#also this is the first time he's showing his entire bare back with the full tats on display

[dindjarindiaries]

Crosshair making the shot to free Omega was more than just a heroic moment of redemption. It was a display of trust that, more than anyone else, Crosshair absolutely needed to finally make peace with himself.

This analysis is somewhat piggybacking off of this one about The Return, in which I discuss Hunter's true motivations during that episode and how earning trust and loyalty back from Hunter is one of Crosshair's greatest desires, especially as a younger sibling. While he may have started to earn it back then, this scene is the full culmination of it, and it's the moment when Crosshair can finally let go of the past and just be himself with his family again.

As always with any analysis, this is a disclaimer that you may view this moment in an entirely different way due to various biases, one of the most notable being based upon your own favorite characters and your own life experience. All I ask is that you read through carefully before chiming in with any counterarguments!

This analysis hinges heavily upon this line/moment, which indicate two major things for Crosshair: trust from both Omega and Hunter in taking the shot, the latter of whom knows he's down his shooting hand.

It starts, of course, after Hunter's killed CX-2 and he's preparing to go after Hemlock and Omega. Being the protective eldest brother/sergeant he is, he tries to convince Crosshair to stay behind, but Crosshair refuses and insists on helping. It doesn't take much at all to convince Hunter, and in probably one of my favorite underrated moments, he immediately picks up a second blaster for Crosshair - something that alone is a massive sign of trust in his brother and his abilities, even if they're both barely functioning.

Because, again, Hunter knows that Crosshair is down his shooting hand, but he doesn't doubt that his brother will still be able to use the weapon. And it's not just that.

Hunter knows that his brother can still shoot better than him. Not just because Hunter and his senses are no doubt absolutely overloaded right now, but because he has true faith in his brother and his sharpshooting abilities.

(Also... bonus points for this shot of them supporting one another. I hate what led to this, but I live for them literally leaning on each other again after everything they've been through.)

So then, we get this. The position they automatically assume, with Crosshair's blaster positioned on top of Hunter's shoulder. This is already establishing Crosshair as the primary sharpshooter here. Even before Hunter says a word, he's showing Crosshair how much he trusts him to make the shot when the time comes.

After this, we get out first hint of Omega displaying strong trust in both of them.

(She, of course, doesn't know yet about Crosshair's missing hand, but that wouldn't have matter anyway. We all know she still would've displayed the same amount of trust in him that Hunter does here.)

It doesn't matter what Hemlock put them through. It didn't matter to her when he first caught her trying to free them. She has complete, utter faith in her brothers to protect her. As someone who's so big on loyalty and has been trying to earn that full loyalty and trust back from his family, can you imagine how this made Crosshair feel already? Seeing her so confident in their ability to save her, even when she has a blaster pointed at her head?

Hemlock moves himself and Omega closer. This is when one of my favorite subtle moments happens: Hunter literally looks over at Crosshair, as if he already knows exactly what's about to happen.

Again, he already knows that Crosshair's going to take that shot and that he's going to make it. Hunter wouldn't risk Omega. Ever. If he had anything other than full confidence in Crosshair making the shot, then he wouldn't have allowed it.

But Hunter isn't just looking at Crosshair for that reason alone. He can also recognize that Crosshair is unsure, and scared. Hunter might even feel that way, too, but he's ever the eldest brother and sergeant, so he makes it his duty to make a plan and to give Crosshair the reassurance to do what Hunter knows he can do. What he trusts Crosshair to do.

Not only is Hunter telling Crosshair here that he trusts him, but also that Omega trusts him. In fact, he's insisting that she trusts him enough that she already knows exactly what to do to give him the perfect opportunity to take the shot.

Hunter also doesn't frame this as a choice. He tells Crosshair what to do, proving to him just how much confidence he has in Crosshair's ability to pull it off. Instead of a "Come on, you can do it!" it's literally a "You will do this."

And again, it's not like Crosshair missing wouldn't be a big deal. If Crosshair misses here, like he points out, it could risk Omega in several ways, either her being hurt by a stray shot or Hemlock getting the upper hand and killing both of them. But Hunter, protective Hunter, tells Crosshair that it has to be him. That it will be him.

Then, of course, Crosshair takes the shot - and makes it.

(And now, a moment of appreciation for the swiss cheesing...)

(I just noticed Hunter's knife is gone? Give it back??? What's he gonna do without his emotional support knife???????)

Now, the moment when Omega is finally about to reunite with them... but she notices Crosshair's missing hand. She realizes that, even without his shooting hand, the one he's been struggling with ever since their first imprisonment on Tantiss, Crosshair still made the shot. He's still worthy of that trust. And Omega and Hunter have known it, but Crosshair hasn't.

This is when we get another one of my favorite subtle moments (if you've been following me here, you'll know I've talked about this one before). Hunter's gaze guides Omega over to Crosshair and his missing hand, though I think it's a lot more than pointing that out. To me, it's Hunter saying "It was him. It was all him."

And that's when Omega runs forward and gives Crosshair the hug he really, really deserves.

This look in Crosshair's eyes... is everything.

That's the look of a man who's, of course, in utter shock, but it also dawning upon a massive realization. He's really, truly, cared for. And not even just that, but he's trusted, with their lives. You can't tell me that Crosshair didn't know at this point that Hunter's life was tied up with Omega's, too. If Omega had been lost, Hunter would have lost himself, too. By entrusting Crosshair with that shot, Hunter was essentially putting his own fate into Crosshair's hand, too.

And they both trusted him enough to do it. Finally, finally, he had their trust back. This embrace is proof and celebration of that, just as it's also proof of their loyalty to him.

(Hunter having a hand on both their backs I'm gonna be sick! I love them all so much!)

Remember, just a few hours before this, Crosshair was volunteering to Plan 99 because he felt as if he truly deserved that fate. He had clearly forgiven everyone except himself as far as their pasts went.

But here, Hunter and Omega - the two people whose approval Crosshair seeks out the most - both proved that they trust him with their lives. Even when he's far from being at his strongest.

All Crosshair ever wanted from his family was to have their trust and their loyalty again, and this moment is when he finally saw that he had it, and it's what allowed him to finally, at long last, make peace with himself again.

[evangelifloss]

Hey, I just red your amazing fight analysis and I want to know what you think about the scene where the bartender at the continental bar in the first movie says to John that he looks „vulnerable“. Do you think it’s the look in his eyes or the way he acts or moves ? (Which in my opinion look pretty normal) and how do you think John was before he left the business? Was he more cruel with his kills ?

I'm guessing you mean this scene, right? I hope so because I made this gif JUST for this ask since I LOVE what you've sent in. Thank you @persephone411 💖💖

To answer why the bartender picks up on John's vulnerability without him seemingly displaying any signals, I'll first and foremost use what I know of the later instalments regarding John's behaviour. And that is how much he speaks. Between movies 1 and 2, there's only a 15 word difference in regards to how many lines of dialogue he has (1st movie has 484, 2nd has 499) and for a movie that has a run time of 1 hour and 40-ish minutes, that's not alot of dialogue to begin with.

Take for example, Jack Sparrow from the 1st Pirates of the Caribbean movie. Reading through the script, I counted roughly 490 lines of dialogue from him and that movie has a runtime of 20 minutes LESS than John Wick 1!

So we know that John isn't a talker. Yet, when he finds himself back at the Continental bar, and reunites with the bartender who knows him very well, and given how familiar they are (her excitement at seeing him, a brief hug/cheek kiss) it becomes apparent that John is more... open. He doesn't just order a drink and say nothing else. He engages with her, and expresses, "She (helen) was more than I deserved." Which by all accounts expresses a softer side to John, an admission that he is not impervious to grief. Assassins don't do that. Retired he may still technically be, he is still in a room full of people who are NOT retired, who could overhear and see the man behind Baba Yaga. That sentimentality can get you killed in the Assassin world.

Secondly, his face is sporting a few rough marks, and I very much doubt John the Baba Yaga would show himself at the Continental bar sporting proof he can be injured.

As my final thought, for me personally, it's his tone and his eyes that give away his grief. His inner turmoil that will eventually overflow into a bloody tsunami. The micro-movements of his face as he pauses, when he looks away, and even when he greets her, the man is Tired. The man is not at this point in time, the Baba Yaga.

The second part of your ask is very interesting because we have almost next to nothing to go off of! No prequels (thank god) and barely any direct Lore other than what others speak about John which ironically, is missing direct context which leaves us viewers to speculate.

The John we know is the old John. The grieving John. The Man. We get glimpses of what he used to be, and how characters react upon hearing his name but we never get the Baba Yaga. Not entirely.

Continuing off this, my personal speculation is that John wasn't a vicious killer. He was an incredibly efficient one. You can buy time with a sadist if you are able to withstand them long enough for help to arrive but you cannot do the same towards someone whose only goal is to kill you on sight. As quickly as possible. And that someone also happens to be the best of the best. Combine those two skills and I think that is what makes Baba Yaga so terrifying to those in the underworld. It was enough for Viggo, head of a massive Russian syndicate, to go silent upon hearing the name despite knowing John had been retired for 5 years!!

On another note, and this barely gets touched upon but throughout the movie you come to know that for such a silent and deadly killer, John has a weird amount of people willing to die for him.

The High Table actively discourages and creates a continually hostile environment amongst assassins so that bonds and genuine alliances/friendships can't begin nor be maintained and yet... look how many people are willing to so far for John.

This speaks to the level of respect and integrity John must have to simultaneously be a deadly killer AND to not be hated by everyone.

He does his job well but he is not cruel. He will not endanger unrelated persons if he can help it, he is sincere and loyal.

It's why the High Table fuckin hates him.

[reflections-in-a-critical-eye]

Jimin when he posted the photo

The kindergarden teacher is also a little devil. We forget that sometimes cause he acts all cute lately and he's mostly absent from social media. Until he decides to come back with a banger, knowing no one can upstage him.

[foldingfittedsheets]

When I was working at the sex shop I was pulling poverty wages. I loved my job but I was on food stamps and still barely getting by. When they hired the stores first male employee and he started at my pay rate after I’d been there for three years I quit.

I was initially really nervous when I saw the post for the mattress job. It listed a pay scale that I couldn’t even conceptualize and I appeared qualified. When I got an interview I was over the moon but also petrified. Reactions to my line of work often varied but most people were very embarrassed or skeptical. I worried about how I’d address it in the actual interview.

I lived far to the north of their headquarters and drove almost two hours to get there. When I finally arrived it was in the nicest thrift store clothes I could find, but I shrank inside to see a room full of older white men in nice suits waiting to be interviewed for the same job.

Why did I bother? I was decades younger than anyone else in the room, shabbily dressed, and I suspected I was the only afab person in the entire building. I stewed in my insecurities until I was called in.

The second I met my interviewer I was instantly put at ease. The man had the energy of a therapy dog, he was abound with positive, good natured energy. He was also incredibly beautiful. I grinned back at his welcoming smile as we said our pleasantries. But still. This very beautiful polished man seemed very innocent. How would the sex shop question go?

“I see here you worked at STORE?”

“Yes,” I said hesitantly.

“And that was sales? Or you just rang people up.”

“No, it was sales. I’d help people find products, we were encouraged to upsell, there was sales spiffs, and most importantly we educated customers on products to help them find what they liked best.”

He grinned approvingly and asked, “Can you give me an example of a time you successfully upsold a customer?”

I paused, wringing my hands before I asked, “How vague would you like me to be…?”

“Not at all!” He assured me. “Go for it!”

“Well. A man came in looking for something to make his fingers vibrate so when he was touching his wife it would enhance that sensation. We had cheap $10 cockrings that I showed him first. But we had a rechargeable waterproof one made of nicer material, and after I showed him a demo he bought that one.”

“How much was that one?”

“$110”

“Wow! You had an upsell of 100% from what he came in looking for! That’s incredible!”

He was so truly genuinely stoked and not at all embarrassed that for the first time I saw a tiny glimmer of a future where I didn’t have ramen and peanut butter tiding me over between paychecks.

He asked me to wait then came back to tell me he liked me so much that he wanted to send me right into another interview, if that was okay. He didn’t want me to have to drive back later, it was terribly considerate and exciting. I beamed and told him it would be lovely.

I then had the second worst interview I’ve ever had. The worst goes to the time I applied to be a store manager for a pet food place years later. The district and store manager interviewing me passed notes and texted while I was speaking. When the district manager called to inform me I didn’t get the job I told him I’d never have accepted anyway because I’d never had such a disrespectful interview.

The new man sitting behind the desk radiated an aura of a brick wall. As someone with anxiety I’m highly keyed into the emotional states of people I’m talking to. To receive no feedback at all was my personal hell. After a perfunctory greeting he asked me with no inflection to sell him a pen.

I gathered the shreds of my courage and attempted the Herculean task he’d set me. Through my whole improvised spiel he resisted all attempts at engaging him, regarding me with a cold apathy as I touted the benefits of my fictitious pen.

Halfway through I broke into a cold sweat. My smile didn’t waver but it grew strained as I projected friendliness and warmth into the black hole of his heart. My thoughts scattered and my sales pitch grew redundant in the face of his nothingness. I finally concluded with a hard close and he simply nodded.

He glanced at my resume and commented, “You didn’t ask me to touch or hold it. Though I suppose I can understand from your previous line of work why you wouldn’t.” I shriveled and died inside knowing that I encouraged people to touch dildos all day long and had been too frazzled to offer him the pen.

He bid me a cool farewell. I made it to my car before I started sobbing. I had never been so rattled. I couldn’t understand what I’d done to make him so unfriendly or if my threadbare clothes were what had made him treat me like dirt. I drove an hour and a half to get home, weeping intermittently.

I was therefore taken by complete surprise to receive a call the next day inviting me on board for their five week training program. The first man who’d interviewed me gushed on the phone about how the second guy had loved me and that I was going to be fantastic.

I was in shock. When I showed up to training the second interviewer was charming my new classmates, beaming and laughing. He was an utterly different person. To my dismay I learned he was the trainer for my district and would be my point of contact if I made it through training.

He joked with me later that his interview facade was just a tactic to see how people held up under pressure and I filed him into a category of my deepest enmity. I never forgave him for how small he made me feel that day, but I never showed him the depths of my fury.

I aced every test and went on to be valedictorian of the eight people who had survived the rigorous training process to earn a sales position. When I got my first paycheck I bought myself new clothes, the first non-thrifted things I’d owned in years.

