#cause the time will pass anyways or whatever they say

[malk1ns]

february 27 vs flyers, 5-4 OT win

i was sent a picture that appeared on the jumbotron before the game started and it looked like geno had a lock on the front of his breezers, almost like he was wearing some sort of chastity device....

inspiration also drawn from the second picture in this tweet.

Sid doesn’t usually put Geno in chastity during games.

Practices are one thing. Nobody’s really going all-out and there’s very little contact—it’s not a regular thing, but sometimes Sid will be in a mood, or Geno will be acting out pre-rut, or they’re using it to make their afternoon plans a little more exciting. Chastity at work has fallen out of favor in general, and in pro sports in particular where even the most well-designed cage can cause injury with the wrong movement. 

Geno’s rut is due in a month, and his eye is starting to wander like it does this time every year. Normally Sid doesn’t mind; all alphas look, everyone knows that, and at the end of the day it’s Sid that Geno comes home to, Sid who Geno spends his ruts into, Sid who wears Geno’s bite on his neck.

Sometimes, though, Sid’s even keel about Geno’s tendency to drool after whatever other omegas are out on the ice upends itself. The first game in their home-and-home against Philadelphia turns out to be the tipping point.

Sid hasn’t paid much attention to how the Flyers are doing this year. They’re not contenders and neither are the Penguins, and the rivalry isn’t as blood-hot as it was when they were younger. He still gets a rush out of scoring in Philadelphia, but it’s not the same level of hatred. Maybe he’s getting soft as he gets older, or maybe over a decade of the Flyers being practically irrelevant while Sid had to make room for three Stanley Cups and two Conn Smythes on his trophy shelf cooled it off.

Whatever the reason, Sid’s vaguely aware that they’ve got a young Russian superstar in the making over there, but it’s not until Geno starts ‘casually’ stretching near him during warmups, making a point to skate by the Flyers bench during play stoppages to exchange a few words that Sid gives it more than a passing thought.

Geno had been restless on the trip back to Pittsburgh, handsy with Sid in a way he almost never gets after bad losses…unless something else got him riled up, of course.

He argued when Sid brought the chastity belt out after their pre-game nap, but Sid has his pride, and Geno’s easy to manipulate when he’s hopped up on his own hormones; he’s suggestible, extra vulnerable to an omega looking up at him through their lashes and putting a little whine in their voice. Knot-stupid, just like every alpha on the planet—they’re all the same at the end of the day.

Sid eased the sting by letting Geno hump his thighs until he came all over Sid’s skin; while Geno was sprawled out on their bed, knot deflating and half-drunk on his orgasm, Sid cleaned himself up, wiped Geno down, and locked him into his cage, all before Geno was coherent enough to notice and try to talk his way out of it.

That doesn’t stop him from arguing the entire way to the rink.

“Hurts,” he whines, shifting in the passenger seat. Sid keeps his eyes on the road; seeing Geno squirm like this always gets him going, and if he gives off even a hint of interest Geno will be on him all night. “Sid, can’t wear during game, like, people see.”

“Should have thought of that on Tuesday before you were drooling after that kid,” Sid says, laying on the horn and swerving into the turn lane he needs at the last second. “Whoops. If I could trust you to keep it in your pants, I wouldn’t have to do this. He’s way too young for you anyway; you’ll thank me after your rut once you’re done being embarrassed.”

“No,” Geno mutters petulantly, but he slouches in his seat and stays quiet the rest of the drive.

The guys notice. It’s impossible not to. Sid holds his breath as they get changed, keeping an eye on where Geno’s practically trying to crawl into his stall, but nobody says anything. The team is never shy about giving them a hard time when Geno shows up wearing it to practice, but that’s different and they know it—dirty jokes and poorly-done innuendo doesn’t apply here.

Everyone gives Geno space, except for Karl who sits next to him for a while. Sid keeps half an eye on the way they bend towards each other to whisper; Karl’s omega keeps him on a pretty tight leash, and while he’s never had to play a game in chastity Sid knows for a fact that Mel has her own methods to keep him under control when his rut is approaching.

The cage works. Geno doesn’t so much as look at the Flyers’ bench the whole first period. Granted, he doesn’t do much of anything else either, and they troop off the ice at intermission down one and with basically no pushback to show for it.

Sid’s as much at fault as anyone; he spent most of the first 20 minutes watching Geno, tracking his path across the ice and cataloging the slump of his shoulders on the bench. He ignores Sully’s irritated diatribe in favor of watching Geno listlessly spin his stick in his stall, eyes downcast and thighs pressed tight together.

