#but I also really didn't think that deep abt it because I didn't think it would blow up

[smoozie]

This is a super rambley post I really didn't think was gonna get big, so let me clarify a few things

I meant initially that Scar is dying so much because he is more concerned with helping Jimmy than he is with avoiding death. I said "protecting" because I think that was his ultimate goal with most of the Jimmy shenanigans, given his statements previous to this episode about keeping him safe.

The whole post is about how Scar is not good at protecting Jimmy so yeah he doesn't literally die saving him. That isn't because of Jimmy dragging down his teammates. It's Scar's inability to understand how you protect someone (he has never had to do this before)

This is a tragedy in which Scar thinks he can help someone but instead watches them die over and over all the while dying himself.

By the way the reason Scar dies so much this episode is because he is trying desperately to protect Jimmy and it's something he has never had to do before and he doesn't quite know how so he's following and supporting and playing distraction and whatever it takes for him to keep Jimmy in his sights. But he fails and Jimmy keeps dying. And Scar dies trying.

[the-lark-ascending69]

> be a robin buckley fan

> be lesbian

> project on robin

> look up "internalized homophobia robin buckley" on tumblr because it's cathartic

> 3/4 of the posts are about st3ddie or just about steve

[that-angry-noldo]

well that poll game made me think about the biggest fish for the first time in a while

[rueclfer]

heyy there can i request some more touya headcannons? i really enjoy your way of picturing him because it’s just so canon and he’s kinda a lovely dick y’know. whatever comes to ur mind. thank u so much!!

weelll since you gave me so much freedom here r some touya as a housemate hcs ANNDD a moodboard bc i enjoy the visualization <3 since we talked abt this the other day too !! (i yapped so hard here sry sry this is so indulgent)

bakugou's and sero's version too hehe

housemates // touya todoroki

touya hates the idea of living with a complete stranger or one of his siblings, so what other option does he have other than forcing his best friend (crush) on a lease with him?

the newfound freedom definitely puts him on his ass for a few weeks. barely sleeps. eats like shit. trash is scattered everywhere. several unpacked boxes. it stays like this until fuyumi comes over to check our the place and gives you two a hard scolding to get your shit together.

more often than not, you'd end up waking up on the couch with your legs sprawled out across his lap and his upper half leaned over the couch arm rest in deep sleep. staying up so late was probably one of his favorite things about living together. being able to talk as loud as you wanted, watch movies late into the night, look over the city from your balcony- he found solitude in existing with you.

if he wasn't already codependent before moving in together, just know his ass will be GLUED TO YOU. you'd be doing work in your room and he'd barge in and flop down on your bed without a word. maybe he'd gotten a bit too comfortable.

if he's feeling extra annoying that day, he'd bring in his guitar and amp and keep asking you to rate his riffs until you entirely give up on work and give him some attention.

is it obvious his love language is quality time? not only that, gift giving too. he's like a fucking crow.

"look what i found. it's a rock. for you."

makes him soooo giddy to see your display of the rocks, feathers, and dried up flowers he picked up for you on his walk. sometimes you'd come home and there'd be a new addition to the ever growing collection.

ofc you'd return the energy in a different way. touya will not cook for himself. ever. he eats like shit as an internal rebellion against the healthy diet he was forced upon as a kid, but you will not allow that boy to rot himself from the inside out!! he can expect several tupperwares of portioned out meals with notes attached to the lids if you know he'd be home all day by himself.

"to t <3. if you don't eat every last bite i'll find out and it'll hurt my feelings and i might combust into flames or something idk don't risk it!"

i can also imagine him holding back tears whenever you ever come into his room to hand him a bowl of cut up fruit. the first time you do it he'd be speechless like jaw dropped taken aback. has he ever felt love like this??? i think not.

despite all of the kind gestures, he's still touya todoroki. hides your keys if you annoyed him that morning by rushing him in the bathroom and makes you a few minutes late to class/work. chronic door slammer. pisses with the door wide open. no sense of privacy and do not gaf to knock. always locking himself out -> i feel strongly about this like imagine coming home after a long day and he's sitting out in the hallway with a pouty face waiting for you hehehe.

i don't think he'd realize this crush until a few months after you've moved in together. how could he when you two practically already act and bicker like an old married couple?

yes- peanut butter belongs in the fridge. no- it doesn't. stop leaving your socks everywhere. you forget to flush again. stop slamming the doors. you ate my chips, didn't you? don't lie. did you really need to put the mugs up that high? (he does it on purpose, and tightens the lid to every jar too.)

it wasn't until one late evening when he comes home to find you frantically mixing a doughy substance in a large metal bowl. you never bake, but you have your own oven now, so why not?

"god, finally. help me, my arms hurt." you groan, shoving the bowl in his hands. "i think i fucked up."

he sees the hurricane aftermath of your kitchen- flour everywhere, egg shells left on the counter, every single jar imaginable opened and scattered around. he could be teasing you about the mess, but god you looked so beautiful with that stupid wrinkle in between your eyebrows as you read over the recipe, and the streaks of flour across your pant leg from wiping your hands, and the way you swipe away the stray pieces of hair falling in your face with the back of your hand- oh fuck.

he thinks he's falling in love with you.

he swallows it, but he starts acting kinda weird around the apartment.

like he's.... avoiding you?

living with his best friend whom he just so happens to develop a crush for, would eat him alive. he locks himself in his room and chain smoke out his window while he's stressing the fuck out. he told you he'd stop smoking, but he's sure you'd understand the need for it right now. he hopes you can't smell it.

i also think he'd be a stress cleaner lmaaoo he cannot sit still with his thoughts for too long, so the headphones are ON and blasting and he'll definitely use that as a scapegoat + the loud ass vacuum for ignoring you if you try to talk to him while he's on this cleaning frenzy.

you think he's sick LMAO imagine the pain he feels when you come knocking on his door and calling out that you're leaving a bowl of soup and cough medicine outside his door for him. he doesn't tell you that yeah he's sick but *not in that way*

lovesick. that boy is lovesick!!!!!!

how do you avoid your housemate while you figure out how to control your feelings?

he confesses via note that he leaves on the kitchen counter. really simple tbh nothing too extravagant, but he signs off by telling you that he's staying crashing at fuyumi's for a couple days.

you text him a string of obscenities to get his ass back home and he does (he's scared of you).

he CAANNOOTT talk about his feelings in an adult way. he is sitting on the complete opposite side of the couch, twiddling his thumbs, and staring down at his feet like a child while you reread his confession note out loud to him. you find his discomfort hilarious but endearing. he finds you unbearably insufferable.

jesus the amount of times in that apartment where he would storm off to his room whenever you two got in an argument or you pissed him off...old habits die hard, you guess, because this isn't the todoroki household anymore and you aren't scared to lose that deposit and kick a door down.

once you corner him and get him to open up about his feelings the air in the room suddenly shift!! the clouds are clearing and the sun is shining woooowww look at what good communication can do.

sharing an apartment with your BOYFRIEND is no different than sharing one with your best friend. i think he'd like to keep your separate bedrooms to have your own space, but you'll rarely sleep apart.

so! many! new! traditions!

helping him dye his hair on the first saturday of every month. biweekly horror movie marathons. counting the communal piggy bank ever couple months. trying new takeout spots until you find THE spot for every category- chinese, pizza, ramen, etc etc.

and finally, an everlasting mark on your first apartment together: a small carved out heart around your initials left on the inner corner of a kitchen cabinet done with his pocket knife on a random weekday evening while you two are cooking dinner together.

-

touya tag: @moonchild701 @kaldurahms-lover @themultifandomgirl @devilslittlehelper @porusuniverse @ratatellie @katbug37 @ggriwm

[meo-eiru]

*cracks knuckles* here I am again. this time with Micah as my victim

so at first,

you definitely should add some more story to him. so far, if I'm being honest, he feels a bit too plain to me. but oh boy, what a potential I see here!

alright lets begin

omg look at him! such a hypocrite! how smart it is, to put all blame on MC while being just as (actually even more) sinful. and he sure hides well; it's your fault, isn't it? oh you and your sinful mind.

buut despite him not really being my cup of tea, I still do like a good old concept of ugly insides, hidden behind a beautiful shell (if that's the vibe you were going for).

Micah seems so pure, so holy, almost like an angel (you played smart by adding a lot of white in his design) – but behind that pristine facade? he's ugly. and that shell eventually starts to crack, because no matter how pure he may seem, Micah is just as human as we are, and definitely not a good one. and what are we, if not a bunch of cruel, egotistical animals? and deep inside he's exactly that, sickeningly human. with that in mind the very first comic you did abt him is actually pretty hilarious to me. your desires? what about his desires, which are strong enough to ruin your whole life?

I kinda feel like he's also a little pathetic in his own way; if he can't make you fall for him, he will break you. isn't it like a very cowardly move? he wants you badly enough to use whatever method it may require to have you, but will never admit it.

but let's talk about that strange desire to destroy MC's purity. why? to make you just as dirty as he is? cute, but doesn't seem like a full explanation to me. he's a priest, right? and even despite those dark insides of his, I feel like Micah still kept at least some of the priest mindset. I mean, they're raised and taught with a very strict discipline. so I feel like deep down, he feels bad (not ashamed, but in a "how dare they" way) for his attraction to you, and punishes you for that attraction. it's not your fault, of course, but who cares? you managed to destroy his perfect, clean facade, which he was methodically building for his whole life with simply your existence. isn't that unfair? so now you must fall into the depths of hell with him.

I like how we can't justify him. Micah is perfectly aware of what he is doing. and of twisted nature of his feelings too, I think, yet still chooses to indulge in his desires, even if it hurts you, the person he was supposed to love and cherish. he makes me feel an absolute, poetic rage, and I love a character I can hate. (don't get me wrong, it meant to be a praise)

and I absolutely adore his design. also if I was on point with the idea you meant for him, that is wonderful too. if a character makes me feel something, I like that character. but girl, you really should add more details about him. because everything I've written here is, basically, just my own brainstorming and bare theories. Micah needs to have more meat on him for a full character analysis >_>

but anyway, I actually have a question.

what if MC wasn't in any way pure? what if they're a complete opposite of that word? count it on my love for hunchback of notre dame

unlike the nun MC, I suggest a MC who fully embraces their sins. like an evil succubus, they enjoy the joys of being tainted. they know what influence they have on their dear Father Micah, and isn't ashamed of that. I feel like that would make a pretty interesting story

(cough cough draw him blushing and moaning and my life is yours darling)

Another absolutely incredible ask I'll have a field day answering.

I do agree with him being a bit under developed at the moment. Micah was a bit unfortunate as in he was never meant to be an actual character. He was just a momentary creation who existed for me to study color theory. A beautiful man of flowers who didn't have an identity.

Then he joined the cast when I was busy with working on commissions and the 5k celebration comic so I didn't have the time to draw his introduction comic with the things I had planned for him, though I've been trying my best to explore him a bit more thru asks like this one. The fact that I don't want to spoil the stuff I'll draw in his comic is also holding me back a little.

I think Micah is evil, but not completely bad. A man who was born twisted, who was raised into goodness, and even with all the love he received never truly got rid of his inner darkness, but just once, just for one moment, I think he had good in his heart. And that is when he first saw you.

With all his twistedness, all his evilness, all his darkness, I think that love he felt for you was truly pure. Because in his eyes you appeared truly beautiful, like a pure lily.

But Micah isn't a pure man, neither does he want to be. So he prefers to pull you down to his level, so that you two can be sinful together. A truly impure way of feeling that pure and innocent love.

I have gotten asks about him with a more rowdy darling, one who isn't a nun or one who is more sinful. I've been really brainstorming about it but I don't think it would work. Not because I personally can't force the story into being like that but because I think it was just not meant to be like that.

You see I do come up with the characters, but I don't control their actions. If the character is unwilling I can't shape the story to my will. Because that story is their life and they control it. The best I can do is to try to fill the gaps I can.

I might prefer submissive yanderes, I might want Micah to have a more sinful darling instead but it wouldn't be Micah's story anymore. That's one of the reasons why he's so different from the rest of the boys. I'm not super into very dominant guys, I could probably count the ones I have with one hand, it wasn't my intention for Micah to be the way he is, but I don't think he could've been any other way.

Micah was just meant to be manipulative, a gaslighter, a dirty man who'll pull anything to push you below him.

I guess me looking at my stories from an actual novel or manga perspective also contributes to this. Father Micah exists to shine with a darling who he can soil.

Now the darling can maybe go against him in the future, she might rebel or give in to his sinful ways, but that's a different story.

[kimsunos]

IM SO HAPPY UR INTO HYBRIDS OMFGGWHSI

gawd ok it's cliche but idc, bunny!reader and fox!sunoo, horny x horny lmao

going at it for hours on the regular all while being loud asf and not giving a shit abt anything, sooo many quickies and heats go even crazier dare i say it'd make satan blush, a match made in hell for others lmao.

hii baby! dont even know if youre into it still because i made you wait too much for it and for that i apologize 😢 but nonetheless i LOVE rambling about hybrids so here goes nothing.. Also this is very long for no reason

cw: female reader, fox!sunoo, bunny!reader, dom!sunoo, sub!reader, primal play, kinda perv!sunoo (gasp), biting kink, degradation, dacryphillia, dumbification, breeding kink, name calling (bunny, bitch, etc), spit play? (sunoo licks her lmao), sunoo is a sly fox 🧐 also he says "bunny" a lot.

your parents, since you were little, warned about the precautions needed to take as a prey. and as a family of rabbit hybrids, you were, of course, a bunny with big, fuzzy ears on top of your head and a toothy, cute, happy smile.

you always thought this judgement your parents and all the older rabbits had towards predators was stupid. "don't go near wolves", "don't talk to lions", "bears can smell you from miles away", "never trust foxes". this is modern times, we are not savages anymore! oh, if you had just listened to their advice.

"you can't imagine how long i've been dreaming about this." said sunoo, the gentle fox hybrid that every day ordered a drink at the coffee shop you worked, now, not as gentle, as he pushes your head on the mattress and thrusts mercilessly into your pussy from behind. you'd never have imagined that the date and the shy kiss you shared at the end of your work hours would end this way.

"bunny... my bunny," he said, voice intoxicated with desire, and slowed down his movements, lowered himself to rest his bare chest against your back and slowly dragged his nose from your cheek to your neck, sniffing in your scent gland, absorbing it like a hungry man. "oh, god, your scent..." another big sniff, "always drove me crazy, bunny. did you know that?"

with your face on the mattress, you could only whine and wiggle your fluffy tail, voice muffled by the pillow, falling into the pleasure of his cock making you feel so full. sunoo laughed, his movements now at a quicker pace.

