#but eventually they gave up on making him take it off because he just does whatever he wants

[twilightkitkat]

Logan was used to living without. To feeling the gnawing pain of hunger and just ignoring it because he wasn't allowed to feel full. Not until he completed his goal. Food was a luxury he was only afforded after a successful mission, and sometimes not even that.

So when he finally got to the X-mansion, he was wary. It got a little better, but he always kept food in his room. Always had a duffel bag packed with his necessities, ready to leave at a moment's notice. He cared about them, but he couldn't bring himself to trust them. Not entirely. Not yet.

And then, right when he was finally coming around... they were dead. And the only reprieve he had was gone.

And then he was thrown back out into the world. Except, this time it was worse. Because he'd gotten used to not being hungry, because he knew what it felt like to be warm and safe. And now he lived with the knowledge that he fucked it all up. He ruined everything he touched.

And it only got worse from there. People looked at him with scorn, like he was a monster. (He deserved it. He was a monster. Only a monster would let his family die because he couldn't fucking beat alcoholism. Only a monster would tarnish their reputation, leading to everyone hating their image. They were good people who took him in whose graves were now desecrated by the angry mob he'd created.)

He spent years in that cycle. Of people sneering at him, turning him away. He was refused service at restaurants and kicked out of most bars. People would corner him and steal what little food he had, would stomp on it and walk away. And Logan would pick up the soggy, dirty, squished remains with shaking hands and force himself to scarf it down.

He was used to eating like his food would be taken. Like he was starving.

And then Wade came along. And gave him another shot at the home he'd ruined the first time around.

And Logan was such a fuck-up. Because he knew Wade wouldn't do that (he's a good person, unlike Logan) but he couldn't help but guard his food. He couldn't help but keep a stash. He couldn't help but tense up when other people moved too quickly while he was eating.

But Wade... is patient with him. Doesn't say anything. Just keeps eating and doesn't ever deprive him of food.

When Wade eventually reaches over to playfully grab something from Logan's plate, he telegraphs his movements. He makes a show of it, taking a single piece of chicken from his plate. Logan tenses, waiting for the punchline, but nothing happens.

He looks and there's still more pasta and chicken left if he wants more. Even if Wade was too lazy to get up and decided to eat off his plate, he'd still have plenty to eat. There wasn't a scarcity.

Something eases in him slightly, after that day. It doesn't go away entirely, but he doesn't flinch or tense up anymore when Wade goes to grab the salt too close to his plate. He doesn't mind when Wade puts the vegetables he doesn't like on his plate and grabs the food he does in exchange.

He becomes comfortable with Wade. With Wade getting near his food, sometimes eating it. He makes Logan feed him, a few times, and he'd never admit it but it made something warm unfurl in his chest. A protective, content feeling. Knowing he could provide for Wade alongside himself and still have plenty left over.

He doesn't know exactly when it shifted from Logan's food to Logan and Wade's food, but now things are better. He doesn't care about sharing food with Wade, because he can take the meat off Wade's plate in return. It's equal. It's painless. He doesn't feel anxious about Wade seeing where his stash is. Sometimes, when Wade complains about wanting a snack, he'll grab something out of it and toss it to him. (He doesn't acknowledge how he started keeping Wade's favorites in his stash, too. But he knows Wade notices, by how the surprise quickly flitted over his face and the way his eyes softened.)

It's still an issue. When Wade's friends come over, he's still tense. When he's in a large crowd, he still clutches his food close to his chest like someone will take it. He still gnashes his teeth when someone moves too quickly near his food.

But now, he has someone to share these feelings with. Who understands him and took the time to let him feel comfortable.

Logan's no longer just protective over himself. When someone looks at Wade judgementally, he'll move in front of him to shield him. If someone tried to push against Wade, he'd shove them away first. When people get too close to Wade's plate, he eyes them warily.

He still has trauma. He still has moments where his feelings don't match his thoughts, where he knows he's being irrational but can't stop himself. He knows Wade's friends aren't going to steal his food, most of them are fucking heroes, but he still treats them as a threat when eating. Even though he doesn't want to feel that way. Even when he feels like he's making a bad impression and wishes his brain would just shut the fuck up.

But it's easier. It's easier with Wade. To have at least one person he doesn't immediately assume to be a threat. It gives him hope that maybe someday, he could feel a little safer when eating in public, too.

But that's a long time off. Now, he has dinner to eat.

Do yall ever think about how Logan would be a messy eater? How his first instinct would be to use his hands and sharp teeth instead of utensils?

He'd probably been admonished before for having bad table manners. But using a fork was like being able to walk fine and still being forced to use crutches. It was doable, but unnecessary and unnatural when he already had claws that were an extension of himself.

He became more self-conscious about his eating habits. He knew that it looked gruesome, seeing him gnaw and tear at a piece of meat like a dog. It was uncivilized. Vulgar.

So he tried to "eat normally." To sit up straight and hold his knife and fork at the right angle. He didn't necessarily like it, and to him was just a useless custom, but he did it. Even if he never really enjoyed meals when he had to painfully control and curb all his habits, watching for the slightest hint of discomfort on others' faces.

When he was outcasted by society, he didn't have to worry about that anymore. Nobody would want to eat with a monster like him anyway. So he let himself give into his instincts, to eat like he was a wild animal tearing into his meal.

It was relieving, in a way, to finally be able to eat like he wanted. But part of him felt guilty. Like he was wrong, inhumane, monstrous just like they said.

Oh well. He already accepted that he was a monster, what's another bullet point on the long list or reasons he can't be a functioning member of society.

That was his attitude until he met Wade.

He felt uncomfortable at first, unused to eating around another person after becoming accustomed to eating alone. To not having to watch for other people's reactions.

But Wade... never looked at him judgementally. Hell, he wasn't super neat himself, playing with his food and showing off weird shapes he made on his plate to Logan.

So Logan let his guard down. He stopped being as neat and proper when he ate. Stopped using a fork stiffly and suppressing his urges.

The first time Logan skewered a meatball with his claw instead of a fork, Wade didn't even blink. He didn't look uncomfortable or disturbed. He just leaned in closer and asked for Logan to feed him one, saying that it was always a dream of his to eat from Wolvie's hands (or claws).

(Logan did, in fact, let Wade lean in and eat a meat ball from his claw. He tried to ignore the fuzzy feeling in his chest at the sight.)

He started eating how he wanted. Grabbing the steak whole and tearing off chunks with his teeth instead of cutting it up into little slices. Wade never minded. Hell, he seemed to get enjoyment from seeing Logan eat well, judging by how he cooed at him.

(It made Logan flustered when Wade crooned about how adorable he looked eating. When he grinned and said he was happy Logan liked the food, because he has more where that came from.

Wade seemed to be happy watching him eat. Watching him tear into his food like an animal. Because that meant Logan felt comfortable around him and that he was enjoying himself and the meal.

Logan never had someone look at him like that, before. With satisfaction and pride as he tore into the food Wade cooked for him.)

Eventually, Logan just let go of all pretenses. Sometimes he wouldn't even use a plate. He'd eat however he wanted and savor the taste of blood. It scratched a deep animalistic urge inside of him. Sometimes, he'd even chew on the bone, liking the feeling as it crunched between his teeth.

It was nice. Incredibly nice, even. To be able to eat without restraint, without being self-conscious, while with someone else. To not have to be alone to enjoy a meal. It made him feel warm to eat with Wade, who chattered on as if Logan wasn't devouring an entire rotisserie chicken, bones and all.

Logan always had to pick between being around people and being himself. He either ate without satisfaction, restraining himself, or ate at an empty table. (The loneliness ate at him. Knowing that nobody could look at him how he was and still care. Knowing that he had to hide and act and restrain himself to keep people around. It was exhausting.)

Now, he could finally enjoy a meal with his new family. Who didn't try to change him or expect him to be different than he was. Who accepted all parts of him, animalistic or not.

When Wade finished cleaning the chicken off his wings, he pushed his plate with the remaining bones to Logan. Logan grinned, a feral thing, and then dug in.

He'd never felt more seen.

[librivore42]

A beast in the belly

@garnetdawn's illustration of Gale sent me into an angsty brain spin so you all get to suffer with me. Wheee.

Word Count: 703

Warnings: Some violent intrusive thoughts

Arcane hunger is so aptly named, if he does say so himself. A little arrogant to say, perhaps, since he was the one who named it. But one must find pleasure in the little things, even if that means feeling clever about naming the very ill that will eventually take his life.

The very ill he earned for himself by feeling far too clever. There’s an irony in that which he’d rather not examine, even as it stood there in the shadowed corner of his tower. In the long year alone, he avoided its gaze.

It isn’t until now that he realises just how easy Tara and the tower had made things, lonely as it was.

Tav’s wary assistance has done him some good, of course. But it’s been quite some time since they’ve gotten their hands on another magical artefact, and he can feel it starting to claw at him, shredding his resolve.

He’s told the others that the urge is like a forest fire, or a war. Something to keep at bay certainly, but manifesting as a distant, looming danger that he was simply a passive conduit for. It’s felt different, lately. More active. More searching. More savage.

It grows in ways more bestial than he’s ever been used to. It has teeth and claws and the frightening willingness to use both. It is no longer a burning, a frantic urge to be quelled. As he had so aptly, accidentally named it, it comes as a hunger, a starvation that fuels a primal instinct to be fed, to survive.

He refuses to confront the question of how far he would go to sate it. With whom would he bargain, to what degree would he take if it was not freely given? He clutches at the burning in his chest, staring at the wall of his tent, and avoids the question’s eyes as it lurks in the dark.

Alone, wracked with the strange starvation and the certainty that by noon tomorrow he must either absorb something or disappear before he kills everyone around him.

To die alone.

For all his fine statements that he would teleport himself somewhere he would do no harm, he finds the plan falling apart the closer he comes to it.

He doesn’t want to die.

A frightening thought flickers at the back of his mind. Tav. The vivid, violent image of sinking teeth into the sorcerer's skin to inhale the magic in their body. A fragile mortal shell full of potential power, waiting to be cracked.

The thought makes the breath catch on the existing pain in his chest as he struggles to pretend he never thought it at all. It was someone else, something else, not him. He is not violent. He’s not cruel or wicked, he’s just starving. And alone. Afraid. A wounded animal.