[peachylynnie]

wine

word count: 1.3k

synopsis: in which sylus is obsessed with your lips.

contains: sylus x mc!reader (not dating because i like tormenting him like that), alcohol consumption, horny sylus (not smut tho), suggestive themes, mentions of violence and blood, and LOTS of cussing.

a/n: i told myself i wouldn't write anything until i finish finals but sylus won. i'm also avoiding his myth spoilers since i didn't pull his pair yet. enjoy reading! do NOT copy or translate my work. sylus does NOT endorse plagiarism.

sylus wants to kiss you right now. he wants to kiss you so fucking badly, it hurts. 

you can't blame the man. you looked absolutely delectable right now. hair up, ears jeweled, eyes hooded, and back bared, oh, you looked so good in the dress he handpicked for you; he could just devour you whole and leave nothing to spare. 

and he would have no remorse for doing so either. the auction you two were at was filled with fucking nobodies. how dare they look at you, let alone breathe the same air as you? he's lost count of how many times he felt the urge to just demolish this shithole of a place. 

sylus sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. he knows he's being irrational. after all, he was the one who suggested you two attend this auction. you showed interest in an old manuscript that just so happened to be available only at this auction, and he would be damned if he didn't get you everything you could ever want. hell, you could even ask him for his heart, and he would tear it out of his cold chest, deliver it to your divine feet, get on his fucking knees, and beg for you to demand more of him. 

so, actually, you can blame him for the situation he is in. he was the one who picked the set you're wearing right now oh so ravishingly. he was the one who brought you to this stupid auction that's taking so long to get on with it already—where the fuck is the manuscript? but most importantly, he was the one who made your lips look so damn kissable right now. 

he knew what he was doing when he picked your lipstick for you. deep scarlet that would match his eyes and look good on you. but he never thought it would look this good on you. sylus curses under his breath, feeling his pants tighten around his crotch after remembering you bent over the sink to gaze at the mirror and paint your lips. he recalls how it took him everything not to stride over to you, spin you around, and slam his lips onto yours, hoping to get a smear of that majestic shade. 

oh, but it wasn't just the shade of your lips that drove him crazy. it was the texture, too. you must've been feeling heated because you go to take another sip of the wine in your hand. the matted, creamy lip print you leave on the glass has the silver-haired man inhaling sharply and tightening his grip on the table. what he would give to have such a work of art printed on him instead. he wants it all over him. his face, his neck, his fingertips, his cock—everywhere until no single part of him was unmarked by your luscious lips. until there was no room to even question who he belonged to. 

that's how badly sylus wants to kiss you right now. but he stops himself using the single thread of patience he has left. yes, the two of you were technically alone, standing at the table in the far back. thank god he reserved a table just for the two of you so only he could marvel at your lip-stained glass. no one would interrupt if the two of you were to just have a full-blown make-out session right now.

but sylus knew better. he knew that you were still wary of him. this, you can blame him. after all, he's not a saint. his entire being is smothered in blood, down to the very tip of his designer shoes. he built his lavish empire of protocores and guns from the taking of lives. hell, he even threatened you the first time you met. though, he only did that to push you to your full potential. he could never truly harm you. but sylus knows you. you, in your most beautiful human form, who dwells not only on the past but also on the lives of others. you, whose empathy is so strong, sylus can't help but admire, even though he sometimes wishes you would just let loose and bring hell upon all those who dare to cross you. thus, your continued, empathy-driven wariness of him. but, sylus knows how to compromise. he's okay with being the one with bloodied hands and fucked-up morals so long as it means seeing you, even if it means from afar. besides, you haven't reported him to your little hunter friends yet. he supposes that's a start, and he could settle with that. he could also settle with this: 

"is the wine to your liking, sweetie?" he asks smoothly. 

you flinch, taken aback by sylus' sudden question. you were wondering when he would stop staring at you and actually start paying attention to the auction. not that you mind having sylus' eyes on you. it's just that the borderline depraved look in his crimson eyes was making you feel all hot inside and you really wanted to stop feeling all hot inside whenever you were near him, let alone thinking about him. 

"uh yeah," you nervously chuckle, setting the glass down. "it's better than i thought." you turn your gaze to a waiter nearby, hoping to get a glass for sylus since he seemed so interested in yours for some reason. "here, let me get one for you too." 

you try to catch the waiter's attention by raising your right hand, but sylus stops you. he grasps your hand with his left and rests it on the table. you furrow your eyebrows at him, wondering why he stopped you. sylus, the man who appreciates (that's the nicest way you can describe it) alcohol passing a chance at a complimentary drink? you're utterly confused. 

"no need," sylus gives a gentle squeeze, trying to ease your confusion. though, you're not prepared for what happens next. 

sylus picks up your glass with his free hand, plants his lips on your lip print, and takes a slow sip. your eyes widen, feeling the heat that was coiling in your stomach spread all around your tense body. holy shit, did he just—? 

the aggravating godsend of a man next to you finishes your drink with a satisfied sigh, wiping the garnet droplets from the corner of his lips but not the paint left by yours. "hm," sylus drags his tongue along his lips, a smirk threatening to show. "it is better than i thought."

you flush, seeing your lipstick smudged on sylus' succulent lips. you don’t know what to say. he totally did that on purpose. there's no way he didn't. does this mean the two of you technically kissed-

you don't allow yourself to finish that last thought. you blink rapidly, trying to get your now parched mouth to say something. anything. but you can't. you're completely flustered to the point where all you can do is just gape at sylus with a blush the shade of his eyes tinting your cheeks. 

sylus grins, the tip of his canine peeking out from his now-tainted lips. this is better than he thought. perhaps, he should settle more often if it means getting to see you so cutely aroused and embarrassed like this. though, he knows he won't be able to settle for long. he knows one day, he won't be able to hold himself back anymore. one day, he'll conquer your lips for himself and relentlessly indulge in the real thing. but for now, sylus is content. for now. 

"cat got your tongue, sweetie?" sylus teases, tilting his head to meet your shaky gaze. 

you jerk your head away, trying to get the image of his lips out of your mind. "eyes on the prize, sylus." 

sylus chuckles, but not without placing his elbow on the table and propping his face on his hand to get a better look at you. "oh, my eyes are on the prize, sweetie. my eyes are on the prize." 

[cherryfennec]

what could you think of for a second and third phase for super dimentio

Ymmm I don't really see him having another phases so no but I've had something for the first 20 seconds of his initial battle in mind.

Tag, he's it.

okay so like spm spoilers and stuff but:

When you first start the battle with Super Dimentio there's a certain period of time where he's invincible. You can't damage him and nothing really happens until Timpani returns with the Pure Hearts.

Now in my personal opinion while I'm still glad they added this moment, it still left me a little unsatisfied. Here's why:

Dimentio turning into Super Dimentio with Luigi is his big moment, his victory. He has become something that is indestructible, something that generations of Ancients have been passing down. He is a god. The time frame where he's indestructible in the game is supposed to show that you are powerless against him, that no Pixl and no item will do anything. This is supposed to make you realize in the moment that: it's truly hopeless.

Unfortunately Dimentios spotlight is VERY quickly taken from him, which makes the idea less effective than it could've been. You see Dimentio working for this the entire game, just for him to win in the end only for 20 seconds and then turn into a joke of a fight. The speech he gives before the fight is longer than the actual boss, making everything slightly anticlimactic (at least to me).

The concept I've been thinking about using in my take of the Super Mario lore (SPM specifically here) is that those 20 seconds of standing and waiting around for the game to decide it's time to move on are instead spent on: A reverse game of magical tag.

The concept of a magical tag itself is used earlier in the game by Dimentio himself who makes Mario and Luigi humour him by traveling through the worlds they have been in before and finding ripples in space he's leaving behind to keep the game going. I thought by turning this moment of 20 second invincibility into a game of magical tag where he's “it” this time would help that feeling of hopelessness and stakes sink in.

In this scenario Mario still cannot fight back as Dimentio,actively chasing him, is invincible, which forces him to run from danger. He runs from world to world, but now in contrast to the previous tag game, the worlds are being wiped out as you go through them for the final time. They're barely holding on, torn from their colors and mixing with the white void peeking through. Maybe some leftover npcs encouraging to keep going or just being terrified instead. Dimentio is chasing after you, peeking his long arms or head through the ripples to strike, and as he makes his way behind you the world progressively disappears and you have to make it out before it's entirely gone, else its game over. In the end of this chase you make it back to Castle Bleck where it picks up on Timpani restoring the Pure Hearts with Blumiere and using them to help Mario by removing Super Dimentios invincibility.

In conclusion I think making this moment akin to what I described above would help set the tone of this enemy more. For one this moment is now LONGER so you can see direct consequences of Dimentios victory outside and think about it more, second it turns you into an actual helpless plaything that you were meant to be. The entire path of the chase leads you back to Castle Bleck, it's a circle. This time you cannot escape and this time the evil doings have been set in motion on a rapid scale. It's a moment of Darkness that's broken by Timpani, someone who has been with you since the beginning and who you saw grow. She's now full of love and determined to win, something that to me comes off as super inspiring. She has been cursed to live a miserable existence yet she found the Light thanks to you. And THAT'S why you shouldn't give up even after all the ruined worlds you've seen. You have to keep fighting for them even in their darkest moment, even when they're gone.

also to clear any confusion yes i know this game is 3+ but i still think it'd be cool ig

[matryosika]

NCT127 + NCT DREAM: When they first slide it in

Members included in order — Jaehyun, Mark, Haechan, Johnny, Jeno and Jaemin. Genre — Smut headcanons (18+) Wordcount — 1,100 words Includes — Fem!Reader, suggestive content. Mentions of penetrative vaginal sex, use of petnames, dirty talk. Author's note — First NCT post! This was completely inspired by Juno's (@hyunsvngs) post on OT8 (skz) and the faces they would make when sliding it in. It's such a good read and if you missed it, pretty please go check it out! Wanted to do my own version with some NCT members, so here it is. This is mostly to try and fight back my writer's block, but I hope you all like it.

Jaehyun: 

Eyebrows furrowed and lips slightly parted, definitely. 

He is the type to let out quiet but deep sighs, and keeps his gaze fixed on where your bodies connect —when he first slides his dick inside of you, he needs to watch. He loves to see how your pussy swallows him full, loves to see it disappearing inside of you. If he is fucking you in missionary, his head would fall down to enjoy the show. But, as soon as he bottoms out, he is quick to lift his eyes up to see you. He needs to see your facial expressions, to hear those gasps and whines you let out whenever he hits the deepest spot between your walls. 

Big fan of kissing your jaw and neck while he waits for you to adjust to his size, all whilst emitting quiet but deep groans. I honestly sense he is the type to ask you a question or two before moving inside of you, like a sweet “are you okay?” or “are you ready?”. But like in a whisper, barely even letting the words out. When you just nod, he hums, looking for your approval. “Mhm? Can I fuck you now baby?” 

Mark: 

It really depends on his mood. 

If he’s acting all dom, like he is in control, he would try to act in control of himself as well —eyes close shut, and teeth digging on his lower lip. He is also definitely the type to whisper a long “fuck” as he bottoms out for the first time that night. But when Mark is too needy, and desperate, and he doesn’t really care about holding himself back, that’s when you see his true expressions when he first slides his dick inside you: hazy, lost gaze. I should add that he is also most likely to go a bit crossed-eye/blank eyes right before closing them slowly, immersing himself in the feeling. I can actually hear him saying “shit, just like that baby,” as your walls squeeze him just right. He would try really hard to make eye contact with you, but can you even blame him for not being able to? I just know his dick is always too sensitive, and it takes all effort within him not to come right then and there after first sliding himself inside you.  

Haechan:

Oh he really fucking tries to hold himself back. Much more than he would like to. 

Haechan tries to appear all collected, but he can feel his heart beating on his throat and his cock twitching when the tip is barely even in. He is the type to slowly close his eyes, almost at the same time he slides his dick right in; also lets out a deep sigh along with all of it. He would pretend he is unaffected by how warm and slippery you are, but his hands would betray him shamelessly  —if he is holding you by your hips, he would grip them almost painfully; if he is holding your hands, he would squeeze them too harshly. I also feel like Haechan is the type to curse under his breath or whisper things to himself when he first feels your walls clenching tightly around him. A “so fucking tight” might escape his lips, or an almost whiny “oh God”.

Johnny: 

He talks you through it.

It’s not necessarily because I see Johnny mostly as a dominant, but I feel like he loves to take the lead in situations like this. He is the type to make sure you’re really comfortable, that he feels just right inside you. All of his psyche is focused entirely on you, so it’s no surprise that he can control all of his facial expressions and body language to admire and take care of yours. And because he is so in control of himself, I can’t really picture any instinctive or involuntary gestures from him. Nothing but one: a fucking deep, almost predatory gaze. His eyes never leave yours.

If, by any means he cracks, I can picture him as one to slightly part his lips and let out a quick gasp. 

If he sees you crying, or whining, his eyebrows would go from a straight line to a subtle furrow and he would want to know how you’re feeling, “too much?”, “slower?”, “talk to me, pretty”.  I can also almost see his jaw getting tense when he bottoms out, feeling how your walls are squeezing his dick ridiculously aggressively, “want me to stretch you out for me?”, “You’re still so tight, baby. Weren’t my fingers enough?”

Jeno:

One word: veins.

I can honestly picture Jeno’s facial expressions in such a very specific way. He is definitely the type to let out a somewhat twisted smile when he feels how tight you are for the first time that night, the veins on his neck and forehead/temple becoming too prominent as he tries to regain the control your body has taken away from him.

Cheeks and nose flushed, and a really piercing gaze that makes you feel so small —whether you’re on top or underneath him. Jeno would be damned if he loses eye contact with you, he is the type to fix his gaze on yours as he slowly bottoms out inside of you. Also asks you questions to make you realize how cock-drunk you’ve become, despite him being barely in: “did you miss it, baby?”, or “how badly you want me?”. He doesn’t expect any kind of answer from you whatsoever, but he still scoffs under his breath when he sees how fucked out you’re by so little. 

Jaemin:

Eyebrows so furrowed, eyes closed shut and lower lip caught between his teeth.

Jaemin definitely lets out a deep groan, or even a desperate whine, followed by a sweet “oh baby”. He slides his dick in and bottoms out painfully slow —to tease you and himself, of course. Like Jaehyun, only when he bottoms out does he open his eyes to see your face in pure bliss; he might even offer you a complicated, small smile at the sight of pain imprinted on your face. He takes his time prior to fucking you, and he just enjoys the feeling of your cunt cockwarming him. If your eyes start to tear up because of the big stretch his dick is providing you, I can definitely see him as the type to wipe your tears one by one while he gives you words of affirmation. Also feel like he is one to give you instructions on your position to feel his cock better. “There, baby. You’ve taken me before, open up your legs for me more, yeah?”

[lovecla]

IF YOU LOVE ME, LET ME KNOW | jack hughes.

00.3. how was your first night together?

➴ warnings: nsfw, rough sex, oral sex (f. receiving), use of the word slut, bit of humiliation, dacryphilia, subspace kinda?, protected sex, nipple sucking, curse words, aftercare, cockwarming, dirty talk.

➴ word count: 2.2k

➴ author’s note: i have nothing to say for myself… also, this is the first straight smut I write in YEARS. so pls bear with me… also2, im highly aware that jack is probably a cutie pie during sex (and dw!! we’ll get there eventually) but something abt this jack… makes me dizzy. hope u all enjoy!!