"you're so fucking innocent, baby," another laugh, his breath unsteady, going deep at you, hips doing wonders to reach your most sensitive spots. "you really thought i was just a nice guy, huh? coming everyday at your job, sitting at that table in the back... such a nice costumer, big tips too." you could hear the smirk in his voice, condescending tone, his sharp nails drawing circles on your back, gracious movements contrasting with the mess he's making of you. "the truth is, i could barely contain myself in that small cafe, bunny." his scratches would for sure be visible the next day. "so ready to please and so naive. bet you didn't even notice the way my hands would always find yours, the way i watched your movements... or did you?" you whined as he talked. "remember when i offered a bite of that brownie to you? and you sucked on the plastic spoon like a bitch in heat, hungry eyes on mine and shit?"

no verbal response from you but a clench, embarrassed to be caught red-handed. such unwise actions, bunny. a rabbit flirting with a fox? really? and you still had the audacity to think you were in control.

"fucking answer me, bitch." sunoo yanked you by your furry ears, hard enough to lift your body off the mattress, placing your back against his chest again, making you moan loudly. his movements getting faster, skin on skin noises mixing with the red-haired boy's animalistic grunts and your cries.

"s-sun, slow d-down, ple-"

"oh, bunny," he laughs. "you want me to slow down? hm?~" hand still with a firm grip on your ears, causing you to bend your neck in an almost uncomfortable position, if it wasn't for the pleasure washing over all your other emotions. "p-poor bunny, can't handle big dick? this is what you're made for, can't you even do that?" and there you were, crying, overwhelmed by the degradation and how it made your insides even more wet.

"oh, god," his hips hitting even faster now, you could feel him losing all his control. "god, f-fuck- bunny, don't do this to me~" he said, releasing your ears to grip your hips, you could only cry. turning your head sideways, you meet his foxy eyes and vertical pupils now blown out in complete insanity, seeing you cry, your most prey-like state, ears down in submission and everything, it made the predator in him fucking crazy. "bunny- b-bunny, my bunny-" he started licking your tears away, chanting your name like in a trance. "b-bunny, i'll make you m-mine, 'mmkay? will y-you let me?" he kissed your neck, stopping to paint your skin with hickeys then and there. "s-stuff you full of me, baby, knock you up real good, hm?~" his voice was whiny and loud as he bit you, sharp fangs poking at your neck, and another bite, and another, almost like trying to literally eat you alive.

"nnngh- oh, s-sunoo, s'deep, f-full." you mutter, no thoughts behind your eyes.

"shhh, baby- i know, r-right?~ don't worry, turn off your brain, l-let me do the thinking for you."

[murdrdocs]

logan x stripper!reader demons are infesting my mind rn… maybe he was corralled into the club by Wade and … idek where this was going but i really need to hashtag fuck that old man!

anon i had sm thoughts abt this last night. none of them are organized. this is gonna be a massive brain dump but stick w me here.

logan was in fact corralled into the club by wade under false pretenses. he was told that "the son of a bitch hangs out here" and logan didn't know exactly who they were looking for, but he'll do anything if it means he doesn't have to see blind al going through withdrawals again. so he tags along, only asking need to know questions. but as soon as they're in there and wade describes the guy logan quickly realizes that their perp is the fucking hamburglar.

"my future wife works here, maybe yours does too." wade drops the act, hands on logan's shoulders for all of a second before logan shakes him off.

"c'mon, don't be shy. go sink your metallic claws into some pretty girl …” wade takes a moment before adding, “or guy!” and then wade stuffs logan's hand full of cash and saunters off somewhere else before logan can even say anything else.

logan knows he could just go home, blind al isn't so bad if she can listen to people speeding through answers on jeopardy!, but then he turns around and sees you—strutting up to the pole on one of the stages, wearing nothing except a skimpy yellow and blue two piece set. he's just drawn to the familiar colors, that's all. that's the reason why he makes his way over and takes a seat, albeit near the back.

this isn't logan's scene at all. he's not the pay-for-company type. he should leave before it's too late, before he's noticed.

he was going to leave, but then logan watches you approach the tip rail, your eyes watching some guy below you. logan stares as you dance for the guy, and just as the guy slips a few bills into the waistband of your tiny shorts, your eyes lift and you see him—logan, sitting in the back of the section, probably poorly lit, but you must like what you see because you linger.

the patron thinks you're lingering for him. logan can practically smell the excitement leaking out of his pores, but above it all he can smell you. a scent so particular and enticing that he wants to smell it as often as he can. he wants to smell it right on him. and he eventually gets what he wants when your set finishes and logan can smell that same scent, stronger than before, making it's way towards him.

god, he really should leave before he's in too deep, but his morality kicks in. he couldn't just sit here and free load, watching you work your ass off without slipping you at least a little something. so he takes a few of the bills wade gave him, pretty much half, and just places it in your hand when you stop in front of him.

you grin over at him and tilt your head, taking in the way he stuffs the rest of the cash into his pocket as he stands.

"leaving already?"

and maybe you're good at your job, or logan is more of a pushover than he thought he was, because he somehow ends up in a vip room with you, watching you dance for him.

he's not afraid to admit you're pretty. he understands why people would pay for this. but he also understands that this is your job. that he's literally paying for you to ask him to help you take your top off. he's paying for human contact, so he's reluctant to relax.

until you coax him into it, your voice as gentle as your hands cupping his face. everything you say sounds so earnest, like you're speaking from the heart and not a script you pull out depending on the customer.

once logan relaxes, he's fucking gone. yeah, that's the most relaxed he has felt in a while, and yeah he wants to see more of you, but he won't go back. mostly because he's broke and he has absolutely no idea where wade got that money from.

luckily wade loves to play matchmaker, setting up two of his friends (logan should've known that this would all come full circle) on a semi-blind date.

logan would've been more upset about it if he didn't get to fuck you (for free!) over and over again that same night.

[norman-fucking-reedus]

HE ATE MY HEART!

“I love that girl”

gif by @corvidcrossbow

IM SO FUCKING EXCITED TO FINALLY HAVE SOMETHING TO POST ON HERE AND ALSO TO POST SOMETHING TO THIS SONG

Vamp!Daryl has rotted not only my brain but the community. I am not sorry at all for the plague I'm spreading and I hope that it only gets worse.

So I've been doing some research on it, and I really like the idea of mixing the Blade universe w TWD, I did some more research on the different types of vampires (its kind of a lot so if you want you can go read abt them here!) To basically summarize, there's people, daywalkers (half vamp-people), walkers, full vampires, and then Revenants (half-walker half vampire, basically just another way to die)

This also makes it easier for whenever Scud becomes my next vampy victim

AUUUGH I NEED MY HOT SEXY NEEDY VAMPIRE MAN WHO JUST WANTS TO DRINK ALL MY BLOOD SOMEONE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE FUCKING PLEASE

also I am working on reqs yes I am, I have one scud fic that is dirty and nasty and should be getting posted soon. also I may not be on tumblr as much as I used to be because GUYS I am now employed yes that's right I got off my computer, went outside, interacted with people, and got a job #gangshit

It had been over a week since Daryl had eaten, and over two since he had left to go out on the community's monthly supply run.

As he stumbled through the opening gates, he felt like he had been through a war. His body was wracked with exhaustion, weakness, and hunger. The air was thick with the strong scent of blood, and he couldn't keep himself from groaning painfully when he was bombarded by Carol and Rick asking where he had been, what had taken so long, and if he was alright.

“No! M’not alright dammit” He barked at them in frustration after being asked for the third time if he was alright, his voice laced with irritation and discomfort. Carol couldn't help but notice his pale and clammy appearance.

Her forehead creased into a frown as she tightly pursed her lips, giving Daryl a scolding look that made him uneasy. With a tone of concern, she asked, "I'm worried. When was the last you fed?"

The man's face twisted in discomfort as Rick and Carol stood in his space. He scoffed and muttered, "Not recently, m'fuckin' starvin'" The longer he stayed, the more his head spun and his vision blurred, causing the corners of his eyes to fade into a deep red color. His stomach churned uncomfortably, and he could feel his teeth starting to ache.

Rick observed Daryl's malnourished skin, staring at how he was almost transparent. His eyes were screwed shut as the sun harshly burned his sensitive orbs, and he was gripping the strap of his crossbow so hard that his fingers were starting to turn red.

"You should go see Y/n," Rick said, eyes fixed on his friend. "She should be back home and she's been asking about you. I think she misses you." Daryl's body tensed at the sound of your name, and a sudden chill ran down his spine, causing goosebumps to rise on his arms. He tried to hide his reaction, but Rick's sharp eyes didn't miss a thing.

Daryl's head drooped weakly as he could only manage a feeble nod. Rick and Carol had stepped off to the side for him, offering their silent support. Carol placed her hand gently on his shoulder, her grey hair falling across her face as she did so. Rick, with his stern expression, gave Daryl a look that he knew meant there was no room for argument.

His senses were already heightened to an extreme level, almost at an overload as the sun was abnormally bright, blazing down on him with a blinding intensity, making it difficult for him to even keep his eyes open. He could feel the heat searing his skin, causing beads of sweat to form on his forehead and trickle down his face. He noticed the way that his vest rubbed uncomfortably against him, the fabric clinging to his skin and making him feel sticky and irritable. His already aching teeth began to grind down against each other, and he could feel his razor-sharp fangs digging into the tender skin of his bottom lip, further fueling his pure discomfort.

Each step he took in the direction of your house was tiring and heavy, his dirty, muddy boots slapping against the ground as he dragged himself through the streets, promptly ignoring any strange or judgy looks that were thrown his way. He didn't have the time, let alone the strength to even bother paying them any mind. His stomach churned as his overwhelmed nose couldn't help but pick up the sickeningly sweet smell of blood.

It forced him to quicken his pace, trying to get just as far away from the public eye as he possible could. He didn't want to be looked at, didn't want to be stared at. He just wanted to get inside as soon as fucking possible and just tear off all his goddamn clothes. A ping of hope struck through him when he could see your familiar house only a short distance down the road, having to hold himself back from flat-out sprinting the rest of the way there.

Though it was only about a thirty-second walk, it had been the longest in his whole entire life, and walking up the small steps of your porch was like something out of a nightmare. He could disgustingly feel the material change in flooring when he stepped off the pavement and onto the creaky wood, the sound grating against his now way too-sensitive ears. Dear god, would someone fucking help him already?

Of course, as if on cue, the red front door to your house swung open, but instead of being met with a friendly face, he was met with the barrel of your gun.

"Daryl?" You questioned as you lowered the weapon slightly, a smile stretching across your lips once you had confirmed who was standing and dicking around on your porch. "Daryl!" You fully dropped your defensive position, stuffing the weapon in the band of your pants as you prepared to throw yourself at the man, halting when you finally took in his ruined appearance.

His breathing was labored, and it was hard to keep himself upright on his own two legs, forcing him to lean against the wall by the door. "Hey doll"

You scoffed at him in disbelief, "Don't you dare even "hey doll" me, mister! What the hell happened to you? Get in here right now" Grabbing the front of his vest and pulling his heavy body inside, Daryl groaning as each movement caused pain to his body, slumping against the door when you slammed it shut.

He couldn't be happier when he felt you prying the buttons of his stupidly itchy vest off, him shrugging it off as well as his crossbow, clattering down on the floor and probably chipping the metal further.

"Jesus Daryl, you look fucking terrible. Did you feed on anything at all out there?" You purse your lips as you analyze and checked his unnaturally pale chest, letting out a surprised hiss at the burn lingering on your fingers tips from where you had brushed them against the skin of his shoulder

Daryl groaned as you directed him to sit on the couch, the short steps from the front door already leaving him utterly winded, almost dripping in sweat as he wheezed each breath of air.

“‘Wasn’t much… ‘wasn’t much out there” He spoke breathlessly, head spinning and his stomach loudly churning when you stood in front of him.

When you extended a hand out to cup his face, he tightly gripped your wrist with a shaky hand. “Don’. Please don’” He didn’t want to feed from you, not like this, not in a state where he couldn’t guarantee that he wouldn’t absolutely drain you.

“Daryl” You whispered softly, frowning slightly as you started taking your shirt off, and he wanted to scream at your stubbornness.

You straddled his lap and gently brushed the hair sticking to his forehead off, his blue eyes starting to tint red as the smell of your blood was strong, right in his face. “I don’ wanna”

“I know you don’t sweetheart, but you’ll die. What am I gonna do if you die?” You cupped his face, forcing his gaze onto yours. He whimpered slightly at your touch, his whole body sensitive and reactive.

Daryl shivered when you combed fingers through his hair, hands curling around your hips when you directed his head to your neck. “I trust you, more than I even trust myself” You whispered soothingly into his ear, and he almost wanted to cry.

He could smell the blood coursing through you like it was a burning candle, and his mouth was uncontrollably watering. His fangs were sharp and heavy, aching with the need to sink into your skin, which is exactly what he did, groaning against you at the first drops of blood, not wasting against another second before he was greedily taking mouthfuls.

It was so good, so warm and fresh, sweet and bitter. Daryl had drank lots of blood before, and yours was easily his favorite. He craved it during his time out there, not just because there was a serious lack in wild animals, but because it was addictive.

He squeezed your hips, soft and pillowy in his buzzing palms as he could feel himself starting to get hard in his pants, the more blood he swallowed the more drunk he got.

It made you feel good to watch his natural tan color fade back, his scarred back no longer a ghastly pale. You ran your fingers through his hair, occasionally curling your fingers and gripping the dark locks to grind down against his now-straining cock.

Daryl made soft, small sounds as he fed, each roll of your hips making each gulp of your blood taste so much better. His senses were at an all-time high, overwhelmed and at an absolute edge. He couldn’t help the way his hands pressed you down on his cock, hips desperately jerking against you as he could feel himself getting closer and closer, his head spinning in a blood lust haze.

He was so close, so very fucking close. His sharp claws had made themselves known, and you jolted when they painfully curled into your flesh, hips sputtering and slightly faltering in their movements. Daryl had no problem picking up the slack, almost fucking you right through his pants from how hard he was rutting up into you.

It was just all so much, his whole body on fire with pure arousal as he sighed around a final mouthful of crimson, trembling from his core as his orgasm washed over him, pressing your clothed cunt against him as hard as he could, making his already fuzzy mind draw a complete blank, a loud groan tearing from his throat that caused his fangs to slip out from where he had punctured the skin and drop his head against your shoulder, whimpering softly as he held you down.

You scratched his scalp comfortingly, feeling a little woozy from the amount of blood he had taken. He hummed against you as he started to come down from not only the high of his orgasm but bubbly buzz from his feast.

“Feel better?” You asked in a quiet, sleepy voice when Daryl’s tongue cleaned the drops of blood that had leaked from the small wounds, coating the area in his saliva so that it could heal.