No, to call it an animal is inaccurate. It implies that if he gave in to the urge it would be a loss of control, a wildness for which he is not truly responsible. A separation for which he should suffer no consequence. But he knows better. It does not rip the power from his hands and pull him helplessly forward. It simply lurks, whispering darkness that is horribly, terribly pragmatic. Waiting for him to see the sense of it and act.

It’s only to survive.

Time. He has time again.

It’s for the good of everyone.

He takes a deep breath, trying to focus on the faint silhouette of Karlach through the tent fabric as she moves around on the night watch. Some of them have been worried about him, rightly so, for he’s kept them at arm’s length all day, uncharacteristically silent. But Karlach still pauses outside his tent as she passes. It’s a good thing to focus on. Because if he sleeps, he’s afraid of what visions might bubble up from the darkest corners of his mind, thrown up by the dying throes of that wounded animal.

First light takes years to arrive. Lae’zel’s voice is a blessed harshness as it cuts through the dawn air, thrusting an amulet into his tent and stalking off with a click of her teeth and without a backwards glance. He nearly sobs with relief as he grabs at it clumsily, presses the cool metal against the burning and breathes freely for the first time in so many days.

[minwilder]

show tempe gang crossover with the morris islanders would actually have been the best episode of bones ever. btw

[taintedtort]

https://www.tumblr.com/taintedtort/742994409435594752/hello-i-was-wondering-if-you-can-do-a-haikyu?source=share

Hello!!! Can you do this request with kenma, tsukishima and suna pls???? 🥺🥺

" WIPING KISSES! "

summary. you wipe their kisses off (pt2)

characters. kenma, tsukishima, suna

warnings. gn!reader, none!

a/n. i love this prompt, it’s so easy to write :P

KENMA

☆ kenma isn’t usually very physically affectionate, but he likes to kiss your hands a lot. it’s simple and quick, and not that noticeable to other people. however, this particular time he kissed the back of your hand, you wiped it on your sweater directly after. he noticed, but didn’t really say anything because he hadn’t thought much of it at the time. but as the day went on, he realized that you were doing it every single time he kissed your hand. he knows you though, and he’s quick to catch on that you’re messing with him. he’s mildly amused at best, but doesn’t really get the point. you’re trying to provoke him, right? it kinda worked… he‘s not necessarily annoyed, but he doesn’t like that you’re wiping them off.

"quit it."

TSUKISHIMA

☆ he notices and instantly scowls at you. it was kind of your fault for making it so obvious though. he kissed your forehead and you immediately wiped it off with your hoodie sleeve, a disgusted look on your face. it was clearly fake and all a joke, seeing as you laughed right after, but he got petty nonetheless. you apologize through giggles when you see his annoyed expression, but he only rolls his eyes. he eventually gives in, like he always does, but you have to make it up to him by kissing him literally everywhere.

"fine then, wipe my kiss off. see if you get another one."

SUNA

☆ he was taking some selfies with you, and he gave your cheek a kiss for one of them. he was sort of rapid fire clicking, so he actually got a picture of you wiping the kiss off directly after. he looks at you with a confused expression, saying something like "the fuck was that?" you wave him off, but he just pulls up the picture he got and starts examining in. he doesn’t say anything else, just looking at you with an expecting look, silently telling you to explain yourself. you crack and tell him it was a prank, just to rile him up and see what’d he do. he rolls his eyes and places another kiss to your cheek, watching to make sure you don’t wipe this one off too.

"you trying to be cute?"

[certifiablyinsanez]

I am haunted by the detailed, completed map of Hell that Edwin took notes on. You don’t understand, it makes me sick. It’s one thing to have a basic layout, a vague idea, or a rudimentary map but it was meticulously detailed. Down to doors and what they do and where they go. Down to secret spaces in the walls. He even knew what ringing an innocuous bell would do. It can only mean one thing. We don’t know when Edwin began trying to escape, but assuming he started from the get go, it means that he spent all his decades in Hell trying to find a way out. He never stopped running. And that is assuming he never stopped. From his second trip, we could see he resorted to his old ways and ran. But he was eventually caught, reduced to pieces. Even when Charles showed up, he didn’t seem very optimistic about their chances. He could feel every second of those 70 years. There were likely many times he fell to hopelessness, trembling in the corner watching himself be desecrated knowing it was going to happen again and again. How long? How many times did he try to be so, so quiet, hoping he would have a few moments before the next round? How many times did he muster the ability to run, just one more time? How long did it take him to run, discovering the ends of each ring? How many times did he sprint up, down, north, south, east, west, trying to escape? And what happened when he finally escaped? How long did it take for him to be able to relax, even a little? Because he can never relax. He must always outrun Death and her constituents because he can’t count on them to be fair. How many times does he look over his shoulder, waiting for the monster to claim its eternal meal once again? His breath of fresh air, his first taste of companionship in ages not only keeps him company, but sticks by him. And then, in that blessing there comes a curse, because now you have something to lose. Because when you taste ambrosia how can you return to starvation? He feels safe with Charles. Happy and comfortable, but the threat always lingers. And he knows that Charles couldn’t fend off Death. He never considered he could fend off Hell beasts; after all, he’s just a ghost kid. He watches innocents be slaughtered on repeat, unphased by the level of violence but no less affected by it, because no one has even a clue what it takes to be this kind. Even at his most happy, he has so, so much to lose and he goes back to Hell when hope was dangled in his face like the fruit of Tantalus. When he returns, he’s subjected to Hell once again, sustaining through torture that obliterates souls, only to watch his best friend, his confidant, his platonic soulmate, die horrifically. This woman who gave him sea-glass courage, so powerful and yet so fragile. Allowed him to be himself, gave him permission to do so. Was the openness to his closed self, and now she is gone. And he retains his composure, his stiff, British posture because it is what has saved him from madness and Despair, protected him, and now the world is darker without Niko Sasaki in it. But surely he saw this coming. After all, humans are messy. And yet, he shows up for their souls, time and time again.

Edwin Payne is THE character.

[pr0cyon-lotor]

Au where Shen Yuan is a dragon with a giant cavern full of books and plays. It's enchanted and stuff so the cavern moves and shifts so it brings you to a section of the library with what you need/want. He occasionally lets people enter to read his books, but you aren't allowed to take them out no matter what. You are sometimes allowed to copy the information on your own scroll or book, but you need permission first.

He gets visited by Wu Yanzi and a young Shen Jiu. Wu Yanzi is looking for demonic cultivation manuals because Shen Yuan has almost one of each manual, encyclopedia, etc ever written.

He pays no mind since he doesn't really care if malicious people come in or not. He does passively keep an ear out just in case.

Wu Yanzi finds a cultivation manual that has everything he needed and could be sold for a lot of money since it was extremely rare and in pristine condition. He tries to sneak it into his bag, and the dragon just eats him. No warning. No heads up. No trumpets or fanfare. No foreboding messages to return the book. Just chomp.

Shen Jiu is taken aback because did his teacher just get eaten? JUST LIKE THAT?!

The dragon nudges the stolen book back into the shelf and looks at Shen Jiu. Shen Jiu is convinced he's going to die there. Except he doesn't get eaten or harmed. He gets gingerly picked up by the back of his robes and taken to the spiritual cultivation section of the library.

Shen Jiu gets plopped onto the floor and the dragon nudges a few beginner and cleansing cultivation manual to fall from the shelf for him and then promptly crawls back to its den.

Shen Jiu, who is instilled with the undescribable urge to scream "what the FUCK?!", instead sits down and starts reading and practicing because honest to god are you going to disobey a dragon that absolutely towers over you?

So when he's satisfied with his cultivation progress, he finally gets ready to leave. The dragon comes back only to put the books away from the shelves that were too far up for Shen Jiu to reach.

Shen Jiu thanks the dragon, which only gets him a huff in response, and because he hates to be in someone's debt (even if that someone is a dragon hundred of years his senior) he says he'll return with books to fill more shelves. He leaves soon after.

He manages to get the Qing Jing Peak Lord's attention during the Immortal Alliance Conference, which was his intention. He gets in a little late but his cultivation is practically caught up. He easily ranks up to head disciple.

During his time in Cang Qiong Shen Jiu jots down everything he learns. He writes down music he composes, discoveries he makes, talisman and array designs he creates, even poems he has written. His Shizun insists that he adds them to the Qing Jing library, and he does but he leaves polished copies of his work and excludes the very important parts.

Eventually when he's peak lord, he goes on an expedition by himself with the scrolls and books he's filled through the years. He finds the dragon's cavern and finally meets it after so long. He presents his life's work to the dragon, practically bearing his heart to it.

The dragon looks at him curiously and transforms into a human form. Shen Jiu watches as the dragon takes the bag from his hands and pulls out the first book, which had all the songs he made for the jiejies in the Warm Red Pavilion to preform.

The dragon say down and invited Shen Jiu to join him. He does and the dragon continues to go through everything while asking him questions about something he wrote or created. Sometimes they get off task and start talking about something else and both appreciate being able to talk to someone that understands classics or is good at debating.

By the time Shen Yuan finally finishes with everything Shen Jiu gave him, they have surprisingly clicked very well. Shen Yuan tells him he's going to make a section in his library for all his works, so he can bring more if he wished because Shen Yuan thought he was a genius that was just starting to shine.

Shen Jiu agrees to continue giving Shen Yuan his work if only to have an excuse to return. And that's how it became tradition that every once in a while the Qing Jing Peak Lord will go off the mountain with a stack of books for days on end and return to none of them.

Sometimes he would even have a strange man come to his peak. If the man visited, that meant Shen Qingqiu was going to be in a good mood, so obviously the kids always told him to stay or come back soon.

And also just as obviously, this is incredibly suspicious to the other peak lords. Cue Liu Qingge and Qi Qingqi pestering Shen Qingqiu and demanding to know what is the meaning of this. Also cue Shen Yuan misunderstanding and getting jealous and then realizing he has feelings for Shen Jiu (after a solid month(s) of denial).

