised– I’m impressed,” he teased, lifting the lid of one of the simmering pots.

A teasing pinch to his side made him yelp as Aunt May shooed him away from her stove.

Your sweet giggle filled the kitchen and Peter’s heart. He turned his head sheepishly to look at you where you were leaning against the door frame. An overwhelming urge to touch you came over him. You’d dressed up a little, it being Christmas Eve and all, and Peter thought you looked so pretty. Walking over to you he wrapped his arm around your shoulder. You looked at him with a smile, one that felt warm around his heart.

“Hi, rude boy,” you teased.

Knitting his eyebrows together he gave you his best fake-offended look, “Hey.”

Your only response was that same sweet giggle he loved to hear. Your eyes were soft, with smiling crinkles around your eyes. He loved when you looked at him like that– so much that he couldn’t help but press a soft kiss to your lips. It was short (to spare Aunt May of your PDA), but still tender. When he leaned back to look at you again your smile had grown even wider.

Aunt May’s dinner was surprisingly good. She’d been diligently watching some cooking show every night and gotten inspired to try to start cooking– for real. So, the dinner was great. The laughter hung in the air the whole night, making Peter almost forget about his earlier failure and nagging guilt.

While getting ready for bed, an idea popped into Peter’s head. He finished brushing his teeth in record speed, spitting harshly in the sink.

“Ew,” you mumbled through toothpaste, “Ook at that ig blob,” you pointed to the toothpaste he’d spat out that stuck to the porcelain. He locked eyes with you in the mirror – your teasing smile through the swipe of your toothbrush.

“Shut up,” he laughed and bumped his hip against yours before wiping the toothpaste away with his finger.

“Just making sure you’re not leaving poor Aunt May to clean up your mess,” you winked after spitting out your own toothpaste.

Sneaking away was the hardest part. You loved to snuggle before bed, never able to fall asleep until you’d laid in his arms and talked for at least half an hour. But Peter was patient – even if his eyelids felt heavier than the train he’d stopped that one time. When he started to hear your breathing start to get heavier and those small noises you always made escaped you; Peter crawled as gently as he could out of bed.

The living room of Aunt May’s apartment was bathed in a soft yellow glow coming from the Christmas tree in the corner. A strange forgotten feeling of the past clouded Peter for a moment. Memories of waking up in the middle of the night to sneak into the living room to see if Santa had come pushed their way to the forefront of his mind. This time though, he had to make sure Santa had left some presents for someone else.

“Who’s next?” Aunt May asked.

Outside a Christmas miracle was falling from the sky shaped as heavy white snowflakes.

“I have no presents left,” Peter said from where he sat at the edge of the lounge chair, his Christmas presents taking up most of the space.

“I have one left,” you said from where you sat pretty on the floor. The plaid pajamas adorning your body matched ones he was wearing. Peter watched with a bated breath as you picked up the homemade envelope.

“To my baby, from Peter,” you read his chicken scratch.

“Aw,” Aunt May cooed from the couch.

Peter had to fight the urge to cringe as he watched you open the envelope. His heart drummed in his chest, and it made him feel ridiculous. Digging your hands into the envelope you pulled out a handful of small paper squares. Watching your eyebrows knit together in confusion, Peter pressed his lips harder together.

“What’s this?” you asked, curious hands picking up a paper square to read. “Oh!” you laughed, slightly embarrassed but still sending Peter a mischievous smile.

“What is it?” Aunt May asked.

“It’s…” you laughed again, eyes dancing over the paper squares.

Curiosity killed the kat – or in this case Aunt May – as she leaned forward to snatch a paper square to read. You jumped at her movements before you chased after her.

“No, May,” you pressed, managing to steal the paper before she could read it, “Read this one instead!” You handed her another paper square before sending Peter a chastising but grateful look.

“Oh, it’s love coupons!” May exclaimed, “That’s such a good gift idea, Peter! So thoughtful of you.’1 movie night where you pick the movie’,” May read loudly from the paper coupon.

Dropping all the coupons back into the envelope, you stood to your feet and made your way over to Peter. You cupped his head in your hands and tilted his head to look up at you. Then you leaned down to press a soft kiss to his lips.

“Thank you, Peter,” you said against his lips before placing another kiss to his lips.

“You liked them?” he asked with uncertainty.

You just smiled before you gave him a nod, “I loved them,” you clarified and sealed it with another kiss. When you broke away you wrapped your arms around him to pull him in for a hug. A relieving warmth spread throughout his chest as he nuzzled his face in your neck. He felt you press a tender kiss to the spot behind his ear that made him weak.

“Can’t wait to cash them in,” you whispered in his ear, “Especially the ones who’ll put you on Santa’s naughty list.”

tagged: @hollandweather

© shellshocklove, 2023

[ronsenthal]

Ron Speirs x Nurse Reader

Summary: During wartime some stories were created to scare and keep the soldiers on the line, but some other ones were slowly written to have a happy ending, just like fairy tales.

A/N: This was based on a prompt kindly sent to me by a lovely anon who wanted something with Ron x Nurse Reader and since then I was so OBSESSED with this idea so I had to try something. So dear anon if you are reding this I hope you like it, I had to change it a little bit because I'm truly awful with requests, hope you don't mind. Also this was slighthly based on the Rolling Stones song, because it so Ron coded and apparently I can't write anything not related to music? So here we go!

The first time you saw him was one week after D-Day, everybody was still scared and lost, many people went missing so naturally the first place the men went looking for their friends was the Aid Station. It was completely madness, you couldn’t take a pause to catch your breath even when your feet hurt, even when you couldn’t tell what time it was, when your stomach made loud noises, you pushed through pain, tears and tiredness. 

During one of your shifts you were attending to a private who was hit in the head by shrapnel after a potato masher exploded close to him. He was bleeding heavily since he arrived so you had to change the bandage from time to time. The Aid Station was always a noisy place with some people screaming in agony, others nurses and doctors were giving orders trying to save someone else and a few lucky ones were just chatting to pass the time. But in that afternoon it went quiet as if some spell was cast and suddenly the world was frozen, you could see heads following the footsteps of this soldier who walked in.