Sid’s lips twist into a frown. It’s working, but not the way he anticipated. He wanted Geno focused and hungry, not embarrassed and withdrawn.

Just as they’re about to walk back out for the second, Sid tugs Geno’s sleeve to hold him back. “Hey,” he says, keeping his voice low. “Get this game for us and I’ll make it worth your while.” He cuts his eyes to Geno’s groin where the outline of the lock is pressing against his pants.

Geno doesn’t say anything, but Sid knows when he’s caught Geno’s attention.

It takes another two goals against and a goalie change that has the entire bench cowering under Ned’s anger, but when Geno flips that switch he’s still one of the best in the league, and Sid loves nothing more than sitting back and watching him decide the outcome of a game by sheer will alone.

When Geno snaps the OT winner into the net, Sid can’t get to him fast enough. He practically pushes past Kris to slide under Geno’s arm, tilting his head just a bit, enough for Geno to scent him but (probably) not enough for anyone else to notice what he’s doing out in the middle of the ice with every camera on them.

“That was so hot,” he says under his breath as they skate to the bench, biting back a smile when Geno tries to follow him down the tunnel and gets yanked back. First star of the night gets media duty when it’s a national game, and Sid loves making Geno wait.

Geno’s practically gagging for it by the time he gets back to the locker room, but then the team cameras crowd around him for the helmet video. He stumbles his way through a little speech, eyes cutting to Sid constantly as he trots out something encouraging. Sid slips out when the reporters are let in, taking pity on Geno’s distraction and giving him room to breathe so he can talk to the media without giving them a soundbite he’ll regret later.

By the time Geno barges out of the locker room, hair still wet and eyes wild, Sid’s waited just about as long as he himself can stand without starting to fray at the edges; Geno must be absolutely miserable.

Sid chatters through the whole drive home, as much to give himself something to think about that’s not Geno’s dick as it is to help Geno out. Geno’s responses are mostly grunts, but he laughs at Sid’s shitty joke about Torts, so Sid’s feeling pretty good when they pull into his garage.

As soon as they’re up in the bedroom, Geno’s on him.

“Please,” he groans, mouthing at Sid’s throat. He has Sid pinned to the wall and he’s rubbing himself all over Sid’s body. Sid can feel the metal from the chastity belt through Geno’s thin sweatpants. “Sid, need so bad, you’re say to me if I win you game you give to me, please, it hurts.”

“Okay, big guy,” Sid gasps, fighting off his instinctive urge to fawn, to swoon into Geno’s arms and let Geno take him. “You’re right. You got me that game—let me take this thing off and I’ll take care of you.”

Geno fights it, but Sid powers him down onto the mattress and strips off his clothes before sitting on Geno’s thighs, effectively pinning him in place. Geno thrashes, working to try and throw Sid off and get him belly-down and presenting, but Sid can see it in his eyes—he likes it when Sid bosses him around just as much as Sid does.

Sid keeps the key for Geno’s cage on his necklace, and he fishes it out from under his shirt with shaky hands, almost dropping the chain once it’s unclasped. The sound Geno makes when Sid frees his dick and balls from the constrictive metal is more pain than it is pleasure, and Sid doesn’t give him a second of relief, getting his hands around Geno’s dick and stroking him until he’s hard.

“Damn,” Sid says, mouth watering. Geno fully hard is impressive; even for an alpha he’s big, dick curving up to his belly button and veiny. The skin where his knot swells is loose, and Sid knows from experience that it’s sensitive as hell. When he pinches it, Geno practically howls.

Sid squeezes his thighs around Geno’s legs tighter and rocks down, shivering a little at the stimulation over his pussy. He’s wet and throbbing—Geno’s rut doesn’t always trigger his heat, but he suspects this year it will, with how attuned he’s felt to Geno’s shifts in hormones over the last few weeks. “What do you want?” he manages, clenching down on nothing. “You could fuck me, or I could use my mouth. Whatever you want.”

Geno looks distraught, hands flying to Sid’s side as Sid fumbles his shirt off. “Siiiiid,” he whines, plucking at the waistband of Sid’s sweats until Sid lifts up enough to somehow rip his way out of those too. “So hard to choose, like, both so good.” He bites his lip, and Sid suppresses a whine of his own; he wants to do that. “Pussy always so sweet though, think I want to be inside.” His hands find the creases of Sid’s hips, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. “You give?”

“Anything,” Sid groans, lifting up and sliding down onto Geno’s dick without giving either of them time to adjust. “Fuck.”