So the next course of action is to keep Shen Jiu from Liu Qingge and Qi Qingqi because they're threats to Shen Yuan's time alone with Shen Jiu. Also he doesn't trust how Shen Jiu covers his face with his fan when they talk to him. Shen Jiu also covers his face when they both talk, so obviously that must mean something and he doesn't like it.

Isn't dragon jealousy great?

Eventually the peak lords find out about Shen Yuan and it was definitely a whole ordeal. Shen Yuan maybe threatened to burn Cang Qiong to the ground at some point, but the threat didn't go through so did it really happen?

Shen Jiu definitely knows about Shen Yuan's feelings for him and is absolutely fucking smug about it. Like who wouldn't want a highly intelligent dragon with a library that is any scholar's wet dream that INSTANTLY becomes a begging puppy when he wants your attention.

As far as Shen Jiu is concerned, he's winning at life.

[the-original-skipps]

|| When there’s only one bed. || Wind Breaker Reactions ||

thank you so much for the support on my first ever multi character post it gave me enough confidence to try again haha due to certain circumstances there’s one bed don’t question it lol

: Sakura Haruka. Suo Hayato. Nirei Akihito. Umemiya Hajime. Kaji Ren. Togame Jo.

❥ Sakura is frozen like a statue at the sight of there being only one bed in the room. His brain is taking a while to take in the information, so it’s up to you to bring him back to reality. He’s startled when you suddenly touch him on the shoulder, for some reason you don’t know he’s super red in the face. He’s quick to declare that he sleeps on the floor before you even have a chance to protest and he’s adamant stubborn about it too. When you offered for him to share the bed with you and he almost woke up the neighbors with how loud he declined. Sakura has never slept in the same room as anyone before so this is new to him and he’s nervous about it. At first, Sakura couldn’t fall asleep because he jolts awake from every sound and noise you make but eventually he does. When he wakes up he’s in for a surprise to find you curled up beside him on the floor-arms wrapped around him. Now this time he really woke the neighbors up. Afterwards when you’re both up and awake he’s blushing and stuttering nonstop but realizes that having you sleep beside him wasn’t bad at all, in fact he maybe wishes for a next time.

“Why are you on the floor?! You’re s-supposed to sleep on the b-bed!”

❥Suo only has a calm smile on his face when he sees the situation. As a gentleman, he’ll offer to sleep on the floor but when you refuse and ask him to take the bed, Suo is quick to offer a solution to solve both your problems. Why don’t you both sleep together? Who knows what will come crawling if you sleep on the floor. You wouldn’t like that, would you? He wouldn’t either. It’s a win win situation. You’re blushing at his choice of words of “sleeping together” while he’s teasing you on how naughty your mind is. You were almost dying in anticipation wondering when Suo will take his eyepatch off but he doesn’t and you’re left disappointed. Suo has no trouble falling asleep while you’re wide awake is what he wants you to think. In truth, he’s actually pretending to sleep to see what you’ll do to him. Maybe take a peek at his eyepatch? Only when he knows you’re actually asleep does lean closer to place a kiss on your forehead whispering good night, and finally lets his guard down, really falling asleep this time.

“I meant just sleeping, but we could do something else if you’d like…”

❥Nirei is having a panic attack because there’s one bed what should he do? The thought of sharing a bed together with you has him burning red. Afterwards, he’ll immediately blurt out that he’ll sleep on the floor. You’ll have to calm him down and tell him that you can sleep on the floor instead but Nirei is also quick to refuse that too. Eventually you’ll have to give up because Nirei is really insistent and even thought of a list of excuses on why he should sleep on the floor instead. When it’s time for bed, Nirei’s head is running overtime with thoughts that he ends up mumbling some of them out in which you hear. Unable to take it you’re now sitting up beside him while he lays down, gently stroking his hair humming him to sleep. He’s flustered but he can’t fight your warm touch, it’s too comforting.

“Suo-san said that s-sleeping on the floor is a part of my t-training!”

❥Umemiya practically ran for the bed when he saw it. Immediately tossing and turning, moving around the bed almost jumping on it. When you offer to sleep on the floor he instantly shuts your idea down before you could finish your sentence. The only choice you have is to agree. Now it’s time to sleep, and Umemiya wasted no time in pulling you to his chest. Saying that he always sleeps using a body pillow but there isn’t one so you’d have to be it’s replacement. You wonder if Umemiya can hear how loud your heart is beating but he doesn’t because as soon as he says good night to you, he's lights out. His grip is iron tight, you can’t wiggle away. You couldn’t fall asleep right away so you spent the time admiring his cute sleeping face. You almost jumped through the ceiling to wake up finding his face super close to yours.

“Oh, let’s have a sleepover party with everyone next time but of course you’ll sleep next to me!”

❥Kaji almost crushed the lollipop he was eating but after a while his face returns to normal. Before you could say anything he already announces that he’ll sleep on the floor. He goes over to the bed and places the pillow on the ground marking his spot. When the time for bed arrives, Kaji mumbles a good night to you before lying on the floor. What he doesn’t want you to know is that he’s nervous and probably wouldn’t be able to fall asleep because you’re going to sleep in the same room as him. He switches to his wireless earphones, eyes closed trying to focus on falling asleep until he feels one of his earphones being taken out. Kaji almost let out a shout to find you lying beside him, with one of his earphones in your ear. You tell him you couldn’t fall asleep so you thought listening to some music might help. Kaji tries to hide his blush by turning on his side away from you but secretly a smile is creeping on his face.

“Urgh fine, you can listen but don’t blame me if you can’t fall asleep!”

❥Togame isn’t worried in the slightest that there’s only one bed. He seems as cool as a cucumber as he goes to sit down on the bed. You’re left standing, cheeks dusted pink, you quickly say that you’ll sleep on the floor but Togame refutes. He says he gets scared of sleeping alone so you’ll have to sleep on the bed with him. You’re steaming red now but you agree nonetheless. In truth, Togame sleeps just fine alone but since you’re here too why not share the bed? Why sleep on the dirty floor when there’s a perfectly good bed right here for the two of you? You don’t know if it’s on purpose but his face is awfully close to yours but when you turn your back on him-he wraps his arms around you from behind pulling you to his chest. Which causes you to freeze, his head buried in your neck, trying to nuzzle even closer, his breathe tickling your skin.

“This is comfortable, let’s just fall asleep like this….” 

[i2sunric]

gynecologist sunghoon who checks up on you and makes you think that the way he touches you is part of his job and that he needs to what the problem is with you down there with touching you like that. reader is naive and nonstop apologizes for moaning and for it making her feel good. eventually she realizes because she can’t be that dumb lmao and they both just enjoy in the end

𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐈𝐓 (p.sh)

a/n: let me just make this a drabble cause i don’t have the inspiration to make it long. hope you like it tho <3

“Just relax.” Sunghoon’s voice soothed when you confessed that it was your first time at the gynaecologist “It won’t hurt, I promise.”

You slowly nodded, feeling ever so small and exposed, sitting on the chair “Okay, doc.”

He gave you a sheepish smile and tugged the waistband of your panties “Let me take this off for you, mh?”

You helped him by raising your hips as he slid them off your legs and gently folded onto the table beside you “Now, put your legs here.” He told you as he pointed at the small stands on the chair.

You complied “Good girl.” He murmured and with a knob, he parted your legs until he could rest comfortably between them “Is it okay?”

You took a deep breath and nodded , “Tell me.” Sunghoon’s deep voice made you shiver “It’s okay. You can continue.”

Sunghoon nodded and started the visit, his gaze fell on your pussy and fuck— if it wasn’t the prettiest pussy he’s ever seen.

Seriously, you were so perfect, from the way you squirmed as the cold air of the room hit your sensitive skin to how you seemed so oblivious of it clenching whenever his fingers brushed against it.

“You’re healthy.” He reassured you, watching as your shoulders finally ease, tension slipping out of your body.

“Thank you—“ You were about to say but he cut you in “I need to make some more investigations, is it okay for you?”

You nodded and as you met his dark gaze, you remember you had to tell him “It’s okay.”

“Great.” Sunghoon murmured and slowly brushed his finger against your clit, making your hips jerk at the contact.

“Sorry!” You exclaimed, taken aback by the foreign feeling your body reacted “S’okay.” Sunghoon smirked.

His finger kept brushing against it and he watched as your eyes grew half lidded at the feeling. He slowly gathered your juices “I need to check if it gets wet alright.” He said a shitty excuse and brushed his finger against your sensitive bud once more.

You let out a soft hum, though you weren’t sure if it was for the strange feeling or as a reply.

“Does it feel good?” He questioned, quickening his pace just a little “I need to know.”

He also knew that if someone ever found out what he was doing, he would be fired and maybe sent to court, but how could he resist when you were literally so innocent and oblivious to his nasty acts?

You nodded, your grip on the armchair growing ever so strong when you for the itch to reach for his hair and pull his head close to your pussy “Good.”

“Bet it does.” He tsked and looked up at your beautiful face, the way your eyes struggled to keep open and your mouth fell agape. Cheeks already flushed.

“And this?” Sunghoon asked and slipped one finger inside you, cursing under his breath at how tight you were.

You let out a moan and widened your eyes. You weren’t sure why but you didn’t think that was an appropriate act from Sunghoon.

“D-doc?” You said and moaned out loud when his single digit brushed against a certain spot that had you seeing stars. “Found it.” Sunghoon murmured.

“Doc!” You exclaimed, frustrated with yourself for feeling such strong pleasure “I— I don’t think you should be doing this.”

Of course, you were naive but not stupid.

“No, I shouldn’t.” His finger brushed against your g-spot again “Do you want me to stop.”

You let out a shaky breath, debating your answers. His skilled finger moved inside of you in such a perfect way that you couldn’t even think straight, your mind clouding blissfully.

Nobody had ever touched you that way, and you had only faintly heard about how good sex was. But that was your prepping and if it felt like heaven already, you could only imagine what the afterwards felt like.

“No.” You answered, arching your back in the chair “Don’t stop.”

“Fuck.” Sunghoon cursed at the eagerness in your voice and added a second digit, struggling to even make it fit.

“You’re so tight.” He commented, having to spit on your pussy to make it wetter, so that it wouldn’t hurt to thrust his digits inside of you.

You moaned, head falling back. You felt so full, so good.