—♡

LEAVING the party with this man— you still didn’t even know his name— was probably the best decision you had ever made, after auditioning for that one show that changed your life back when you were thirteen.

The pretty boy drove you to his actual house and rested his hand on your thigh the entire ride. You could feel yourself getting wetter and wetter with the thought of letting a man, who you barely even knew, fuck you senseless.

Maybe Grace was right and you did have a little bit of a thing for humiliation.

Although nothing compared to when he opened the door of his huge house for you, and kissed you before he had even closed it properly. His kiss was bruising and angry, his hands gripping your waist with just the right amount of strength and you could swear you were melting in his arms.

“Fuck,” you moaned, sitting on his lap. “What’s your name?”

He laughed, eyes red and mouth swollen. “You don’t know who I am?”

“No?” You raised your eyebrow, smirking.

“I’m Jack Hughes.” He said, looking bothered by the fact that you didn’t know who he was.

“Hi, Jack Hughes,” you said, rocking your hips against his. “I’m Sophia.”

“Oh, I know who you are, baby,” he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “That concert Nico went to? I was there too.”

Now that surprised you.

“Cat got your tongue, baby?” He was the one smirking now. You rolled your eyes.

“Less yapping and more fucking. I’m starting to think you’re full of shit.”

You barely had time to finish breathing after your sentence before he grabbed you by your waist, and lifted you, forcing you to wrap your legs around his waist.

He somehow managed to climb up the stairs while holding you and hell if that didn’t make you wetter. You could feel your panties sticky and glued to your intimate part, and honestly there wasn’t anything that you wanted more than to remove them.

He placed you in the bed, gentler than you’d expect him to, and you watched as he removed his suit, his toned abs making you clench around nothing. He pushed his somewhat long hair back before getting his hands on you again.

“Let’s get this monstrosity out of you,” he growled before almost ripping the jersey out of you. You laid on the bed now wearing just your bra and your mini-skirt. “Much better.”

You turned around, deciding that he deserved a show. Removing your bra, you actually moaned when you felt the cold air hit your hard nipples. You fought the need of touching them, and went straight to removing your skirt and panties, not letting yourself feel shy or embarrassed.

You felt Jack’s hands on you, turning you around and getting you on your knees. He looked at you like a predator and from just one look at his pants, you could tell that that man was packed.

“Here’s what you’re gonna do, baby,” he whispered, blue eyes staring down at you. “You’re gonna sit that sweet, needy cunt on my face, and I’m gonna eat you out until you’re coming. Then,” he stepped closer, not breaking eye contact. “I’m gonna fuck you fast and rough. That’s how I like it. And with that slutty face of yours,” he scoffed, eyes full of lust and desire. “I’m guessing that’s how you like it too.”

You bit your lips, nodding with your head, because you didn’t trust yourself enough to do anything besides moaning.

He removed the rest of his clothes and, yay, you were right, but also— fuck. You were right. His cock was big and thick and looked like it would reach your stomach and rearrange your organs.

Just how you liked it.

He laid on the bed and grabbed your hips, making you sit on his face, and when the tip of his tongue met your aching clit, you swear you saw stars.

You were holding yourself on the headboard, not wanting to hurt him. He looked like a great guy, and didn’t deserve to die because he suffocated during sex.

But it looked like he had other plans.

“I think I told you to sit your cunt on my face, didn’t I?”

“Yes, but—”

“Do as I fucking say.” Even though he said it, he was the one who grabbed your thighs and pulled you down, making your pussy cover his entire mouth.

Your moans were probably heard from across the street, but you didn’t care. It had been way too long since your last time and this? This was heaven. Jack was a fucking munch. The way he licked your clit and fucked his tongue inside you? Yeah, he knew what he was doing.

“J-Jack, fuck,” you heard yourself saying, eyes starting to feel wet and mind going all blank. “God, what the fuck.”

The wet noises could be heard whenever your moans came out softly, and his hands on your thighs only made it all better, because you knew it would bruise. You knew it would leave a mark there and it felt so good to know that this was the man marking you up.

You looked down by accident and you came right on the spot when you made eye contact with the man underneath you; it should have been embarrassing to look at him eating you out but it wasn’t anything like that. You felt owned and desired. You felt whole.

He removed his lips from your pussy, not before licking it a few times, and turned you around, him on top of you. He moved so he could grab the condom from the bedside table— fuckboy move, totally— and you watched as he put it on.

He kissed you one more time while he inserted himself on you, not really giving you the time to adjust. You felt your hole burning, and it felt good. You were so wet that the squelching sounds were almost embarrassing, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. He was hitting you on the right spots.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he murmured, slamming into you with force. “Pussy so ‘fuckin tight for me. Holy shit.”

“Harder, p-please,” you heard yourself saying and you saw how his bright, blue eyes were changing into a dark, ocean color. You saw danger in them.

“You’re still speaking so I guess I’m not doing my job the right way, huh?” He said, taking almost all of his cock out just to slam it back into you with strength.

Your mind was going to a very strange place where you couldn’t really think straight and even though that should be scary, you felt nothing but… free.

The pleasure was so fucking good and your pussy had never felt so satisfied, as corny as it sounded. He had his lips on your right nipple, sucking and biting, his right hand rubbing your clit fast and precise, while his dick slammed into you with the right amount of pressure.

You could feel the tension building up inside of you and you knew you were going to come again, and soon, but when you tried to say something, warn him, it felt like you had grabbed a stick of glue and glued your mouth shut.

But it was too much, your legs were trembling and your eyes were wet, tears cascading down your face. You knew your face was red and probably slutty like Jack had said but it didn’t matter.

“Poor slut can’t even talk, mhm?” You heard Jack mock you, and fuck if it didn’t make you clench your hole around his dick. “You liked being called that, didn't you? Little slut. My brainless, stupid slut.”

His hand started to move faster on your clit and you tried to close your legs, out of pure instinct.

“None of that, sweetheart,” he whispered in your ear, still fucking you rough and hard. “Keep those pretty, little legs open for me. Isn’t that what you’re here for? Letting me, a guy who you barely know, fuck you senseless.”

You were fully crying now, holding onto him with so much force, secretly thankful that he was a Hockey player and probably used to all the roughness.

“I-I’m gonna,” you mumbled, not even thinking straight.

“You’re gonna come on my cock, sweetheart? Yeah? Gonna make a mess for me and wet my bed sheets even more?”

You felt yourself nodding, biting your lips when you felt yourself coming. Jack was still fucking you, searching for his own release. He lifted himself just enough to grab you by your waist and slam himself into you, over and over again.

Your tits went up and down and your eyes went to the back of your head.

“Fuck, I’m gonna fill you up now, baby. C’mon, sweetheart, I’m gonna come, fuck.” Jack cursed, thrusting into you one last time, before coming inside the condom.

All you could hear were your sniffles and his breathing. Your legs were still shaking and your body felt the same way it did whenever you had a fever.

You could hear Jack moving, but you only acted when you felt himself removing his dick. “N-No. Please, stay. Just… for a bit?” You sounded fragile, almost insecure, and you hated it. It wasn’t anything like you, at all. You had guys and girls throwing themselves at you everyday— not that it mattered, you never took interest in any of them— so you shouldn’t act like a needy… slut.

But your fucked up brain couldn’t handle the thought of Jack leaving you. So, you did what you could. Begged.

You heard him chuckling and before your brain could tell you that he was laughing at your request, you felt him moving you both around and, without removing his cock from you, he managed to lay on the bed and let you on top of his, your head on the crock of his neck, your intimate parts still connected.

You sighed, content and full, feeling even better when he put the duvet on top of you both, making you snuggle even closer. He chuckled again.

“Feeling very cozy in there, right, sweetheart?” He mumbled, and you smiled, even if he couldn’t see. He smelled like sandalwood and something else, something that didn’t smell like a cologne or anything like that— just him.

You didn’t know how much time had passed, you probably snoozed after a minute or two, but you woke up startled, feeling empty because he had just removed himself from you. You whined.

“We need to clean you up, c’mon,” he said, rising from the bed and taking you with him. He didn’t seem to care that you were both naked and you looked like you had seen better days— your makeup was all smudged and your eyeliner was long gone. But you felt so freaking good. “I need you to pee. I’ll wait for you outside if you want.”

You looked at the man in front of you, who looked nothing like the cocky guy who hit on you not even three hours ago. He looked soft and gentle, and you were all here for it.

“That’d be great, thank you,” you said softly, and he kissed you on the forehead, before leaving and closing the door behind him. You looked at your reflection in the big ass mirror in front of you and sighed, smiling. You looked fucked but damn. You felt like you had just hit the jackpot.

And maybe you had.

You peed and cleaned yourself, trying to remove the remains of your makeup with wet paper. It didn’t do much, but it was better than going out there looking like Chucky’s bride.

You opened the bathroom door, feeling cold once again. Now that your body temperature was going back to normal, you felt cold walking around naked.

Jack was standing in the middle of the room, wearing a pair of gray sweatpants and nothing else.

It should be illegal for someone to look this good after rearranging my organs.

“I picked some of my clothes for you. You won’t be sleeping in my bed with Nico’s ugly jersey,” he raised his brow, looking truly upset with Nico’s shirt.

You smiled. “It’s fine. I’m not going to spend the night. That is against the rules of a one night stand.”

It felt stupid to say shit like that, but it was true. Now that the sex drive was going away, you regained some of your senses and confidence and you knew that being a clingy bitch wouldn’t get you anything.

“I mean, I can sleep in my guest room if sleeping with me makes you uncomfortable, but there’s no way in hell I’m letting you go back to your house alone at one in the fucking morning.”

“I know how to take care of myself, Hughes,” you heard yourself saying and you wanted to slap yourself. Where did the attitude even come from anyway? “Besides, I’ll just get an Uber.”

“The fuck you will,” he laughed— he actually laughed. You couldn’t believe it. “Lay down. With how hard I fucked you, you should be like Aurora from Sleeping Beauty anytime now.”

You suppress a giggle, giving in. So easy. “You’re annoying as fuck.”

“Funny, you didn't say that when I was eating your pussy.” He shrugged and climbed on the right side of his bed.

Your face went all shades of red.

“Come on, Sophia. Think about your poor consequences tomorrow.”

You rolled your eyes and climbed on his king sized bed. He wrapped his hands around your waist and you put your head in his chest, and listened to his heartbeat until you fell asleep.

He was right. You could manage the consequences tomorrow.

[actiniumwrites]

patches

synopsis: even though you’re both self-proclaimed enemies, they can’t bear to see you hurt. or in which, you show up at your enemies door all bloodied and bruised and they’re forced to take care of you

characters: xiao, gaming, alhaitham, and arlecchino x gn!reader (separately)

warnings: angst to fluff, hurt/comfort, injuries, crying, enemies to lovers, some of them are kinda mean, extremely mild misunderstandings, probably swearing idk

notes: i’m in a massive enemies to lovers kick right now omg you guys don’t understand. this was also inspired by arlecchino’s voiceline from a heavy hit or something where she says, “wanted my full attention, did you?” she’s so fine i’m sobbing 😖

Xiao:

It was a relatively quiet night before you showed up at Xiao’s room at the Wangshu Inn. For the first time in a while, he had felt a semblance of peace. That was until the indistinguishable scent of blood forced itself in his nose and a weak knock sounded at his door.

Xiao opens it immediately. He doesn’t care to know who it is, but rather what they want with him at nearly three in the morning. No one ever bothers Xiao this late. Not unless it was serious.

“What do you—“ he starts harshly but stops mid sentence when he recognizes your face. You’re doused in blood, your clothes all ripped up. And god, you look so weak it almost makes him feel bad for you. “Get inside,” he grabs your arm harshly, but still manages to avoid all your injuries.

You start to speak, but your mouth is full of blood too. He can barely understand what you’re saying aside from a bunch of nonsensical, I’m sorries. And if your injuries weren’t enough to show it, the fact that you’re apologizing to him at all tells him something is seriously wrong. Most of the time you talk to him it’s a bunch of insults thrown back and forth, some even result in physical fighting. Neither of you have been able to get along for centuries, yet here you are getting patched up in his house.

Xiao remains mostly silent as he sets you on the counter and pulls out his medical supplies. First he cleans up all the excess blood with a cloth before tossing it aside and moving to work on the actual injury itself. You can’t help but watch him, feeling nothing but shame as you do. You couldn’t help it. There was no one else you could think to go to.

“You are unbelievably weak and irresponsible. It’s idiotic to think you could ever handle anything in this world, not even a few monsters,” he grumbles between stitches, “Pathetic.”

You just stare at him as tears well up in your eyes. You aren’t one to cry. In fact, you can’t even remember the last time something so bad happened that you did. But sitting here, terrified of the monsters that had you within an inch of your life combined with Xiao’s cold words made you completely shatter inside and out.

Quietly, you sob into your other half-cleaned arm, “I know. You don’t have to say it.” You begin to get up right after, mumbling about it being a mistake coming here but he pushes your knee back down before you can fully stand up.

Xiao looks up surprised from where he sits as he does, his hands drop the thread and needle against the counter. Without word, he stands up and furrows his brows. “I should not have said what I said,” he practically whispers, a twinge of embarrassment hitting him too. A darker look shades his gentle amber irises as he stares into yours, “I don’t entirely dislike you. As stupid as your actions may have been, seeing you injured makes me…upset.”

“They weren’t normal monsters,” you breathe out between the remaining sobs that still involuntarily leave your mouth. You know you don’t owe him an explanation, but you figured you could at least make it known you weren’t taken out by some random hilichurls. “I was down in the Chasm. Those…things weren’t anything like I’ve ever seen before. I didn’t even have time to react.”

Xiao nods and places the last bandage on your face, “You shouldn’t go down there by yourself. It’s too dangerous. The last time I was there I hardly escaped.”

“What do you mean?” you raise a brow, your interest suddenly peaked. Xiao wipes the remaining tears off of your face in silence before turning to walk away.

“Call for me next time and I’ll be there.”

Gaming:

Gaming and you had gotten off on the wrong foot when you first met each other years ago. As children, you always felt like he stole your spotlight and he never seemed to care. And as you got older, it never seemed to go away. You constantly bickered and loathed having to see each other whenever one another’s name was brought up.

Yet whenever you got hurt, he was always the first person you went to. Although normally, it was for small things like paper cuts and bruised elbows. Not for your face having a cut so deep you could barely see and an arm twisted out of place like today.

“Fuck,” you mutter as you bang on his door, hoping it was the right one. There was too much blood in your eyes. Every door in the village looks the same right now, and even if it is the right one, you aren’t sure he’s even home. “Please be home,” you pace back and forth. Gaming stopped asking questions years ago when it first started.

You were forced to go with him after a group of bandits had found and beat you up, taking nearly everything you had in your bag. Gaming had found you while on delivery, and like the sweet guy he is, he stopped and helped you even though you could both barely stand each other. He didn’t want to see you dead either.