He nodded as peppered you in appreciative and apologetic kisses, pulling you flush against his bare chest by wrapping his arms around your back, claws retracted and replaced with blunt nails. “M’sorry fer hurtin’, ya”

“Instead, you should be sorry for not feeding yourself, mister” You said as you shook your head, pinching his side as you got a bit upset again. “You know it scares me shitless when you do that”

“I know, I know. M’sorry for tha’ too” Daryl grumbled, feeling fatigued as well now that his tummy was full and satiated. His body was still weak and needed rest, now yours did as well considering he had taken a lot more than usual. “I’ll make it up to ya’” He said as he pushed himself up off the couch, grunting as it was a lot harder with tired muscles and one hand keeping his woman wrapped around him, adding a second once he was finally standing.

You giggled at that, arms hooked around his neck. “And just how will you do that?”

“Got a real good idea” Daryl smirked, hoisting you up as he ascended up the stairs to your shared bedroom, hungry for something else that was much better than blood.

I started writing this a few days ago I think this is the quickest I've written something

Vamp!Daryl is an absolute need. I'm loving every single post I see of him and I love watching the disease spread faster than fucking covid I jump for joy when I see someone I don't even know talking abt him is this what fame feels like is this what its like to be famous am I fucking famous

yes you do want more of this so go read more

Bloodthirsty @dixons-sunshine

Bite me @mydearestdaryl

[amourtoken]

I will be the brave soldier that tackles this concept that others may be too afraid to tackle 🫡

I was gonna do one big post for the whole group but the Noah part took over so I'll split it into individual parts for you. Here's some stepbro Noah for you 💀

Anyway let's get into it I feel like im virtually stalling lol. Apologies if this is insanely long it may or may not be the longest thing I've ever written so forgive me if it's rambley or not that great.

CW: stepcest, mean/annoying ass Noah, oral (M receiving), dacryphilia, choking, spit, belly bulge, raw sex, facials, squirting, fingering, nipple play, mentions of breeding, Dom Noah ftw always, oral fixation, slapping (just in general, face and pussy yk), and if I missed any others pls let me know

*NSFW below the cut, MDNI*

♡ The day Noah moved in to your dad's house was the worst day of your life unbeknownst to you at the time. He seemed tolerable at first but it took zero time for him to become a raging asshole that lived to torment you it seemed. He always blasts music late at night, is constantly yelling while playing video games with those obnoxious ass friends of his that like to come over and somehow act even more unbearable and he has the audacity to walk around YOUR house like he owns the place when he's only been here for a few months. What a cunt.

♡ Noah loves teasing you as well. He's got a couple years on you and is SUBSTANTIALLY larger than you so somewhere in the back of his mind he feels like you're easy to manipulate and manhandle the shit out of cause he's older, bigger, stronger, ect. He likes the way your voice pitches up in a yelp when he walks by and smacks your ass hard enough to bruise, he couldn't resist, not while you had those little shorts on. He also doesn't think twice abt it being "weird" or anything, he really doesn't even see you as a relative at this point, you're both grown and you've known eachother for like 6 months at the most. The fact his mom wanted to bang your dad has no effect on his life aside from the fact he had to up and move to your city.

♡ every time your parents give you two the house alone, it usually goes one of two ways. Either Noah invites those previously mentioned friends over and you get to listen to them practicing new songs in your living room until your head throbs from the volume or Noah invites some random tinder girl over to fuck half to death while you get the pleasure of listening to it through the thin wall that seperates your rooms. You've done everything to muffle the noise, but the incessant rhythmic slamming of his headboard right against the wall is similar to water torture. If you didn't care about privacy (unlike him, he frequently throws your bedroom door open while you're changing or walks in on you fresh out of the shower) you'd storm into his room and tell him to shut the fuck up but unfortunately you're a nicer person than he is so you suffer for a while longer.

♡ you end up confronting him the next night while he's on a game with his friends (again being eye twitching levels of loud and annoying). You had the decency to knock but when he opens the door he's got his hair tied up halfway, shirtless, and shorts sitting so fucking low on his hips you can see the light trail of hair that runs up his lower stomach to his navel. You hate that he's your type because shouldn't that be weird? He's your step brother, that has to be weird right?

"Yknow if you take a picture it'll last longer, right? My eyes are up here."

♡ Noah apparently clocked your staring and he has this stupid smug grin on his face that you hate. Ultimately how can he be upset for you staring at him when his eyes are always glued to your tits or ass whenever he has the chance?? He has no shame. It's not that he's upset at you, but he knows deep down you're fighting something he gave into ages ago, and he's got you wrapped around his finger whether you like it or not. You can't stand him, or is it that you want to hate him so you don't have to admit your other feelings?

"Can I help you or are you just gonna keep staring at my cock? I'm kinda fucking busy."

♡ he's always been this brash and it still somehow shocks you every time. You hate he's not really wrong, you wouldn't have been looking if his dick didn't leave a scarily large print in those shorts he was wearing. No wonder all those girls he brings over are so fucking loud. You didn't realize you still hadn't said what you came over to say, it felt like your voice was trapped in your throat especially when you looked up at him and those pretty brown eyes of his. God you fucking hate him, you hate that you're jealous of everyone that gets to spend time with him and all of those girls he's brought over to fuck and never say a word to again. He's an asshole but fuck if he isn't a pretty one. You feel like this is wrong but everything about him is wrong so what's new.

"If you want a taste you can just ask."

"Come on baby don't act like you don't think about me how I think about you. I've heard you playing with that little pussy and whining my name before, so you can't really fake hating me now, huh?"

♡ you're literally standing in his doorway dumbfounded at this point. He knew? Oh.

"Bet I could fuck that uptight attitude out of you. Maybe that's all you need, some good dick."

oh!

He shifts from where he's leaning against the doorframe to palm himself through his shorts and your heart feels like it's actually trying to escape your ribcage. Is this even real??? You came over here to bitch at him for being a loud inconsiderate asshole and he's trying to fuck you? Why doesn't he feel like this is wrong, why don't you feel like this is wrong? Why do you have this childish crush on your literal stepbrother? You feel dizzy. Noah has you right where he wants you though, he's been onto you the whole time and he could've just been nicer to you but who doesn't love a good hatefuck? He figured if he broke you down enough he could build you back up into the perfect little in home cock sleeve he knew you really wanted to be. He's fucking gross I need him but he's not wrong, is he?

♡ your eyes flit down from his eyes to his hand that's wrapped around his clothed cock again and you thought your knees would give out. How does that even fit inside anyone?? No wonder his dates sound like they're in a slasher film, they probably feel like they're getting split down the middle. You don't have much more time to think cause he's pulling you into his room and forcing you onto your knees in front of him.

"You're so much nicer when you're not bitching at me for fucking everything. Always wanted to fuck that pretty mouth of yours anyway, can't talk with your mouth full can you?"

Noah laces a large tattooed hand through the hair at the back of your head and you wince at the sting. You feel like your brain is just empty now, honestly this whole thing feels so much like a dream you're not fully convinced it's real, that you're actually letting your stepbrother smear precum on your lips with the tip of his big cock. It's even more threatening when it's not straining against his shorts, the tip is a pretty pink and there's a big thick vein running up the underside. You can't even fit your hand around it entirely, and you're so wet over it you're sure you can see through your pajama pants.

"Open."

♡ you do as you're told and Noah tugs your hair a little more to angle your head back. He's clouded up your brain so much you barely react when he spits directly onto your tongue, reaching to smear the mess around with 2 of his long fingers. You're looking up at him with big puppy eyes that water pathetically when he slides those two fingers down your throat, thrusting them in and out deeper each time to see how well you take him. He laughs when you gag and your eyes water as he sinks his fingers as deep as he can get them, you're such a fucking mess it's pathetic but that's exactly what's making his cock twitch. You're exactly how he needs you.

"gonna be a good girl for me? Let me fuck your throat and maybe I'll make you cum after if you're good."

you squeeze your thighs together to try and get some friction when he slaps his cock on your tongue, he's so fucking heavy and thick you really don't know how he expects to fit anywhere in your body let alone your mouth. Regardless, you try. You reach up to brace your hands on his tattooed thighs and focus on kissing and licking all over the tip, looking up at him when you wrap your lips around it to see his head fall back in a deep sigh. Sure he's gotten head before but something about this situation just makes him so much harder. The hand in your hair tightens and he slowly starts thrusting into your mouth, shallow at first but as you start taking more of him and it gets messy, he starts going much harder.

♡ Noah's fucking your throat so hard you have fat tears spilling down your cheeks, you're trying so hard to take him well but when he sinks in to the hilt and holds you there until you're clawing at this thighs and whimpering around his cock cause you can't breathe you can't help but pull away to catch it.

"God you're such a fucking slut."

He punctuates the phrase by landing a slap on your cheek. Not hard enough to really hurt you but definitely enough to sting. Normally you'd be upset but right now? Fuck you're almost begging him to do it again.

Once you catch your breath you open your mouth expectantly and he's right back to it. This time he has both hands tangled up in your hair while he's fucking your throat. Thank God no one's home cause he's not even trying to be a little quiet, deep moans and growls freely flowing from his mouth. You can't help but feel a little proud of yourself, normally you don't hear him make much noise when he's fucking whoever he's brought over but he's being pretty damn vocal right now. You can tell he's close by the way his thrusts falter and right before he cums he pulls out to paint your face. Whatever doesn't land on your tongue he gathers with his fingers and makes you suck them clean.

♡ you'd think he'd need a while to get hard again but no, he honestly didn't ever stop in the first place. Noah's dragging you up off the floor and nearly ripping your shorts down your legs and shirt off your torso immediately, he's seen you naked on "accident" but now that he really gets to look at you and feel you, fuck it's so much nicer. He steps back to admire your bare form but he can't go 3 seconds without teasing you. He runs his hands up your body to massage your tits and tease your nipples, pinching and playing with them until you're whimpering and teary eyed again.

He "apologizes" by leaning down and laving his tongue over the sensitive skin, making you arch against him and you can literally feel him smiling against your skin. He doesn't pull away before leaving a few dark hickeys on the underside of your tits, admiring his work after.

You don't get much of a break for long before he's picking you up and tossing you onto his bed. You can't help but notice it's neatly made (or was) before he drags your attention back to him by slapping his tip right against your clit, making you yelp. Apparently he liked your reaction cause he did it again, this time with his hand instead and with a little more force. Your voice broke into a whimper as he started rubbing circles on your clit with his fingers to ease the sting from the slap. He's mean but he still wants you to feel good.

"Can you say please? I wanna hear you beg for my cock before I give it to you, gotta know you really want it."

that smug look returns when his name and various pleads spill from your lips while he's sliding his fingers through the slick mess at your entrance, spreading the wetness around and dipping into you just enough to feel how tight you are around his fingers. He's reeling over the thought of how tight you'll be around his cock.

♡ like I said he's mean but he still wants you to feel good, he knows you need some kind of prep before he gets to fuck you. His free hand is slowly stroking his cock while the other is teasing your entrance, gauging your reaction. He starts with just one finger but quickly ends up fucking 3 into you, watching your back arch pathetically off the bed while he curls his fingers right up against that spot inside you that makes black spots flood your vision. You're squeezing his fingers so tight he knows you're close. The hand on his cock comes up to play with your clit and you feel like there's a literal fire lit in your belly.

"Gonna cum for me baby? It's okay, you can. Just let me make you feel good, need you see you fall apart for me."

Your legs are shaking, you're panting and squirming. It really feels like too much and right before you cum you're begging and pleading Noah to slow down cause it's just too much but he doesn't, if anything he's picking up the pace. The sound of your wetness is almost as loud as your moans for him and it only gets worse when that coil in your belly snaps and you nearly scream. You're arching off the bed and clawing at anything you can grab, you've cum before on your own but you've never felt anything this intense and sure as hell never made yourself squirt so this is a first. Noah is elated, his forearm and sheets are fucking drenched but he couldn't care less about the mess he's achingly hard at the fact he got you to squirt at all.

Noah reaches up and makes you clean your mess off his fingers, sliding them down your throat again just to feel you gag around them.

You're so sensitive and your brain is so fuzzy you can barely hold your head up, your chest rising and falling quickly while Noah sizes his length up against your tummy and groans at your size difference. His tip lands right below your navel, fuck, he's gonna demolish you. He's practically dripping like a faucet at this point and can't wait to be inside you, he's wanted this since you two fucking met. Noah leans over you to spit directly on your pussy before spreading it around with his tip and prodding at your slit, he's not even inside and you're whimpering about the stretch just from him resting against you.

"Can I hear you say please one more time, baby?"

♡ you enthusiastically answer, pleading for him to just fuck you and he takes the chance gladly. You knew the stretch was gonna be a lot but fuck when he actually sank balls deep your whole body ached. You were so fucking full it was unreal. You thought he couldn't get deeper but he crawled over you to push your knees up next to your ears and the moan you produced was pornographic. His tip was pressed right against your cervix and every time he thrust into you he knocked against it, it was painful at first but once the initial sting of the stretch wore off you've never felt better.

You swore you could feel him in your stomach he was so deep, and the sound of his hips smacking against yours was filthy. There was that familiar sound of his headboard hitting your shared wall but thankfully this time you weren't annoyed by it, if anything it drove you further.

Noah's moans started out deep in his chest but as he got closer they pitched up almost into whines, he was bucking his hips into yours like an animal in heat and his nails were sinking into your hips hard enough to bruise. He only leaned back a bit to wrap a hand around your throat and squeeze, cutting your moans and whimpers into pathetic strangled sounds.

"F-fuck- fuck fuck- 'm gonna cum- so fucking hard- tell me you want it- fuck, tell me you want me to fill this pretty pussy up-"

Youd never seen or heard him so disheveled but fuck if it wasn't hot. You didn't hesitate to beg for him to cum inside you, it made his head spin at the thought. God this was wrong but he couldn't help but imagine how pretty you'd look carrying his kid either. Noah pulled back just enough to have you in normal missionary, you wondered why but when he pressed his hand on your lower stomach you figured it out pretty quick. He could feel exactly where he was inside you and was rutting against his hand through you like you were nothing more than a toy. He only stopped so he could grab your hand and have you feel as well. His dick made a noticeable bulge in your belly every time he thrust into you, and it only made you ache at the thought. He really was ruining you for anyone else.

♡ Noah slid a hand between your bodies to tease your clit while he picked up the pace of his own sloppy thrusts. He was gonna cum but he needed you to cum with him. The hand on your throat absentmindedly tightened and you were seeing black spots flood your vision already but when he sank as deep as he could possibly get and whimpered as he came you couldn't stop yourself from toppling over the same edge. You thought you'd never cum so hard in your life earlier but now? This was really it. You sank your nails into his arm hard enough to draw blood while you convulsed under him, breaking into sobs of his name while he ground his hips into yours.

Noah pulling out left you with a horrible emptiness and you almost begged him to stay for just a bit longer. He was considering it himself but his thoughts were cut short when you both heard the front door downstairs open.

Shit.