He slowly walked in your direction, you couldn’t see his features until he was at the other side of the stretcher of the man you were aiding. At first he didn’t say a word as he was looking at the other soldier, as if studying the damage that was done by the germans. He took a deep breath and finally asked quietly, “Is he gonna make it?” and looked at you with those big dark green eyes to which you couldn’t lie, so you honestly said “I don’t know”, he only shook his head giving you one sad look before turning into his heels and heading out.

You were awfully quiet that evening trying to eat some bread while the other girls were chatting. You tried your best but your long-suffering patient didn’t make it and yet you could only think about those sad green eyes. Some weeks went by, people would come and go but your thoughts would often drift aways to this face you couldn’t even put a name to. 

The second time you saw him was even less fortunate than the first one, this time he came in angrily shouting that he didn’t needed any help and assistance, but anyone would notice that he was limping and there was even blood on his uniform coming from his leg, his hands also were bleeding. 

Poor Jane, your friend was the closest nurse available, you only watched from a distance as she was addressing his wounds. At first he was reluctant but then finally gave in and let the woman quickly put some bandages on it, she only asked a couple of questions, filled a piece of paper and gave it to the man. Just as he went in he was suddenly gone, as he was heading out he saw you and nodded with his head before putting back his cap. 

Dinner was always gossip time and that night you made sure to sit near Jane to get some food but also try to get some information. 

“So who was that guy who came in earlier making a scene?”

“Are you kidding Y/N? That is Lieutenant Speirs, he is the one everybody keeps talking about, he killed 15 german POW or something on D-Day” Linda said, swinging her spoon 

dramatically.

“I heard it was more like 20 guys, he even offered some cigarettes before shooting them” the other nurse called Grace. 

“And do you believe those stories?” you asked them not even daring to take your eyes off your food. This couldn’t be true right? 

“I don’t know Y/N, I heard it from one of my guys the other day, he was telling his friend that they sergeant saw it” Grace told you two before changing the subject to talk about some soldier named Talbert that they both find so cute.

Lieutenant Speirs so that’s him, after that day you were always looking for his name in the morning reports at the Aid Station, you heart almost skipping a beat at the letter S but you never saw his name. You never forgot his name nor his eyes or his dark hair. 

From time to time you would see him with a cigarette on his lips from one side to the other, he was always followed by strange looks and a couple of whispers, his bad reputation was growing as time passed by, some stories were clearly too absurd to be true, others were creepier to say the least.

Third time's the charm right? Bastogne was a real nightmare, you had to move to the front line due to the heavy losses of people who had basic medical training, the supplies were short and the was was getting brutal, specially due to that fucking cold. One night you were trying to get some warm soup in the foxhole you shared with Eugene, you both couldn’t feel your fingertips as if they seemed to be frozen so you decided to try and warm your hands while eating something. 

“Y/L/N” came from a hard and harsh voice from behind, you were caught by surprise as you jumped from the scare “Y/L/N did I get your name right?”

“Yes sir!” you quickly said

“Pleased to meet you, I guess you know who I am. What are you and Roe doing here? It’s not safe enough you should stay aways from the line” he said as you both nodded quickly taking your belongings and starting to move, he kept watching you and offered his hand to pull you from the foxhole to which you said a shy “thank you”, his hands were strong and warm and you had to fight the urge to ask him how he could keep them so warm in the freezing temperature, but you didn’t said a word. 

Holding a gun in his hand he slowly and carefully escorted you through the white snow. Eugene was following you two but suddenly Joe Toye called for his help with something else. Speirs even helped you to settle in the new foxhole, putting some twigs and sticks to reinforce the cover. He then wished you goodnight before disappearing again. The man walked like a shadow between the lines, you took your time to thank the guy from above that he was at your side in this war, you wouldn’t be able to sleep if you thought that he was the enemy.

Just a couple of days later the only thing the men would talk about was how the now Captain Speirs ran through the streets of Foy to link up with I Company after he released Foxhole Dike from his position and how bravely and fearlessly led Easy. The guys were so happy to have a good leader again, you were happier too because it meant now they were saffer.

The fourth time he was shot in his butt during one of your night shifts back at the Aid Station, he was soaking wet, pale and so tired that he didn’t have the energy to be stubborn. You asked what happened and Sergeant Lipton said he was hit while going across the river into the germans territory to get some information on the germans. You promptly gave him some medicine and started to take care of his wound as fast as you could. 

It was strange but you kept your cool and gave your best to stay calm and do your job as if he was just another guy. Except he wasn’t, after the bullet was removed he let out a big sigh of relief and as the medicine was starting to kick in he slowly falled asleep in a feverish state.. You couldn’t help yourself and stare at the man you’ve been thinking about for so long, you stayed by his side trying to quietly read a book but your eyes would move away from it and watch how his eyelashes peacefully rested, how soft his facial expression was and how his now slightly wet hair was falling in his forehead. 

You reached your hand to it with the excuse to feel his temperature, he was burning hot and as you were taking a wet piece of cloth to use it to cool him off a bit he opened those same green eyes you’ve been thinking about.

“Am I gonna make it?” he said with a weak voice and caught your hand in his

“Yes” you said, but this time you were 100% sure and when you realized you were smiling at him, he gave you a cute smile back before closing his eyes and falling asleep again. He was certainly a handsome man but on that night you could swear he looked like one of those princes from fairy tales your mom would tell you at bedtime. You couldn’t help but think how he could be soft and yet so stern, so scary but also so gentle and caring, you felt sympathy for the Devil after all. 

The next day he was feeling so much better and tried to get away as quickly as possible but you preferred to stay cautious and ordered him to stay a bit longer, which he couldn’t refuse and finally gave in. After some minutes of awkward silence he started to small talk asking where you are from, if you had any siblings back home and even if you had a boyfriend. You tried your best to keep talking just to keep him with you a bit longer but your peace was interrupted when a couple of soldiers came by heavily wounded and you were required to take care of them. 