You weren’t often hurt, but it became somewhat of a cycle whenever you were. You were a nice person, well liked by most, but you also enjoyed stirring up trouble and it often landed you in some pretty hot water countless times. You knew Gaming wouldn’t say anything to anyone or turn you away like other people would. And above all, you like the kinder side of him whenever he patched you up, which he was good at too.

“Gaming!” your fist pounds on the door again. It’s almost nightfall and a few villagers have begun staring. You almost go to knock again, but your body begins to give out. You mumble a few more curse words before the door opens and you fall forward, directly onto the very person you were looking for.

“Ow ow ow, oh my god my arm!”

“Sorry! Is that blood?! What happened to you?”

“I don’t know! Ask the guys who thought my joke wasn’t funny.”

Gaming picks you up off the floor in a state of panic and rushes you to the bathroom. Luckily for you both, his dad isn’t home to see all of this.

Gaming begins to wipe the blood off your face and examine the cut that runs all the way from your forehead to your cheek, narrowly missing your eye. “This is bad,” he says and begins rummaging through his drawers for medical supplies.

You scoff, “Yeah, you think?”

“You didn’t have to come here, you know. You should’ve gone to a doctor,” he bites back nicely. Sometimes you wish he would just be a little meaner to you. It was easier to hate him that way.

You quiet down and let him take care of your face, “I’m sorry. You’re the only one who I can actually trust to take care of me.”

Gaming hides a small smile while avoiding eye contact with you. Not that you could even see, but just in case. He’d never admit it, but he actually really enjoys when you go to him for help. He’s never resented you like you’ve resented him, but he never bothered to change it either. Somehow he hoped bandaging you up would make you change your mind about him.

“It’s alright,” he says softly, pouring disinfectant onto a small cloth and wiping the cut gently. You wince and he places a hand on your upper arm to silently comfort you, “If you want some good news, you don’t need stitches on your face.”

You breathe out a sigh of relief, having always hated needles, “Thank god.”

“But you will have to see a doctor for your arm. There’s no way for me to fix that on my own,” he says bashfully, “I can maybe…take you if you’d like?”

You peer up at him, shocked at the question. Perhaps this could be a new start between the two of you, and you’re not so against it.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

Alhaitham:

It’s pouring outside when Alhaitham hears banging on his front door. At first, he ignores it thinking it was just Kaveh forgetting his keys again and he doesn’t care enough to let him in. But the banging persists and then comes the faint sound of pained sobs.

He slams his book shut and groans as he gets up and trudges angrily to the door. He swings it open only to be met with the sight of you clutching your waist, barely keeping yourself standing as the rain envelopes you.

“Please,” you whisper weakly.

Alhaitham scoffs, “Really? I’m not a doctor, go somewhere else.” He begins to shut the door, and he almost does so successfully before you collapse on the floor, blood beginning to mix with the puddle outside his door. And there’s a lot of it.

The next thing you know, you’re in your least favorite scholar’s arms as he carries you to his room. He sets you on a chair and you take the time to take in what his room looks like. It isn’t much different than you expected, yet you never thought you’d see it.

“Don’t move. I don’t want you making any more of a mess than you already have,” he sneers, walking off to the bathroom connected to his room to grab out a small bag of medical supplies. When he returns you’re blankly staring ahead of you, barely conscious as tears start running down your face. It’s like you don’t even know you’re crying. Alhaitham stares at you for a moment in utter disbelief before snapping in your face, “Take your shirt off.”

“Huh?” you snap out of your daze, confusedly wiping your tears as you do so. A few sniffles leave your nose as you do so.

“Do you want help or not?” he snaps again, losing his patience with you. He’s beginning to seriously regret not leaving you on his doorstep. You quickly follow his instructions, taking off your shirt to reveal a huge cut stemming from one side of your stomach to the other.

Alhaitham’s eyes slightly widen in shock, and he almost can’t pull them away. For a brief moment, you even catch them soften but it’s fleeting and doesn’t give you enough time to register that maybe the stoic scribe really does care for you, even just a little bit.

You both sit in complete silence as he begins working. You catch his eyes every so often, but he quickly looks back down at the injury before either of you can speak on it.

“Who was it?” Alhaitham grumbles as he finishes wrapping it up, his arms wrapped around your waist. The feeling of his hands distracts you from the question.

“What?”

“The people that did this. Who was it?” he repeats it, more anger this time around. You shake your head and look off to the side.

“I don’t know. It was too dark to get a good look at them,” you try to explain, but Alhaitham doesn’t have any of it. You’re not sure why, but he doesn’t seem like the normal him. The guy that normally finds any and every chance to torment you.

He gets up and grabs the bag, noting something down on a nearby piece of paper and shoving it in the left pocket of his pants before angrily walking out the door of his bedroom, “I’ll be back.”

“Wait! Don’t go,” Your hand reaches out and grabs his. You pull back suddenly, not realizing how impulsive your decision was until it was too late. You go to mumble a sorry, but before you can, you find your hand back in his.

You stare at him in shock, but he just squeezes your shaking hand. “Stay here,” he says somehow both coldly and warmly at once, pulling the blankets back and gesturing to his bed, “I’ll be back in an hour.”

“Where are you going?”

“To deal with the people that hurt you.”

Arlecchino:

You wince as the door swings open aggressively, not expecting Arlecchino to open the door before you could even think to knock.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, squinting her eyes so as to scale you up and down. For a moment, they linger over your bloodstained clothes and the already bruising cuts that litter your body. You don’t notice the way they widen in shock for a moment, too distracted by the adrenaline wearing off.

You still manage to crack an arrogant smile and sarcastically mutter, “Couldn’t think of anyone worth patching me up but you.”

Without waiting for a response, you push past her figure and let yourself inside already knowing where the infirmary is. Although, you don’t make it two steps before your legs give out and your body tumbles toward the hardwood floors.

The clicking of heels stops from just beside you before a strong hand grips your arm and aggressively pulls you up, “Don’t dirty my floors. The children worked hard to clean those today.”

“Yeah? Well they can clean them again tomorrow,” you grumble and weakly attempt to push her hand off of your body. Arlecchino doesn’t budge, however. She instead drags you all the way to the infirmary and sets you down on one of the beds.

“Wow these are surprisingly comfortable. Didn’t know you had it in you to be so accommodating to all the children you like to hold hostage,” you tease to keep yourself from focusing on the pain. She ignores you and instead places a firm hand on your uninjured chest and slams your back against the bed.

Immediately, she begins working on all the little cuts and gently wipes all the blood away, saving your bigger injuries to be dealt with in a moment. For now, she didn’t mind if you suffered for a little longer.

“So,” Arlecchino starts after a few minutes of silence, finally deeming it worthy to have a real conversation with you, “was this your way of getting my full attention? If you wanted me to notice you, you should have just said something.”

“What? No! I got attacked, I wasn’t trying to ‘get your attention’ or whatever.”

“You don’t sound so sure.”

“I really wasn’t,” you cross your arms and turn your head away from her, “I was scared, you know? I didn’t know who else to go to. Make fun of me all you want, but it’s the truth.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

She doesn’t say anything more after the conversation takes its turn. You’re glad she doesn’t, not wanting to engage in the horrible embarrassment you already felt from having to show up here anyway. She was the last person you’d want to have see your weakness, yet here you are covered in the House of the Hearth’s bandages.

When Arlecchino is done with stitching up your leg, she moves to your face and gently brushes away the blood. And cut by cut, she heals each one and leaves you feeling brand new again. You stare up at her for a brief moment, unable to look anywhere else when the red X’s in her eyes are so focused on you.

“So who did it?” She asks suddenly, her tone a little more caring than before. It almost shocks you, but then again, deep down you knew she cared more than she let on. No matter how much either of you didn’t get along, you always had her back. Even if she didn’t know it. You always liked the think that she had yours too.

You sigh and scribble down a few names on a nearby clipboard left by the bed, “That’s only a few of them…the ones I was able to get talking before everything happened. I’m sure you’ll have no problem finding their leader though.”

Her eyes scan over the paper before she glances back at you and nods. She begins to walk away but stops at the doorway and calls out over her shoulder, “I’ll be back in the morning. My room is on the second floor, last door at the end of the hall. I expect to find you resting there when I return.”

[punkshort]

Hard to Handle

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader one-shot

Summary: One year after Joel cheats on you and gets someone else pregnant, you run into him for the first time.

Warnings: pre-outbreak au, angst, language, infidelity, female rage, alcohol consumption, open/ hopeful ending but reader and Joel do not end up together

WC: 2.5K

Written for @tightjeansjavi's June writing challenge

"Guess who Neil saw at the pediatrician?"

You cracked open one eye and bringing your hand up to shield you from the sun, squinted over at your best friend, Kate. "Who?"

She grinned and sat up in her lounge chair. "Joel."

You made a face and closed your eyes again. "Don't care."

"He was all alone, Nate said. Looked like he was struggling to keep the baby quiet in the waiting room and he also said he looked tired as shit."

"Good."

"C'mon, aren't you the least bit curious?"

You made an exasperated noise and sat up in your chair to face her. "What's the point? He made his bed, he can lie in it."

Kate sighed and pulled out her phone. "Well, I was curious so I looked him up on Facebook and guess what?"

"I don't-"

"The bitch left him!" she exclaimed, showing you Joel's Facebook profile where it clearly stated his relationship status was single and the profile picture was an old one from high school. You snorted and shook your head.

"It's been almost a year, what do you want me to say?"

"I want you to feel happy that he's fucking miserable, that's what," Kate said, picking up the baby monitor at her feet and zooming in on the screen, checking to make sure her six month old was still asleep.

"Okay, fine. I'm happy he's fucking miserable," you replied before taking sip of your lemonade. "It's not fair to the baby, though."

"Oh, of course not," Kate said immediately, "but after what he did to you, you can't deny that this is karma kicking his ass."

You shrugged and looked down at your hands, picking at something imaginary underneath your nail. It had been almost a year since you left Joel. A full year when you found out, after being together since junior year in high school, that Joel had cheated on you and gotten someone else pregnant.

Well, found out probably isn't the right term. He flat out confessed one morning.

You had woken up and reached out for him, your hand running up and down his bare chest. You inched forward and buried your nose against his side, breathing in deep his natural, masculine scent before slowly dragging your hand underneath the covers to the waistband of his boxers. You didn't even realize he was awake yet until his hand suddenly shot out and stopped you.

"What's wrong?" you asked, sleep still permeating your voice.

"Nothin'."

You opened your eyes and looked up at him. He was wide awake and staring at the ceiling.

"Joel?"

He slowly turned his head to look at you and at the same time, one single tear slid from the corner of his eye. You scrambled up into a sitting position, panic singing in your veins.

"What's wrong?" you asked again, harsher this time. He swallowed and slowly sat up.

"I gotta tell you somethin'."

Your pulse began to race as all the possibilities ran through your mind, but what he said next was never what you had expected to hear.

"I slept with someone else and... she's pregnant."

You remembered in that moment it had felt like time stood still. The birds stopped chirping, the lawn mowers stopping running, the laughter outside your window ceased because the world as you knew it just ended.

After that, your memory was a little hazy.

You were sure you said some terrible things as you packed up all your belongings in a rage. The terms motherfucking piece of shit and fucking loser were tossed around more than once. You do remember preemptively accusing him of giving you an STD because he chased around whores and as you were walking out the door, you told him he would be a terrible father because he was still acting like a child himself.

Joel didn't say a single thing back. He stood there the entire time and took it, each word landing like a blow across the jaw. You weren't sure what pissed you off more: the fact that he didn't say anything or that he didn't even try to make you stay.

After you had a few weeks to reflect on it, you came to the conclusion that he must have been looking for a reason to break up and he was too chickenshit to do it himself, so he found a way to make you do it.

You blocked him on everything you could think of and pushed him from your mind. His name was banned in every conversation you had with your friends and family and as time went on, you managed to heal. You found a cute little apartment in downtown Austin and began hanging out more with your friends. You even went on a few dates with a couple different guys but nothing ever managed to stick, and you were fine with that. You actually preferred it. Being single was something you weren't familiar with and now, in your mid twenties, you were actually having a really fun time getting to know yourself again.

After so much time had passed, you really thought you were over it. Even after Kate shared that news with you, you still barely had a reaction. You were proud of yourself and feeling good. Joel was the furthest thing from your mind when you met some friends out for drinks that Friday night after work. The bar was crowded, but that wasn't unusual. It was one of the most popular spots downtown and your friend, Shannon, got there before the rest of you and managed to grab a small table.

"Are you still seeing that guy? The one with the cats?" Mel asked Shannon, and she shook her head.

"Ghosted me," she replied, making a sour face. You both pouted in return and you rubbed her back.

"Fuck him. There's plenty of other guys out there. Hell, there's plenty of guys right fucking here," you giggled and gestured behind her towards the packed bar. You noticed one guy in particular with sandy blonde hair and blue eyes glancing her way every few minutes and you nudged her foot under the table and jutted your chin in his direction. "Exhibit A."

She looked over her shoulder and smiled shyly before looking back at the two of you.

"I don't know..." she said hesitantly, then bit her lip and looked at him again. This time, the guy winked at her and she blushed.

"Come on, he's cute. Go dance with him," Mel urged, then Shannon grinned and snatched her purse.

"What the hell, can't hurt."

You both giggled as you watched her weave her way through the crowd towards her mystery man. Mel tossed back the rest of her drink with a wince before speaking again.

"Your turn."

You shook your head.

"Nah, I just wanna have a few drinks and go home, I'm not looking for another headache other than the one this vodka's gonna give me in the morning."

Mel opened her mouth to reply but then her eyes flicked to something over your shoulder. "Incoming," was all she said. You rolled your eyes and braced yourself for a shitty one-liner, but you turned out to be very wrong.

"Evenin', ladies," came a very familiar drawl from behind you. Your shoulders immediately stiffened and you slowly looked up. Sure enough, there he was. Joel.

It was Tommy who had greeted you. Joel still had yet to say anything as you glared at him. You met Mel after your breakup with Joel, and while you had told her about it, she never saw what he looked like so she was completely oblivious to what was happening. She had introduced herself to Tommy and was giggling at something he said while you were mentally planning your escape route.

"Lemme buy you a drink," Tommy offered, reaching out a hand. Mel eagerly took it and glanced back at you, frowning a little when she noticed your icy demeanor.

You ok? she mouthed, and you just nodded. She grinned and followed Tommy to the bar, leaving just the two of you.

"Mind if I sit?" he asked. You shrugged and grabbed your purse.

"It's all yours, I was just heading out."

"C'mon, don't be like that," he said. You swiveled around angrily and he held out a refill of your favorite mixed drink as a shitty peace offering. Kate was right. He had bags under his eyes and he looked run down.

"You hand me that drink and I'm dumping it over your fucking head," you snarled. He sighed and set it down on the table.