Noah nearly threw you out of bed, scrambling to pull his shorts back on. Your clothes were strewn everywhere and you didn't have time to hunt for them so you picked up the first shirt you could find off his floor and put it on before racing back to your own room. Thank God you made it quick cause Noah's cum was still dripping down your thighs.

-

*also just saw the rb but tagging @somebodyllelse cause I almost forgot 😭

[moonselune]

Okkayy I was wondering if I could rq dark au? Like. A genuine moment between the lot. Or maybe something like a Stockholm thing going on for them? I think that'd be interesting.

Also a question abt it! If there were Wyll one (not saying for you to add any ofc) what would you think it would be? Since he doesn't have a bad ending and everything.

i love love love this, so interesting to think what the reader would fall for, how they would let that guard down and I'll post a little explanation of where I was coming from for each character.

And I have had a lot of asks about Wyll, and I find it really difficult to picture it because he doesn't have a bad ending and despite all that he has been through he always strives to be good. I have tried to think of an evil Wyll and I have not had nor come across an idea that I can get behind - that being said if people want to pitch it to me, have at it x

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Dark!BG3 | With Sincerity

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

For: Conqueror!Minthara, MotherSuperior!Shadowheart, God!Gale, Ascended!Astarion, Naturist!Halsin

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

CW: Controlling, manipulation, coercion, forced memory loss, they are still bad people lmao

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Uh oh! They are breaking down your walls and a part of you is vulnerable

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Conqueror Minthara:

The courtyard was alive with the sound of clashing weapons and sharp commands. Minthara's nieces moved with an impressive precision under her watchful eye, their small frames mirroring the grace and ruthlessness of their aunt. You stood in the shadow of an archway, unable to tear your gaze away from the scene before you.

Minthara was a vision of deadly elegance, her every movement purposeful and fluid as she demonstrated techniques to her eager students. Her hair, as white as fresh snow, caught the sunlight, and her eyes—so piercing and determined—flashed with an intensity that had once captivated you. You watched as she corrected their stances, her voice firm but not unkind. There was a harshness in her training, but beneath it lay a deep fondness, a protective instinct that she couldn't quite hide.

A pang of nostalgia hit you. You remembered the early days of your love, how you had fallen for her strength, her unyielding resolve. Minthara had always been a formidable warrior, but it was her rare moments of tenderness, the way she cared for her family, that had truly won your heart. You had married her not just for who she was, but for who she became when she was with you.

Lost in your reverie, you didn't notice Minthara approaching until she was right in front of you, her presence commanding your attention. She tilted her head, a small smile playing on her lips.

"Enjoying the show?" she asked, her tone teasing but not unkind.

Without thinking, you found yourself leaning in, your lips meeting hers in a kiss that felt both natural and inevitable. For a moment, the world fell away, and it was just the two of you, connected in a way that transcended time and distance. Her lips were soft yet insistent, and the familiarity of her touch stirred something deep within you.

Reality crashed back in, and you pulled away abruptly, your heart pounding.

"I-I’m I-" you stammered, stepping back, your face flushing with embarrassment. "That was… I didn't mean to…"

Minthara's smirk was confident, almost smug. "It's alright," she said, her voice low and knowing. "I knew you would come back around to me eventually."

You shook your head, trying to regain your composure. "It was just a momentary lapse of sanity," you muttered, trying to brush off the intensity of what had just happened. "Don't read too much into it."

Turning on your heel, you walked away, your thoughts a chaotic mess. You were supposed to hate her, to resent what she had become. Yet, the kiss had felt like coming home, a reminder of the love that had once defined your life.

As you glanced back over your shoulder, you saw Minthara still standing there, a satisfied smile on her lips. She had always been confident, always sure of her place in your heart. And despite your best efforts to deny it, a part of you wondered if she was right.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Mother Superior Shadowheart:

The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of candlelight casting flickering shadows on the stone walls. You lay in the lavish bed, the silk sheets cool against your skin. Shadowheart was next to you, her presence a mixture of comfort and control. For so long, your moments of lucidity had been frantic and panicked, each one a desperate attempt to cling to the truth before she stole it away again.

But tonight felt different. The usual haze in your mind was less oppressive, the usual fog that clouded your thoughts seemed to lift slightly. You felt a rare clarity, a sense of calm that you hadn't experienced in what felt like an eternity. You looked at Shadowheart, her dark hair spilling over her shoulders, her eyes closed in peaceful repose.

Without the usual panic, you found yourself studying her features—the soft curve of her lips, the gentle rise and fall of her chest. She looked serene, almost vulnerable in sleep. You realized how deeply you had once loved her, how she had been your world before the darkness had consumed her.

You felt an overwhelming urge to be close to her, not out of fear or desperation, but out of a genuine desire for connection. You shifted slightly, curling into her, and she stirred, her eyes fluttering open.

"You're awake," she murmured, her voice thick with sleep.

"Yes," you replied softly, your voice steady. "I… I feel different tonight. Not scared. Just… here."

She studied you, a flicker of surprise crossing her features, she could always tell when you were lucid and was always to prepared to seize that moment and crush it in her hands. "You don't feel panicked?"

You shook your head. "No. I feel… content. More at ease than I have in a long time."

A hint of a smile touched her lips, but it was cautious, as if she were afraid to believe it. "That's good," she said slowly. "Maybe it's the calm before the storm."

"No," you said, more firmly this time. "It's not. It's real. I want you to stay. Please."

Shadowheart's eyes widened slightly, genuine shock evident in her expression. For a moment, she didn't move, as if unsure how to respond. Then, she nodded, her movements careful, almost hesitant. "Alright," she said softly. "I'll stay."

She settled back into the bed, wrapping her arms around you, pulling you close. The warmth of her body, the steady beat of her heart, it all felt so grounding, so real. You buried your face in the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent, a mixture of herbs and something uniquely her.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Shadowheart tightened her hold on you, her fingers gently stroking your hair. "For what?" she asked, her voice a mere breath in the quiet room.

"For staying," you replied. "For this moment."

She sighed, a soft, contented sound. "I never wanted to hurt you," she said quietly. "I only wanted to protect you."

"I know," you said, and for the first time, you truly meant it. "I know."

The two of you lay there, wrapped in each other's arms, the world outside forgotten. The clarity you felt wasn't fleeting or frantic. It was peaceful, a rare gift in the chaos that had become your life. And as you drifted off to sleep, Shadowheart's presence beside you, you held onto that feeling, hoping it would last, knowing that for tonight, at least, it was enough.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

God of Ambition Gale:

The ethereal glow of Gale's realm was a constant reminder of the divine power he now wielded, a stark contrast to the mortal world you had once known. You and Gale had been watching over a young mortal named Elara, a gifted artist who had been struggling under the oppressive control of her art master. For months, you had observed her from afar, offering subtle guidance and protection as she navigated her difficult path.

Tonight, the culmination of your efforts bore fruit. Elara had finally broken free from her master's tyranny, gathering the courage to leave and start her own journey as an independent artist. You had seen the light of hope and determination in her eyes, and it had filled you with a profound sense of joy and accomplishment.

You and Gale stood together on a celestial balcony, overlooking the shimmering expanse of his realm. The stars above twinkled in celebration, mirroring the elation in your heart. Gale's arm was wrapped around your shoulders, a comforting presence that had grown familiar over time.

"She did it," you whispered, the words filled with awe and happiness. "Elara is finally free."

Gale smiled, his gaze soft as he looked down at you. "She found her strength, thanks to you. Your guidance gave her the courage she needed."

You turned to face him, the weight of the moment sinking in. For the first time in what felt like forever, you felt genuinely happy. Tears of joy welled up in your eyes, and you wrapped your arms around Gale, holding him tightly. He returned the embrace, his arms enveloping you in a warm, secure hold.

"It's not just me," you said, your voice muffled against his chest. "You were there too, every step of the way."

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through his chest. "We make a good team, don't we?"

You nodded, unable to find the words to express the depth of your feelings. Instead, you just held him closer, savoring the rare moment of pure happiness. The tension and doubts that had lingered in your heart seemed to melt away in his embrace.

Gale gently pulled back, just enough to look into your eyes. "What is on your mind?" he asked, his voice tender and filled with curiosity.

You shook your head, a small smile playing on your lips. "Nothing," you replied softly. "Just… this moment. I want to hold onto it, to remember this feeling forever."

He gazed at you with a mix of understanding and affection, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. "We will have many more moments like this," he promised. "This is just the beginning."

You leaned into his touch, closing your eyes as you savored the warmth and comfort of his presence. "I hope so," you whispered, more to yourself than to him.

For a while, you simply stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, the celestial realm around you a silent witness to your shared joy. The stars continued to shine brightly, casting a gentle glow over the two of you. In that moment, everything felt perfect, and you prayed with all your heart that this bliss would last forever.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Acended Astarion:

The palace corridors echoed with your footsteps as you wandered aimlessly, a sense of ennui settling over you. The grand halls, adorned with opulent decorations and luxurious tapestries, had lost their allure after countless days of aimless exploration. The life of grandeur and power, alongside Astarion, had its moments of excitement, but today, the boredom felt particularly oppressive.

You sighed, turning a corner and heading towards your quarters. As you pushed open the heavy doors, you were greeted by an unexpected sight. The room was filled with fresh flowers, their vibrant colors and fragrant scents instantly lifting your spirits. They were your favorites—roses, lilies, and peonies, arranged in an exquisite display that seemed almost magical. Amidst the floral splendor, a delicate note caught your eye.

With a sense of curiosity, you picked up the note and unfolded it. The elegant handwriting was unmistakably Astarion's.

"Come to the throne room, my love."

A smile crept onto your lips as you tucked the note into your pocket. You made your way through the palace with a renewed sense of excitement, your heart fluttering with anticipation. As you approached the grand doors of the throne room, you could hear the soft strains of music floating through the air.

Pushing open the doors, you were met with a breathtaking sight. The throne room was transformed into a paradise of flowers and enchanted candles. The candles floated gently in the air, casting a warm, golden glow that illuminated the room in a soft, romantic light. The flowers, arranged in intricate patterns, filled the air with their sweet fragrance. In the center of it all stood a small quartet, playing a melodious tune that added to the enchanting atmosphere.

And there, amidst the beauty and magic, stood Astarion. He was dressed in his finest attire, his eyes sparkling with a mixture of mischief and affection. As you stepped into the room, he approached you with a graceful elegance that made your heart skip a beat.

"Happy anniversary, my darling," he said, his voice a smooth blend of warmth and seduction.

You felt a rush of emotions—joy, love, and a touch of amazement at the effort he had put into this surprise. Astarion extended his hand to you, a charming smile playing on his lips.

"May I have this dance?" he asked, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made you feel as though you were the only two people in the world.

Without hesitation, you placed your hand in his, feeling the cool, firm grip of his fingers. He led you to the center of the room, the quartet's music swelling as you began to move in perfect harmony. Astarion's movements were fluid and graceful, guiding you effortlessly across the floor.

The two of you danced, lost in each other's eyes, the world around you fading into a blur of colors and music. As you swayed together, Astarion's gaze softened, and he leaned in close, his lips brushing against your ear.

"Do you remember our first dance?" he whispered, his breath sending shivers down your spine.

You nodded, your thoughts drifting back to that magical night when you had first fallen for his charm.

"How could I forget?" you replied softly. "It was the night I knew I would be yours forever."

Astarion's smile widened, his eyes glinting with a mix of pride and affection. "And I knew that I would do anything to make you happy," he murmured. "Even if it means filling a throne room with flowers and enchanting candles."

You laughed, the sound light and carefree, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "You've outdone yourself," you said, gazing around the room. "It's perfect."

He pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you as the music slowed. "Only the best for you, my love," he said, his voice a tender caress. "You deserve nothing less."

As the final notes of the music faded away, you found yourself clinging to Astarion, not wanting the moment to end. You rested your head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. For the first time in a long while, you felt a deep sense of contentment and happiness.

Astarion tilted your chin up, his eyes searching yours. "What's on your mind?" he asked, his voice gentle.

"Nothing," you replied, smiling softly, and it was true you were in that moment completelyy thoughtless, and you relished in it.

Astarion chuckled and leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, the touch sending a thrill through you. You closed your eyes, savoring the kiss, the feel of his arms around you, and the love that surrounded you.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Naturist Halsin:

The foal had been a source of constant worry for you. Rejected by its mother and frail from the start, you had spent countless nights by its side in the stables, nursing it with every ounce of your care and knowledge. The little creature's wide eyes and weak whinnies tugged at your heartstrings, making you more determined to save it.

Despite your best efforts, the foal's condition didn't improve. Its labored breathing and listlessness were heart-wrenching to witness. You fed it warm milk from a bottle, kept it warm with blankets, and whispered soothing words, but nothing seemed to help. Exhaustion weighed heavily on you, and desperation began to creep in.

Finally, with a heavy heart and reluctance, you decided to seek help from Halsin. You knew he had a deep connection with nature and animals, but the thought of turning to him—your captor, the one you were supposed to hate—filled you with conflicting emotions. Yet, the foal's life was more important than your pride.

Finding Halsin in his quarters, you hesitated at the door before knocking softly. He opened it, surprise flickering in his eyes as he saw you standing there, tired and disheveled.

"I need your help," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "The foal… it's not getting better."

Halsin's expression softened, and without a word, he followed you to the stables. Together, you tended to the foal, his hands gentle and confident as he examined the tiny creature. He murmured incantations and applied poultices made from herbs you couldn't identify, his connection to the natural world evident in every movement.

Hours turned into days, and you and Halsin worked side by side, taking turns to watch over the foal, feeding it, and keeping it warm. The nights were long and filled with anxious moments, but slowly, the foal began to show signs of improvement. Its breathing became steadier, and it started to gain strength.

One evening, as the foal nuzzled against your hand with newfound vigor, you felt a wave of relief wash over you. Exhausted and sleep-deprived, you turned to Halsin, a genuine smile spreading across your face.

"Thank you, Halsin," you said, your voice filled with gratitude. Without thinking, you leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, the gesture spontaneous and sincere.

Halsin's eyes widened in surprise, and a faint blush colored his cheeks. You quickly pulled back, realizing what you had done. The weight of your situation came crashing down, reminding you that you were still technically a prisoner.

"I'm sorry," you stammered, feeling embarrassed. "I didn't mean to…"

But Halsin shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "It's alright," he said softly. "You've been through a lot. We both have."

The exhaustion was finally catching up with you, and you swayed on your feet. Halsin reached out to steady you, his touch firm and reassuring. "You need to rest," he said gently.

You pouted, a playful glint in your eyes. "Carry me to bed?" you asked, half-jokingly.

Halsin chuckled, shaking his head. "You're perfectly capable of walking," he teased, but there was warmth in his eyes.

You let out an exaggerated sigh and pouted even more. "Please? I'm too tired to walk."