When you finally came back he was gone, he only left a note apologizing for leaving without a proper goodbye but promised he would somehow make it up to you later. 

Of course he did it as soon as you set foot at Berchtersgarden, there the mood was totally different, especially after the german army officially surrendered. He took you out to enjoy some coffee at this beautiful place with an incredible view of the mountains, even through you thought that the view of the captain in front of you was even better.

You were so happy with everything that you couldn’t help but smile from ear to ear and as you reached from his hand across the table, he didn't moved it and intertwined your fingers, then gave you a sincere and beautiful smile, you felt butterflies all over your stomach because you felt more than just sympathy for the Devil.

Taglist: @mads-weasley , @footprintsinthesxnd , @sweetxvanixlla , @xxluckystrike , @malarkgirlypop , @lostloveletters , @next-autopsy , @ewipandora

[corazondebeskar-reads]

ain't no rest for the wicked - chapter two

ain't no rest for the wicked series

two: trouble will find you

series masterlist | prev chapter | next chapter

Tess Servopoulos x f!reader x Joel Miller

words: 6.9k

summary: After weeks of nothing, you finally hear from Tess and Joel again.

warnings: dark-ish Joel and Tess, smuggler!Joel, smuggler!Tess, boston QZ, QZ life, bittersweet ending/no happily ever after, poorly negotiated d/s-style dynamics, poor communication, enthusiastic consent, oral sex (m & f receiving), p in v, degradation, face slapping, pussy slapping, spanking, stalking, canon-typical violence, threesome, cum eating, light rope bondage, shower sex

also on ao3

dividers by @saradika-graphics

Weeks go by, and nothing weird happens. You can’t say you aren’t disappointed, but they didn’t say it was going to be a repeat thing. They definitely implied it, sure, but you could be cool about it.

So you had the best orgasms of your life with two of the most unhinged people you’ve ever met. Who needs hinges, anyway? And why do people say unhinged?

Wait, does it mean open? Like they’re unhinged because they have no door? Because, in that case, they’re two of the most hinged people you’ve ever met.

God, you miss when you could ask Google. Or Yahoo. Or Jeeves. Man, the internet was so cool. You bet your fucking Neopets are dead.

By the time you circle back and decide that you’re pretty sure unhinged does not mean open, you’ve autopiloted home.

You turn the key until it clicks and push open the door to your flat. At first glance, there’s no explanation for the way the world seems tilted just so.

Except for the little folded scrap of paper on your shitty rusted table. When you pick it up, something garishly yellow flutters to the ground.

It’s unmistakably a sunflower petal. It’s winter. Where the fuck—

No. Nope. You do not want to follow that thought; you want to let it fuck right off.

You rub the petal between your fingers. It’s so sinfully soft, there’s no doubt in your mind that it’s real.

The paper just says “tomorrow.”

Tomorrow. Tomorrow what? Tomorrow when?

When you open your cabinet to grab a can of soup, the first can you pick up rattles. It also doesn’t have a lid, so. There’s that.

You groan out loud. If you don’t look and just put it back, will it disappear into the other dimension from where it came?

In the end, you peek anyway, and yep. Sunflower seeds. Baked and salted, from the smell.

The implications are unsettling. In their minds, are you cannibalizing yourself at their whim? Are you consuming yourself in a pursuit of pleasure?

Are you really fucking overthinking it?

Tomorrow. For cripes sake. There’s no way you sleep tonight.

Except once you’ve had your soup and nibbled away at most of the sunflower seeds, your full belly lures you into the quiet of the night.

You’re nearly as jittery at work as you were the first time. Granted, you’re a little less afraid of them and more anxiously excited, but the thought of them sends your leg bouncing.

Your chair squeaks the whole time.

“Hey Sam,” you say as casually as possible to your deskmate.

“What?” He says warily.

“Do you know where I could get a horseshoe?”

“A… what?”

“A horseshoe, you know, like horses wear.”

“A singular horseshoe? Do I even want to ask why?”

“Yeah, just one. And no, probably not? Let’s say I’m just really into country chic decor right now.”

Sam turns back away from you.

Typical.

You’re getting ready to leave when you realize you don’t actually remember their address. You’re pretty sure you could find the right building since you walked yourself home, but there’s an uncomfortably large margin of error.

Also, the stupid note didn’t give a time. Should you go home first? Maybe they’ve broken in again to leave a little clue?

You’re saved from figuring it out when you find Joel in exactly the same place as before. You don’t startle this time—you’d peeked around the corner on purpose.

“Hi,” you say, fingers wrapping around your backpack straps.

“Hi.” It’s brusque and he’s scowling, doesn’t even look at you.

“I-I could have walked over. I don’t wanna inconvenience—“

“You’re not. I don’t want you walkin’ by yourself.”

“Ok.” You kind of wish Tess was there. You like Joel fine, but she’s at least a little more talkative. Even if everything out of her mouth throws you off center.

Actually, this is probably fine. Maybe you’ll still have your wits about you when you get there.

He keeps a little distance ahead. Not enough to lose you in the crowd but enough that it almost looks like you aren’t following him. Like he doesn’t want to be seen with you.

You don’t have hurt feelings. It’s fine. People might think he was cheating on Tess, you get it.

Whatever the fuck they were doing with you was certainly not cheating.

Tess is already in the kitchen when you get there. Joel hovers in the living room until you head in, like he thinks maybe you’ll snoop through the apartment if he doesn’t keep watch.

You’re not that stupid. That’s a fucking death wish.

She’s cleaning a pan. Joel grumbles at her about leaving it for him, and she rolls her eyes while he pulls out your chair.

You remember this, at least, and manage not to make a fool out of yourself.

Tess dries her hands and sits down across from you. “Hey, sunflower. You miss us?”