Geno’s hands spasm around his hips as Sid sets a rhythm, bracing himself against Geno’s chest and ducking his head. Geno’s huge and hot in him, and Sid’s legs are sore, but he’s falling into the pheromones Geno’s pumping out—they’re fogging up his brain, erasing the muscle strain from the game and the pain in his elbow and leaving behind nothing but white-hot pleasure. Sid thinks his toes are curling.

“Malysh,” Geno rumbles, alpha-deep from his chest, and when he moves to flip them over Sid doesn’t offer an ounce of resistance. Geno cages him in, arms on either side of Sid’s head, and Sid purrs, baring his throat. Geno’s bite mark feels like it’s throbbing and fresh.

Geno ducks his head into Sid’s neck and fucks into him, careless and hard and feral, and all Sid can do is lie there and take it, every ounce of strength sapped from him as Geno’s knot starts to swell in him.

When it catches, the noise Sid makes is animal, desperate, and when Geno’s hand sneaks between them and closes around his dick he comes so hard he loses the ability to breathe for a second.

Geno’s own breathing is heavy in Sid’s ear, labored and undercut with a nasal whine as he humps forward, knot caught but the need to fuck into Sid until Sid is well and truly claimed still pushing him. It’s not like the steamy romance novels all the Russians in the league are always passing around for their book club, Sid can’t feel Geno come inside him, but he can Geno’s knot twitch, can feel his balls pulse against his ass as they empty themselves into him, and it’s arousing enough to make his soft dick twitch painfully.

Geno always goes nonverbal when he’s knotting Sid, so Sid runs his hands down Geno’s back and purrs as hard as he can, feeling Geno’s frantic heartbeat start to slow as Sid settles them down.

By the time Geno’s knot has shrunk enough to pull out, he’s regained his ability to speak.

“Oh god,” he groans, flopping onto his stomach and narrowly missing clocking Sid in the face with his arm. “Best.”

“Uh huh,” Sid says, blinking rapidly to try and keep from passing out right there. “Good work tonight.”

Geno snorts a laugh into the pillow, then heaves himself to his feet and stumbles for the bathroom. Sid listens to him piss and wash his hands, letting himself wallow in the vast fondness that rushes through his chest.

Alphas have wandering eyes. Alphas need to be kept in their place, reminded where they belong. Alphas are ruled by their instincts and their hormones, and the closer they get to rut the more like animals they act. Everyone knows that.

What Sid also knows is that Geno never lets Sid get up after they fuck, insisting that he be the one to get water and clean Sid off. He knows that Geno will stay up half the night, long after he thinks Sid’s fallen asleep, tracing the scar he left on Sid’s throat all those years ago. He knows that Geno will do anything, reverse the clock a decade and a half on the ice, if it will make Sid happy. 

Sid wriggles on the mattress until he can get to his discarded pants, pulling his phone out of his pocket and tapping at the screen, holding the phone close to his face and closing one eye so he can see. Geno always somehow manages to have all of Sid’s favorite stuff on hand for his heats, everything he happens to be craving that cycle there for him to indulge in; Sid needs to do a better job of returning the favor this year.

[thistransient]

While I was away, my friend who's down south for a month left his fan for me to borrow. Previously I had either been using my aircon extremely sparingly (only when over 30C at night) or laying on the floor sweating like god intended. The fan's arrival, however, immediately initiated an unprecedented new era of slothfulness. Where at least before there was some motive to go in search of cooler climes (the library, the park at night), now it was entirely realistic to hang out at home, sprawled in front of the device forever. The evils of technology made manifest!

Or so I thought. After a week of this, my paranoia over the one (1) query from the immigration officer was festering, and I was growing cognisant of the fact that I didn't actually want to live out my days in a tiny dark apartment, prostrated at the altar of the artificial breeze. (Or it could also be that I simply don't want to spend the rest of my life in a subtropical heat wave...) I was getting real moody about my prospects, or lack thereof. Today I decided to finally have a go at actually finishing the preliminary test for an editing company whose listing I've come across a couple times (and usually quit halfway through because imagining reading this sort of stuff for 8 hours a day seemed guaranteed to drive me batty). But recently my bff who used to have me proofread his undergrad papers started using ChatGPT to write them, leaving me bereft of grammatical errors to savage (and also the dinners he would trade for my diligent efforts).