With a fond smile, Halsin finally relented. He scooped you up in his strong arms, carrying you with ease. You nestled against his chest, feeling safe and cared for in a way you hadn't expected. As he carried you to your quarters, you couldn't help but feel a strange sense of contentment, despite the complexities of your relationship.

He laid you gently on the bed, tucking the blankets around you. "Rest now," he said softly.

You smiled up at him, your eyes heavy with sleep. "Thank you, Halsin," you whispered, before drifting off into a peaceful slumber, knowing that for now, everything was alright.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Okay okay so here is my viewpoint for each reader opinion of course please project your own on why they had this moment and I would love to hear your thoughts as well down below !

Minthara - I imagine reader fell for Minthara because of her determination her drive, and Minthara training her nieces shows that but also the softer side that only reader would have seen. So everyone would be seeing Minthara as just being cutthroat and ruthless with her nieces but reader sees it as Minthara training them so that they survive because she cares for them, dearly. That's what causes reader's heart to open and get that impulse to kiss her.

Shadowheart - So I imagined reader having these frantic episodes, lashing out at shadowheart having a meltdown till shadowheart removes her memories again and you calm down and the cycle continues. So eventually, you get a lucid moment and instead of being panicked, you are just exhausted and tired and as you watch her you are just seeking comfort, need comfort. Hence her asking shadowheart to stay.

Gale - Gale's reasoning is pretty short, because reader is immortal and just needs a win at that point and gets caught up in it when she finally gets that W.

Astarion - I see reader as being so bored snd helpless and when Astarion woos her in this way that seems so genuine, has so much emotion attached to it, you have to let your heart fall for it. You just have to.

Halsin - So with this reader I see them throwing themselves into caring for animals to distract themselves from their situation and they pour so much love and attachment into this foal because really they see themselves in it. The foal has been rejected from it's family, reader has been ejected from theirs. The foal is ill and struggling, confined to the stables, reader is mentally unwell and confined to Halsin's grove. When reader sees the foal has no way out apart from death they cannot handle that so they turn to Halsin who they know will be able to help the foal. Much like how reader cannot handle that their only way out is death, so subconciousluy they lean on Halsin. Survival instincts babyyyyyyyy

Anyway hope you guys enjoyed it and the little breakdown of it, and I would love to hear your thoughts below - Seluney xox

[eihoons]

enhypen as your ex but they want you back ✮

ex-bf!enhypen x reader , them wanting you back , fluff , angst (?) (note: not really sure abt this one but i just really love angst)

❝ heeseung ❞

Misses you day and night

Could NOT sleep without you beside him (as if you were his source of warmth and love especially him being in your arms or vice versa)

Really did try his best to forget you

Would always try and stop himself from viewing your social media accounts, your old conversations, and your old pictures together.

But, unfortunately (or the other way around), he failed.

He couldn't take it anymore, he wanted to talk with you for the last time and so, he did.

Went to your house, and tried to talk it out as if it were a misunderstanding.

Would hold your hand and take a deep breath before talking about it.

"y/n, I know we already talked about it, but.. I'm sure this was just a misunderstanding. I have to admit, my life isn't it without you."

❝ jay ❞

Suddenly had a feeling he had to see you because he dreamt about you one night.

The dream about you was something he wouldn't dare forget because it somehow felt real to him.

Obviously knows where your daily activities are, so he attempted in meeting you one day at your nearby favorite cafe.

Would look all around the place for you.

As he spotted you, he did his best to calm down, waiting for you to approach him first.

Of course you saw him, but you, on the other hand, also waited for him to approach you first.

It definetly took quite a long time for Jay to wait, so he got up and walked towards you.

"Hi, y/n. Uh, I know we haven't really been talking to each other these days but I want to keep in touch. I do know you're trying to move on, but, as much as possible I still want to stay as your friend."

Would say he still wants to be your friend, but deep inside his heart he wanted to go and ask you out once again.

❝ jake ❞

You, Jake, and Layla have been under the same roof ever since you and Jake had been together.

But, of course, due to you and Jake's parting, you had to move out.

Jake noticed Layla looking down ever since she had noticed you were gone and didn't have any signs of you coming back.

If Layla was miserable, then so was him.

He loved Layla most, aside from you. So, he decided to meet up with you, bringing up Layla as an excuse.

As you both finally met again, awkwardness filled the air. On the other hand, Layla ran up to you, making you stumble a bit.

"I guess she misses you more than I do.. or maybe I do miss you more, y/n."

Would finally look into your eyes, although he is trying his best to prevent his tears from falling.

Would hold your hand and say,

"Please come back to us, y/n. You have no idea how much I miss your presence in our house. It feels so.. empty without you."

After thinking about it, he gave you such a tight yet comforting hug. This was something you surely missed.

❝ sunghoon ❞

Man cried the first whole week after you guys broke up

He knew he made a huge mistake thinking that he'd be better off without you.

Would be in his room for days, planning out how he would apologize or rather how he'd get you back in his arms.

An unexpected coincidence happened in your nearby convenience store. Your hands accidentally touching on the last stock of your favorite food.

He didn't really enjoy this type of food, but for you, he will. He would buy this often because some part of you still lives within him.

After meeting your eyes, he was lost in words. So, you started the conversation instead.

"Oh, Sunghoon, uhm.. hi?"

"H- Hey.. y/n."

"What brings you here buying.. this? I thought you didn't really like it."

"Ah, uhm, ah.. it reminded me of you. Your favorite food, right?"

Mentally slaps himself because this wasn't how things were supposed to go in his head.

After paying for the food at the counter, he finally composed himself and held your shoulder, making you face him, and said, "I miss you so much, y/n. I was such an idiot thinking I could live without you. It came up to the point where I couldn't even call my home my 'home' without you. I'm really sorry, y/n. Please come back."

❝ sunoo ❞

You and Sunoo had each other's back ever since. You were his best friend, his comfort person, and his human diary. He couldn't rant to anyone else but you.

Has always been reading your text conversations, but knew it wouldn't be the same since you have separated.

Was always so close to messaging you about his days, not until he accidentally sent you one.

"y/n i miss you so much that you dont have the slightest idea how i cry every night knowing you wouldnt be there to comfort me.. i just wish you were here wiping my tears and hugging me"

Knew he'd be doomed but didn't expect you to reply that fast.

You replied with, "sunoo, it's always been the same for me, if you're free lets meet up at the park tomorrow okay? i miss you too, see you"

Was in so much joy, jumping in his room and eventually thanked himself for sending that message.

As you two had met, he thought to himself that you were still as beautiful as ever.

"y/nnie—"

Got cut off once you ran to him, hugging his torso.

Would caress your head slowly, combing your hair with his fingers.

"I love you, y/n. I always will."

❝ jungwon ❞

Thought he wasn't a good boyfriend for you since he knew he didn't give you much time and love. But it wasn't like that for you, you completely understood him.

Realized that it was somehow a mistake of his to break up with you since he wasn't feeling himself ever since you were gone.

Tears up every time he thinks about you because he misses you so much :(

Eventually promised himself he'd be better to you, so he wanted to meet you once again.

Prepared a whole speech just to prove you that he would treat you better this time.

Brought you your favorite food along with a bouquet of your favorite flowers.

"y/n, I know you won't probably accept this but.. I really need you in my life. You've been my motivation and my reason to keep going on everyday. Without you i- it's just.. plain and empty. y/n, please forgive me and I'll treat you a hundred times better, I'm really sorry, y/n."

You saying yes meant the world to him, he was way more than happy.

And when he said he'd treat you a hundred times better, he really meant it.

❝ ni-ki ❞

Was a childhood friend of yours, so, your parents basically knew each other.

Then, you guys somehow started dating but ended up parting because of frequent arguments.

He had so much regrets with not treating you right because he thought it'd be easy finding someone else for him. But it wasn't, you were THE only one for him :)

A family dinner was held at their place after a long time of not seeing each other. (Their family inviting yours)

A perfect opportunity it was for Ni-ki since he missed playing his favorite games with you.

His heart flipped seeing you in such a beautiful dress— No, he thought, you always looked good in anything.

Ni-ki then invited you to his room after eating, but an awkward silence had only been formed.

You were caught off-guard when he suddenly pulled you into a hug, a very familiar one. This was your Ni-ki

So, you didn't have any choice but to hug back.

You then heard him sniffing, assuming he had been crying.

"You have no idea how much I've been longing for this, y/n. Can you please just come home to me? What else is the point of playing all these games without you?"

© eihoons

m.list

[honey-on-your-tongue]

Can I have some dilf Jake & younger reader (ofc over 18 tho!!!! , maybe like 10 years difference idk )

maybe reader being jakes best friends daughter and them hooking up 😩🔫

also Jake being lowkey mean abt it 😏…

like yk “my slut” or “what would your dad say if he saw you like that - mouth stuffed with my cock” 🕴🏻

NO BECAUSE THE WAY I LOVE THIS IDEA OMGGGG

my vibrator's gonna run outta battery from all these spicy ass asks 🤭🤭😩😩😩😩

You had always had a crush on Jake Sully. He was old enough to be your dad—seeing how he was almost your dad's age and your dad's best friend. You just never thought it would turn into what it did.

You found yourself more often than not envisioning him fucking you. His naked body, all on display, his thick hands caressing your thighs, his being controlling yours.

Every day, every night—always, you were daydreaming of him. Daydreaming of what he would say, how he would feel inside you, how we would touch you...

You imagined being used by him, and the feeling was too much.

You couldn't even look at him without getting all flustered, your ears folding against your head, tail swishing anxiously, cunt growing moist.

And it was almost like he knew. He'd smirk at you, wink at you, give you little pats on the thigh, caress your lower back, smile at you. He'd call you girl, and sweet, and once or twice, baby. But, you assumed those were all signs of endearment. What else could they be?

You were torn between hell and heaven when your parents announced having to take a trip to one of the neighboring clans, something or another about old friends, acquaintances—whatever. You didn't care about that. You only cared about who they were leaving you with.

Jake.

“But, Father,” you'd complained, “I'm twenty! I can stay on my own.” It was a futile attempt at a) trying to hide the excitement coursing through your veins; and b) at hoping you wouldn't have to remain under Jake's care, in his home, for an entire week.

A whole week, just the two of you.

“It's not about whether or not you're old enough,” your father replied. “You're responsible enough, you know your mother and I trust you, but in case anything happens, it would be good to know Jake can be there to help.”

No matter what arguments you presented, your parents brushed them away. And that's how you found yourself, days later, living under Jake's roof.

It was awkward the first two days. You'd sort of try to avoid him, you would refuse to look into his eyes, and you'd be terrified of daydreaming. Every time you thought of sex with Jake, he would ask, “What's on your mind, sweet?” and he'd have this look in his eyes...this thick, heavy look that made you shudder.

Eventually, you settled down a little, growing more comfortable around him.

Really comfortable, actually.

On a particular morning, just as dawn washes over the land, you wake up, sweating and panting, from a dream—no, another dream where Jake fucked you, his mouth on yours, his hands all over your body, his cock buried deep, deep in your body.

Judging by the time, you assume Jake's already out hunting. Still dazed with sleep and lust filling your veins, you sneak a hand between your thighs, softly caressing your already-wet pussy.

You sigh softly as relief fills you.

Jake's gotta be gone already, you think to yourself, fingers circling your pulsing clit. There's no way he's still here. He always leads the morning hunts.

You remove your loincloth, bending your legs and spreading them, one hand focused on your clit as the other one pushes a finger into your aching entrance.

You mewl softly, hips rolling against your hands, and you close your eyes.

The dream had been so vivid, so fucking real...You can still feel Jake, as if everything had truly happened. You can feel his cock inside you, his mouth on yours, that stupid smirk plastered across his lips.

“Fuck,” you hiss out quietly, curling the finger inside you upwards, touching your g-spot while your other hand pinches your clit. “Oh, fuck.”

As your body starts bucking with the pleasure, you imagine it's Jake's hand, his fingers on your pussy, his voice calling you baby and girl and sweet.

You're flustered, cheeks bright with your blush, body quaking. Fuck, what you'd give for Jake to touch you, kiss you, fuck you. Fuck.

The vivid image of Jake's eyes, amber and predatory, always sharp and cunning, sends a sudden jolt of pleasure through you.

“Ah!” you cry, a little louder than you would've liked to, but the sound is already out, and followed by a whimper of, “Jake.”

Unbeknownst to you, Jake sleeps not far from you, only a bedroom away, and when he hears you gasp, he sits up, alarmed.

He'd asked Tsu'tey to take over his shift for him, deciding he'd stay here in case you needed anything. The sound of your voice sends fear through him at first.

Something's wrong, he thinks, rising off his bed, quickly walking towards your bedroom.

But as he approaches, hand out, ready to push the flap of your tent open, he hears you again.

“Fuck.”

And Jake knows that sound. He knows it's not terror, it's not pain, it's not a call for aid. It's pleasure.

As he quietly steps closer to your bedroom, a whiff of your scent reaches his nose, intoxicating and thick. Your arousal is strong, it makes his cock twitch, his pupils dilate.

Jake shakes his head, pushing his cock down in an attempt to brush off the arousal.

What's wrong with me? Listening to the poor thing touch herself in there...as if I had any right.

Still, he doesn't walk away. He's about to, though, when another of your gasps reaches his ears.

“Fuck! Jake.”

At this, he freezes, ears perking, entire body going rigid. His cock springs to attention, lust beginning to sear through his veins.

Last he'd checked, you didn't know any other Jake but him...could it be that you were touching yourself to him?

“Yes, fuck,” you whine lowly, the sound of your soaked pussy growing louder, squelching as you fuck yourself.

And goddamn, Jake can't help himself.

He carefully pushes the flap of your tent open, peeking in, only to find you, legs spread wide, pussy on display, your hands touching yourself. He licks over his lips, his cock aching, as your scent grows stronger. He rubs his hand over the erection poking through his loincloth, yearning to fuck you.

He watches you for a moment, studies the way you touch yourself, the way your back arches, the way you throw your head back. Your pretty eyes are shut tight, your limbs quivering, and you poor fucking thing, he can't not help you when you're clearly in so much distress.

“You know, sweet, if you woulda told me you wanted me, I would've just helped you already,” he says, stepping into your bedroom, allowing the flap of the tent to close behind him.

You jerk, opening your eyes, quickly seeing him standing before you and removing your hands from your cunt, sitting up.

“Jake,” you stutter, voice breathless, cheeks growing darker with your blush. “I-I thought you'd—”

“Left for morning hunt?” he finishes for you, smirking. “Tsu'tey's leading today, baby.” His eyes scan over your pussy, gaze turning dark. “And thank fuck he did, huh?”

Deeply embarrassed, you croak out, “'m sorry, I...I, uh...I was just...” You trail off, at a loss for words. What could you possibly say to mend this?