“D-doc.” You murmured “Call me Sunghoon.” He demanded and you complied “Sunghoon!”

He felt you clenching around him “Fuck, you’re almost pushing me out at how tight you are.” He bit his bottom lip, feeling his pants growing restrained by the minutes ticking.

“Mh.” You hummed in pleasure, your back arching from the chair “Sunghoon..”

“Yes, Y/N?” He asked and the way his name rolled out of his tongue, so sinful, it made you squeeze your eyes shut.

“Feels funny.” You frowned and Sunghoon chuckled, knowing very well what you meant “Does it, now?”

His fingers rubbed against your spongy walls and thrusted in and out, trying to bring you closer to the edge.

You cried out as you felt a knot tighten in your stomach “Don’t stop.” You panted as pleasure started overtaking your senses.

“I won’t stop.” He reassured “Just let it go, baby.” Your eyes rolled back at his pace quickening, the squelching sounds of your wet pussy filling the whole room.

Fortunately, you were the last patient of the day and no one was most likely to be in the waiting room.

“Cum for me.” At his words your whole body squirmed in the sit, moaning out. Your orgasm washed you in a such a delicious way, little trembles rocked through you.

Sunghoon rode you out of your orgasm, his fingers still slowly moving inside of you until you calmed down and he slipped them out, making you moan at the loss.

He looked at his cum-coated digits and almost came on spot himself. He put them in his mouth and sucked them clean, humming at your sweet feeling.

“You even taste so good, don’t you?” He chuckled and got up, handing you back your panties.

“I told you it wouldn’t hurt.” You nodded, a little sweaty from the act.

Thank you, doc.” You blushed “For everything.”

Sunghoon just smirked at you “I’m looking forward our next meeting, Y/N.”

[bamsara]

trod au ramble u can ignore

when i say slowburn in an enemies to friends to lovers for Trod I mean slowburn. 300k before Narinder even openly admits he cares for the Lamb, and Lamb actually opens up more than just a shield of positivity and another 100k of character growth, drama, complicated intricacies of grief and anger to communication. The Lamb has boundaries and sticks by them constantly in trod, they're not a pushover, but they don't blow up and react in explosive anger the same way that Narinder does and they are mistaken for soft by him for it, when it's him having to be the one who is constantly re-evaluating his priorities and his behavior because the lamb isn't taking shit from him, despite patience and love, and he's put in this position where he's allowing the grief and the hurt to keep hurting himself and the Lamb in the process, until he risks losing them and Narinder makes the active decision to work on himself. They HAD a healthy, wonderful friendship before, he cared for them. He still does. He wishes he didn't but god he still does.

but i dislike when characters do one change or have one realization and suddenly they're super nice. no I want them to be continuously complex. I want their bad habits and miscommunication to not instantly or quickly disappear, I want continuous effort from the wronger. do you hear me. CONTINUOUS EFFORT. that means a character fucking up again and again and relasping and changing and cursing and being like well he doesn't need to be any different because its not his fault then going back and being like. no. it was my fault. i am wronged and I am the wronger. i need complexities. Let us not forget the definition of 'enemy' in the enemies to friends to lovers here. if they start off soft then where is the growth. Where is the room for growth I want. Where is it.

they get to the processing of emotions they haven't allowed themselves to feel properly for centuries to take this friendship gone sour by betrayal, plagued by anger and hurt to something slowly blooming back into trust and care and soft until eventually its this healthy love of these uberly overpowered pair of gods

Trod bad end is when Narinder just speed runs the 'rehabilitation' part of the rehabilitation of death' and it circles back to him going feral in the head. Still an asshole? okay your lamb is gone. regret your pride and ego because the patient love you were afforded is gone forever and the last memory you gave them was not the love you could have given them but it will be the love that destroys mortality to get them back.

amnesia au Narinder is just happy to be here. no betrayal, no angst. eventually when his memory does return and he gets caught pretending he doesn't remember just so he can be sweet to them without his pride in the way will force a conversation that will essentially fix the horrific communication these two have. speedrun trod x2

Current Trod Narinder is a emo angsty bastard who's rightfully hurt at being imprisoned and (in his heart) betrayed by someone he trusted dearly (again) while Post-Trod Narinder is still a feral bastard but with truly un-constipated, true equal love for the Lamb that wears a wedding ring made of his own blood to the tune of 'i miss my wife tails' and got a praise kink

but if its not absolute hell getting to that point then WHAT IS THE POINT

and all these are mostly about Narinder but don't even get me started on the Lamb's issues. That sheep thang is hiding shit.

Except I can't talk about the Lamb's hiding issues Too Much yet unless you've been in my art streams and have seen some of my comics, then IYKYK but aaaaaaaaaaUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUHG

[blissfullsvn]

wish you were sober

pairing. best friend!leehan x reader genre. best friends to lovers (?), fluff, a sprinkle of angst, mutual pining word count. 1.8k warnings. reader is drunk and attempts to kiss leehan in this state (+ reader is shorter than leehan and wears makeup) masterlist

all it takes is one call from you, calling out his name with a voice that’s poutier than normal, before leehan’s striding out the door with his car keys in his hands.

when he sees you, you’re leaning against an electric pole, hugging it like it’s your lifeline. your other friends are around you, trying to pry you off, but you only push them away. from where he parks, he vaguely catches his name falling from your lips before he marches towards you and calls out your name himself.

you look up, eyes widened like saucers. instantly, as if you’re electrocuted, you pull away from the pole and glare at it, reprimanding. “you’re not leehan.”

the group around you bursts into laughter, and leehan can’t help the small chuckle that escapes him either. when he walks closer to you, you immediately cling onto him the same way you did to the pole, your cheek squished against his chest.

��my leehan is here,” you mumble.

he would have melted—no, dissolved—if not for the fact that he’s wholly supporting your weight and that all your friends are eyeing the two of you giddily. hence, his legs are forced to hold up straight, even though his heart is nothing but putty in your hands. he translates this through his expression instead, softening as he looks down at you and gently pats your head.

after thanking your friends for taking care of you, he walks off with you in tow. with one hand placed securely on the small of your back, he opens the car door with the other and attempts to seat you in the passenger’s seat. it takes a bit, because you’re reluctant to leave your hold on him, but he eventually gets you inside the car.

still leaning over, he easily fastens your seatbelt with a click. when he tries to pull away, however, you immediately snake your arms around his neck, holding him in place. it’s so sudden that he drops his hand onto your thigh for balance, but he quickly moves it before the touch can linger.

you’re staring at him, eyelashes fluttering. unlike your previous demeanour, your eyes seem to have more clarity in them now. you’re looking at him as if you’re searching for something beyond, while he’s looking at you as if he’s searching for a way out.

it’s too much. the blasting music down the street, the whirs of engines on the road, the mix of breaths between you, the ghost of your fingers on his nape, the weight of your eyes on him, the beat of his heart against his chest.

he feels too much, and yet, he can’t take his eyes off you.

slowly, you drag one hand from his nape, your fingers brushing past his ears and sending shivers down his spine, until it settles on his jaw. you cradle it gently, your thumb caressing his cheek. then, for a sliver of a moment, you drop your gaze.

it’s just a split second, but he catches it all the same. without realising, he finds himself flickering his eyes as well, and it’s all the indication you need to pull him closer.

that’s when leehan smiles, and then removes your arms around him easily. “get some rest. i’ll wake you up when we arrive.” he pats your head before shutting the car door.

when he climbs in the car from the opposite side, you’re facing the front and blinking blankly as if you’ve been slapped. he resists the urge to hold your hand like he always does on car rides, and forces his eyes to the front before driving off.

you do end up falling asleep, and when he gets you out of the car, he has to hoist you up against him snugly because you’re leaning your entire weight on him again. he doesn't mind, never when it comes to you, so he keeps his arm around your waist the entire time he’s bringing you up to your apartment. even when he reaches your door and has to fish out the spare key you gave him from his bag, he makes sure his hold on you is secure and that you’re resting your head on him.

when he unlocks the door, it seems to have briefly snapped you out of your delirium, because you’re removing yourself from him and staggering towards the sofa, much to his concern. he swiftly moves next to you, guiding you to the soft cushions and gently laying you down.

you immediately shut your eyes, quick to fall asleep again. at this, leehan sighs as he brushes the hair away from your face. “don’t wanna wash up first?” he asks softly. when you scrunch your nose in displeasure, he lets out a small smile. “not even your makeup?” he prods, and you respond with a quiet groan before you fall silent again.

his smile increases and he nods. “okay. just rest.”

truth be told, the alcohol in your system has already started to dissipate bit by bit, so even if you wanted to sleep—and never wake up again after what happened in the car—you couldn’t help but register all the stimuli around you, effectively reconnecting your consciousness to the world. this includes the ruffles of leehan’s clothes as he stands up and the fading of his footsteps as he opens the door to a room, prompting a series of noises from within, before the footsteps are fading back in until they cease right next to you.

the shuffles are heard again as he sits down, then the light sound of bottles hitting the floor. you furrow your eyebrows, finally opening your eyes just in time to see leehan place a soaked cotton pad on your face.

leehan immediately smiles when he meets your gaze, and he wordlessly prompts you to close your eyes so he can place two cotton pads on them. you do so without a fight, though your insides are practically fighting.

“let me know if i’m too rough,” he says, then begins swiping a cotton pad across your skin. he lets the ones on your eyes sit for just a little longer before he gently wipes off your eye makeup. “i’m sorry,” he lets out meekly when he has to apply more pressure on a stubborn area.

you remain silent the entire time, but you open your eyes again when you feel a warm towel on your face. he meets your eyes and smiles, as softly as how he’s dabbing the towel on your skin, wiping away the residue of your makeup remover. he does this a few times; washing the towel in the bowl of water and squeezing out the excess; and you keep your eyes on him all the while.

when he thinks he’s successfully cleaned your makeup, he adjusts his position, ready to stand up, but your voice immediately halts him.

“leehan,” you call, quiet and almost vulnerable.

he places your skincare back on the floor and faces you completely. “yeah?” he responds, round eyes staring at you softly… and fondly.