You burn up immediately, wishing it were literal. It’s like she knows you’ve had fingers stuffed up your cunt every night, remembering how they felt. How you buried your face in the pillow and wished it was the soft folds of her.

She chuckles. “Don’t worry, we missed you too. We’ll show you how much later.”

Joel sets hot plates down in front of you both, followed by glasses of water, before he takes his own seat.

You wonder if this is a special production or if they’re letting you see their natural domesticity.

If you thought dinner last time was a delicacy, nothing could have prepared you for this.

The slab of meat is unmistakably pork and rests on a bed of baked apple slices beside yellow squash and pale zucchini rounds.

You look up from your plate with wide eyes.

“Best not to ask,” Joel says.

You nod. This time, you go slow, savoring each bite. It can’t be real, you think. It can’t really be yours.

But they let you eat everything on your plate. No one snatches it away or scolds you for touching something you don’t deserve. Tess seems downright pleased when you set your fork down for the last time.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” You finally blurt.

Tess quirks an eyebrow. “Thought we made ourselves clear last time. When you’re here, you’re ours.”

“And we take care of what’s ours,” Joel says. When you snap your head to look at him, his eyes are dark and narrowed. Like he’s angry at the insinuation that they wouldn’t.

“O-okay,” you say, fixing your gaze back on your plate.

He stands up and clears the dishes, piling them in the sink.

Tess takes you by the hand and leads you out of the room. You expect her to stop at the couch again, but she takes you into what must be their shared bedroom.

Joel shuts the door behind him when he comes in. The room is warm and dark, the winter sun having retreated for the day already.

They don’t give you a moment to work yourself up. Tess is already kissing you as she walks you back to the bed. Instead of pushing you into it like you expect, she tugs you to a stop when your knees run into the mattress.

Her mouth moves down your neck as she easily discards your clothes. You shrink a little, and she tugs on your hair, forcing your head back so you look her in the eye.

“No being shy, now,” she warns. “S’ours to look at anyway.”

She peels your arms away from where they had instinctually folded across your breasts. Moving to one side, she smirks at Joel.

“Look at your little pet, baby. Ain’t she pretty?”

His hand brushes the curve of your breast, barely making contact but drawing a shiver from you anyway. “Sure is. A real sight for sore eyes.” His thumb finds your nipple, and you moan, looking up at him with pleading eyes.

He pinches it, smirking when you gasp.

“You look like you got a plan,” he says to Tess.

“You want two cunts to fuck today, baby?” She says.

You can almost see the switch flip in his brain. “Yes, please, ma’am,” he says.

She presses a much chaster kiss to your lips before patting the mattress. “Hop up, sunflower. On your back, head right here.”

Once you’re situated, she tucks a pillow under your head and climbs on top of you, settling her cunt right where you need it. When you try to touch her, though, Joel stops you, catching your wrists.

“Keep ‘em by your sides, or I’ll tie ‘em down.”

Tess laughs, dragging a finger through your folds. “I think she wants you to, baby.”

He crouches down by your head. “S’that so?”

You look at him from where you’re trying to reach Tess with your mouth, but she’s lifted her hips just a little too high. You whine.

“Yes, sir.”

His grin is otherworldly, all sharp teeth and shadow. “Attagirl,” he says, patting your cheek.

His hands are gentle but competent as he binds each wrist to the bed, stretched out to the posts of the footboard. Tess sits on your face while he works, letting you overstimulate yourself between her wet cunt and his control.

Once you’re secure, she leans forward and flicks her tongue over your clit, pulling a gasp that deepens into a drawn-out moan as she continues.

You whine when she lifts her hips back up just too far for you to lick inside her. Joel grabs your hair and holds you in place, dipping his cock into your mouth.

“Get it nice and wet for her, sunflower.”

You try your very hardest to give him the sloppiest blowjob you can while being held still.

When he pulls out, he presses his balls to your mouth, and you respond with soft licks as he notches his tip at the slick entrance of Tess’s cunt.

“Lick her,” he grunts, resisting the urge to plunge in all the way.

You’re on fire. This has to be, hands down, the filthiest thing you’ve ever done, but he props the pillow up more so you don’t have to strain your neck when you lick down his cock to where he’s splitting her open.

She moans into your pussy.

He holds you there, with your tongue flat against where he pushes in deeper. When he’s buried, you flick your tongue to his balls and back.

“Suck them,” he pants, and you obey, stretching your mouth around him.

He starts to thrust gently, not wanting to jostle himself against your teeth, but he loses patience eventually and yanks you off to shove you to her clit.

You’re squirming as she works you over, three fingers deep, stretching you to get you ready for Joel. You suck and lick at her clit as she cums, meaning to lick her through it and keep going for another.

But Joel tugs you back to lick where she leaks around him.

You’re glad he tied you down. It’s all so much, almost too much, and you don’t think you could have held still. The rope’s embrace holds the last shred of your sanity.

At some point, you started whimpering against them, pleading as best you can without pulling your mouth away.

“Aw, you wanna cum?” she mocks with an affected simper.

“No,” Joel grunts, his hips snapping hard against her. “Only way she's coming tonight is on my cock.”

You sob a little bit, and she pulls back to slap your aching clit. Your hips buck, and you nearly lose the fight.

“Oh, she fuckin’ loved that, baby,” she tells him.

“‘Course she did, she’s a fuckin’ slut for us.” He says.

You moan. You think you should probably care that they’re talking about you like this. Actually, you do care. You care a lot. It’s so fucking hot.

“You’re just our little whore, sunflower?” he says.

You nod minutely with Tess’s clit pinched between your lips, and she cums again, her slick rubbing on your face with each stroke of his dick.

“Alright,” she says, tapping his hand where it grips her hip.

He pulls out and unties your wrists. Tess lets you keep lapping at her for a minute, but when you’re free, she slides off you and sprawls, languid and satisfied.

He gives you a light slap on the cheek. “Trade places.”

You sit up and lay on your stomach to the side to let Tess move to where you had been. But first, she rolls to face you and pulls you in for a deep, slow kiss.