"I tried callin' but it never goes through."

"Because I blocked you, asshole."

"Yeah, I figured that out," he replied, sounding annoyed now. "Can you please just sit down?" he pleaded, pulling your chair out, but you shook your head and took a step back.

"No, Joel. I don't have anything else to say to you," you told him, then before you caused a scene you turned on your heel and began to push your way to the door, ignoring him calling your name over the music.

When you got outside, you took a deep breath, the cool night air mixing with cigarette smoke from a few bar patrons nearby. You didn't live too far away, so you decided to walk home and text your friends on the way so they knew you were safe. It was about two blocks away from the bar when Joel caught up with you and the idea of him finding out where you lived made you irrationally angry.

His fingers reached out and brushed against your elbow, trying to get you to slow down. You yanked your arm away and skid to a stop. "Don't fucking touch me, Joel."

"I'm sorry, please," he tried, but you shook your head.

"Sorry for what? For ruining my night out with my friends or throwing away seven years together and knocking up some slut?" Your nostrils flared as you glared at him angrily and a few people walking by turned in your direction then murmured amongst themselves when they were out of earshot. Joel glanced around nervously and raked his fingers through his hair.

"Can we please talk? I-I wanna apologize, I wanna make things right-"

"It's too late, Joel," you huffed and crossed your arms.

"Goddamnit, why you always gotta be so fuckin' stubborn?" he groaned, "this is why it wasn't workin', by the way. This is exactly fuckin' why."

"So your answer was to cheat on me? Real fucking classy," you snapped.

"I was fuckin' drunk!" he almost yelled, making you jump. "'Sides, from the sound of it you're havin' the time of your life bein' single. Makin' up for all those years you were stuck with me?"

"Fuck you!" you seethed, pointing your finger in his face. "You fucking asshole! Who the hell do you think you are? And why are you keeping tabs on me, anyway? What I do isn't your goddamn business anymore, so leave me alone!"

He buried his face in his palms and rubbed his eyes aggressively before taking a deep breath and trying again.

"I know, I know. And I'm sorry."

"What are you even doing out at a bar this late, anyway? Shouldn't you be home with your kid?" you said, leaving out the part about him being a single dad now, refusing to give him the satisfaction that you already knew.

"My mom's watchin' Sarah, wanted to give me a break," he mumbled. For some reason, hearing his baby's name made you freeze. Sarah, Sarah, Sarah. "It's just us now," he continued, and you swallowed tightly, finally letting him speak. "She left us a few weeks after Sarah was born. Said she couldn't handle it. I told her it sounded like that post-partum... whatever it's called," he continued, taking a step back so he could rest his tired body against the building behind him. "But she just got more and more distant and one mornin' I woke up to Sarah screamin' her head off in the crib and a note on her dresser."

You clenched your jaw, biting back the instinct to express your sympathy. Even through all your rage you couldn't help but feel a little bad for him. You could see it in his eyes. They weren't bright and playful like they used to be. The past year aged him.

"I made a mistake but I ain't gonna abandon my kid. Don't get how anyone could," he said softly, "she's just so small 'n helpless 'n I'm all she's got."

You took a deep breath and averted your gaze, staring up the street at nothing in particular. Even if you felt bad for him, that didn't change what he did to you: a betrayal worse than anything you had ever experienced. When you opened your mouth to tell him that, he spoke first.

"I still love you."

Your shoulders sagged and you closed your eyes.

"How stupid do you think I am?" you asked quietly. His tired eyes roamed over your face helplessly. "Your baby mama left you and now you're feeling overwhelmed so you thought you'd try crawling back?"

"That's not what this is," he insisted. "I didn't know I'd see you here tonight but now that I have, I couldn't let you leave without tellin' you I've thought about you every single fuckin' day since you left. Even the day Sarah was born, I was starin' down at her wishin' you were her mama instead." His eyes began to glisten, filling with unshed tears as he poured his heart out to you on the sidewalk. "I fucked up, baby. But if-"

"Don't call me that."

He ignored you and kept talking. "But if you gimme one more chance I promise I'll make it up to you." He gazed at you, blinking back his tears while trying to read your expression. "We got so much history together, there's gotta be something left. Somethin' worth fightin' for."

You tilted your head to the side and shook your head sadly.

"Sorry, Joel," you replied, watching as his face fell. "You made your choices, now you gotta live with them."

You turned and began to walk in the direction of your apartment, proud that you stood your ground but still feeling a pit in your stomach as you left. He wasn't wrong. You had a lot of history together and the hardest thing you ever had to do was walk away from him, but you knew in the end, you had to put yourself first.

Before he was out of earshot, you turned back around, spotting him standing in the same spot against the building staring down at his feet.

"Hey," you called out, and he quicky looked up.

"Good luck. To both you and Sarah. I mean it," you said sincerely. "You're doing the right thing, Joel."

He slowly nodded and you turned back around. Pulling out your phone, you saw a missed text from Mel asking where you were.

I'm gonna be okay, but I'm going home.

[attapullman]

Bob From Pi Kapp | Robert "Bob" Floyd

While this can be enjoyed on it's own, the recommended reading on the syllabus for this class is Bob From Stats before proceeding.

Summary: First he's late to chapter, and now Bob is late to your Stats final. You saved him a seat. But should you also save one for his hobby horse?

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: 18+ ONLY as always, f!reader, no use of y/n, smuttttttt, goofy frat behavior, the other Daggers do make a brief appearance

A Note From Mo: Happy Start of the School Year! It wouldn't feel quite like autumn without checking in with our favourite frat boy-turned-cowboy and what shenanigans the Pi Kapps are getting up to. Can anyone guess what unforgettable moment in TV history inspired this second part to stats!Bob?

It’s unfair how good he looks laying between your thighs.

Sandy hair disheveled, glasses fogged at the rim. Chest heaving beneath thin cotton, catching his breath after a marathon make out session in your cramped dorm bed. There’s still three sections left in the review material, but Bob’s only now coming up for air as an alarm sounds and he reluctantly sits up.

Your hands reach out trying to pull him back into your embrace. He playfully swats them away, unwillingly having to extricate himself. Your fingers catch in the hem of his shirt, twisting in the fabric.

“I have to go!” He jovially laughs, returning your grabby hand back as he wiggles into his sweatshirt. “I have chapter - a non-negotiable, remember?” 

While you sarcastically cross your arms and hmph at him, he knows you aren’t actually angry. Disappointed, sure, but how could you be mad at those big round blue puppy eyes? Especially after he’s been attached to your lips since he swung by after lecture hours ago. You’ve started having a Pavlovian response every time he asks if you ‘want to study’.

Sitting up, you take your study buddy in, straightening his clothes before having to mad dash to Greek Row. He’s all long limbs and sturdy shoulders, the thick tendons of his fingers showing off the strength that he exhibits every time you get him into bed. That trucker hat is already back on his head and your eyes wander to his freshly shaven jaw and neck.

“Bob, you can’t go to chapter like that.”

He stops in his tracks and his brows crease in confusion, glasses highlighting his cornflower eyes. “It’s not a formal thing, jeans are fine. But I gotta go, there’s a fine if I’m late and I have perfect attendance.”

You shake your head and walk him the three steps over to the wardrobe in your tiny dorm, the full-length mirror on the side barely lit by the florescent bulb. Bob fills out the entire view, the mirror barely tall enough to capture above his torso, but just enough for you to gently hook your fingers into the soft heather collar of his sweatshirt. You don’t even have to tug for him to see the glaring concern.

Mottled along the left side of his neck are three mouth-shaped mauve bruises. They’ve only just begun to bloom, but against his creamy skin they stand out like stop signs. You didn’t think you had been sucking so hard. Or bitten so deep.

“I think they look kind of pretty.” He’s teasing, but you’re mortified.

Bob kisses your heated cheek, gathering his hood around his neck. “It’s fine, don’t worry. I’ll hunch my shoulders and no one will be the wiser.” At this point he’s used to his roommates pointing out the signs of affection you leave on him every week.

You’re still hot from embarrassment twenty minutes later, curled on your little dorm bed reading through your organic chemistry textbook. Though part of that may be from the lingering kiss he gave you before promising to text you after. It’s not your fault he’s perfectly adorable and fuckable - you’re only human. 

Beside you, a small ping interrupts your (distracted) studying. It’s a text from Bob, slightly earlier than planned.

BF: They may have noticed 😬

His Pi Kapp brothers not only noticed the arrangement of love bites along his neck - you were lying to yourself if you thought they were in any way subtle -  and the house of frat boys were now taking turns lining up to get photos with Love Bite Bob for posterity. Plus he was a minute late to chapter. 

You’re still giggling to yourself when you turn off the light for the night. The photo of your boyfriend’s cherry red face matching your indecent markings, a swarm of Pi Kapp sweatshirts and backwards baseball caps in the background, and mischievous grins filling every corner of your dreams.

Students mill past you, filing into the atrium of the lecture hall with a buzz of misery and despair around them. Finals Week. Every backpack in sight is heavy with textbooks and over a dozen weeks worth of notes. Your last neon highlighter died last night from overuse. 

Amongst the throng of students also dreading your Stats final, you have yet to see that vintage trucker hat Bob has been sporting since September. It seems off-brand that he wouldn’t be early, broad back already hunched over in that cramped seat with his calculator and an apprehensive smile. 

The last few weeks of sitting next to each other have been exquisite - elbows bumping in his new desk next to yours, thighs brushing in those impossibly close seats. It’s a part of your routine at this point. Bob still lends you a pencil, but you barely take any notes once the toe of his sneaker runs along your shin and suddenly you two are playing footsie like teenagers.

It’s been a horny remaining nine weeks of Stats. It was lucky that Bob was as studious as he was or you’d have gotten nothing done, stealing kisses between flashcards. Not to mention the glorious hour he spent with his head buried between your thighs while you memorized formulas, swearing he’d only leave your clit alone after you could recite them backwards.

And yet he was missing from your very last class together. The last chance to borrow a pencil and brush elbows for an hour like foreplay. Where was he?

Wanting to get yourself settled, you resign to entering the lecture hall and sitting beside Anna in one of the front rows. She gives you a sympathetic look at your dejected grimace. Your dorm room has been a testament to many a study night as of late, the two of you swapping sticky notes and notes like candy. The hall titters with students chatting as you not-so-subtly keep checking the door for latecomers, the seconds ticking down before those heavy doors shut.

The seat beside you is still empty when the teaching assistant shuts the oak doors, signaling the exam’s start.

Your professor stands at the front of the lecture hall holding a tall stack of booklets and gives a wicked grin. “Who’s ready to see what they actually learned about probability this semester?”

A collective groan sounds out and he sinisterly laughs before starting up the ancient projector. The bustle of pens and paper disappear when the loud thunk of the lecture hall doors slam open, bouncing off the sturdy brick walls and turning every head at the latecomer.

Giggles, snorts, and neighing all blend together as the cavernous lecture hall bustles with noise. Your head whips around to catch the commotion, eyes widening in surprise. 

Five men in auxiliary blue Pi Kapp sweatshirts and their own hobby horses (featuring a rather familiar Appaloosa) come galloping down the stairs, heading straight for the center stage. Standing front and center in beat up cowhide boots, a well-used felt Stetson, and tight jeans is none other than your favorite frat cowboy, blue-eyed Bob from Stats. 

His posse of Greek lettered faux cowboys stand around him, jostling each other’s shoulders and pretending to calm their steeds. Your professor patiently waits behind the pulpit, curious how this will play out with the exam he’s supposed to be proctoring. You’re gripping your seat in confusion and anticipation.

Once the raucous laughter has died down, Pi Kapp President Jake Seresin makes a show of steadying his hobby horse once more while three fellow cowboys spread out across the room, casually milling through the aisles with their wooden horses clanging between their jean-clad knees. Looking more like a lamb at slaughter all by himself, Bob calmly holds his own, knuckles rolling over the handles of his ‘horse’. Jake grins at his Pi Kapp brother before turning to his captive audience.

“Howdy, pard’ners!” The blonde’s voice booms in the cavernous hall. Various greetings yell out from all over the rows, Anna throwing in her own Howdy.

This is crazy. Anna looks at you for answers, but you have none. Whatever is going on, Pi Kappa Phi Ranch has invaded your Stats final. 

Their president makes a show of quieting the room, hand hauntingly on his hip. “So, we’ve been traveling all over this here Wild West looking for something.”

Reuben Fitch, a Pi Kapp brother and one of Bob’s roommates, stands tall at the top of the steps and calls back to him, “And what is that something, Brother Seresin?”

“Glad you asked. We’re looking for a cowgirl.”

The name catches your attention. Your blood runs cold and by default your eyes flash to Bob, hoping to find the answers in those wide, truthful ultramarine eyes. But he continues to stare boldly ahead, letting his brothers put on their show. 

Giddily clomping around with the stick of his black mare clacking on the stairs, Mickey Garcia raucously yells out, “So let’s look for her!”

Suddenly the four men are traipsing around the spacious room pretending to ride their horses, the hundreds of seats no match for their speed as they run up and down aisles, zipping through seats and over student’s knees. 

“Not here!”

“Not here!”

“Not here!”

Heat creeps along your skin as you feel Jake’s right hand man, Javy Machado, lock in on you, the squeak of his sneakers and thwack of his horse against the ground alerting his arrival. Your eyes bore into the side of Bob’s head - spectacles still facing forward - as every classmate watches the frat boy descend. Javy stops only feet from where you’re clutching the edge of your desk.

“This one here looks like she could be a real ol’ cowgirl!” Javy’s horrible Western accent and shit eating grin are begging to be smacked off his face. He turns toward the familiar Stetson and puts both hands around his mouth as he hollers. “Hey Floyd, found a cowgirl for you!”

That sweet face finally turns to you. Adrenaline floods your nervous system as every pair of eyes in the hall watches his boots clack up the stairs and past the seats until he’s standing in the row before yours, craning over the wooden chair with delicately pink cheeks. From this angle, those cerulean eyes are level with yours. And boy, are they nervous.

His voice is wobbly, but the script is practiced. “Howdy, little lady. Hiding in plain sight, weren’t ya?”

You both know you’ve sat in the same spot since that first day he lent you a pencil.

“Didn’t realize you needed an entire fraternity to find your study buddy.” Your hand waves at the four faux cowboys standing at the end of your row, looking entirely too pleased with themselves. Despite the fact that you’re as timid as him under the stares of your fellow students, you can’t help but be a little sassy and theatrical after the production you just witnessed.

That soft grin comes out to play, always amused by your fire. “I do when I have a question for you.”

The smirk on your face wipes clean. A question? There’s a flutter in the air as students turn to each other, anxious to know what quiet little Bob Floyd has been keeping to himself. Even your professor is leant forward on his elbow patches, brow quirked in interest.

You swallow slowly before responding, barely over a whisper, “What do you want to know?”