“Touching yourself to me?” he questions, approaching your cot, crawling onto it.

You divert your gaze from him and press your thighs together, hiding your pussy from him.

“Oh, don't try to be all innocent and sweet now, girl,” he says, scoffing. “Spread your legs. Let me see how bad you need it.”

You refuse to meet his eyes, just as you refuse to open your thighs. So, Jake uses his huge, rough hands to force your thighs apart. You close your eyes, ashamed, goosebumps prickling over your skin.

His eyes drink in the sight of your soaked pussy, puffy from your ministrations, your slick dripping onto the thin mattress below.

Jake clicks his tongue. “You poor thing,” he says. “You were close, huh? And I interrupted you?”

You don't reply, only offer a tiny nod before murmuring, “Yeah.”

“Yeah,” he echoes, as if confirming the notion, licking his lower lip. “Will you let me make up for that, sweet?”

At this, your eyes snap open, meeting his famished gaze. “How-how do you mean?”

Jake smirks. “I'd prefer to show you. Will you let me?”

You consider it for a second. The opportunity of a lifetime...you're not gonna just let it slip past you...right?

“But you—What about my father? My mother?” you ask, voice quivering, and Jake can hear you don't give a fuck about that. You're just trying to be the good girl you always are, always trying to follow the rules and meet the expectations.

“Forget about them,” he replies. “They're not here to stop us, hm?”

You stare into his eyes for one, two, three seconds before nodding. “Okay,” you say quietly. “Show me.”

Jake smirks, his cock fidgets under his loincloth, and he removes the item of clothing. Your eyes fall to his cock, pupils growing wide at the sight.

Overcome with lust, you rise to your knees, asking, “Can-can I touch it?”

Jake groans at the request, throwing his head back. “Fuck,” he gasps. “'f course you can, sweet. You see how hard it is? It's for you, baby.”

You shyly reach for him, hand a little unsure as it wraps around his cock. The moment you touch him, Jake grunts softly, and you jerk him slowly, gently, glancing up at his face as he stares down at you.

Your big doe eyes find his predatory gaze. His lips are parted, little breaths leaving his mouth as you inch yourself closer. You place a kiss on the tip and Jake hisses. He wants to push you on your back and just fuck you, but he doesn't want to scare you off.

You lick his underside experimentally, keeping your eyes on his cock, and he watches, enthralled, as you play with him. The look of curiosity and amazement across your face makes him harder, precum dripping from his thick head.

You glance back up at him and timidly question, “You'll put it inside?”

Jake smiles at you, a cocky, seductive smile. “Inside that pretty pussy, if you'll let me,” he replies.

You nod slowly, understanding, before lying yourself on your back and spreading your legs. “I want you to.”

And Jake swears he's dead, he swears he's done for, swears his entire being is about to go haywire.

He remains kneeling on the bed, grabbing your hips in his large hands and pulling them up so your ass rests on his thighs. Your eyes are wide, excited, heart beating out of your chest.

“Watch,” he orders as he positions his cock against your entrance and then pushes into you, slowly, carefully.

Your eyes flutter a little as he enters you, but you don't gaze away from where your bodies meet. When the thick head meets your cervix, you gasp softly, body jerking, and Jake groans.

This is so much better than dreaming, you decide, clenching around him, making him grunt.

“So fuckin' tight,” he gasps, starting out with slow thrusts to see how you'll take it, and then increasing his speed, his eyes locking onto your breasts as they bounce with his pounds.

“Fuck!” you gasp, hands digging into the mattress below, legs shaking. You can't believe how deep inside you he is, how he stretches you out. It's so much better than your hands. So, so much better.

“Look at you,” Jake says, moving his gaze to where your pussy swallows his cock whole. “Takin' me so well, sweet. Is it good?”

“'s so good!” you reply, moaning, eyes rolling into the back of your head. You didn't think it could be this fucking amazing. “So good.”

Jake chuckles softly, watching you, and he figures he might as well force a confession from your lips while he's at it.

“Was this the first time you touched yourself to me?” he questions, one of his hands moving to your clit and drawing circles on it.

“N-no,” you reply, gasping and shaking.

“No?” Jake repeats, amused. “How many times have you done it?”

“Every-every—” You gasp, back arching, as he pinches your clit. “Ev'ry night.”

“Every night, huh?” he says, smirking. “And why didn't you ever tell me?”

“'cause you-you're dad's best friend,” you reply, whining as he angles his hips upwards, allowing his cock to press against your g-spot with every thrust.

“Ah, I see,” he chuckles. “You were afraid of your dad finding out, hm? Afraid he'd see how much of a slut you are for me?”

That makes you clench around Jake, and he groans, biting his lower lip. “'m a slut,” you echo, nodding. “A slut.”

“No,” Jake says, thrusting into your harder, deeper. “You're my slut.”

At this, you cry out, pussy dripping. “Your slut,” you agree, nodding. “'m your slut, Jake.”

“Yeah, you fuckin' are, aren't ya?” He smirks, his eyes watching your stuffed cunt. “Jesus, kid, what would your dad say if he saw you like this, hm? With your cunt full of my cock?”

“Ah!” you moan, the mere reminder of how wrong, how off limits Jake's supposed to be making you more aroused. The idea of breaking the rules for Jake makes your pussy throb, your legs quake.

“I'm not gonna lie to you, darlin',” he says, groaning. “I've jacked off to you every now and then, too. You and those pretty eyes, and those perfect tits, and that sweet ass. Goddamn. It's fucking impossible for me not to be hard around you.”

You mewl, eyes rolling into the back of your head, as you try to meet Jake's thrusts with the desperate bucking of your hips.

“Fuck, this is fuckin' amazing,” he grunts. “You have any idea how much I've wanted for you to suck my cock? How many times I've wanted to eat your pussy? How many times I've wanted to fuck you for hours until you're crying and begging me to stop?”

You whimper, entire body clad in a thin layer of sweat, your cunt fluttering around Jake's cock.

“One of these days, girl, imma make you squirt, yeah? You want me t'teach you that neat trick?”

You nod. “Please! Teach me whatever you want! Yes!”

Jake can feel your body tensing, your pussy growing tighter around him. “You gonna come for me, baby? Gonna coat my cock with your cum?”

“Mhmm!” you reply, whining, mind too lost in pleasure to formulate words.

Jake increases his speed, his hips ramming into yours, fingers pinching your clit, making you jerk and squeal in delight.

“Come for me, girl,” he encourages, his voice thick and rough with his approaching orgasm. “Come all over my cock so I can fill your pussy with my load, yeah?”

“Mhmm!” you repeat, nodding desperately, body thrashing wildly as Jake pounds you.

The pleasure becomes a harsh wave that crashes against the walls of your womb, threatening to fill you to the brim and then some more. You mewl, back arching, your eyes shut tight and your mouth open. You're gasping, shaking, cunt clenching around Jake with so much force, he drags against your insides almost painfully.

And then your orgasm claws its way out of you, breaking free, making your body shudder as you cry, “Jake! Jake!”

“I know, girl,” Jake replies, his own orgasm so near. “I know.”

As you begin recovering from your high, your pussy softens around Jake and he pounds into you, making you squeal and gasp, before he finally comes, spilling into you. His cum is hot and thick, sticky as it fills your cunt, dribbling out from how full you are.

Jake hasn't pulled out of you yet when he says, “When your parents come back, don't get nervous 'bout anything, kid. If they ask what we did, you just say you had a little bonding session with your dad's best friend.”

-----

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Rigor Mortis (part 8)

College roommate!Miguel O'Hara x reader

(AO3 Mirror) (Wattpad) Series Masterlist, Main Masterlist,

Part 7, Part 9

summary: You visit your ex. Miguel tags along.

warnings: mentions and description of depression. heavy angst, depictions of a toxic relationship. some suggestive language.

a/n: me when idk shit abt the american school system:

Thank you to my beta readers, @tianyhi and @urgonnaneedabiggership (they also write Miguel fics, I highly recommend! my favourite is this series), I couldn't have done it without you guys <3

Join my taglists here

wc: 5.8k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

you had forgotten; they were good.

Blank walls. Quiet corridors. The buzz of monitors and dull chatter sandwiched between blue vinyl and exit signs. You're not usually one to wander during your breaks; but you're going crazy looking at the same four walls. 

That hair net itches and the strap of a blue mask digs into skin as you make your way to a little courtyard. You sit out on a paltry bench overlooking concrete. The spindly remnants of a tree provides little cover from harsh elements. Wind whips through its branches, whistling and cool, as you rip off the mask and crumple it up in your pocket. A heavy sigh, and you feel some semblance of peace. Some quiet, before the morning comes. Before a rush of orders and shunting plastic trays up and down the wards. 

You screw your eyes shut to still the pounding at your temples. God. You're grateful for the job, really. And all things considered, it's not particularly taxing: coffee orders until the little cafe closes, meal prep for the morning rush, and sometimes you'd volunteer to take orders to bed bound patients. A whole lot of reheating and chopping and pressing buttons on the little machines. You don't quite get it, of course, but your lone coworker picks up the slack well enough. 

The older woman doesn't do much for company, anyways. Riveting conversation comes in the form of grunts and sharp elbows when you get in the way or round the corner of the kitchen. It has you counting down the seconds until your shift ends. 

And so you are grateful, well and truly. Jamie's not so sappy, anymore; doesn't partake in 'I love you's or grand gestures; but he is dependable. Safe. Willing to stick his neck out for you, at least. He'd gotten you a job at the hospital he has his placement at; with decent pay, and it slots in well with your other ones. He's taking you seriously – taking the news better than your parents. After telling him you wanted to go back to school, you're not met with thinly veiled disbelief, or lips pressed together with pity. He'd nodded, rather simply. Didn't make a fuss. No deep sighs, or heavy frowns. Okay , he had said. How can I help? 

It was the simplicity of his reaction that had bowled you over, almost bringing you to tears. To have someone believe in you, for once – wholeheartedly and without an onslaught of questions – felt like a deep breath of air after almost drowning. It felt like love ; and after desperate breaths, gasping and gulping and clawing at something to hold on to, you think you've found dry land. Something solid, something stable; a rough palm to pull you out of swirling depths. Because, unlike your family, and unlike half-hearted friends: Jamie was there. 

After heading back in to catch the morning rush, you're wiping down surfaces and sorting plastic trays onto a cart. Rote, repetitive, boring; you've settled into a routine that feels familiar. A couple more months, you reckon, and you'll be able to cover the costs for a second go at undergrad. You can shed the skin that seems to follow you at every family gathering, and the job interviews in between. Dropout – and when your Mom says it, it feels like a vile curse. Jamie calls it spiteful, and you opt for the democratic alternative; she's being dramatic - rather than cruel, rather than hurtful, rather than crass. You've heard enough, from all sorts: ‘too much pressure’, and ‘didn't think she had it in her, anyways’, are common phrases whispered in the background of phone calls home. 

Your chest aches with the weight of it – the kind of ache that seeps into skin, and lines a casket. Grief; mourning a person you could've been, and a person you never would be. For a while, it left you paralysed by the what ifs and the maybes; rotting in a quiet corner. Sinking into sofa cushions or caked onto the bed sheets like the mystery mould bloomed onto the plates in your room. But Jamie was there, more than anyone else. 

You'll wait for him in the corridor near the back of the service elevator, like you always do after a shift. You finish when he starts, early in the morning and rubbing away sleep from his eyes for ward rounds. You'll give him a kiss, and he'll give you a soft little smile to send you on your way. It almost makes the whole thing worth it. Almost. 