You go to tangle your fingers in her hair, but she catches your wrist, rubbing her thumb over the ridges left behind.

“That’s enough,” Joel growls, yanking you by the ankle.

Tess laughs. “Don’t wanna be left out, baby?”

“Wanna get my fuckin’ dick back in one of ya,” he says.

She gets situated with her head down at the end of the bed and tugs at you to climb over her. You waste no time diving back into her cunt until Joel smacks you hard on the ass.

“Did I tell you to start up?”

“No, sir,” you say, voice breaking a little with desperation and a little shame.

He slaps the other side of your ass for good measure. Unlike the way he eased into Tess, he doesn’t wait to push into you.

You’re so grateful for Tess stretching you out before. His cock feels impossible. You cry out into her bush.

Your wriggle, and she holds you still with a powerful grip on your hips, licking at your clit while he shoves forward.

“That’s right. Shit,” he slaps your ass again when you squirm. “Hold still and fucking take it, girl.”

Your cries are muffled, but you’re not protesting. It’s just so fucking much.

Tess distracts you from the sting and pinch of him by gently biting your clit, which hurts a hell of a lot more but also makes you a hell of a lot wetter, ultimately easing his passage. Enough so that he slams the rest of the way in.

Your mind whites out when he starts pounding into you. Tess shifts to lick at where you’re broken open on him, and your fists tighten in the sheets.

“Please,” you whine, breaking away from her cunt only long enough to beg.

“What d’you think, baby? She been good enough for you tonight?”

He rubs his hand over the side of your thigh and hums. You hold your breath. You’re pretty sure he’s just teasing you, but it’s a fucking struggle not to cum.

“Yeah, she’s been a real good girl,” he says. “Go on, sunflower, cum on my fucking cock.”

It hurts. It hurts where you clamp down around him. It hurts where Tess is relentless against your clit. But it’s maybe the hardest you’ve ever come—you’re pretty sure you blacked out.

When the world filters back in around you, you’re laying with your head on her, giving pathetic little kitten licks to her clit. Joel’s fucking you down into her, and when he sees that you’re semi-present, he shoves your head back into her folds.

“Again,” he snarls, and your body listens. Spasms. Falls apart again.

Vaguely, you’re aware of him begging Tess and desperately asking where he’s allowed to come. Whatever they decide, he pulls out abruptly. She slips out from under you and yanks you onto your back, swinging a leg over your hip to grind against you.

You reach for her with limp arms, and she finally, finally lets you cup her breasts as Joel tugs his aching cock and warm cum splatters across your face, tits, and arms.

You don’t even hear him walk away, but he comes back a minute later with a warm, damp towel to find you scooping some of his cum into your mouth. He groans, cock twitching.

“You gotta stop that, sunflower, or I’m gonna need that mouth again.”

You look up at him with wide eyes and part your lips.

He fists his cock and looks at Tess. She’s dozing off already but nods. He cleans her first, gently wiping away incidental splatter and residue of her own pleasure from her thighs.

You wait patiently with your mouth open and he rewards you by easing gently into your throat. He’s fully hard again now.

He fills your throat easier at this angle. Well, easier for him.

“Breathe,” he says, gripping the back of your head. “That’s it, sunflower, just breathe. You’re takin’ it so well.”

He helps himself to handfuls of your breasts, rubbing and tugging at your nipples while he chases his second orgasm.

“Cum with me. Show me what a fuckin’ cumslut you are,” he grunts between thrusts.

Tess leans over close to you. “Don’t swallow, sunflower.”

He pulls out a little right as he cums to let it pool in your mouth. It’s a fucking struggle as you let your own orgasm roll over you. When he pulls out, Tess pulls you in for a kiss and shares in his spend.

Again, the fucking filthiest sex you’ve ever had. You’re not sure how you managed it, but you’re not going to voice a single damn doubt, not going to risk whatever this is.

He finally cleans you off and putters around the room, tossing the towel in a hamper and tugging his clothes back on.

“I’m followin’ her home,” he murmurs to Tess while you’re in the bathroom.

She sits up. “What happened?”

“Tell ya more when I get back. But her place is too close to the boundary, and I caught a little tip-off when I was waiting to pick her up.”

Tess frowns but by the time you come out, dressed and refreshed, they’re lounging on the bed.

“C’mere,” Tess says before you can speak or move for the door. She tugs you down to the bed. “How’re you feeling?”

“Good,” you say automatically. You’re not actually sure. Everything’s a little fuzzy; the world wrapped in a cotton ball. You may or may not be shaking a little.

“You sure you’re okay to get home safe?”

“Mhm.” Your eyes are heavy, though, and the way her nails are tracing swirls up and down your arm is making you woozy.

You must have dozed a little because Joel’s coming back in the room and you didn’t know he ever left.

He hands you a mug of tea and sets a plate on the bed beside you.

“Gotta eat something. Y’look like ya might faint on your way,” he says at your crinkled face.

You sip from the tea and close your eyes as the warmth and sweetness crawl through you. “Thank you,” you say.

Tess has you leaning against her still, and you stay that way while you eat the sandwich Joel made. As it dwindles, your awareness of the situation grows stiff and uncomfortable.

You sit up. “Thank you, but um. I better get going.” You’re only a little dizzy when you stand up.

Joel takes the dishes out of your hands. “Sure you’re alright?”

“Yep,” you lie. “So, um. Have a good night.” It feels stilted, after what you’ve all just shared, but what else do you say to your two-time hookups? You skedaddle before it can get weirder.

You would have said yes this time, you think, if he had offered to walk you home again.

It’s only a week later when there’s a knock at your door.

There’s never a knock at your door. No one visits; there’s no one to visit.

You stare at the door for a minute, sitting on your bed eating room-temperature peas out of a can with your only spoon. The noise had startled you, and now you’re going to have to launch a search and rescue mission.

It knocks again. Well. Not it, you suppose, not the door. Whoever is on the other side.