So I almost immediately received an email prompting me to move to the next stage, HOWEVER for visa sponsorship apparently the gov't requires either a graduate degree OR a bachelors + 2 years of relevant work experience. No teaching. If blogging and editing for friends counted as experience, I would be golden. Or rather, if I could establish a paper trail for said experience...

[deoidesign]

One of my first digital pieces (2010) versus one of my recent ones (2024)

We all start somewhere!

[newtness532]

of course they brought me the yarn when i decided it's time to focus on studying lol

[rosicheeks]

🫶

[prettyboykatsuki]

cause we're, y'know | k. bakugou

✮ tags ; gender neutral reader, fluff, post relationship jitters, bakugou being down bad a little bit, friends to lovers. not 18+ but minors do Not follow me.

✮ wc ; 1k

✮ a/n ; a comm for @euthymiya who gave me free reign to do whatever which i used to write corny bkg fluff... thank u for commissioning me most beloved riv <3

✮ synopsis ; bringing his friend turned lover a lunchbox is normal, alright? plenty fucking normal.

Bakugou taps his fingers along the edge of the bench he's been sitting on since evening - beating to an unsteady rhythm.

He can hear Sero's voice in the back his hand as he squeezes the wrapped bento a little closer to his torso. The shitty, sing-song teasing lilt when you and Bakugou were less then lovers but more then friends.

And now you're lovers proper, as fucking corny as he finds it. But maybe he's not finding it corny enough because he's sitting in the lobby of your office building with a bento he made by hand. There's some chatter from strangers coming in and out of your office building - the occasional ding of elevators, the passing whistle of a janitor.

The awful, loud, no good thump of his heartbeat ricocheting against his rib cage as he goes back and forth on whether or not this shit was a good idea.

He's... fucking nervous. Which is total bullshit because he doesn't have anything to be nervous about. It's not like this is the first time you and Bakugou have ever met up to eat lunch. It was just that before, he was coming to meet you as a friend.

Some part of him is thinking, so what if he's your boyfriend? Who gives a shit, anyway?

Another part of him feels so mixed about the ordeal he sort of wants to puke.

His phone buzzes from the pocket of his pants and he grabs it - your phone and contact flashing across his screen

(sent 11:12am) coming down :]

Bakugou smiles to himself, at the stupid emoticon. He thinks about just liking your reply but before he gets the chance another text follows through.

(sent 11:12am) missed you <3

He blushes almost furiously. Partially over the text but mostly from his internal reaction. Stupid. This whole thing is so stupid. He types fast.

(sent 11:14am) hurry your ass up.

That's all he can manage to say without feeling like his chest is going to collapse in on itself. He waits another minute before he hears the elevator doors ding again - a crowd of people dispersing as the doors open. He looks for you among them.

He finds you after a minute, hand waving overhead of the sea of people. He huffs, amused at how rapidly you wave your hand, and thinks about texting you again but you're close enough that he doesn't bother.

You march towards him with a renewed vigor after you aren't lost to the sea of strangers. Bakugou snorts as you hurry your way over to him, almost seeming out of breath - like you ran to see him.

"Hey,"

"Hi!" You say, chipper as always. "You're here."

"No shit."

You laugh. He's heard it before. A hundred times, a thousand maybe. It still sounds weirdly different to him.

"Did you have anywhere in mind to eat?" You ask.

Horror dawns on him at the realization you still didn't realize what's in his hand. "I'm up for anything I think. Feeling adventurous."

Your eyes are sparkling when you ask. Bakugou freezes, blue screening momentarily before taking a breath.

He holds the boxed bento out to you sheepishly, a hand scratching the back of his neck. This is way more embarrassing then he thought it'd be.

"Fuck. Whatever. Look," He says, shaking the upset off of him with a frown. " He doesn't look up at you, doesn't even want to know what he might see. Something bright enough to fucking blind him, he's sure. "Don't say shit or I'm never making you one again."

You blink owlishly before letting your eyes flicker down again at what it's in front you. There's a beat of silence between you before Bakugou sees a grin slowly creep it's way up to your face in a way that makes his chest feel tight.

You take the wrapped bento from him, assessing the weight of it in your hand as you give it a good look. You hold it up to admire it and Bakugou feels the blush crawl further down his neck.

"Stop acting like I just handed you a diamond or some shit," Bakugou says lamely, even by his own standards. Your lips form into affectionate pout.

"You made me a bento." Your lower lip trembles all too sudden and Bakugou's eyes go wide. "I love you,"

?!