You give and you give and you give. Your boyfriend isn't quite the same; doesn't pour into you the way you'd like him to. But it works. It works because it has to; a thousand miles away from anything resembling home. You can't ask for more – the right words die in your throat. 

~~~

You've spent the past couple of hours in the library. Procrastinating for at least half of it, but you've managed to draft out a couple of essays and more or less reorganise your life. It's something you've been dreading for the past week or so; letting yourself get swept up in the monsoon that is your roommate. Miguel – sarcastic, saccharine-sweet Miguel – and his stupidly pretty lips, his pretty hands, and the pretty way he scrunches up his face like he's smelt something rotten. 

You're staring at a computer with a slew of books spread out on the adjacent desk. Your half-finished report seems to jumble together on the screen; a tangle of citations and filler words and shitty diagrams. It's not quite clicking , and it's making you want to tear out chunks of your hair in search of relief. A tale as old as time, one you can merely wallow in and fold yourself between its pages. Struggling at school; and this time it's a stats module you thought would be an easy couple of credits, that you definitely can’t afford to fail if you want to graduate early. 

You’ve picked a quiet spot on the third floor; a computer bay tucked into the corner. It overlooks a little window, cramped and claustrophobic and mystery mould in the corners of its grout. You've resorted to scanning the cracks with sharp eyes, light fingers on your neck to trace the leftovers of the morning. You can see it in the slightly mirrored surface of cloudy glass; you look like shit, you feel like shit, but you can still feel him. Lips on your neck, sucking soft hickies into the skin; and you can't help but like the way it looks on you. It's the same under your jeans, blooming like mauve and purple heather on a sprawling field.

You cross your legs, wincing at the dull ache that spreads. Sore, in that way that feels good; sending flashes of a morning with Miguel. Fingers knuckle deep in your cunt and the heat of him – cut and lean-lined – on top of you; it's impossible to ignore. Condensation drips from the panes, pooling in its corner and you swipe a finger in it, lazily. Again, you're reminded of him, for the thousandth time in the past hour: shaking legs, fisting his cock, spraying fat globs of his cum onto your face and chest. 

With another glimpse of your reflection, you sigh. Deep and heavy, with the weight of half a decade of frustration, sexual or otherwise. You've never felt this good or had your needs satiated so wholly, so exorbitantly. It feels odd. You don't know where to put your hands, how to place your feet on the floor. Do you shout, do you scream? How do you tell all the poor bystanders that scatter the third floor: I'm sleeping with Miguel O'Hara! A walking red flag with cheekbones that could cut glass! He wants me, and I want–

Your phone rings. The noise catches you off guard, and has you stumbling to press accept. 

"Hey," Miguel's voice sounds tinny in the speakers, and so you press it to your ears. 

"Y-Yeah?" You steel yourself, batting away daydreams of your legs wrapped around his middle – too horny for your own good, clearly. 

"I'm outside, chula. " He stops talking. The quiet ticking of an indicator becomes the only sign of life, before he says, "In that parking bay by the–" 

"I know, I know. Give me 5 minutes." You rush to pack up, clicking off the monitor and haphazardly shoving your notes into your bag. Not everything fits, and you give up trying to cram that textbook in. 

A beat passes before you realise he's still on the phone. Quiet, but still there. 

"…I brought food, by the way." 

You only just manage to catch it, slotting the phone between your ear and shoulder. That makes you perk up. 

" Seriously? " You give him a small laugh. You think you can hear him smile through the phone. "Thank fucking God, I'm starving. But you weren't rushing, or anything, right? I mean, it's so soon after your session with… Sally, or–" 

You're bounding down two steps at a time, so eager to see him – to get food , actually – that you're careless going down the stairs.

"Sarah . " He breathes, and you make your way downstairs. 

It stops you in your tracks, for some reason. 

"Okay. Sarah ." You say it with finality, voice tight. "What did you end up doing anyways? At her place, you said?" 

"Pressure differentials. Modelling viscosity. It's not very interesting." He hums, shifting in his seat. "What about you? Did you get something done?" 

You take a beat too long to respond, and it comes out half-baked. 

"Loads, Mig."

He snorts. " Sure. "

" Fuck you. " You say it under your breath, ducking past the entrance, and into a side road.

And there Miguel is, car heaped onto part of the sidewalk. He's leaning back, lazy arm sticking out the car window, showing off muscle and pretty tan skin. It's getting cold, but he's cracked the car door ajar; donned in a well-fitting t-shirt and slack trousers. 

You're trying not to drool; and he makes it a little easier by flashing a shit-eating grin. 

Childishly, you stick your tongue out; wrenching the door open and slumping into the passenger side. You tuck your things by your feet, and it lands on the floor with a thump. 

"You can put your stuff in the back.. . " Miguel frowns.

" Can't. We need the space, remember?" 

To pick up the rest of your things left in your ex's apartment. You hope he can parse out the rest of that from a raised eyebrow. 

He sighs, tossing a brown bag of takeout onto your lap. He starts the car. "...I didn't think we were still doing that, to be honest."

He seems disappointed, eyes flitting this way and that as he reverses and pulls out. You must've hit your head at some point, because you're in heat – pressing sore legs together at the way he does it. One arm on the back of your headrest, sharp jaw jutting out as he looks back, and bottom lip hooked under his teeth; he's just concentrating, trying not to hit one of the cat-sized rodents that roam the streets this late at night, and he's still hot . 

"You promised ."

"I had my face between your thighs. Would've said anything if it meant I could have more."

You draw your lips in faux disgust – your heart's not in it, but it's enough to make him chuckle. 

"Fuck you."

He doesn't miss a beat, deadpanning, "...you'd like that."

Lips pursed, you ignore the way it twists your stomach into knots. Steadfast, you stare out at the window, watching the yellow lights of a bustling city pass you by. 

Miguel takes a different turning, one that'll take you across the city and away from your place. To Jamie's, most likely. You soften, taking a moment to look across at him. 

His eyes flit over, intense and almost a deep red in the neon and lights. It's barely a couple of seconds, but he knows, just like that. 

"Are you nervous?" He tests the waters, voice steady and non-committal. It's not an accusation; even though everything feels like one, lately. Not from him, though. Never from him. 

" No ." Your tone is betraying, and you both know it. He seems to pretend not to hear that tremor in your voice. 

"You'll be okay, sweetheart." He says it soft and low, not quite looking at you. 

"It's just… it's the first time I'm going to see him after–" Your voice crackles. "After everything."

"You'll be okay," He starts. It doesn't feel like an empty platitude when he says it: it feels genuine and full-bodied and sonorous, clanging around your head like the chime of church bells. "Probably not right away – it's going to hit you like a semi, first. And you'll feel like shit afterwards. But it won't last. You'll move on, and you'll be okay; because you have to be."

He drifts off somewhere far away when he says that last bit; and you're not too sure what he's talking about anymore. Regardless, you wrap his words around you, holding it to your chest like a little songbird in the cradle of a tree. 

You'll be okay. You have to be. 

It feels less solid when it's not Miguel saying it, you think. You don't tell him that, though, sinking into the seat instead. 

He doesn't let that silence sit for too long. Traffic creates a natural lull, and he reaches over to tap at the book in your lap – one of many different textbooks, the rest of which is lodged in your bag.

"You're taking a stats module, I assume."

You nod. 

"With Dr. Karev?" 

You sit up slightly. "...yeah, actually."

He hums. "You thought it would be an easy A, then." 

He's right, but it doesn't make it sting any less. You were hoping for simple math and data processing, and here you were: drowning in matrices and linear algorithms.

 "I thought it would be."

"Let me help you, then. I took one of his classes and he barely changes the syllabus. I could dig up my old notes, and–" 

"You want to tutor me ?" You splutter – but you don't mean to sound as shocked as you do. " Why? " 

"Why not?" He shrugs. 

"I… I don't have any money, or anything."

"M'not offering because I want money." He's nonchalant, inching towards the car up front. 

You squint. It's not adding up. "What's the catch?" 

"No catch, I swear. Is it so hard to believe I'm being nice?" 

Now, you feel guilty. "Sorry, Mig. I appreciate it, I really do–" 

"Sit on my face and we'll call it even."

He turns to you now, face flat but with a twinkle in his eye. The corners of his mouth are slightly upturned - amused. He thinks this is funny? 

You give him a light shove as the traffic starts to break up. He's riled you up, now, and you're much too annoyed to be nervous. 

"Eyes on the road, asshole." 

It's more bark than bite, and you settle into the seat, finally cracking open the paper bag. You munch on fries and it makes him laugh. Miguel swears he can see it: the hint of a gentle smile on your face. 

~~~

He pulls up to the apartment complex. Modest, close to the hospital; and you probably couldn't have afforded to live there without your ex. Jamie was lucky; his parents could foot the bill of moving out, and he had family that lived in the city. 

It feels odd to be on the outside looking in. The building's windows become snapshots into other people's lives. For some, it meant an early night, blinds drawn and lights off. From the parking lot, you can see the dim yellow of lights streaming through other apartments. Silhouettes flit past every now and then; the only sign of life. 

Jamie's apartment is on the top floor, the two windows on the far right. You crane your head out of the car window, to get a better look. The lights are on, with one window left slightly ajar. 

Miguel moves to get out, with shuffling that breaks the silence. You stop him with a hand on his arm. 

"No, no. I'm going up by myself."

He cocks his head to the side, ever so slightly. 

"...you sure? If you need help shifting boxes, I can–" 

"I'm good, Mig. I just needed the car."

It comes out snappier than you meant it to, already irritable. With that, you pop the door open with a thunk . You can't see it, but he frowns, watching you swish and sway towards the entrance. 

You trace familiar steps to Jamie's apartment. The door code hasn't changed, and so you buzz yourself in. This is something you can do quickly and efficiently, you've decided. In and out, and you don't have the energy for much else. Bracing at the door, you get ready to knock, hand curled into a fist. 

The door swings open before you get the chance. He's there; still in light blue scrubs and a name badge pinned to his chest. It's the first thing you see, trying not to look at his face. But it's like pulling teeth, you decide: less painful when it's quick and sharp. 

" Where's my –" 

" Your stuff's in the –" 

In a great clash of words, you finally look up at him. Where you're expecting some form of emotion – a flash of something, even for just a moment – Jamie is steadfast. Blank; blinking back sleep, if anything. You clamp down what feels like bile rising in your throat and push past him into the front room. 

"Is this how it's going to be?"

Head down, you grit a quiet, "Don't . "

It's just as you left it, to the point it's almost comical. The same pillows you'd bury yourself in after work, the patterned tea towel you'd bought on a whim. The bar stools in lieu of a proper dining table, and that great big desk he had insisted on carting to the living room for years . Bits and pieces of you, of your relationship, and he barely bats an eye. He'll use your mugs and sleep on your patterned sheets. 

It makes you sick .

You head to the second room. There's a stack of boxes, hastily stashed in the corner. There's still permanent marker on them from when you first moved in. Now, it houses the things you couldn't take with you the first time – everything you left behind. 

Sick, sick, sick . 

You take a moment to dig through the top box, that's clearly been moved. Knick-knacks, books, clothes and all the clutter you've acquired; and it reminds you of family, it reminds you of friends. 

Jamie leans by the doorway, looking on in silence. 

When you pick up a box, straining to lift it, he doesn't offer to help. He watches as you flounder, dragging it towards the door. 

You're huffing when he finally says something; something that's clearly been on his mind for a while, with the way he says it. 

"Are you seeing someone?" He's looking out of the window, gaze fixed on the car parked outside. Miguel's car. 

Your eyes widen. You don't quite trust yourself to speak.

You leave the box by the door. "Are you?“

He shrugs. "Don't have the time."

It's noncommittal and frustratingly blasé. He's not giving you much, and it's fucking with your head. This whole thing feels like a big joke – he wants to talk, and all he's doing is asking bullshit questions. Once upon a time, you would've stewed in it; sat with that question on your tongue and let it rot. 

"I don't understand." You croak. It hurts to say out loud, but you say it. That's the important part. "I don't know why you're doing this… why are you still doing this?"

"I don't like how we left things." He says it slow, like he's choosing his words carefully. 

You want to scream.

" So? " 

" So , I need some kind of closure. We've got unfinished business."

" Unfinished business? " You roll it around on your tongue, reeling at its bitter taste. It feels clinical and lifeless, yet again. 

And then… oh. It clicks. Looking at him, arms folded and leaning on a wall, he looks antsy and uncomfortable. Now, when forced to face you. 

" Closure. " Another word that tastes like shit. You give a watery laugh. "You feel guilty."

He doesn't say anything but his body language says enough. He shifts his weight side to side, unable to make eye contact. 

You don't bother to stick around for an answer, snatching up the box as best you can. Through the doors, and down the corridor. You stagger down the flight of stairs, gritting your teeth. It's heavy – you've packed as much as you can inside, trying to get this over quickly – and you make it to the first floor before it clatters onto the steps. 

You fold ; knees drawn to your chest and hands tight in your hair. Heart racing, chest pumping: you're trying not to get swept away by heavy emotions. The tide rises. You pump your legs around the swirling mass - barely staying afloat in deep, deep water. 

You'll be okay. 

You remember Miguel's words, gentle and sweet and kind. You remember the way he said it; firmly, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. The kind of grace that you don't have to work for and doesn't need a performance. He believes in you, at least; thinks you're stronger than you have any right to be. And you think of him in the car: eager to help and reassure. You brushed him off. You were mean. 

Deep breath. 

Miguel's waiting for you, just outside those doors. Diligent and patient, saccharine-sweet Miguel. Getting up, you make your way down the stairs with that box. 

When he spots you, a pretty little thing in a hoodie and jeans, he leaps out of the car. 

"Hey, hey, easy… " 

"I'm good, Mig – " 

You're struggling with the box, and he eases it out of your hands without breaking a sweat. One hand on the boot of the car, the other holding up the heavy box effortlessly, and he gives you a quick once over. 

"...he didn't offer to help?" His face is scrunched up - disgusted by the looks of it - and all you can manage is a limp shrug. 

It doesn't take him long to figure it out. You're dejected; nervous, down-trodden, blue in every meaning of the word; losing a little bit of that shine you had started the day with. If he had to guess, and he knows you well enough he'd bet money on it, it was that ex of yours – stealing away that light in a burlap sack, a thief in the brilliance of bright sun. 

It makes him grind his teeth, eyes flicking up at the fourth floor window. 

"I could help." He offers, a hand on your shoulder. It's your favourite hoodie, he thinks, as he circles the soft fabric with his thumb. 

You purse your lips, thinking it over. 

"It'll be quicker, chula. "

That pushes you over the edge, and you finally nod. 

It must be a sight, knocking at the door with Miguel hot on your heels. After living with him for so long, you've forgotten how intimidating he can be when you first meet him; taller than Jamie, and mean-mugging the blonde with a deadly look. If you weren't so on edge it would make you laugh: you know your roommate is mostly harmless. 

Jamie doesn't, of course. He visibly bristles, looking you both up and down. 

"I just need some help with the boxes. This is my roommate, Miguel."

You turn to the man beside you.

" Miguel ," You say it softer. "This is Jamie."

Wordlessly, he stretches out a palm,

rough and broad and tan. Hesitant, the man in front of you takes it. 

"Hey, man." Jamie flashes you a strange look when he says it. 

Miguel doesn't answer. 

You lead him to the second room, divvying up the boxes as Jamie hovers at the doorway. It's surprisingly efficient: Miguel insists on taking the heaviest boxes, hauling them up onto his shoulders, before stacking them up at the door. You'll take the smaller stuff, and it seems everything will be done in far fewer trips than before. It's hard to say out loud, but you're grateful for his help – Miguel was right , for once. 

After the first trip, he's bounding back up the stairs for more. You've both made it into a game, with neither one of you having to explain the rules. He pinches your arm whilst you sift through boxes, and you stick your tongue out in response. Elbow deep in crap, and he manages to make it feel a little better. 

Jamie stews. Jamie festers. In a corner of what used to be your shared apartment, he pretends to tap at his phone, uninterested. You know him too well for that facade to stick. 

Miguel takes the last of the boxes down, and you're straggling behind, picking up the last few bits and pieces. You're left alone with your ex, for a brief moment. 

"You're fucking him." He says it quiet, in a whisper that sounds oh-so loud in that little room. Fucking. He spits it out, and makes the word feel cheap and dirty. 

You look up from across the room. Slowly, he traverses its width, gaze pinning you down like a bug under a microscope. 

He brings a hand to your chin, cupping the flesh tenderly. It's intimate and familiar, reminding you of better days. Something bubbles up in your stomach, sweet and innocent. That feeling doesn't last long. 

"You're fucking him." 

It's accusatory, spat out with a rueful smile pulling at his lips. His fingers brush over your throat and you squirm, pulling up the mouth of your hoodie. 

Those hickies, blossoming like flowers in the spring. They crackle across your skin like fallen leaves in autumn. 

"It's none of your fucking business."

"Of course you are. I can't believe you." He rolls his eyes, half-laughing. "I was going to apologise! I was planning to say sorry for the way I handled things and you had to rub it in my face."

" What ?" You croak. 

"You brought the guy you're fucking to our apartment!" He explodes. 

His lips flatten into a tight line.

" ...now it's our apartment? You kicked me out. You dumped me ." 

"Don't…. fuck , don't do that. Don't make me the bad guy, here. I gave you plenty of time to find a new place."

"Two. Weeks." You grit. "You gave me two weeks, asshole. You left me alone, and told me to fend for myself whilst you fucked off to your sister's." 

That fire dies down as he hesitates. "I… I would've let you stay longer. You know that, baby."

" No. No I don't know, 'cuz you don't tell me shit , anymore." You blink back hot tears. "I don't make as much money as you do, and my family can't support me like yours can."

"I would've–" 

"You didn't. " You swallow roughly. "You didn't. I don't even know what I did wrong ."

"No, no." He cradles your face with his hands, swiping at stray tears. "You didn't do anything wrong."

Now, you look up at him. With glistening eyes, and a heavily furrowed brown, it barely comes out as a whisper; red-raw and strained. 