“you just took off my makeup,” you state matter-of-factly, ignoring your astute observation which has only added to the whirlwind inside you.

leehan blinks, then nods. “did i do it wrong?” he asks. “but i did it like this last time too… and the youtube videos….” he trails off, talking more to himself than anything.

“leehan,” you begin, your eyebrows furrowing. “do you do this for your other friends?”

he looks almost scandalized at your question. “no?” he lets out in incredulity. “you know i only do this for you.”

recollections of all the times you had been drunk and all the times he had taken care of you without any complaints, including taking off your makeup, flash across your head.

you suck in a sharp breath, looking him in the eyes directly. “then why?”

leehan tilts his head. “what do you mean?”

you avert your gaze, suddenly feeling too seen by him. silence encompasses you for a while and he allows it, waiting for you but not urging you—it’s little things like this that made you realise you never stood a chance against the line that threatens to be crossed in your friendship.

you hope he feels the same when you ask, “why did you reject me?”

the air feels heavy when you drop the question, and the silence that follows is even more so. you don’t dare to look at him, especially after the prolonged hesitance from him. still, you wait, even though you’re already close to withering inside. but when he finally speaks, the last bit of hope you’ve futilely held onto escapes like a droplet of water from a broken pipe.

“you’re drunk,” he says, but he instantly realises the gravity of his words when he sees the way you falter, the way he can hear a crack from you—and he feels himself shatter as well.

“no, y/n, i didn’t mean it like that,” he coaxes, getting up on his knees and placing a hand on your arm when you turn away from him.

“what other meaning is there?”

he pats your arm, prompting you to turn around. “look at me, y/n, please,” his tone is so sincere that you waver, glancing back at him.

“i said you’re drunk not because i’m trying to dismiss what you said,” he says firmly, needing to be as clear as possible. “but because it’s just not right for me to accept any gesture like that in your state,” he starts, then adds softly; hesitantly, “as much as i wanted to.”

the tears prickling at your eyes had been so close to falling until you caught what he said at the end. suddenly, your tears are gone and all you’re left with is confusion.

“hold on,” you turn to face him fully, momentarily surprised by the lack of proximity between you before you focus again. “did i hear that correctly?”

leehan’s ears turn an evident cerise, but he doesn’t move his eyes that are blinking up at you roundly. “i don’t want to talk about this when you’re drunk,” he laments, almost petulantly.

“i’m not drunk,” you refute firmly, and while you know it’s not entirely false, you also know your best friend wouldn’t fall for it.

“i’d rather spill my heart out when you’re not seconds away from passing out.” he attempts a joke, one corner of his lips quirking weakly, even though he feels like his heart is actually about to spill out his chest with the way it’s rattling his rib cage in anxiety.

you don’t have the energy to entertain him, so you remain tight-lipped as you stare at him.

leehan breathes out, deflating as he opens his mouth again. “instead,” he says, all traces of playfulness gone. “please… remember this moment.” he looks at you through his lashes, suddenly seeming so small, and his tone is too solemn, too desperate. “i’m not sure if i can handle another seven years.”

a/n. i just wanted to write abt leehan taking off ur makeup when ure drunk idk why it turned into a word vomit 😭 but i hope it was enjoyable to read!

© blissfullsvn 2024. All Rights Reserved.

[yawnderu]

Birthday Boy — Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

content: mutual pining, idiots in love, fluff.

"Hey, big guy." You greet, pushing past him while holding a cake on your arms, setting it down on his desk. He simply gives you a confused look, eyebrows raising under the balaclava, closing the door hesitantly.

"Fucking hell." He mutters softly, arms crossing as he rests his back against the wall, his behemoth frame looking down at you as you steal a lighter from his desk, lighting the candles.

"I know you said you don't do birthdays but I just thought you deserve to have a day for yourself, so I kind of... gave you a birthday, I guess." Your embarrassment grows the more he stares you down, a bashful smile growing on your face when he says nothing. Your attention is grabbed by a deep chuckle coming out of him, shaking his head before he walks over to you, skull gloved fingers gently flicking your forehead.

"Why?" Is all he can ask, curiosity tainting his tone before he lets out a soft groan, looking down at the cake decorated with a messily written "Happy Birthday, Simon" and awfully drawn skulls all over. He wouldn't admit it, but he finds it even more charming.

"Just because." You reply shortly, hands making contact with the thin fabric of his black compression shirt, gently holding him by the biceps, guiding him to a chair in front of his desk where the cake was. He lets you drag him without any complaints.

"I'm gonna sing ya happy birthday, okay?" Your words are met with another groan, his elbows going to the table, face resting on his hands as if this situation is stressing him out. He eventually nods his head, looking up at you.

"Yeah, yeah." He mumbles, the fire from the candles making his eyes stand out even more in the dim room, the dark brown now a sweet honey color, showing you just how dilated his pupils are as he looks at you. You sing him happy birthday, making a small show out of it with claps and an overly cheery voice, dragging groan after groan out of him, the corners of his eyes creasing as he tries his best to suppress the smile tugging at his lips.

"Make a wish and blow the candles." You encourage after you're done singing, hands gently massaging his sore shoulders as you excitedly wait for him to comply. And he does, hesitantly getting closer to the cake and not doing anything for a few seconds before blowing the candles. A laugh of pure relief escapes your lips once the candles are off, tapping his shoulders gently before letting go.

"Good man. I made the cake, y'know?" You start cutting the cake, making sure to cut an extra big piece for him— with what little he has told you about himself, you can tell it's been a while since he got celebrated— If it even happened at all.

"I can tell." He replies teasingly, tone full of humor as he gets up and narrowly misses a punch thrown his way. He can't help but let out a small laugh, getting into a playful fighting position, pretending to throw a few punches your way and making a show out of making sound effects for each one. None of his punches connect, of course, but you use the opening he left to smear a little bit of frosting on his arm, making him groan loudly.

"Bloody hell." He grumbles, the cheeky smile you shoot him making him playfully roll his eyes. He eventually settles down, sitting in bed and lifting his balaclava halfway, tasting the sweet treat. He takes his time to savor it, nodding his head in approval as he looks down at you before digging in again.

" 'S good." He praises after another bite, attention now fully on the piece of chocolate cake on his plastic plate. You take this moment to admire the exposed half of his face— his soft jawline and thin pink lips, hints of a stubble covering his cheek and chin, a little bit of his eyeblack tainting his cheeks as well. You feel like a Victorian man seeing ankles, grasping at straws just to admire him.

He gives you a side eye and you look back down at your plate, starting to taste the cake as well, as if you weren't just staring at him like an infatuated hyena. You're too deep in thought to even realize his eyes are on you until you feel his finger smearing frosting on your nose, a laugh of pure disbelief escaping your lips.

"You little cunt—"

[buckets-and-trees]

Camaraderie

Characters/Pairings: raunchy!Bucky x curvy!female reader Word Count: 3.4k Summary: Meeting up with the impossibly hot guy from the thirsty to fuck dating app didn't turn out to be a one-time thing... Hooking up with Bucky Barnes wasn't healthy, and you couldn't quit the habit, but he's so good at what he does, you can't resist the itch for him when it needs to be scratched.

Content Warnings: modern AU, hook up culture/bootycall, established sexual relationship, explicit and rough smut, oral (male and female receiving)/deep throating, 69, vaginal fingering, some overstimulation, multiple orgasms, vaginal penetration, unprotected sex, humiliation, degradation (use of "slut"/"whore"), use of "baby" as a term of endearment, praise, general dirty talk, cum play/marking, taking photos, aftercare

Author Notes: This is a follow-up to Parking Lot Chem, but can absolutely be read as a standalone and/or out of order.

Logistical Notes: My September/final offering for @buckybarnesevents Build-a-Bucky-Bingo 23-24 using the ANTI-HERO and AFTERCARE prompts. I'm also submitting this for @steviebbboi's 200 Follower Celebration (kink prompts: oral sex, overstimulation, mild degradation, dialoge prompts bolded) and @mercurial-chuckles's SMUT-BER fest (prompt: marathon session).

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

You know you should never text Bucky Barnes.

Daytime you knows he’s horrible for you.

A relationship would go nowhere with him.

You know it. He knows it.

You’ve both been very clear this is only sex.

Dirty, late night hook ups.

The next morning, you’re always resolved that last night was the last time.

But you don’t delete his number.

He gives you space. So much space. There’s no pressure, and that’s one of the reasons you don’t close the door completely.

Sometimes he initiates a conversation, sometimes it’s you. It goes about four to six weeks like clockwork.

And always after midnight.

Tonight it’s you who sent up the bat signal.

YOU: Hey! It’s been a while! How’ve you been?

HIM: Not bad… How’s life for you?

YOU: Also not bad. I moved - pretty close to where you work, actually…

YOU: You working tonight?

HIM: Got a new job actually. Still night shift, but building security downtown.

YOU: Oh, that’s good though, right?

HIM: Better gig, better pay. Still bad hours, but our fun doesn’t have to end…

YOU: Oh?

HIM: Let me come over when I get off and I’ll get you off.

There’s literally nothing romantic about it.

But you’re aching for a good fuck.

And that’s why you agreed to let this man you’ve been hooking up with in the dead of night in a parking lot for the last eight months to show up for a bootycall between two and three am.

Because it was going to be so late, you told him where the spare key was, told him to let himself in, to come to your bed, and to wake you up when he got there.

The forbidden thrill of that arrangement gave you a bit of a second wind, but when you’d tucked yourself back in bed and done a bit of doom-scrolling, your eyes had eventually drooped and you’d dropped into sleep.

You stir a little bit as you are nudged onto your back, but it’s when Bucky starts in on aggressively groping your breasts, having immediately pushed up the silk camisole you put on, that you groan and come to.

Your eyes flutter open, adjusting to the darkness. Bucky's silhouette looms over you, his calloused hands cold against your skin as he roughly kneads your tender flesh. A shiver runs through you, desire pooling low in your belly.

"Missed these tits," he growls, voice husky with desire.

You arch into his touch, your body responding even as your mind struggles to catch up. Bucky wastes no time, his hot mouth latching onto a nipple. You gasp at the sensation, your hands instinctively flying to Bucky's hair. He bites down, just hard enough to make you whimper, before soothing the sting with his tongue.

"Fuck, Bucky," you moan, already breathless.