Bakugou looks at you, mouth agape. You're completely serious. Nevermind the inappropriate timing or the fact this is the first time you've expressed yourself with a word so serious. He's more concerned about the almost tears at your eyes. He pulls his sleeves over his hands to wipe them from your eyes.

"Dumbass, what are you crying about? You're still in the office, get it together."

"But I love you," You say, more whine then coherent word. Bakugou feels a headache coming on.

"Yeah I got that. Am I really such a shithead me bringing you lunch is worth sobbing over?"

"You made it for me."

"Cause I ain't no punk. Anyone can pay for you you but we're," He stops himself mid way, too embarrassed to get the rest out. "Anyways whatever. It's just lunch. I just... fuckin' realized I never made it for you. Dinner and shit is one thing but we're,"

"Dating," You finish before he can. He falls victim to more blushing.

"Yeah. Whatever. This much is pretty standard, at least." He wipes another tear off your face. It's funny. Anyone else pulled some shit like this and he'd rolls his eyes. "Stop cryin' already."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't gotta say sorry either."

"But,"

"No buts. Hurry and wipe your tears before your breaks over so you don't go all puffy eyed back in the office."

You laugh through a sniffle. "They'll think my boyfriend was being mean to me, huh?"

He snorts, voice full of playful sarcasm. "Yeah exactly. I've got a great reputation to uphold and all."

"Katsuki," You say gently. He gives you a look.

"Hm?"

You lean forward, craning up just slightly to press your lips to his. Your third kiss, now. Not that he's been counting.

"Thank you and," You pull back mischievously, brows furrowing. "Revenge."

He's in so deep. Fuck.

"You're such an idiot." He says, fighting off his own feelings.

"You love me,"

Maybe he's an idiot too.

"Yeah." He says, flicking your forehead and watching you beam. "Unfortunately."

[thebibliosphere]

Speaking of therapy, I say, as though we're old friends, and you're not a stranger trapped in this metaphorical elevator with me and you can hear the suspension wires starting to fray.

I've been doing a lot of work recently that's focused on imposter syndrome and the feeling that no matter how well or how much I do, I'm not good enough. That I'm somehow tricking everyone into thinking my work is actually good.

Some days it's a minor niggle in my head that I can gentle and soothe with logic and affirmations. Or smother, depending on the mood. Other times it's loud and all-consuming and the mental anguish it causes me is so real I can feel it twitching in my muscles. This desperate fight-or-flight instinct with nowhere to go and nothing to fight but myself.

Anyway, because I'm several types of Mentally Unwell™, I was switching between workshop sheets ahead of next week. Filling in different forms. (Trying to get a good grade in therapy) And I got my "recognize your harmful ADHD coping mechanisms" worksheet mixed in with the "you're not actually lying to people, you just feel like you are because your brain is full of weasels" worksheet, and seeing them side by side made something go topsy turvy in my head, and I just had to sit and breathe for a couple of minutes until the urge to scream passed. Because it clicked, it all suddenly clicked.

The reason the imposter syndrome workshops and therapy sessions aren't sticking was because I do routinely trick people into thinking I'm someone I'm not.

Because I'm masking my ADHD for their convenience.

I've always known there was something wrong with me. My neurotypical peers made it abundantly clear I didn't fit in or was failing in some way I couldn't see nor remedy, no matter how hard I tried.

So I compressed myself into a workaholic box of hyper-competence in the hopes they'd stop noticing the flaws and exploit like me instead. And then subsequently lived with the daily fear that if they looked too close, they'd realize I'm a monumental fuck up with enough personal baggage to block the Suez Canal.

If you ever need someone to burn themselves to ashes for your comfort and convenience, I'm your gal.

Or I used to. Until I had a bit of a breakdown, and the rubber band holding my brain together snapped and pinged off into the stratosphere, never to be seen again.

Unfortunately, the trauma of living like that didn't also fuck off and instead left a gaping maw where my personality ought to be, so now I get to deal with that aftermath.

And it's that aftermath that's affecting the imposter syndrome shit. Because yes, I am hyper-competent and good at what I do-- but it doesn't feel real because that is how I mask.

And the truly frustrating thing is I am good at what I do. I am not pretending. I worked hard to be good at this. It just feels like I'm dicking around because 90% of my personality turns out to be trauma masquerading as humor in a trenchcoat, and having people genuinely like something weird I'm doing is so foreign my brain has decided it's just another form of masking.

I'm pretending to be a good author so people will think I'm a good author, and my brain thinks we are in Danger of being found out. We are in Danger, and writing is Dangerous because then people will know I'm Weird and not whatever palatable version I've presented myself as for their NT sensibilities.