"Then why don't you love me?"

He doesn't deny it. There isn't a scramble to reassure you; to pat your head and kiss away tears to show you how much he cares. Instead, he steps away guiltily. 

"I care about you, of course I do. Remember when you changed your major?" 

You nod. 

"I was there, wasn't I? I stayed up for hours talking you through it. And when you dropped out, I came over on the weekends and brought you groceries."

"I was there. I helped you through that funk , and helped you get that job for school. Every stupid little question, every depressive episode, all those moments where no-one else would help: I did. Even though I had other things going on in my life, I showed up. For you. It was enough, for a while."

Until it wasn't. He sighs. 

"I'm starting my residency next year… and you're still in school, right?”

“Yes, I am.” You say it simply, not able to say much more without breaking down.

“I'm happy for you, really - proud that you actually got that far. But we're going in different directions, and at different paces. It's easier now that we're not together.”

You bristle at his tone: still in school, actually got that far . It oozes pomp and a quiet kind of superiority. Easier now, like it was difficult before. 

“I didn't make that decision because I hate you, or because I don't care about you. I know you're angry.” He places his hands on your shoulders, and doesn't break eye contact. For the first time since you got here, you think he's finally showing emotion; quiet melancholy just below the surface. Up this close, you can see it: deepening bags under his eyes, sallow skin, and fine lines. Jaime looks tired. In fact, he seems exhausted .  

“I'm sorry that I made you feel that way. But that doesn't excuse the fact that you brought your fuck buddy here, when I just wanted to talk.”

It feels cruel. The way he looks at you, and the way his demeanour switches from the Jamie you knew before, to this .  

"I wanted to talk." You strain. " Months ago. After you broke up with me, and disappeared off the face of the planet. Every time I called, crying and panicking, it went straight to voicemail." 

You shake his hands off of you, stepping back. 

"Miguel's a friend… did you ever think of that? Maybe I just needed some help moving my things, Jamie. Maybe I don't have that many friends since they stopped talking to me because of you, Jamie. Maybe, there's not some devious plot to spite you."

You pick up the rest of your stuff, a little basket of trinkets and books. The very same books that he had told you to pack up; to make some space for his textbooks. 

"Get your head out of your ass. Don't call me. Don't text me. I'm done. "

You're already halfway out of the door. With that, you start to storm off; clattering into Miguel by the stairs. When your things spill out of your hands, you both drop to your knees in a scramble to pick them up. You're chewing the inside of your cheek so hard it draws blood, fumbling around. Miguel is more efficient, scooping up your belongings back into its box. 

You're drooping, only able to mutter a quiet thanks. On the way to his car, you're dejected. Miguel watches carefully, trailing behind. 

~~~

He doesn't know what to say. 

You've left him speechless before. Many times, in the span of your couple months together. Miguel recalls it in exasperated messages to Lyla; you're something else entirely. Frustrating, sometimes. Quick-witted. Perceptive. Thoughtful. A million and one words to describe you, and yet, it still doesn't paint the full picture. You are multi-faceted and brilliant in a way he's not sure he completely understands. 

[Sent: 22:33]

Can't explain it, Ly. 

[Sent: 22:33]

I'm going fucking crazy. 

[Received: 22:34]

ur being dramatic :p

[Received: 22:34]

think u just need to get laid 

[Sent: 22:34]

Fuck off. 

[Sent: 22:35]

I said I'm taking a break. Meant it. 

[Received: 22:37]

(image attached) 

[Received: 22:37]

got this at the party

[Received: 22:37]

ur staring, mig

[Sent: 22:38]

… 

[Received: 22:38]

that's my dress! told u I have great taste :)) 

[Received: 23:06]

miggyyy

[Received: 23:06]

stop ignoring me! its not fun anymore >:(

That was a while ago. Before anything serious happened between you both. And he's had the privilege of seeing you in many different ways; stressed, angry, beaming with joy. Bouncing off the walls after too much coffee, or crawling out of bed following a late night. He's seen your lips curve to form a delicious O as you writhe underneath him; he's seen you smile. He'd tattoo it onto his skin, if he could. 

Fuck . He's overthinking it. 

You've retired to your spot on the couch, and yes, he's staring. Tracing the slope of your jaw and the tilt of nose outlined by the glow of the TV. After getting back home late, he brushed off limp protests and took most of the boxes up himself. It sits in a pile by the dining table. You'll deal with it tomorrow, he supposes. 

Retreating behind your ratty blanket, you stare blankly at the screen. Glassy eyes, you've curled up to watch reruns late into the night. Can't sleep, you told him, as he hovered by the doorway. 

He should go to bed. It's nothing to do with him, really, and he shouldn't have overheard as much as he did. Miguel is curious but not nosy, and well-versed on the art of minding your business . So he shouldn't feel his heart splintering; creaking like the trunk of a felled tree; hacked into two by the way he sees you drowning. 

He sits by your side. Not too close, of course, he's wary of all the shit you've been through today; not wanting to make you feel more uncomfortable. 

He's reminded of a childhood holiday. Half a summer spent at a campsite, bounding through woodland and creeks somewhere up north. Gabi and him would disappear, forgoing the beaten paths for their own adventure. Miguel couldn't make friends the way his brother could, so he'd straggle behind; watching from afar as the other kids would climb trees or swim in quiet lakes. Reading by the banks, and he remembers a time someone had slipped under the water. Drowning, and it wasn't anything like the movies. It was quick, silent and deadly. Thrashing under choppy water, and then…

…nothing. Just quiet. 

He feels that panic rising now, watching you stay so eerily still. You've slipped under the waves, and he doesn't know what to say to pull you back out. 

Miguel isn't too good with words. He's not known for his warmth, or comforting presence. Sometimes, he thinks he wasn't built with that switch turned on in his head – and he certainly didn't learn the right words from his parents. And so, he gives you comfort the only way he knows how. He shows you. He takes care of you. 

You come to him. Like two parts of a whole, you slot together perfectly: your head on his shoulder, at first. You end up on his chest, curled up like a housecat; matching shaky breaths to his steady ones. He brings a hand to your shoulder, drawing lazy circles in the fabric to soothe you. 

With the dull chatter and gloom of the TV, you fall asleep. It takes Miguel a little longer, but he wraps his arms around you. He listens out for it: the gentle rise and fall of your chest. Steady, like a metronome, and it grounds him – drowning out the creak of gears. 

_

_

_

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[dr-spectre]

I know she's not ur skrunkly but she's mine- can you gush abt frye for a bit? I like frye yaayy ,XD just talk abt her idk free pass

If Callie and or Marina didn't exist, then I know which character in this franchise I would become obsessed with.

I think what makes Frye so lovable is that she has range! At one moment she's a silly little girl, a badass with style, or just a plain ol' hot woman.

I want you to look at this and tell me "nah that ain't hot." If you do then i know you're a massive liar and you should not be trusted, EVER!

I mean just... LOOK AT HER!!!! She's gorgeous!!! "Oh but her forehead-" IDC!!! IT'S GETTING SMOTHERED IN KISSES!!!

God i love her, i love her voice, her singing, her personality, her dynamic with Shiver and Big Man. It's all some good shittttt!!! When she's in songs, she's usually the part that gives a song that extra energy and flavor. She's VITAL to some tracks, if Three Wishes didn't have her then that song would be way worse.

Frye is also an underdog and i think everyone loves to root for an underdog. Seeing the love and cheering when she won another Splatfest in over a year was a fucking magical moment in the fandom and i won't forget the joy and happiness i felt seeing her FINALLY win!!

I'm also interested in the potential she has for future stories, especially relating to her family for which she has a lot of love for and we still have a lot to learn about. I think exploring themes relating to families and seeing Frye's siblings and grandfather would be really really cool for Splatoon 4!!! Maybe they could explore Frye's parents who weren't there for her as often when she was growing up, which left Frye feeling lonely and she helped form Deep Cut as a result due to her loneliness and longing to make friends. I think it would be really sweet and amazing to see that for our baby girl Frye.

Providing that Nintendo doesn't drop the ball and decide to do push all of that character exploration aside for a a certain arc for a 3rd time.... You know what I'm talking about...

I will have hope, because it's good for my mental health.

[toruro]

hi :3 i've been extremely feral abt joshua lately so:

i think he'd be the type of bf who'll tease his needy s/o. like when you're obviously trying to work him up, he just smiles at you and says some shit like "you can wait until we get home. right, baby?"

and then when he finally gives you what you want, he doesn't hold anything back until you're crying and begging him like shua, please hold on a sec— but he's having none of it bc "aw, but you asked for this, didn't you?"

anyway (kisses u) love u and ur writing always <3 i've been ghostreading so many on the side that i felt really bad and had to let you know how much i enjoy ur stuff through an ask >:'(

take (all of it)

pairing. h. joshua x reader tags. smut, dom shua, teasing a/n. kai wtf...... WTF!!! im barking also >_< THANK YOIMDJ I LOVE U U N UR WRITING THAT MEANS A LOT TO ME c:

all joshua told you in the car was to get yourself ready because once you two got home, he wouldn't waste a second. you half believed him, half didn't, and now you realize that that was a dangerous mistake.

you worked yourself up to two fingers in the passenger seat, joshua only watching you from the corner of his vision with a sickly sweet smile. you thought he would help you out once you got home—joshua knew your poor fingers weren't nearly as thick as his, couldn't reach nearly as deep as his when they curled into all the right spots.

but you were testing your luck the entire night, and you should've known that joshua wouldn't let you slide without facing the consequences.

which is how you end up with your ass propped on a pillow, back against your mattress, one hand gripping at joshua's bicep while the other tangles in the sheets. he's prodding his fat tip at your hole and your bottom lip puffs out into a pout.

"josh—joshie," you murmur our his nickname in hopes that it'll soothe the mean glint in his eyes. you should know better. joshua's been waiting for this, and he hasn't even stuck it in yet—you'd be stupid think the he'll cave already.

"you asked for this baby," he warns, slamming his cock deep inside you in one go. the stretch wracks a sob through your body, legs flailing and nails digging into his skin at both the overwhelming pain and pleasure.

he's just so huge and he's hitting all the right spots but then again, your poor little pussy can only take so much. "shua, h-hold on," you cry out, as he pulls his hips back.

"huh?" he coos, snapping his cock back into you, causing you to shut your eyes tight and moan loudly as your body jerks against the bed. "you don't want my cock?"

"no!" you protest. "want your cock so bad joshie," you confess, "just want you to slow down a li'l..."

joshua's eyes crinkle up, and his hand grips your hip so tight you know he'll have bruises. "aw, but baby," he murmurs with a faux pout on his lips. you're looking up at him with these puppy eyes and flushed cheeks and fuck, he doesn't know how he can ever hold himself back when he fucks you, "you asked for this, didn't you? all night, right?"

"b-but—"

"don't be a brat," joshua warns when you even attempt to argue, and you shut your mouth real tight, a muffled cry escaping your lips as he continues to ruthlessly fuck into you. he looks down at your cunt and the growing wetness that's creaming his cock, and he has to such in a breath so his eyes don't roll to the back of his head. "needy girl ... you're just gonna take whatever i give you, huh?"

[serenewrote]

Controversially Young ~ Matt Smith x fem! actress smau

Synopsis: You were recently cast as Bruce Wayne's love interest, which everyone adores, Selina Kyle. The age gap though, has some in a tizzy.

Warning(s): sexist comments, big age gap

Rating(s): NC-17

Actress Y/n L/n Cast alongside Matt Smith in upcoming Batman Movie

Here's what you need to know about Zack Snyder’s new project...

~~~

y/nl/n

now wait just a meowment...

are you going to see Batman (2024)?

see comments

charliebushnell y/n we've talked abt this

↪️ y/nl/n I couldn't help ittttt

user420 still have no idea how they could subject you to this

↪️ user2 subject her to what

↪️ user420 working with someone twice her age

hater2 be honest... whose d*ck did you suck to get this role?

↪️ hater34 probably Matt's

~~~

y/nl/n

Press paws and live in the meow!

trash007 if I were Matt, I'd hit

↪️ trash006 same

user360 y'all are gross up in these comments

↪️ trash56 if she didn't want these comments, she wouldn’t have auditioned for CATWOMAN

↪️ trash001 the sexist dc character to exist

user49 I could never work with someone twice my age, I'd be scared

↪️ user86 y/n's worked with Matt before I think she knows how he is

batman2024 we love our bat and cat

leahsavajefferies as purr-ty as a picture

↪️ charliebushnell no! no puns

↪️ diorgoodjohn these puns are hissterical

↪️ y/nl/n lol

~~~

Y/n L/n talks Catwoman, DC, and new interests

by Young Hollywood

Interviewer: Hello Readers! Today I am joined by one of these most known young actresses of our generation, Y/n L/n! Thank you for being here.

Y/n: Thank you for inviting me. I love doing interviews.

Interviewer: So, how have you been?

Y/n: I've been good. Doing a lot of filming for Batman, catching up with old friends, trying to up my instagram game. I've gotten into videography, shooting mini vlogs and cooking videos.

Interviewer: Sounds fun! I love that! Is there any insight into the movie that you can give us?

Y/n: Sure! If any of you were wondering, this is going to be very different from any portrayal of Batman and Catwoman that you've seen or read. Obviously because Selina Kyle is a lot younger than Bruce in this adaptation which is a plot within itself. This Selina, and because she is younger, her story has changed, is a street rat or stray cat. She lives on the streets, and her story in this, is similar to that of her portrayal in the show, Gotham. She meets Bruce as she is trying pickpocket off him out in the open. Then, it goes from there.

Interviewer: Wow! That certainly is a must-watch. Now, I hate to get deep all of a sudden, but have you seen the comments regarding your casting?

Y/n: Yes, I have actually. A lot of them are for disgusting middle-aged men, so I don't really bother with them. I knew what I was getting into when I auditioned.

Interviews: You also get to work with Matt Smith again. Did you know that he was casted as Bruce or did you find out after you got the call?

Y/n: You know what's funny? Zack told me that Matt told him not to tell me. So, I didn't know until our table read!

Interviewer: Oh my god! What?!

Y/n: Yeah! And I hadn't seen him in so long that I almost jumped across the table to hug him.

Interviews: Aw!

Y/n: A lot of people also would say that they felt bad for me because I'm the love interest to someone twice my age, but I've known Matt for a long time. He worked with my father in Pride and Prejudice and Zombies. I played young Rhaena in House of the Dragon. He's a family friend, a beloved friend. I trust him.

Y/n: I understand the public's concerns though. I did just turn 24 earlier this year. The age gap is big, but it is strictly for storytelling purposes.

Interviews: There you have it. I loved talking with you today.

Y/n: I always look forward to interviews with you. Big fan.

Interviewer: Big fan of you too! Any last words?

Y/n: Go see Batman in theaters near you coming this December!

fin.

I tried my best.