Time and space stop as he holds your gaze. So soft and affectionate, as if you are the stars in his night sky. The same hazy look he gave you in that hall closet weeks ago that made you unable to ever look back. He licks his lips, warm hand sliding over yours on the peeling wooden desktop. His eyes are so impossibly open. 

“Will you do the honor of being my date to the Pi Kappa Phi spring formal, cowgirl?”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Relief tingles through your extremities as your brain starts up again. The pounding of your heart backs up your smart response.

“Only if you let me borrow your boots for dancing.”

Your response settles, then suddenly all around you there’s whoops and hollers. To your left, four hobby horses are whipped into the air and twirled like batons. Mickey yells out, “Yeehaw!”

And yet all you can focus on is the wide grin that’s stretched out Bob’s face, his lean body still bent over the row before yours. You know the same smile is etched on your own jaw as your fingers intertwine. He’s so utterly ridiculous and self-assured. The perfect pairing of endearing. You can’t get enough.

You really wish everyone wasn’t watching so you could kiss him.

“Alright, alright, settle down. We do have a final to get to, if Mr. Floyd would like to take his seat.”

Handing off his trusty steed to his cowboy brothers, Bob takes the hint and makes his way around the row toward you, long legs effortlessly vaulting the nailed-in desks. He stops at the knobby wooden seat next to you and gestures, as if to ask Is this free? The corners of your mouth can’t help but upturn once more as you nod, letting your handsome Bob from Pi Kapp slip into the seat and knock his knee against yours.

You lean in, letting your lips brush against the lobe of his ear. “Not that I wasn’t entertained, but what was all that?”

He shoots you the most blinding grin, the sides of his drowningly blue eyes crinkling behind perfectly straight wire frames.

“My punishment for being late to chapter - they got to choose how I asked you to spring formal.”

Your jaw slackens as your eyes trail over to where his brethren are slinking out the heavy hall doors with their wooden steeds over their shoulders. Those cruel bastards. Your hand reaches out to stroke Bob’s still pinkened cheeks, fingers resting along his jaw to imitate soothing his wounded ego.

“One last yeehaw for Cowboy Bob for the semester, huh?” He guffaws out a laugh and kisses your cheek. 

The stack of little blue booklets makes their way over again and Bob grabs one before passing your way. His eyes are glued to you, unable to stop his affectionate attention after putting himself out on the line like that. You open your mouth to say something, but stop when the significance of it hits you. It’s the last time. 

The words form out of muscle memory. “Can I borrow a pencil?”

The air between you is sickeningly sweet as he reaches down and grabs two from his bag, handing you the sharper point. You give him a gooey smile as your fingers brush. Test nerves and bittersweet affection trickle down your spine. Who would have thought your hardest class all semester would bring such joy?

For the next ninety minutes your eyes stay strictly on your own booklet, but you can’t help but feel the radiant energy off the guy in a cowboy hat and fraternity sweatshirt and his knee that somehow keeps knocking yours.

“Slow down, cowgirl! I need a minute to recover,” Bob breathily begs from beneath you, where you’re still grinding your hips into his, one arm braced on his chest and the other against your peeling dorm wall. That damn cowboy hat is somewhere on the floor and his skin has evolved into an exerted red from the two orgasms he’s already stolen from you. 

You playfully roll your eyes and mutter something about bucking broncos before stilling, still so full of him. You delicately press a kiss to his sweaty cheek, your bare chest against his, timpani heartbeats synchronized. 

“While I have you,” you start, and he booms out a laugh, his cock still nestled tightly inside you. “How were you going to ask me to spring formal before?”

He’s so cute when he plays dumb. “Before what?”

“Before the guys made you publicly humiliate yourself to the point you can never take a Stats class again.”

Bob presses his lips together, warm hand smoothing over your hips as he weighs his response. Which is hard when you smell like sex and sweat and that fragrance he can’t quite identify the undertones of but has him dizzy. It’s a miracle he can pull himself away from you sometimes.

“You can’t just be happy knowing that I can never show my face in that building again?”

You reach down to the floor and pick up the worn Stetson, plopping it on your own head. You give him a stern look, stabbing your finger into his chest. He has a hard time being intimidated when his vision is centered on your breasts pressed together so deliciously. “Tell me or I’m sending you to cowboy jail.”

He raises his neck and pecks the tops of your breasts, just how he knows you like. With a joking frown, you grab him by the nape of his neck and stare him down. 

“Fine, fine,” Bob laughs deep from his chest. He looks so joyous, the whiff of sex and amorousness coloring him so beautifully. “If you really want to know.”

As you settle in to listen, the reality is that it doesn’t really matter his original plan. It’s that he even wants to go with you, that he’s just as far gone as you’ve been the last fifteen weeks. That one silly pencil would start something worth delaying a Stats final fifteen minutes and continue to another semester.

You just hope one day he’ll get you your own hobby horse.

Massive shoutout to all the Internet besties who keep the stats!Bob brainrot fresh - wouldn't get anything done without all you amazing peeps!

taglist: @berryvanille @bobfloydsbabe @bobgasm @bradshawsbaby @cosmoeticss @creatchie8 @desert-fern @drxgxnslxyer @hangmanapologist @hiireadstuff @himbos-on-ice @jaguarthecat @jessicab1991 @just-in-case-iloveyou @kmc1989 @littlemsbumblebee @mariaenchanted @maryelizabeth13 @midnightmagpiemama @m3ndacious @nerdgirljen @nouis-bum @petersunderoos96 @roosterforme @seitmai @senawashere @smoothdogsgirl @sometimesanalice @sorchathered @spidervman @sweetwhispersofchaos @sydsommersss @tastefulregularthots @theamuz @topherwrites @xoxabs88xox @yuckosworld

[satsugacafe]

𝐋𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐈𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐒/𝐎

➳❥ 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫: Grimmjow, Starrk, Ulquiorra

➳❥ 𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭: Hello! Can I have a request? How would Starkk, Grimmjow, and Ulquiorra adjust to a human world with human s/o?

➳❥ 𝐀/𝐍: I had too much fun with this piece lol. Enjoy!

➳❥ 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐱𝐭: How they adjust to living in the human world with you.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐍𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

Coyote Starrk

↬ Starrk found the human world baffling, mainly because of how noisy everything seemed compared to Hueco Mundo. Car alarms, the hum of electricity, and people chatting endlessly in cafes had him constantly muttering, “Do humans ever shut up? Where is the off switch?”

↬ He had a lazy charm that worked in his favour. He would somehow manage to get free samples from the bakery down the road just by looking mildly interested. “You know, this human world isn’t so bad when they hand out food for no reason.”

↬ Teaching him to use modern appliances was a trial. He once accidentally turned the vacuum cleaner on full blast and almost blasted himself through the wall. “This thing’s alive, isn’t it?”

↬ He was a natural with animals, though. Dogs adored him, and he could walk into a park and have a pack of strays following him within minutes. You joked he was assembling a canine fracciones.

↬ He had an odd fascination with pigeons. He’d sit on park benches for hours, watching them mill about, occasionally throwing them crumbs. “They’re like tiny, less annoying Lilynettes. I like them.”

↬ Cooking became a mild obsession for him once he realised how much variety the human world offered. You caught him watching cooking tutorials on your phone. “Why do they all say, ‘easy recipe’ when this involves twenty steps and an oven I barely understand?”

↬ He was incredibly protective in the human world, though it didn’t show in dramatic ways. He’d keep you on the safe side of the pavement, steer you away from crowded areas, and shoot deadly glares at anyone who even glanced at you wrong. “Humans don’t know their place sometimes. Annoying, really.”

↬ He once tried going grocery shopping alone and came back with entirely the wrong things. You asked for bread and milk; he brought back jam and six bags of crisps.

↬ You introduced him to Netflix, and he became addicted to crime dramas. He liked to critique the criminals’ plans. You also caught him talking to your cat one afternoon, a very serious conversation about naps. “Listen, furball, if you don’t appreciate a good nap, what’s the point of life?”

↬ He was baffled by your human obsession with coffee. One morning, after trying it for the first time, he leaned back, his eyes narrowing at you. “So you willingly drink this dirt water every day?”

↬ Every time you mentioned going to work, he’d dramatically throw himself across the doorframe. “No. Stay. Your world’s already loud enough—don’t leave me to suffer alone.”

↬ Sleeping in the human world was oddly peaceful for him. He would stretch out on your sofa, claim half the bed without meaning to, and casually drape an arm over you. Just don’t let him sleep on a water bed. Worst sleep of his life.

Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez

↬ The feral kitty cat was convinced humans were weaklings until you took him to a gym. He ended up challenging some poor bloke to a weightlifting contest, won, and then complained it wasn’t a fair fight. Eventually, exercising was his idea of fun. He got addicted to the gym, showing off during pull-ups or weightlifting. “You watching? Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

↬ Adjusting to technology was a nightmare. He refused to admit he didn’t know how to use a phone and kept swiping at the screen like he was challenging it to a fight. “Why doesn’t it do what I tell it to? Stupid thing.”

↬ He got into trouble almost daily. One time, he scared a street performer by growling when they asked for a tip. You had to stop him from picking fights with random joggers. “What? They were staring too long. Looked like they wanted a challenge.”

↬ You tried teaching him how to cook, but he turned it into a battle. “Fire’s too weak. How do you even boil water in this thing?” He ended up burning toast and proudly declaring it a success.

↬ He was surprisingly good with kids, though he’d never admit it. Once, a group of kids challenged him to a game of football in the park, and he got way too into it. You had to stop him from trash-talking a ten-year-old. “What? They need to toughen up!”

↬ Animals adored him, which annoyed him to no end. Dogs would trot up to him on walks, wagging their tails. “What’s your deal? Go away!” But you caught him sneaking them pats when he thought you weren’t looking.

↬ Grimmjow got jealous easily in the human world. If anyone flirted with you, he’d casually stand behind you with his arms crossed, glaring like an angry kitty ready to pounce. “They can look somewhere else unless they want trouble.”

↬ You introduced him to video games, and he was instantly hooked. He preferred fighting games and made it his mission to beat you every time. “Don’t hold back, or I’ll make you regret it.” When he finally lost, he pouted for hours.

↬ He mocked human horror films relentlessly. “This is supposed to scare you? I’ve seen Hollows scarier than that guy with the knife.”

↬ He hated wearing human clothes at first and complained endlessly about jeans (like those skinny jeans Urahara gave him lol). “These things are like a prison for my legs!” Eventually, he settled for hoodies and track pants, which he grudgingly admitted were “not bad.”

↬ Going out to eat was chaos with him. He’d order the spiciest thing on the menu just to prove he could handle it, then spend the rest of the meal pretending his face wasn’t red. “I’m fine. This? This isn’t hot at all.”

↬ He did love human food but refused to admit it. “What’s this crap? Tastes alright, I guess.” Yet you caught him hoarding spicy crisps and chugging fizzy drinks like they were going out of style.

Ulquiorra Cifer

↬ The fourth Espada treated the human world like a scientific experiment, observing everything with quiet fascination. You once caught him staring at a vending machine for ten minutes before he asked, “How does it decide what to give you?”

↬ He doesn’t understand the need for human social practices, like small talk. When someone greeted him with, “How are you?” he replied, “That is irrelevant,” and walked away, leaving you to apologise.

↬ He had an unexpected knack for blending in. His quiet demeanour and neutral expression made him oddly suited to working in your local library. The librarian adored him for his efficiency, though he refused to smile at patrons. “They do not need my emotions to find a book.”

↬ He doesn’t understand sarcasm at all. When you joked about him being a terrible flatmate, he replied, entirely serious, “Then perhaps I should leave.” And then proceeded to depart.

↬ Was very baffled by human food. You once handed him a chocolate bar, and he stared at it like it was a piece of alien technology before taking a cautious bite. “This…is acceptable.” But no spicy food, please.

↬ He was deeply confused by human emotions. Once, you cried watching a sad film, and he frowned. “Why are you leaking from your eyes over something fictional?”

↬ He adapted to human clothes surprisingly well, favouring monochrome outfits that matched his Espada uniform. You teased him about looking like a model, and he replied, “If that is how humans perceive me, it is irrelevant.”

↬ Ulquiorra had a habit of silently appearing behind you, scaring you half to death. When you yelled at him, he tilted his head and said, “If your reaction is fear, then perhaps your spiritual awareness is lacking.”

↬ He found rain fascinating. One evening, you found him standing on the balcony, staring at the sky as water drenched him.

↬ Despite his stoic nature, he had a protective streak. Once, a stranger got too close to you, and Ulquiorra stepped in, his gaze cold. “You are intruding. Leave.” The stranger bolted without another word.

↬ He often left you cryptic compliments. When you asked if he liked spending time with you, he’d say, “Your presence is…not unpleasant. That is sufficient, is it not?”

↬ He found the human world illogical but not without value. One night, as you both watched the stars from your balcony, he quietly admitted, “You humans…are fragile, yet endure. It is strange.”

©satsugacafé 2024: no permission to repost, plagiarise, copy or translate my work onto any other platform or this one.

[antinousletmehit]

Hello pookie

I hope your having a good day, anyways, I saw you were asking for requests so I figured I'd give you one even though I'm sure your already getting many, also no pressure to actually do this or anything I don't want you to feel like anyone will be disappointed if you don't do this, but if you were looking for some inspiration or an idea...

(I know it seems out of the question to suggest a Telemachus x reader when you are already doing a story on that (which is very good btw))

Oh well, if you are looking for ideas - Telemachus x fem reader who is a servant at the palace. Well, there's my two sense.

Have a great day <3

୨୧┇pairing: Telemachus x fem!reader

୨୧┇note: I love Telemachus chat

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The palace was quiet, its grand halls wrapped in the heavy silence of midnight. Telemachus tiptoed past the sleeping guards, his sandals barely making a sound on the cool stone floors. His heart raced, not from fear of being caught, but from excitement. He knew you were waiting for him. Out in the garden, hidden among the olive trees, you leaned against a gnarled trunk, the moonlight casting a silver glow over your features. When you saw him, your face lit up with a smile that made his stomach flip.

“You’re late,” you teased, crossing your arms.

“Blame Athena,” Telemachus whispered, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. “She wouldn’t stop lecturing me about responsibility.”You laughed softly, the sound like the gentle rustling of leaves. “And here you are, sneaking out with me. Very responsible, my lord.” Telemachus rolled his eyes, though his smile widened. “If you keep calling me ‘my lord,’ I might have to stop meeting you.”

“Oh, is that so?” you said, stepping closer. “What should I call you, then?”

“Just Telemachus,” he said, his voice softening. “When we’re out here, I’m not a prince. I’m just… me.” You nodded, your smile turning gentle. “Alright, Telemachus. Shall we go?” The two of you slipped through the garden and out into the open fields beyond the palace walls. It wasn’t the first time you’d done this, your secret nighttime escapades had become a routine over the past few months. You’d explore the countryside, climb hills, and sit by the shore, talking about everything and nothing.