You stand up, spoon hanging from your mouth, and open it with the chain still latched.

“Y’ain’t even gonna ask who it is?” Joel snaps.

You shut it and remove the chain, opening it all the way to reveal his scowl.

“Hi,” you say through clenched teeth where they hold onto the spoon. You’ve got one hand on the door and the other on your can of peas.

“You don’t even have a peephole. What’re you doing, just opening the door for strangers?”

“You’re not a stranger.” You’ve stuck the spoon into the remaining peas so you can speak clearly.

“You didn’t know it was me.”

You step back to let him in, eyeing him as he steps through the doorway.

He narrows his eyes at you. “What? I got somethin’ on my face?”

“No,” you say, not at all suspiciously, and cringe internally when your eyes can’t help but dart up and then back to him.

He turns and looks above the door where you’ve nailed a blue plastic horseshoe. Despite his apprehension, Sam had actually found one—leftover from some children’s game.

Though now you were wondering if it was less about the horseshoe shape and more about the properties of a ferried shoe. Maybe intent? Maybe the metal? Maybe it had to have been worn by a horse? You had never really listened to your grandmama. She was just a crazy old lady.

Or at least, you thought she was. But now there are mushroom zombies, so. Who knows.

Joel looks back at you with an eyebrow raised. “Doing some decorating?”

“Uh-huh,” you mumble, trying not to feel embarrassed. Then you remember that Joel being here is the weird part of this situation. You refuse to feel weirder than that.

“So, um,” you start.

He steps closer and tucks his fingers under your chin, thumb brushing over your cheek. It’s impressive how little it takes now for your brain to shut up.

“Hi,” you squeak.

“Y’said that already, sunflower.” He takes the can from you and sets it on the counter.

“Right,” you say, feeling a little ensnared by his gaze. “You have really pretty eyes.”

To your surprise, he blushes a little. His eyes go wide and his lips part. Instead of a response, he hides his reaction by kissing you so you’re too close to see the pink of his cheeks.

He turns you so he can press you against the door, licking into your mouth and pressing a thigh between your legs. It turns hungry very quickly, and you moan, spurring him on to slide his hands up your shirt.

“Not that I—“ you try, but he doesn’t let up. “Ah—hang on,” you turn your face.

He takes it as an invitation to nip and suck on your neck. You’re still distracted, but at least you can attempt to string together a sentence.

“Not that I mind,” a gasp draws out the words, “but why-yyy are you here?”

“Wanted your advice on interior design,” he says, jerking his head to the horseshoe, “but I think I’ve changed my mind.”

“Oh, shut up,” you try to say, but he’s latched back on to the sensitive area near your shoulder that has you abandoning your train of thought.

“Need you,” he says against your skin before he breaks away to tug your shirt over your head.

You can’t argue with that. Well, you could, but why would you want to when he’s got his hands and mouth on your breasts?

He grabs and pins your wrists above your head in one hand. The other pinches at whichever nipple isn’t currently in his mouth.

“Oh fuck,” you gasp.

He smirks around his mouthful before biting down so you cry out. His fingers find the seam of your leggings, stroking over to feel you squirm.

“Please,” you whimper.

He slaps your breast. “You wanna try that again?”

“Please, sir.”

“Down.”

You sink to your knees, but he doesn’t pull his cock out right away. Instead, he cups your cheek in his hand, watching closely as your eyes flutter shut and you lean against his hand.

“You still okay with all this?” he says, immovable gruffness betrayed by a hint of genuine concern.

You nod against his hand.

He draws his hand back, and a whine from you. It’s cut off by a sharp, but clearly restrained, slap. “Words, princess.”

“Yes, sir.” It caught you off guard, but you find you like the faint sting and heat of it.

“Yeah? Even that?”

He seems serious, no hint of a smirk or glint to his eye, so you pause to consider.

“I liked it,” you decide. “Felt nice. Made me want to please you.”

Now he grins and slaps you again. It’s not hard enough to leave a mark, just enough to make you gasp.

The heat spreads through you, and your mouth falls open, eyes following his hand as it drags away from your face to grasp his length through his pants.

“See what you’ve done?” He grips your chin tight with his other hand. “Gonna take care of that for me?”

“Please, sir.”

He pops the button open on his jeans and drags the zipper down unbearably slowly. You whine, and his fingers dig into your jaw.

“Be good,” he says. He draws his cock out and gives himself a few strokes just an inch from your mouth.

You look up at him and stick your tongue out. You want to whine, but you’re afraid if you’re not good, he’ll just fuck his hand.

He releases your chin. “Go on,” he says.

You kiss the sticky tip, licking the residue from your lips before taking his cock into your mouth. You moan in tandem, and his hand finds purchase on the back of your head.

“This place is kind of a shithole,” he says, looking around your tiny cube of a home.

“Gee, tha—“

He doesn’t let you finish, shoving you back down on his cock.

He fucks into you for a while, enjoying the way you moan around him when his dick bruises the back of your throat.

When he yanks you back suddenly, you gasp for air but try to get your mouth back around him.

“No, stop,” he says. “I don’t wanna cum yet. Want your cunt.”

You whine, and he almost caves, looking at the pure hunger with which you’re regarding his swollen, angry cock.

“I said no,” he says instead, jerking your head a little.

“Sorry, sir,” you say with a sigh.

He looks over your shoulder. “Y’ain’t even got a fuckin’ bed.”

You follow his gaze to your perfectly fine mattress. “I do so!”

“That ain’t a bed, sunflower. That’s a mattress with no box or frame.”

“Wait, hang on, haven’t you been here already?”

“Nah, that was Tess who stopped by.”

“That’s a funny way to say broke in.”

He quirks an eyebrow. “You complainin’?”

You look up at the horseshoe for a moment. “Nah, I guess not.”

He looks at it, too, and back to you. “I don’t wanna know. You got a shower?”

“You hate my bed that much?”