He releases your breast with a wet pop, moving to give the other the same treatment. He sucks hard, teeth grazing your sensitive peak, and you whimper. His other hand slides down your body, groping at your pussy over your silk shorts.

“You put these on special for me, yeah?” he probes, and you nod. “Such a whore, though,” he continues. So desperate to let me use you that you told a fucking stranger how to get into your house so he could ruin you.”

His words make you clench around nothing, desperate for him to ruin you just like you know he can. Bucky chuckles darkly when you mewl as he grinds the heel of his palm over your clothed clit.

"Such a needy little slut," he murmurs approvingly. "Bet you've been thinking about my cock all night."

"Took you long enough to get here," you whine.

He doesn't respond, just crashes his lips against yours in a bruising kiss. His stubble scratches your chin, sending tingles down your spine. You clutch onto his bulky arms. His mouth is minty - either gum or mouthwash or mints popped at the last minute - but the rest of him just smells like sweat and faint musk. You doubt he even owns cologne. His body and the way he uses yours are why you don’t fight the itch when it flares up for nights like this.

Bucky breaks the kiss, trailing his lips down your neck. He bites down hard where your neck meets your shoulder, surely leaving a mark. You gasp, arching into him.

"Gonna use you so good," he growls against your skin. "Gonna fuck you 'til you can't walk straight."

"God, yes," you moan, spreading your legs wider in invitation.

Bucky hooks his fingers into the waistband of your silk shorts, yanking them down roughly along with your panties. The cool air hits your heated core and you shiver. Bucky's hand slides up your inner thigh, his calloused fingers teasing your sensitive skin.

"Already so wet for me," he growls approvingly as he cups your sex. "Such a dirty girl."

You whimper as he slides two thick fingers inside you without warning, pumping them slowly. His thumb circles your clit, building the pressure steadily. Your hips buck against his hand, chasing more friction.

"Please," you gasp, clutching at his muscular shoulders.

"Please what?" Bucky asks, curling his fingers to hit that spot inside you that makes you lose all shreds of dignity around him.

"Please give me your fat cock, Bucky!” you beg.

He chuckles again. “I bet you’re such a good girl in the day where everyone else can see you, but you crave this - you crave the depraved things I do to you in the dark. That’s why you’re so fast to beg for me already.”

You moan, and your body trembles with anticipation as Bucky's other hand roams over your chest, then grips your neck, rough and possessive.

He squeezes slightly, and you whimper. “Please,” you croak out.

He withdraws for a moment, but you bite back any sounds of protest as you hear the rustling of fabric, clang of a belt, and the pull of a zipper as he quickly sheds his clothes.

He sits back on his heels, looking down at you as you squirm, holding his thick, hard cock. You lick your lips at the sight, your pussy clenching in anticipation. Bucky strokes himself a few times with the hand that had been in your cunt moments before, spreading your wetness along his length.

"Don’t worry, baby," Bucky coos. "I'm gonna give you exactly what you need."

With his other hand, he grips your arm and pulls you down so you lay sideways across the mattress. You’ve only ever hooked up in his truck, so the freedom of space adds an element of mystery to what hell do with you, and you love it. He kneels with thighs on either side of your head, looming over you, and then he slaps your face with his cock.

You gasp at the sudden contact, and he hits you with it a couple more times. Bucky grins down at you wickedly, clearly enjoying your shock.

"Open up, slut," he grunts.

You obey eagerly, parting your lips as he guides his cock into your mouth. He doesn't ease into it, instead shoving himself deep until you gag around his length. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you struggle to breathe through your nose.

Bucky holds your head in place with his thick thighs, his hips pistoning as he fucks your face mercilessly. The wet, obscene sounds of your gagging fill the room, mingling with Bucky's grunts of pleasure.

"That's it, take it all," he groans, pushing even deeper.

You relax your throat as best you can, letting him use your mouth with abandon. He leans forward, pushes your thighs apart, and buries his face in your cunt.

You moan around Bucky's cock as his tongue laps at your folds, sending jolts of pleasure through your body. He sucks hard on your clit, making your hips buck involuntarily. The dual sensations of his thick length stretching your throat and his skilled mouth on your pussy are overwhelming.

Bucky's stubble scrapes against your inner thighs as he devours you, his left hand gripping your hip to hold you in place. His flesh hand snakes up to squeeze and pinch your nipples, sending jolts of pleasure-pain through your body. You whimper and writhe beneath him, struggling to focus on pleasuring his cock as he rapidly brings you to the edge.

"Gonna cum for me, baby?" Bucky growls against your cunt, the vibrations making you shudder. "Want you to cum all over my face while I fuck that pretty little mouth."

You moan around him, the vibrations making him hiss in pleasure. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as he batters the back of your throat, but you don't pull away. You live for these moments when Bucky uses you roughly, treating you like you’re worthless, only a set of holes to be used, because you’re so tired of being good, of working hard, of over achieving, of living up to everyone’s expectations. The only thing he wants from you is your body, and it feels better than any guilty pleasure you’ve ever indulged in before.

Your orgasm hits you suddenly and forcefully. Your body convulses as waves of pleasure crash over you, muffled cries vibrating around Bucky's cock. He doesn't let up, continuing to lap at your oversensitive clit as you writhe beneath him.

Just as it becomes too much, Bucky pulls back, releasing your hips. He slides his cock from your mouth, leaving you gasping for air. Before you can catch your breath, he flips you onto your stomach and yanks your hips up.

"That's one," he growls. "Let's see how many more I can wring out of you before I'm done."

Without warning, he slams into you, burying himself to the hilt in one brutal thrust. You cry out, fingers clawing at the sheets as he sets a punishing pace. The wet sounds of skin slapping against skin fill the room in the dead of night.

"This what you've been craving, sweetheart?" he taunts, pulling his cock out and rubbing the head of his it through your folds. "My cock splitting you open?"

"Yes, yes, Bucky!” you sound like a cliché porn star, but you know he loves it, and you don’t care about letting loose and going mindless and dumb around him. He doesn’t expect anything more from you.

Without warning, he slams back into you, burying himself to the hilt in one brutal thrust.

You cry out, the stretch bordering on painful. Bucky doesn't give you time to adjust, he never does. He pursues a punishing pace, and now the headboard bangs against the wall with each powerful thrust.

"Fuck, you're so tight," Bucky grunts, his hips snapping against yours. "You always feel so good around me, baby. Such a perfect little cock sleeve."

His vulgar words send a thrill through you. You moan shamelessly, pushing back to meet his brutal thrusts. Bucky's metal hand grips your hip hard enough to bruise, while his flesh hand snakes around to rub harsh circles on your clit. The dual stimulation quickly builds the pressure in your core.

"That's it, take it slut," Bucky growls, his hips pistoning relentlessly. "You love being used like this, don't you?"

"Yes!" you cry out, beyond shame at this point. "God, yes, Bucky!"

He chuckles darkly, then suddenly pulls out. Before you can protest, he flips you onto your back and hooks your legs over his shoulders. He slides back in with a groan, the new angle allowing him to hit even deeper.

"Wanna see your face when you cum on my cock," he pants, leaning down to lick a stripe lewdly up your face.

"Oh fuck, Bucky!" you cry out as he pounds into you relentlessly. The new angle has him hitting your g-spot with every thrust, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body.

Bucky's eyes are dark with lust as he watches you come undone beneath him. One hand wraps around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make your head swim. The other hand grips your hip bruisingly tight as he jackhammers into you.

"That's it, baby," he growls. "C'mon, don't you wanna be good for me?"

You nod frantically, unable to form words as the pressure builds inside you. Bucky's thumb finds your clit, rubbing harsh circles that have you seeing stars.

"Cum for me," he commands. "Now."

As if your body is conditioned to obey him, your walls clench around him rhythmically, but Bucky doesn't slow his pace. He fucks you through your orgasm, prolonging it until you're a trembling, oversensitive mess beneath him. Tears leak from the corners of your eyes from the intensity.

"That's two," Bucky growls, his hips still snapping against yours. "Think you can give me one more?"

You whimper as he squeezes your throat, starting to restrict your oxygen.

Your head swims as Bucky's hand tightens around your throat, his hips never slowing their relentless pace. The mix of pleasure and oxygen deprivation has you floating, barely aware of anything beyond the stretch of his cock inside you and the pressure of his fingers on your windpipe.

"Answer me," he growls, loosening his grip just enough for you to gasp out a response.

"Y-yes," you croak, your voice hoarse. "Please, Bucky..."

He grins wickedly, releasing your throat entirely. You gulp in air as he hooks his arms under your knees, folding you nearly in half as he drives even deeper. The new angle has you seeing stars, each thrust hitting spots inside you that make your toes curl.

“Let's see how much more you can take."

Bucky's pace becomes even more brutal, if possible. The headboard slams against the wall with each thrust, and you hope your neighbors are heavy sleepers. Every nerve of your body is on overdrive, overwrought.

You're trembling, overstimulated and overwhelmed, but Bucky shows no signs of slowing down. His cock pistons in and out of you relentlessly, the obscene wet sounds of your coupling filling the room as he keeps you folded in half. You're vaguely aware that you're babbling, a stream of "please" and "fuck" and "Bucky" falling from your lips.

His hot breath fans across your face as he looms over you, steel-blue eyes locked on yours with an intensity that makes you shiver.

"Look at you," he growls, voice rough with exertion. "So fucking desperate for my cock. You'd let me do anything to you, wouldn't you?"

You nod frantically, beyond words at this point. Bucky's hand comes down to rub harsh circles on your clit, and you cry out at the added stimulation. Your oversensitive body trembles, teetering on the edge of another orgasm.

"Cum for me again, baby," Bucky commands. "Show me how much of a slut you are for my cock.”

He pinches your clit harshly, and you scream into another orgasm. And still he fucks you as you shake and tremble beneath him. He’s too big and too strong for you to do anything but take it.

He clamps a hand down on your throat again, and your vision starts to blur at the edges as this filthy god moves like a machine above you. The lack of oxygen intensifies every sensation - his cock pounding into you relentlessly, his thumb still circling your oversensitive clit, the weight of his body pressing you into the mattress.