Tonight, you ended up on a hill overlooking the sea. The stars sparkled above, their reflection dancing on the dark waves below. You sat down on the grass, and Telemachus joined you, close enough that your shoulders brushed. “You know,” he said after a moment, his voice hesitant, “I don’t think I’ve ever felt this…free before.”

You glanced at him, your brow quirking. “Free?”He nodded, picking at a blade of grass. “When I’m in the palace, I’m always being watched, judged. Everyone expects me to be like my father, to grow into this great hero. But out here, with you… I can just be myself.” Your expression softened, and you reached out to touch his arm. “You don’t have to be anyone but yourself, Telemachus. You’re already enough.” His breath hitched, and he turned to look at you. The way you gazed at him, your eyes full of sincerity, made his chest feel tight. He opened his mouth to say something, but the words caught in his throat.

Instead, you smiled and leaned closer. “Can I show you something?”

Telemachus blinked, confused. “Show me what?” Without answering, you tilted your head and pressed your lips to his. For a moment, his entire body froze. His mind raced, a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions that he couldn’t quite process. This was his first kiss, his first real kiss. And it was with you. When you pulled back, he was still staring at you, his eyes wide and his cheeks flushed. “I—I—uh—” You bit back a laugh, watching him flounder. “Telemachus? Are you alright?”

“I—yes—no—I mean—” He ran a hand through his hair, his voice cracking slightly. “Did you just—did we just—”

“Yes,” you said simply, your smile teasing but kind.

“Oh,” was all he could manage, his brain still trying to catch up. You reached out and gently touched his cheek, bringing his attention back to you. “Was that okay?”

He finally found his voice, though it was quiet and a little shaky. “It was more than okay.” Your smile widened, and you leaned back, propping yourself up on your hands. “Good. Because I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.” Telemachus stared at you, his heart pounding so loudly he was certain you could hear it. “You… you have?”

You nodded, glancing up at the stars. “You’re kind, and thoughtful, and you have this way of making people feel safe. How could I not?” He didn’t know what to say to that. Instead, he sat there, watching you with a mixture of awe and disbelief.

Eventually, you turned back to him, your eyes sparkling with mischief. “Telemachus?”

“Yeah?” he said, his voice faint.

“You can breathe now.”

He let out a shaky laugh, finally exhaling the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Right. Breathing. Good idea.” You laughed with him, and the sound filled the night air, light and full of joy. As the two of you sat under the stars, Telemachus couldn’t help but think that, for the first time in his life, everything felt exactly as it should be.

[aemondapologistfrfr]

Your Favorite Flavor

modern!aemond x fem!dealer!reader 

Summary: After a rough week filled with midterms Aemond is hoping to come home and relax. After arriving home he finds it to be worse than his dorms and Helaena offers him a contact who can help him with his needs. 

Warnings: 18+ drugs(weed), smoking, cigs, swearing, oral(m), p in v, unprotected 

Authors Note: girl dealers are top tier frfr n e ways this is super self indulgent and my first time writing in this type of PoV also mans has both of his eyes

Word Count: 3.7k

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Aemond was positive this was his worst week of midterms he’s ever experienced in his entire university career. Normally this week would bring him so much joy with the thought of passing his exams and being able to go home for the week to enjoy the holidays. This week however started terribly and ended even worse. 

Monday morning he slept past his alarm and missed one of his biggest exams. The professor reassured him he would be able to make up the exam and still be able to receive full points. He hoped it was just a one time slip up but when he awoke well past his alarm again on Tuesday he was ready to start sleeping outside the lecture halls of his classes for the rest of the week. By the time Friday came he was so nervous he wouldn’t wake up in time that he barely slept and his eyes felt heavy and dry. The only reprieve was that after this last exam he gets to go home. 

After he finishes his last exam he runs back to his dorm to grab his bag and thuds down the stairs making a straight line for his car. The frown he was sure would be gone for a couple days returns to his face upon seeing a flat tire. He throws his bag into his car and groans before getting out his tools and spare. Once the tire is on he throws the tools back in the trunk and gets behind the wheel. He rarely does this but it’s been a long week so he opens his glove box and pulls out the pack of cigarettes. He looks at the lighter in his hand praying to the Gods that it has fluid left. It ignites and he sighs when the smoke seeps into his lungs. 

He’s thankful for his hour drive home and turns up his music letting it drown out the thoughts in his head that he failed every exam. By the time he pulls into the driveway he’s smoked enough cigarettes for him to wish he never picked up the habit. He rests his head on the steering wheel trying to calm his nerves and hoping the house is empty when he walks in. He jolts when someone’s hands land on his window. 

“Welcome home, baby brother.” Aegon laughs wildly before tugging some random girl into the house with him. 

Aemond snatches his bag from the passenger seat and begins to drag himself into the house. He hears his mother humming from the kitchen and he tries to make his way upstairs but he’s stopped as she calls his name. His shoulders slump as he turns and makes his way to greet her. 

“I’m so happy you’re home.” she coos pulling him into a hug and she inhales deeply. “Aemond,” she scolds, pulling back. “Cigarettes? Really?” she glares at him. 

“I’m sorry.” he sighs, defeated. “I had a long week. I want to go lay down.” she looks at him with pity filled eyes and he turns and trudges up the stairs. 

He pushes his door open and drops his bag before shutting and locking his door. He walks over to the bed and collapses face first into his pillows. He wraps his arms around them tightly and lets his eyes close trying to catch up on his much missed sleep. Right as the world fades away he hears Aegon's ‘guest’ moaning and he grabs a pillow slamming it over his head. He gives up and turns on his TV and lets the noise of some thrice revived show drown out the life around him. 

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There’s repeated knocking at his door and he groans rising from his pile of blankets and pillows. He rubs his eyes and walks over to the door. His face softens as his mother is there with a small tray of food and drink. He smiles and she sweeps into his room and sets the tray on his desk and turns to him. 

“Are you doing okay?” she looks over him as he leans in the doorway still. 

“I’m just tired.” he yawns and she walks over to him and pulls him down to place a kiss on his cheek. 

“Okay.” she pats his chest. “Let me know if there’s anything you want or need. Helaena would also like to see you when you’re feeling up for it.” she hums and shuts the door behind her. 

The smells of his favorite soup and sandwich have Aemond abandoning the thought of visiting his sister. He sits at his desk and lets the warm food take him back to his childhood that was once filled with such happiness. He takes a bite and groans leaning back in the chair. This is exactly what he needed to start feeling better. He relishes in the silence and food until his peace is once again interrupted by Aegon and his guest in his room. 

He rolls his eyes, turning on his computer and searching for a video to watch and drown out the noises once again. He finishes his meal and moves the tray to make room for him to play a couple of games. He plays until his eyes burn and he opens his drawer looking for something else to help him relax and curses when he finds his stash empty. Fucking Aegon. He gets up to storm into his room but then remembers his guest and turns on his heel with a huff. He knocks on Helaena’s door and she opens it with a smile. 

“I was wondering how long you would hide in your room.” she smirks, pulling him into a hug. “How were the exams?” he follows her in and they sprawl on her bed and he tells her all about his week. 

“Aegon stole the rest of my weed.” he finishes the end of his terrible week with a sigh. “Do you have any?” he pushes out his bottom lip. 

“I’m on a break.” she chuckles. “I’ll text my dealer and you can go get some.” she pulls out her phone. 

hel: can i send my baby brother to you? 

“Helaena.” Aemonds eyes go wide.

you: how old is he? i don’t babysit or sell to them either 

hel: he’s 20 and had such a bad week at uni 🥺 

“Enough of this.” Aemond snatches her phone wishing he would’ve just stayed in his room. 

you: fine. give him my number. you’re lucky you're my fav customer 😘

“See it’s fine. She’s very nice and her stuff is better than anything you would get from Aegon anyway.” she snatches her phone back. 

Aemond glares at his sister before storming back into his room. His phone dings with the contact for Helaena’s friend. He runs his fingers through his hair and quickly changes into sweats and hoodie before grabbing his keys and heading downstairs. He waves at his mom and walks out the front door. The moon and stars greet him as he strides to his car he turns it on and pulls out his phone. 

aemond: it’s helaena’s brother 

you: ok helaenas brother. what can i do for you? 

aemond: i’m stopping at the gas station before i come over. do you need anything? 

you: diet dr pepper and some form of chocolate 

Aemond chuckles to himself as he types out his response and smiles as you send another message. 

you: and wraps i like to smoke with my customers 😶‍🌫️ and hel said you had a bad week so i'm thinking you need it too and i don't need you to tell her i was mean 

aemond: any specific flavor?

you: your favorite flavor 

aemond: sounds good send me the address. 

Aemond leaves his phone in the car as he makes his way into the gas station. He grabs two sodas and spends a couple minutes in the chocolate aisle not knowing which ones to get so he grabs a couple different options and makes his way to the counter. He picks out a strawberry wrap and leaves with a small bag and a smile on his face. He looks at the address and sends a message he’ll be there in ten. 

He smiles that it’s fairly close to his house as he pulls into the driveway. He cuts his lights and pulls out his phone to text you. He looks up as the car in front of him flashes its lights and his heart starts to beat faster that maybe he’s at the wrong house. Or Gods what if this was a prank and- He watches as you slip out of the drivers side and sprint up to his drivers side barefoot. He starts to roll his window down but you open his door and he looks at you bewildered.

“Well come on.” you put your hands on your hips causing your oversized shirt to bunch further up your thighs. “It’s cold, Helaena’s brother.” you pout at him and he’s well aware of the temperature as your nipples poke through your shirt. He internally groans as he takes his seatbelt off as starts to get out of the car. He grabs the bag of drinks and snacks and your eyes dart to it. 

“I’m Aemond.” he says looking down at you. 

“Almond? Mm you should’ve gotten me an almond joy.” you chuckle and start to skip back to your car. 

You nod at the passenger side and he slips in and watches you push your seat back. You curl your legs under you and grab the bag from his lap. You pull out the soda and smile, opening it and taking a sip before rummaging through the bag of candy. You start to chuckle and he feels a blush run up his neck. 

“You did get me an almond joy and a lot of other chocolate.” you look up at him with amused eyes and he offers you a sheepish smile. “A strawberry wrap? Did Hel tell you these were my favorite.” you purse your lips and he looks at them wishing he could press his lips to them. He pushes the thought from his head knowing he’s only here as a favor from you to Helaena. 

“I like the strawberry one too.” he nods and you smile at him. He tries to stop his heart from beating any faster as his eyes catch on everything about you. 

“How much did you want to pick up?” you smile at him before turning in the seat and bending over to push bags around in the backseat. Your shirt raises up and he can see the lace of your panties and he snaps his head forward and stares straight forward at his car. “Hello? Almond?” you call, still moving bags around. 

“An eighth is enough.” he clears his throat. You finally turn back around with a bag and pull the zipper open. You pull out a pre-packed bag that has a little black ribbon around it and place it in his hands. “How much?” he hums, admiring the time you put into the packaging. 

“Eh,” you wave him off. “You bought me stuff from the gas station.” his brows scrunch. You really wanted to tell them that he was far too pretty to pay but you were unsure of how he would take that.

“Are you sure?” he watches as you pull out a metal tray and grinder. 

“Yeah.” you nod, adding some bud into the grinder. “Can you split the wrap?” you glance at him and he nods opening the package. 

“Here.” he offers you the empty wrap and you smile at him, grabbing the wrap and begin to start filling it. He watches as your fingers nimbly pack and roll and when you bring it to your lips he watches as your tongue glides across the seam and he readjusts in his seat. 

“Tell me about your week, Almond. Hel said it was bad.” you hum flicking on the lighter to dry the wrap. 

“I’m sure you don’t want to hear about uni.” he nibbles his lip. 

“Why cause I sell drugs?” you raise your eyebrow putting the blunt between your lips. “I’m graduating next year. I’ve had my fair share of shitty midterms.” he watches you light the blunt and as the smoke flows out of your mouth he looks at you as if you’re the first woman he’s seen. 

“Really?” he tilts his head. 

“Really.” you smile handing him the blunt. “But tell me about your week.” you turn your body to him and give him your full attention. 

He starts off with Monday and you listen, nodding your head as he speaks. You both pass the blunt back and forth until it’s no more and you continue to stare at him as he speaks. The haziness of the car is causing you to lounge deeper into your seat and you bring your feet back out from underneath you. He continues talking about his midterms and you frown that he’s still so worked up. 

“I’m sorry.” he frowns seeing your frown. “Am I boring you? I am. I should go.” you shake your head. 

“No,” you grab his arm and he stops. You rub your thumb on his skin before leaning back again. “I just thought you would relax more but I think we need to smoke more.” you bite your lip smirking. “If you want of course.” you look at his pink cheeks as he nods. 

“We can use mine.” he fishes for the bag in his pocket and you wave him off again.

“No, let me just rest my feet in your lap. I’m scrunched up over here.” he chuckles at your pout and pats his lap. 

He watches you throw your legs over the center console and curses himself as he hesitates to rest his hands on your bare legs. You lean down and grab the metal tray and grinder once more. His eyes roam all over you unabashedly gazing at your relaxed and flushed features. When you hand him the blunt he looks at you curiously. 

“Well I sparked the last one. It’s your turn.” you nod at him. “Do you need me to flick the lighter on for you, baby Almond?” you tease leaning up with the lighter. His eyes darken at your nickname for him and he plucks the lighter from your fingers as you fall back into the door in a fit of giggles. 

“I’m gonna tell Helaena you were mean.” he smiles as he passes the blunt into your awaiting fingers. 

“Mean? Me?” you grasp at your chest letting your head fall back. “I could never be mean to you.” you push his leg with your foot and he thanks the Gods it wasn’t a little higher up his thigh. “Oh sweet little Almond who isn’t full of joy right now.” you giggle at your attempt at a joke and he watches as you bring the blunt to your lips still giggling. 

“I’m happier than I’ve been in weeks.” he softly admits and you crack your eyes open looking him over with a soft smile. “Sorry I didn’t mean to get dramatic again.” he shakes his head. 

��I think you just need some head.” you hum passing the blunt back to him, silently giggling that he didn’t process your words yet. He hits it and then your words play through his head again and he turns back to you who is waiting with a smirk. “Or I’m sure you already have someone to take care of that for you.” you raise an eyebrow and he passes the blunt back to you. 

“I don’t.” his words are low as he licks his lower lip. His mind has finally relaxed and he’s confident enough to start slowly trailing his fingers up your legs. You put the blunt out in the ashtray as his fingers start to knead into your legs.

“I find that hard to believe.” you sit up and look him over with squinted eyes. “You’re so pretty. If we went to the same uni I’d be on my knees for you daily.” his fingers dig into your legs. He can’t believe that these words are coming out of your mouth. His breathing deepens as he watches your tongue slide across your lip. 

Aemond can’t take it anymore. Your shirt has been slowly riding up and every glimpse of your panties has his cock throbbing. Now with you looking at him like that while saying you want to be on your knees for him he’s absolutely done for. His hand travels up your thigh to see your reaction and you slowly spread your legs for him and he groans. 