“No, I’ve been shovelin’ ash all day. M’not gonna fuck you like this, just need to rinse off.” He should have gone home first, he knows, but going back to an empty apartment just compounds his anxiety. He took a hard labor job on purpose, hoping it would distract him from the tightness in his chest.

It’s not that he doesn’t know Tess can handle herself. He just hates it when she goes alone for a deal.

“Yeah, okay,” you say. Before you move the towel away from the bathroom door, you stomp hard a couple of times and then wait a moment before opening it.

He decides not to ask.

“C’mon,” he says, tugging you by the hand into the tiny bathroom. At least you have a combination tub, so it won’t be too tight of a squeeze.

You start the shower for him and dig around in the cabinet for a clean towel. He reaches past you and grabs another.

“Wh—I got you one,” you protest.

“Y’ain’t gettin’ in with me?”

Oh. “Oh,” you say. “Yeah, I can do that.”

“But do you want to?” he asks, suddenly very close, backing you up against the sink. His hand lingers at the side of your throat.

“Uh-huh,” you nod.

“Then get in,” he says, tugging you away from the counter and giving a smack to your ass.

You yelp and strip down as he does the same. But he stops halfway through shucking off his pants after looking at the tile where his shirt landed.

“Do you eat in here?”

“What? No.”

“There are crumbs all over the floor.”

“Oh, those’re for Estella and Georgie.”

“I don’t want to know, do I?”

“Probably not.” You pause. “On second thought, you should. They’re mice. Please don’t hurt them.”

“Estella and Georgie are mice.”

“Yeah.”

“From outside.”

“Yeah.”

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head. His exasperation does not, you’d like to point out, stop him from stepping into the shower behind you.

His body cages you in, wrapping himself around you from behind. He rests his chin on your shoulder for a moment while his hands dance down each rib and over your stomach. They slide back up to your breasts, crossed to hold you against his chest while he gropes you.

You arch a little, as much as you can in his iron grip, and revel in the press of his hard cock against your ass. He groans when you roll your hips against it. You whine when he releases you, and he swats at your thigh.

“Let me get clean,” he scolds. “That was the whole point of this.”

Still, he can’t resist lathering your tits with his soapy hands and drinking the moans from your lips.

“I thought you were gonna fuck me,” you whine.

His fingers wrap around your throat and squeeze just so, sending sparks down your spine.

“I thought you were gonna be my good little girl,” he growls in your ear.

You whimper, involuntarily grinding back against him. “I want to. Please, I want to be—”

“What? Say it, baby.”

“I wanna be good,” you say.

His hand tightens until you squeak a little. “No, no, baby. Say, ‘I want to be your good little girl, sir.’”

You’re burning up. You can’t even blame the shower, because even the hottest water you get isn’t that hot. You whisper it back.

He eases up on your throat. “Can’t hear ya. Speak up.”

“I want to be your good little girl!” you blurt. “Um. Sir.”

He chuckles, dark and low, and the breath sends goosebumps skittering down your arms. “Yeah? You want to be my good girl and take my cock?” His hand slides down, almost where you need it, but he stops short of parting your lips, the tip of his finger brushing gently.

“Please,” you whine.

His middle finger dips in just enough to graze your clit. “I don’t think you want it bad enough.”

You grind back against him; a frustrated sob lodged in your throat. It slips free when he rubs a slow, gentle circle. “Please, sir. Please fuck me.”

You cry out when he pulls his hand away, but it’s only so he can push you up against the wall, hand between your shoulder blades to bend you forward. You brace yourself on the chilly cheap plastic.

He takes himself in hand and rubs the head of his cock against your slippery cunt. “I dunno. Doesn’t seem like you really want to get fucked.”

“But I’m so wet,” you protest.

“We’re in the shower, sunflower, ‘course you’re wet.”

You’re rapidly losing your grip on your sanity and also the wall, so you reach back and grab his hips, shoving yourself onto his cock. You’re not stretched enough to take it all, not even with your momentum, but the fat head of him pushes into you.

You and Joel gasp in unison, his hands tightening where they hold you, fingernails digging in. You moan, bringing your hands back to the wall as he pushes forward, voice breaking into a keen as he splits you.

He groans and grinds in deeper. “What a greedy fucking slut,” he says, having regained his senses. “Couldn’t wait, huh? You need it that bad?”

“Uh-huh,” you pant between thrusts.

“Alright,” he says, and then he stops. He holds still, buried balls-deep.

“No,” you sob.

“What?” He cracks a hand across your ass, grinning when you moan. “You want it that bad? Go ahead. Fuck yourself on my cock.”

You do. You rock yourself on it, trying to chase your pleasure on him. He grabs a fistful of your hair, to which you sputter a protest. You’d been careful so far not to get it wet.

“You got something to say?” He spanks you again. “Spit it out.”

But you’ve already forgotten about your hair, because no matter how hard you try, you just can’t seem to get the angle right. Your orgasm lies far out of reach.

You whine instead. “Please fuck me.”

“What’s the matter? You’re the one who helped yourself to my cock. Now ya don’t know what to do with it?”

You think you might actually cry. No, yep, tears are stinging in the corners of your eyes. You look back at him over your shoulder and hope you look pathetic enough for him to take mercy.

“Aw, baby, look at you,” he croons. “Shouldn’t have been so greedy, huh?”

“M’sorry,” you say. “M’sorry, sir, I promise I’ll be good.”

“You better,” he says, and then finally, finally shoves roughly into you.

The pace he sets meticulously takes you apart. His cock batters at you, his tight grip on your body unrelenting as he takes and takes and takes.

“So much better now, huh?” he says.

“Yes—oh fuck, s-so much. Thank you, sir.”

“Attagirl,” he moans. “Touch yourself, baby.”

You’re quick to obey, longing for his thick, calloused fingers.

But he knows that already. “See? Ya just can’t do it right yourself. Just let me make you feel good, okay?”

You’re nodding before he’s done talking. He wrenches your hand away and reaches down to pinch your clit.