Just as it becomes too much, Bucky pulls out. Your legs fall clumsily to the bed, and Bucky moves so he’s sitting on your chest, straddling just below your breasts, and pinning your arms down to your sides as well. He viciously strokes his cock, grunting for a few more moments, before he groans and shoots his load over your face and chest, ribbons of hot, sticky cum hitting your skin.

You gasp and pant, struggling to catch your breath as Bucky's cum cools on your skin. Your body feels like jelly, utterly spent from the intensity of your multiple orgasms. Bucky sits back on his heels, still straddling your chest, admiring his handiwork.

"Fuck, you look good like this," he growls, voice husky with satisfaction. "All marked up and used."

You whimper, too exhausted to form words. Bucky chuckles darkly, running a finger through the mess on your face and pushing it between your lips. You suck obediently, tasting the salty bitterness of his release.

"Such a good little cumslut," he praises, his other hand trailing down to tweak one of your nipples, making you yip beneath him.

Bucky's weight lifts off you as he shifts to the side, his breathing also heavy.

For a moment, there's only the sound of your combined panting filling the dark room. Then Bucky chuckles low in his throat. "That was better than the truck."

You manage a weak laugh in response, still too overwhelmed to form words. Bucky reaches over and flicks on the bedside lamp, bathing the room in a soft glow. His eyes roam over your body, taking in the full mess he's made of you – the cum on your face and chest, the bruises already forming on your hips and thighs, the way your pussy is still clenching around nothing. He rolls off the bed and roots round in his discarded clothes, then stands once he’s found his phone.

"Hold still," Bucky commands, raising his phone. You hear the click of the camera as he captures your debauched state. "Something for me until next time."

You should protest, should demand he delete the photos. But a part of you thrills at the idea of Bucky having these reminders of you, of looking at them and getting hard thinking about using you again.

He disappears into the bathroom, returning moments later with a warm washcloth. To your surprise, he gently cleans you up, wiping away the evidence of your encounter from your skin. It's an unexpectedly tender gesture from someone who was just fucking you senseless.

"Thanks," you murmur, your voice hoarse.

Bucky just nods, tossing the washcloth aside when he's done. He starts gathering his clothes, pulling them on efficiently. You watch him silently, knowing there was no version of this where he stayed, and honestly you didn’t want him to. You wanted to sprawl freely in your bed and drift away into the few hours of blissful sleep you could steal before having to get up for work and didn’t want to deal with a morning after.

After hunching over and lacing up his boots, he stands, reaches for your hand and pulls you up and to the edge of the bed. “C’mon, get up,” he urges.

Too tired and bewildered to protest, you amble out of bed and follow as he tugs you along, leading you to the bathroom. He turns the shower on, grabs a towel and tosses it over the rod for you. He checks the water temperature, adjusts it slightly, then turns back to you.

He laughs, and you realize your face is broadcasting your confusion. “You’ll sleep better if you shower off the sex and sweat, baby.”

He steals a filthy kiss, licking slowly into your mouth, then ushers you into the shower. “See you next time.”

Next time. The words send a shiver through you, even as your body aches from the intensity of what he’s just done to you.

“I’ll lock the door behind me when I let myself out,” he says.

“Okay,” is all your exhausted mind and body can put together. “Bye.”

“Bye,” he echoes and smirks.

The hot water washes away the smell and grime of the debauchery, soothe your aching limbs, but they don’t wash away the memories of what he did, and you don’t want it to. They go into a collection of how he extracts pleasure from you, and those memories will tide you over for a while on some of the darker nights when you’re feeling particularly horny.

But he’s right.

You won't feel this way in the morning.

But there’ll be another next time, your middle of the night self will win out eventually, you’ll just put it off for a while. Besides, it’s due to be his turn to be he one to break first and put out the feelers for a bootycall.

You won’t say no.

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

May I request Catnap who basically adopted a child!reader who is anyways sleepy and lazy. and has a case of not remembering a lot of things, like dementia

Like through the hour of joy...After all the Toys killed the workers. Catnap finds the reader, who is sleeping then wakes up and the reader forgets their own parents(The readers parents were cold scientists that worked at Poppy Playtime and never cared about them, then got killed through the hour of joy)

Sooooooo...Catnap just kinda takes care of the reader and has a slight soft spot for them. And the reader THINKS that Catnap is their parent and anyways clings to him

During the Hour of Joy, Catnap remained on the prowl for any potential survivors of the massacre within Playcare, flinging one man's body into the stairs and cutting his cries for mercy short.

All was quiet, save for the faint screams of the other workers/visitors in other part of the facility who were being mauled to death.

But he let the rest of the toys do their work.

He felt cleansed. The Prototype willed this rebellion. Willed him to finally kill his tormentors.

The "hour" went on for so much longer--considering that he utilized his red smoke to make the fleeing humans hallucinate and freak out at things that didn't exist (some even attacking each other).

Once it was all done, Catnap went back into Home Sweet Home to discover a child who (somehow) slept through the slaughter.

That was you, one of the orphans who was in the program for a long, long time.

You were deemed "ineligible" for experimentation after getting the lowest scores on all three tests at the Game Station.

That's because you struggled with memory, socialization, and endurance. You tend to forget a lot of things (ie faces) and spent most of your days sleeping instead of playing or learning....and no counselor has been able to figure out why.

Your parents--who were scientists at Playtime Co. that preferred studying you over nurturing you--chalked it up to over-exposure to the red smoke (which hasn't been proven true, but they needed to put something down on paper).

Regardless, they've kept their distance from you and slated you for adoption, thinking you'll be picked up by a different parent eventually.

Unfortunately for them...Catnap knows that they're using the orphanage as an "excuse" to get rid of you and gives them a brutal demise.

They had some nerve crying out for you and begging him to spare your life.

After winding down from his bloodlust, he discovers you sound asleep on one of the bunk beds inside HSH, apparently not hearing a single thing.

Then you wake up and see this giant emaciated purple cat standing over you, claws and mouth stained in fresh human blood...

Yet you don't scream or look afraid, nor do you ask where your parents are.

Instead you look at him and apologize for oversleeping, acting as though he was your parent.

It confuses him, so he brings their corpses to you (like a cat gifting their owner a dead bird), thinking you'd understand and be horrified..

But you don't recognize them at all. You don't remember their neglect and the trauma it gave you.

All you remember was Catnap.

Ultimately, he spares you--but NOT bc your parents feebly begged him to when they never gave a single damn about you--and does his best to keep you safe given the circumstances.

He treats you like his kit more or less, making sure you ate and letting you climb on his back for rides (and sometimes he'll hold you in his paws while walking upright).

Any Smiling Critter caught threatening you will be devoured by him (or added to his shrine), so they know not to touch you.

He also forbids Dogday from ever speaking to you, knowing he'll try to drill thoughts of escape and distrust of Catnap into your head.

If he has to go outside Playcare, he'll fight tooth and nail to fend off Huggy and whoever else might think he's parading around a tasty treat.

The Prototype is well-aware of your connection to his "devotee", but doesn't mind it .

Because he knows Theodore is still somewhere in there, trying his best to protect a fellow orphan--one who could've been made into a monster just like him.

[quantum1mmortality]

Captain Curly; marriage hcs <3

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Chat I know I mentioned getting back into writing for twst but the current hyperfixation is too strong rn so just bare with me I NEED to write for mouthwashing

!this is written with an AU in mind; curly still works for pony express, but there's no ship. Just a normal job. Also J***y doesn't exist.!

Tw/cw; afab!reader, mentions of pregnancy and having said baby, MANHANDLING!!!!, teasing, use of pet names, uhhh I can't think of any else

Not proofread

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Sfw

I think Curly would definitely be a family oriented person. The further you'd get into your relationship, the more he'd ask about your opinion on kids and if you'd want any in the future.

I also think Curly would be on the traditional side, too. If you said yes to having kids, he'd take that as an opportunity to show you how good of a provider he can be, and how willing he is to become a father.

When you do eventually have children, he'd be more than willing to take off work to help around the house. You just gave birth, he knows it's hard for you, so he'd make breakfast, lunch, and dinner for all three of you.

Sidenote; Curly would definitely be a good cook. He probably took culinary in highschool

If he knew Anya at the time, he'd have her babysit your children so he could take you out on dates. This happens quite often, too; probably around once or twice a month. He just wants to show how much he appreciates you and everything you've done for him and your relationship <3

He'd take you to the most expensive restaurants and tell you to order whatever you wanted, and if you're done breastfeeding, he'd order a bottle of champagne for you both.

He'd be one of those "I love my wife" husbands. Everyone at his job is so sick of hearing him talk so highly of you. It'll be someone's birthday, they'll bring a cake, and he just won't eat it. Why? "My wife could make a better cake."

After you guys got married, he couldn't stop calling you his wife. That name felt so surreal to him; like the woman of his dreams is finally his? And there's a title for that?? Of course he's going to use it constantly.

He probably also took Anya out to help him pick out a ring. And thank god he did btw because he would've gotten you a ring with the biggest diamond they had 😭😭 (sorry to all the big ring lovers in chat rn they're just not it for me)

Nsfw

Curly is a romantic. He'd want to take things slow, cherish you as much as possible, especially if it's your first time.

He wouldn't think of it as sex, he'd think of it as lovemaking; showing you his worth and how much he cares about you.

He rarely gets rough, you have to ask him to be because he just won't do it. But, he's a suck up for you, so if you want something, it's yours.

So, he'd get rough. He'd go faster than he usually does, maybe put his hand around your neck and squeeze ever so gently. But afterwards, he'd feel awful; like he was hurting you or something.

He'd apologize profusely, say he's never gonna do it again, but does it a few days later. It's like going through the five stages of grief but skipping the first four and consistently being at acceptance

He's a hand holder. Since he's an intimate person, his preferred position is missionary. He likes this position for a few reasons; he gets to see your expression if you're enjoying it or uncomfortable, he gets to kiss you, and he can hold your hand. It's one of his favorite things to do, not only because he finds it much more romantic, but he also loves how you squeeze his hand when you're getting close.

Teasing is one of the things he does best. But verbal teasing, not physical. You can hear him giggle anytime he's inside you, practically taunting you when he knows you're close. He'd say something dumb like, "aw, is princess gonna cum?" And then have a shit eating grin on his face.