That low sound from him is all you need to have your feet back under you and leaning your front over to console instead. He grabs your hand that reaches for his waistband with eyes saying you didn’t have to but you palm him over the soft material and he throws his head back. He pushes his sweats down enough to free himself and your mouth is wrapped around him instantly. 

“Fuck.” he groans moving your hair to the other side to watch you. Your tongue swirls around him and he restrains himself from jerking up into your mouth. You push your head further down and when he hits the back of your throat he lets out more soft curses. You hum around him, starting to bob your head quickly. His arm stretches to lift up your shirt and his fingers dig into the tender flesh of your ass. 

You moan around him as his fingers dip under your panties and slide down your slit. He teases you as you continue to suck around him and when his fingers circle your bud you still your movements on him. You hear him chuckle above you as he starts to move his fingers faster. You slowly pull off of him and let out a soft whimper that has his hips jerking. You press your lips around his tip and suck harshly as your hips chase his fingers. 

“Can I fuck you? Please?” his voice wrecked. You turn your head and look up at him and he groans again lifting you up and pulling you onto his lap. His length presses against your wet panties and you both grind against each other too dazed and hot to line him up with your entrance. You smash your lips against his as you both push and move against each other. His tip slips under your panties and you cry out as it brushes against your bud. 

“Fuck almond.” he groans at the name, fingers digging into your hips as his nostrils flare. 

“If I’m going to fuck you, your going to cry out my actual name.” you nod your head before resting it on his shoulder. He pushes your panties to the side and lines himself up at your core. He dips his tip in and pulls it out listening to you whimper. 

“Aemond,” you gasp, digging your nails into his shoulder. You try to move your hips down to find his length again and he groans feeling your wetness slide against him. 

“Like that.” he slams into you and you fall forward on his chest as he starts pushing up into you. “You feel so good.” his hands land on your ass and help you bounce against him. You toss your head back and he stares at your nipples poking through your shirt and he attaches his mouth to them over the fabric. You look down at him with pleasure filled eyes as you start to rock against him frantically. 

“Aemond, fuck,” he looks up at you with such reverence. His hand curls around the nape of your neck and pulls you into a bruising kiss. He groans feeling you squeeze around him and he brings his fingers to your bud and he relishes when you whine loudly into his mouth. “Aem,” your toes curl as you come around him. 

The feeling of you falling apart around him as his eyes rolling back. His fingers continue to circle your bud enjoying the pulsing of your walls around him. His other hand is still firmly on your ass helping you bounce on him. His high slams through him as he holds you closely as he feels you still clenching around him. You both pant in each other's arms and he lifts you off and adjusts your panties. He helps you crawl back into your seat and you lay your head back on the rest still trying to catch your breath.

“You’re the best dealer I’ve ever had.” he looks up at you with lidded eyes. 

“I better be your only dealer now.” you purse your lips and he presses his against them quickly. 

“Then I better be the only customer who gets this treatment.” he smirks. 

“I definitely don’t do that with Hel.” he chuckles at your words. “Come find me again after winter exams.” he internally frowns that he has to go back to uni and this isn’t something that gets to grow right away. “Don’t go pouting again.” you pinch his cheeks. “Just a couple more weeks and then we’re free for the holidays.” you nod at him.

“Then I'll see you when there’s snow on the ground.”  he presses his lips once more to yours before sliding out of your car.

As Aemond shuts your car door the crisp breeze bites at his flushed cheeks and he’s quickly climbing into his car. He knows he has a ridiculous smile on his face but he couldn’t care less. He starts his drive home and decides to stop at the gas station once more to get Helaena her favorite snacks as a thank you.

ততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত

masterlist 🔌 

i’m making at least two more parts to this bc i already got the ideas for them 😖

Part 2

taglist ✍️ 

@clarityisnofun @gabriella-aesthetic @callsignwidow @llynx7 @violetiss3lfish @ka1afbr @akiko-oo @papichulo120627 @lizzylovebooks280501 @thatgirl101blog @1-fuzzy-squirrels @arya-brooke @ashovertheriver @zanygot7straykidsbonk @moonymoo1 @malfoycassimalfoy @april-notthemonth69 @anaviieiraaa @p45510n4f4shi0n @neocockthotology @thereaderwitch @hardkiddonut @faenyra @hiimava11 @daintylittlesunflower @primroseluna @fiction-fanfic-reader @povofjustme @multilover19 @alexxavicry @cedstars @fuckalrighty @mrsmunson-harrington @misspendragonsworld @nz2004 @ninihrtss

[jinwoosbabyboo]

"The Sunset is Beautiful Isn't It?" pt. 1

The saying above is a beautiful way to bid someone farewell without having to say goodbye and I think it perfectly fits saying goodbye to our LaD Men because we can't keep hurting them. Someone has to end it. In first person p.o.v because it's you.

Goodbye Zayne

Your POV

I've been having dreams and I'm not sure I can even call them dreams. They're more like nightmares of a girl watching Zayne sacrifice himself for her. By the third sleepless night of terrors I've realized that girl...

is me...

These aren't nightmares they're slivers of time in the past. My past with him. These were not REM sleep hallucinations, I've been peaking through the eyes of my past lives. Foreseer, Master of Fate, Arctic Medic.....

Dawnbreaker....

A version of Zayne who rarely speaks. He never spoke a word to me, but showed vivid shock when I spoke to him in my dream. It was as if I saw through not only time, but space as well. I don't even exist in his world and even him I've hurt. I can feel his eyes on me as I sleep; our dreams intertwining with one another.

I've failed him. How can he smile at me now when I've failed to protect his smile time and time again. I can barely look him in the eye now without wanting to break down. He even became a cardiologist to help me. I want him so bad, but I can't do it I can't let this cycle continue.

One of us has to end it.

"Zayne...." He looks up from his paperwork that's sprawled out on his desk in his home office. "What's wrong? You look as though you have something heavy weighing on your mind" Just that simple concern made my heart feel like it was caving in on itself. My eyes burned with unshed tears as my words got caught in my throat. He quickly stands and briskly walks towards me, but I flinch away. He stares in disbelief at my sudden movement. "Did I do something?" I don't deserve his concern. I don't deserve his love.

I don't deserve him.

"Wh-" I swallowed hard feeling like thorns were piercing my throat. "Why did you become a cardiologist?" I whispered looking down at my feet.

"My parents are doctors I simply followed in their footsteps" He's so humble. "That's the only reason?" Before I could react his hands were cupping my cheeks and just looking into those green eyes that stared back in concern broke me. I sobbed as he held my face. "You may have also been a deciding factor....where is this coming from?"

It was then I knew why that past version of Zayne left without a word after I fell asleep. It really is too hard to say goodbye to the face of someone who looks at you as if you've hung the stars in the sky. "I'm just .... so thankful for you" I whisper.

Zayne's POV

She was always breathtaking when she didn’t know I was admiring her but that day as we sat on the balcony of her apartment the softest smile pulled at her lips. I could tell there was some melancholy in there as if she knew something I didn’t or there was something she wanted to say but couldn’t find the words.

She slowly turned her head and held my gaze. Dear God she was gorgeous and with just one look I was stumbling over myself. She spoke softly as she grabbed my hand and moved it to her lap. “The sunset is beautiful, isn’t it?”

All I could mutter out was a low raspy “Yes, yes it is”

…If I knew I’d never see her again after that day I would have held her hand tighter.

Goodbye Rafayel

Your POV

"What's going on in that pretty head of yours?" Rafayel poked me in my forehead following it with that rich giggle. We've been laying on his couch since he called me an hour ago to come over. He wants my full attention, but I can't stop my mind from wandering. I don't understand how he can still find it in himself to love me after everything I've done to him over the centuries.

"Why haven't you taken my heart yet?" He's shocked stock still as the words leave my mouth. I can see his entire demeanor shift from playful to somber as he looks away. "Raf your flame is dying..."

"Who told you?"

"I've been getting flashes of memories with you from a past I don't remember" He stands from the couch and begins to pace. "I know why there are pearls all over your house"

"Don't do this please" He's on his knees now holding my hands. Why is he begging to keep me around when our love is a tragedy?

"Raf you've got to save your home and your dying flame please just take my heart this pain is too much for me to bare anyway"

"I will not! I choose to love you I chose you and I'll always-"

I couldn't hold back my tears anymore. "Stop stop! Just stop please I can't do this Raf I've never been so depressed in my life I've ruined you and I can't live with this" I try to pull my hands from him but he has an iron grip around my wrists now. I struggle trying to get away from him sobbing as I fight in vain.

"I'll take care of everything I don't need your heart"

"Yes you do Raf" I finally manage to wrench my wrist from his grasp and I dash towards the door. Just as I grasp the handle and pull the door open he's right behind me slamming it shut.

"Where are you going?" His eyes are wild and full of desperation as they search my face for answers.

"I just need some air Raf ... I'll be back" We stand there staring at each other for what feels like hours before he drops his hand and I slip out of the door.

Rafayel's POV

There's three solid knocks at my studio door each one giving me even more of a headache. "Studios closed go away!"

"Rafayel..."

I knew that voice what's she doing here? I stroll over to the door cracking it open so only my face can be seen. "Aren't you going to let your aunt in?" Talia said with irritation in her voice. "Why are you here?"

"I have something for you ... it's from MC" I froze at her words. I hadn't heard from her in over a month. I quickly opened the door and finally noticed the white box marked with bio-hazard on the side.

My heart dropped I couldn't help but fall to my knees as my aunt slid the box into my hands. "Is this...."

"Its her heart ... she left this note for you as well"

I snatched the letter from her tearing into it in hopes this was some kind of sick joke. I would forgive her for it. I swear on my life I would.

My Beloved Groom, The sunset is beautiful isn't it? ♡

I couldn't do anything except lay on the floor and curl my body around the box that held her lifeline. Nothing but a piece of the woman who was my lifeline.

Zaynes fanart @/Shanyi708944594 on twitter

Xavier & Sylus here...

[meiieiri]

𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐦𝐚 𝐯𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐥’𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 [toji fushiguro]

synopsis: after the two brats from tokyo jujutsu tech took the star plasma vessel, toji momentarily sets his eyes on an uncompensated target, you.

warnings. dark explicit sex. voyeurism. dumbification. size kink. overstimulation. unprotected sex.

a/n: help i’m writing this in the lab while waiting for my reflux setup to finish its shit. also my lab coworker just passed by me and i deadass had to cross my legs FUCK why am i so filthy

toji watched from the cctv cameras in the apartment, licking his lips when he sees someone who didn’t quite show up on the briefing sheet shu gave him. he couldn’t help it and he was alone right now, his handler had to take a call. shit, school uniforms are always so short and skimpy these days. his veiny hand finds his stiff throbbing cock, his thumb pressing against the angry tip coating it with his thick cum as the woman on the laptop casually sweeps the mess of the apartment, your cute little butt on full display as you bend over to pick something up from the ground.

and that’s what led to this — shu wondering where toji took the fucking van and him splitting you open on his cock with his head thrown back as you clench around him. “w-wait—“

“i waited the entire day, baby,” toji smirks as you squirm underneath him, your expression pained, he hasn’t even bottomed out yet, and you ‘re already on the verge of tears, gasping and clawing at his back as he slowly inches in as you adjust to his girth before slowly pulling back out only to inch back in a little further again. he stops when he is barely halfway sheathed into your pussy, his hips stuttering when he feels just how tight you are, he’s had women before – loads of ‘em, he spends his hard-earned cash on typical prostitutes but none could ever compare to virgin-tight naive little school girls like you.

toji, the man assigned to hunt down your sister or so he haughtily said when he barged into your apartment this afternoon, is just so big, you could tell just from how he towered over you earlier, his hardened cock bulging through his grey sweatpants as he tells you to be quiet and just let him fondle your dripping cunt.

“w-won’t fit toji,” you whimpered helplessly, “y-you’re too big.”

“maybe if you stopped squeezing my damn cock it won’t hurt so much.”

toji wants to give in to the primal urge to just slam into you, impale you on his cock as he drills into your virgin-tight pussy, but he seems to be enjoying this little back and forth between you two — every time he sinks deeper into your soaking wet cunt, you instinctively try to move away for a bit, shying away from the discomfort, as if you didn’t want this when this rugged-looking mercenary politely asked if you could be his cocksleeve for today.

“c’mon, all you do is whine but you really just want me to stuff you full with my cum,” he tangles his fingers in your hair, angling his thrusts so that he could see the outline of his stiff cock on the skin of your lower midriff. he groans when your fingernails drag across his back when he picks up his already animalistic pace. “see that? hah, you’re practically sucking me in.”

you shake your head at his lewd words, fat tears streaming down your cheeks as he practically uses your body, holding you by the hips, slamming you down on his thick cock, his eyes intently watching the way his cock sinfully disappears into your hole with every sharp thrust. “to-oji! agh – s-slow down-n! y-you’ll break me—!” you whined pathetically, your hands finding his shoulders as you try to get him to slow down.

he crashes his lips onto yours, your forehead resting under his chin, relishing in the way you beg for him to slow down which somehow makes his already hardened member twitch in excitement. he always loves it when he’s a bitch’s first real fuck, unlike those stupid teenage boys that take more pleasure in having a woman do all the work.

“g-good,” he rasps, grunting into your ear as he begins to feel the familiar feeling of your walls spasming around his cock. “fuck yea — take my cock, good girl–“ he frenziedly jostles into you, admiring the way you moaned, the way your breasts bounced with every sharp movement, the way your head lolled from side to side as you fought your impending orgasm.

you sob, your toes curling, your back arching off from the bed, utterly vulnerable to your release. “not inside, p-please, n-not inside ngh— f-fuck, toji! ‘m there, ‘m cumming!”

toji tuts at your plea. “s-stupid girl,” he groans at your spasming body, his heavy balls tightening as he feels the first waves of his release. “agh,” he follows soon after you, groaning as thick ropes of his cum paint your walls, forever reminding you of the sickening fact that you just fucked your little sister’s assassin. toji languidly thrusts two more times, sloppily wiping your tears away, finally slowing down just as you begged, pushing his cum deeper into you, as he grunts into the crook of your neck, his cock twitching as it unloads the last of his release.

“y-you came inside,” you whimpered as toji rests on your dainty frame, still not pulling out.

the older man scoffs, kissing your collarbone. “shh, just take a pill later,” he hushes you and you don’t know why but he reminds you of the most charming of demons — wait but that’s because he is. nothing could be heard in the room other than your and Toji’s breathless pants. “but don’t think this changes anything.” he says after a while and you look up at him sleepily. “i still have to kill your sister.”

“but toji—“ your bottom lip quivers and you shiver when he plants a cold kiss between your brows, his scarred lip curling up into a sickening smile.

“—don’t worry, i’ll make it quick, as quick as i made you cum, that is.”