“Now,” he growls. It’s a good thing, too, because you were already starting to fall apart.

He fucks you through it, and another, and another. Between the contrast of the warm water and cold wall, the brutal slap of his hips against your ass, and the dizzying pleasure, you feel fuzzy around the edges.

“Ah, fuck,” he groans. “Kneel.”

He steps back just enough to let you turn and drop to your knees. The water ricochets off his back as he plunges into your waiting mouth, and you swallow him down.

When he eases out, you’re soaked from the spray.

“Think we need to clean up again?” you say.

“Nah, why bother? I ain’t done with you yet.”

“What?” you gasp.

“Not a chance, sweetheart. Dry off and go lay on that sad little thing you call a bed for me, alright?”

It’s actually easier for him this way, he tells you with a smirk. “Ain’t gotta worry about my knees.” He’s lowered himself to the floor, with your ass perched on the end of the mattress.

Practically lounging, he’s spread your thighs to carve a space for himself, holding you as he takes his sweet time. For a goddamn eternity, all he does is kiss and bite your thighs, with the occasional soft lick to your folds. But he doesn’t dip in, doesn’t seek out your pleasure.

No, it’s very clear that this is for him. Which is not to say he doesn’t want you to feel good; he very much does. But tonight, he has the luxury of time and a comfortable angle to do whatever the fuck he wants.

You’re shaking, legs trembling, when his tongue finally nudges inside, just a quick flit of his tongue into your cunt before he drags it up to your clit.

“Please,” you sob, much like you have been. But this time, it’s different. He can tell from the way you’re squirming and clenching down.

“Give it to me,” he growls into you, and sucks at your clit until you come.

It feels like hours. There’s no way it can be, really, but he works you over again and again until you can’t take it anymore. You’re crying, real tears sliding down the sides of your face, and your hips move of their own accord in an attempt to escape.

He doesn’t let you out of it that easy. His hand comes down against your cunt before you realize he let go of your leg. And fuck, it feels good, but also, you might be dying?

“Can’t, I can’t,” you whine.

“You sure? I think you got one more in ya.”

“Fuck,” you sob.

He eases up a little, fucking you with his tongue while his fingers rub gently around your clit. When you cum, you have to bite your fist not to scream. He holds you down with a strong arm across your hips as you buck and struggle.

But he backs off as soon as you’re coming down. “Attagirl, that’s it. So good for me,” he murmurs, climbing up onto the mattress beside you.

He rolls you over into his arms and kisses your forehead, nose, and lips. “Such a good girl, takin’ everything I wanted.”

You’re limp. You think maybe he’s one of those vampires. What did they call them? Energy vampires? Or are you thinking of some kind of demon?

Anyway, you think he drained your life force out of your cunt. You can’t keep your eyes open, and your limbs are heavy. You’re sleepin’ with the fishes, you think, and giggle a little.

“You okay?” he says.

“Mhm, m’just so sleepy,” you mumble. Even your lips feel too heavy to move.

“I gotcha, sunflower; you can sleep.” He kisses your forehead again and tugs your comforter up around you both.

There’s a knock on your door for the second time in twelve hours. That’s more than the last twelve months.

You startle awake and yank the sheet up to your neck, but relax a little when you see Joel. He’s already hefted himself up and approached the door.

The knock comes again, but this time you notice there’s a pattern to it.

“Who is it?” he says anyway.

“Just me,” Tess says.

Joel unlatches the locks and lets her in.

“Thought I might find you here,” she says, low and quiet.

“You okay?” he says.

“Yeah, but I need your help with some cleanup. How’s she?”

“Good,” you whisper.

Tess does a double take. “Thought you were sleeping, sunflower.”

“Was, but people keep banging my door down today.” You yawn and for some reason, reach your arms up.

She obliges your sleepy plea, coming close enough to bend down and kiss you. “Don’t worry,” she says. “We’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Okay,” you agree. But something falls in your spine, something sad and heavy and taboo.

“I gotta go back out. Meet me downstairs,” she says to Joel, who’s getting his filthy clothes back on. She gives you a kiss on the forehead. “Be a good girl and go back to sleep.”

You hum your agreement and lay back down against your pillow.

Joel crouches down by the mattress. “Sorry, sunflower, we gotta get goin’,” he says, giving your cheek a brief caress.

The disappointment is there and gone so fast, he thinks maybe he imagined it. Maybe he just wanted to see it.

But it was real, much to your displeasure. You didn’t want them to think you were getting greedy, that you felt any entitlement to their time.

“Okay.”

“Need ya to lock up behind us.”

“Just turn the thingy before you close the door,” you mumble, trying to spare your poor feet the pain of the frigid floor.

The look he levels you is nothing short of furious. “You tryin’ to be funny?”

“No?”

“That flimsy little joke ain’t gonna protect you. Your hinges are too weak; anyone could kick that in. At least the deadbolt and chain would buy you a minute.”

“It’s cold,” you whine. But you know he’s right. After all, Tess got in and out without causing any damage. Hang on, though. What was that about weak hinges?

Does that make you… unhinged? You laugh out loud at your joke. Your daddy always said it was a good thing you thought you were funny, ‘cause no one else would.

He ignores it and yanks the blanket off you.

“Hey!”

“You can have it back when you get up.”

“Mean.”

“You think this is mean? I’m fixin’ to put you over my knee and change your little attitude.”

Your eyes go wide, and there’s a tell-tale heart(beat) buried beneath your panties. “You wouldn’t.”

“You damn well know I would.”

You swallow hard around the sudden ache in your throat where his cock should be.

You get up and shuffle over to him. “Alright, quit yer bitchin’. I’m here, and I will lock all the locks.”

He wraps the blanket around your shoulders. “Good girl,” he says and presses a brief kiss to your forehead. Before you even register it, he’s gone, door clacking shut behind him.

You lock all the locks and climb back in bed, but sleep doesn’t find you again.

next chapter

*title from "Trouble is a Friend" by Lenka