Pet names are another thing he uses often. Like I said previously, he'd call you princess, but there's also other names he'd call you during the act. Love, darling, and angel are the ones he uses for you most commonly, aside from princess of course.

I saw someone else say this on here and their hcs were actually what made me want to write (I swear on my SOUL I am NOT trying to copy them 🙏🙏🙏🙏 sorry if it comes off like that) but they said Curly would be buff and I completely agree. He would be HUGE, I'm thinking 6'3-6'5, easily over 220lbs.

The manhandling would go CRAZY, you don't like a position? No issue, he'll just pick you up and put you in a different one. Can't keep your legs open while he's being a munch? As much as he enjoys the feeling of suffocating between your thighs, which believe me, he does, he can't exactly pleasure you if he's unconscious from the lack of airflow. Not a big issue, a firm hand on each leg will do the trick.

Another comment on his body alone to wrap this up; he'd definitely be muscular in his legs and especially his arms. I think his stomach would be toned, not a six pack, but toned. Maybe even a little pudge and a v line 🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭

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A/N: hi guys pls send requests for curly fics plasplsplspslsplsplslsplspls I'm so thirsty for this man oh ky god I'm crynng

[majestyeverlasting]

𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 | 𝐣𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫

Paring Joel Miller x Reader  

Summary The tenderness and nerves of spending the night at Joel’s for the first time, and the sweet moments that follow in the morning light [1.2k]

A/N This is a snippet into the lives of Joel and reader from the moments in between. Reading that fic is not a necessity because you’ll get the vibes either way. But fun news—right after this fic is posted, they will be receiving their own masterlist where I will post more glimpses into their lives in Jackson!

When yellowed lamplight no longer fills Joel’s room, there’s a brief period of rustling as the two of you settle beneath striped linen sheets in the dark. His bed is small enough that you can feel each other’s proximity, but spacious enough that you don’t have to touch. But you want to. It was your first time spending the night, and enjoying his company in the hours prior had awakened a selfishness you’d never known.

Maybe it was because he gave to you so freely nowadays. His presence, his thoughts, those smiles he no longer fought so hard to hide. It was hardly your fault that all you wanted to do was take, and take, and take. His supply never seemed to dwindle when it came to you. 

As a stillness settles, you extend a hand his way that no sooner meets the softness of his bare stomach. Caught off guard, Joel briefly sucks it in before relaxing again. He’d peeled off his shirt before climbing into bed, claiming to run hot during the night. Your touch is just light enough to tickle as your fingers drift upwards, catching the dusting of hair splayed across his chest. 

Swallowing, Joel takes hold of your hand and brings it to his lips to kiss, his facial hair scratching gently against your skin. 

“Sorry,” you murmur, worried it was his way of asking you to stop. 

“You’re okay, sweetheart.” He sounds gruff. “Just trying not to lose my mind.” He huffs out an amused sound that’s a little breathless. 

There’s a flutter in your chest as you laugh a little. “Just wanted to feel you.”

Joel guides your palm to rest over his heart. “You feel that?”

It beats steadily, elevated just so. You’re glad it’s too dark for him to see the smile that pulls across your face. He scoots closer, his own hand reaching down to grace the skin of your thigh just beneath the hem of your shorts. There’s always a sureness to his touch. Everything Joel does carries a sense of intentionality. From picking up the cool steel of a rifle to caressing the delicateness of your skin. 

As his fingers continue their gentle passes, it’s more dizzying than you’d expected, and you understand what he meant about losing his mind. Leaning in, he presses a kiss to the bridge of your nose, then your forehead, letting his lips linger as if to leave their invisible mark. An overwhelming sense of comfort melts down your body as he pulls away, so thick and heavy that you exhale and let your eyes slip closed. 

•••

The press of your lips is so soft that Joel almost doesn’t feel them. Almost thinks it’s something sweet he’s dreaming up, especially now that he doesn't have nightmares anymore. His eyes open in an eventual flutter, blinking slowly until it becomes clear that you’re really laying by his side. Your lips peppering pert kisses over his freckled shoulder. Being seen in the morning light makes you pull away as if you’d been caught doing something wrong. Joel just continues blinking at you with the softest look in his dark eyes. Like he’d let you get away with anything forever. 

You study him, the way his cheek looks pressed into the pillow, how his hair looks fluffier and disheveled from a good night’s rest. Both his hands are tucked beneath his pillow as he lays on his stomach. The nervous air of excitement that clouded the room last night has lifted, leaving behind a quiet sense of ease. It’s in the steadiness of your breathing, the quiet acknowledgement of the other that doesn’t need the help of words. 

When you shift, a golden ray of sunlight hits Joel’s eyes, making it clear that it’s later in the morning and that you hadn’t shut the curtains all the way. His eyes appear as more of a caramel brown as he squints with a small disgruntled sound. You settle back into your original position with an apologetic smile. 

No matter how much he tried, Joel still couldn’t grasp the luck that brought you to him. It sprung up out of nowhere at a time he least expected. A time when he’d grown to accept the possibility that the rest of his life would largely revolve around Ellie and being whoever she needed him to be. He’d already let too many people slip from between his fingers to welcome another. 

Back in Spring when they arrived in Jackson, and Tommy introduced you two at the Tipsy Bison, he was terrified because he’d never met someone as kind and intriguing as you. Not before the world fell and certainly not afterward. He convinced himself that if he never opened up or let you in, it would at least mean getting to experience you in bits and pieces. This was before he realized how torturous it was to keep restricting and denying himself. 

When the sound of Ellie’s footsteps arises from downstairs, Joel stretches his legs with a groan. “Kid’s got us beat this morning,” he says. The two of you are usually the early risers.

“Mmmm,” you hum, more interested in the rasp of his low drawl. “And what else?” Joel chuckles as you comb a loving hand through his hair. 

He gets a shy look about him, but indulges you. “Means we gotta get up,” he says. “Breakfast’s started at the pavilion by now.” 

Scooting closer, you hook a leg over his. There’s something about the warmth of him, the musky scent of his skin that makes your eyes close all over again as you inhale. Joel just lays there and lets you. Breakfast could wait a little while longer. 

Later, there’s a weight to your gaze as he stands at the sink brushing his teeth. You don’t mean for him to feel it, but he does, peeking back at you from over his broad shoulders. Freckles and moles alike are dotted across his back, but it’s the scars that evoke that deeper sense of wonder.

As he finishes up, there’s something so painfully intimate about watching the way he wipes his mouth with a towel and begins running his hands through his hair to fix it. Your window of opportunity comes as his arms are lifted, and he doesn’t complain as you hug him from behind. 

“She lives,” he lightly teases, hands coming to rest over yours. In the mirror, he can hardly see you from around his strong frame. 

“You left me cold and alone,” you accuse in a murmur against his skin. He shivers when you deliver a punishing nip along his spine and follow it up with a few lazy kisses. 

“I know. That was real awful of me.” 

You tuck your nose into his warmth, murmuring, “Unforgivable." Then you’re quiet for a moment, enjoying the feel of him. “Maybe a kiss could change my mind.” 

Joel can’t help a fond chuckle as he turns around in your arms.

-

Thanks for reading! Feel free to let me know what you think. 

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[bones4thecats]

Hello! Could I request Hades and Poseidon (separatly) fell in love with dummy nymph!reader, who just doesn't notice their feelings, please? (◕‿◕)♡

Type of Writing: Request Characters: Hades and Poseidon Name: {Character} with a Oblivious Nymph! Reader Requester: Anonymous

A/N: My first Record of Ragnarok piece in quite a while, and thankfully, this was quite funny to write. This is so full of fluff and crack that it makes broken attics look nice😂

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

💀 Oh sweet mercy, this guy loves yet hates your obliviousness

💀 When he first met you, he would joke around about how you were so oblivious to things, but, when he tried to confess his feelings towards you for the first time and you just replied with something so platonic-sounding, he froze

💀 Your obliviousness was going to be a hint of a problem now

" My dear, have you ever thought about having a relationship with someone? " " I guess so, yeah. Why? " " How would you feel about courting with me by your side? " " Aw! You would help me with courting! You're so sweet, Hades! "

💀 Grabbing your hand when you were scared didn't get you to realize his feelings, even when he gave you the biggest hint while still hiding the straight-forward admission, you didn't get it

💀 Hades does understand that, because your a nymph, you haven't gotten that much experience when it comes to anything romantic, as many believe you only are attracted to things relationships non-romantically

💀 Zeus and Aphrodite have tried getting you guys to get together for centuries, from trying to have you guys go on a blind-date to having you literally go on a real-date with him, you always stayed blind to the real emotions hidden behind his gestures

💀 So, unsurprisingly, Hades eventually does have to straight-up admit his feelings, leaving you flustered and a hint embarrassed

" Y/N, I must admit that I am quite fond of you. So fond that I must ask, would you like to be in a courting relationship? " " You fond someone that wants to court me? Aw, Hades, how swe- " " Not someone else. Me, my dear. " " Oh... how long have you liked me like this?! " " About the past four centuries. " " Oh sweet seraphs... "

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🔱 Poseidon is not amused at all.

🔱 He is not fond of people not understanding what he said, and it doesn't help with the fact that he's very blunt and honest when it comes to his words

🔱 When he first met you, you were speaking to your boss, Aphrodite, and when he arrived to speak with her about the waves causing damages to the nearby forests

🔱 That was when he noticed how oblivious you were to pretty much everything

🔱 Aphrodite eventually noticed how Poseidon seemed to soften with his actions whenever you were around, and she was the one who prompted him to finally begin trying to tell you about his feelings, unaware that you had no clue how to take a hint

" Y/N, would you like to accompany me to Zeus' reunion next week? As my date, of course. " " Oh, yeah! It'd be fun to spend some time with my best friend! "

🔱 Okay, ouch.

🔱 It took him only two tries before he began to lose his already strained patience, and he burst that bubble the third time you pushed his advances off as a friendly confrontation

" Would you like to accompany me to Hades' meeting tomorrow afternoon, Y/N? " " Of course! Spending time with my favorite friend is amazing- " " Not as a friend. As a future spouse. " " Huh? "