Like the neurotic vampire with a raging praise kink wasn't an obvious giveaway.

Anyway. I got nothing else. Thanks for listening.

I'm going to go be very normal in another room and not stare into the abyss of my own soul for a bit.

[baby-yongbok]

Say it again

Bang Chan x afab!Reader

✦ Genre - Smut [MDNI] - Established Relationship ✦ Word Count - 2.6k ✦ Summary - You're Chan's princess, he'd give you anything you'd ever wanted but after a drunken slip up he decides to make you wait for what you want for once. ✦ CW -  Piss, Soft!Dom Chan, Edging, Dirty talk, Size kink?, Degradation? (towards chan but like... he asked for it? you'll see.), Unprotected sex & Creampie (Wrap it up), Reader is called Princess, baby, nasty girl/ naughty, - Again, this is a piss kink fic. ✦ Masterlist ✦

You’re Chan’s Princess. His sweet girl who he’d sell his left foot for if you asked. You’re a spoiled brat. Well, that’s what his friends say anyway.

 There isn’t a day that the group can pass up on an opportunity to poke and prod at your boyfriend for pampering you. They joke that you’ve never heard Chan say the word no and you just smile - It’s kinda true.

Your boyfriend just laughs and rolls his eyes, “She deserves it.” He’d state simply, confidently. He’d give you a wink and proceed to peel your orange or bring you a drink and let you eat half of his food. It was sweet, he was sweet. And then you messed it up. 

It’s nothing too drastic, just some tipsy teasing one night a week ago. You said something along the lines or Chan having a small dick or whatever. You honestly can’t remember but Chan does. It lives fresh in his mind and motivated him to change things up a bit. 

That night he brought you home, cooed sweet nothings in your ear and undressed you like a gentleman would. He kissed down your neck, up your thighs, over your cunt and lapped at the drenched flesh like a man starved. He built you up, up, up before pulling back and letting it all melt away.

You whimpered as he stood from his knees, his frame towered over you and you reached out to him, silently asking for more, “Channie.” You whined but he didn’t smile, he didn’t touch you, not like he usually would. He just leaned in and hovered over your naked form. 

“Next time you wanna tell a joke, make sure that it’s funny, Princess.” The harsh rasp of his voice made your cheeks flush, adding to what the alcohol had caused. With a chaste kiss to your temple he pulled back and left you dizzy, tipsy and wanting more. 

This treatment went on for a week.  

He spent his time building you up just to let you fall and repeated it the next day. He’d get himself off right in front of your face, jerking his pretty cock with you on your knees before him. He found himself smiling at the way your needy gaze would track his every move. The sanguine glint in your eye only shined brighter with each grunt and moan. You would whine, beg quietly or silently in hopes that your voice could convince him to finally give in but you always end up starving for more. 

“How long are you going to do this to me?” You whine four days in, looking up at him with glassy eyes as he redresses. “I’m sorry for what I said, I was tipsy.”

“I accept your apology.” He kneels down to your level, taking your hand in his. “But you still can’t cum.” He brings your hand up to his mouth and kisses the back of it before standing and changing the subject like he didn’t just push you a bit closer to the edge of insanity. 

You’ve never been this desperate in your life. 

You’ve never wanted Chan more than you did when you’d stand at the sink and press your thighs together with the hopes that you could get some semblance of relief. He went from edging you to teasing you to nothing at all and now you find yourself missing the miserable routine of being close to release just to have it snatched away. 

Chan caught on to your attempts at self pleasure quicker than you thought he would. He would watch, stare at your thighs and look for that slight tremble or pulse in your muscle then he’d slap your thigh and smile. He’s enjoying this.

And part of you is too. 

Tonight marks a week of this punishment. You’re home alone while Chan works late at the studio which is rare for a Sunday but he locked into a track and got stuck perfecting it. You text him a sweet goodnight and warn him to get home before the snowstorm starts. He texts back, warning you to behave. 

It’s three in the morning when Chan tiptoes into the apartment. He maneuvers around furniture and discarded objects to ensure that you stay asleep. He grabs the food you left him then heads for the shower to soak the chill of the storm out of his bones.

He’s exhausted, spent, but then he sees you. The walk to his dresser gets cut short when he gets a glimpse of your sprawled out frame. You're so cute and peaceful in your nightgown, with one leg hiked up and bent over a pillow, his pillow. 

Chan steps closer, looking over your relaxed body and taking in the way your smooth skin disappears under the soft fabric of your gown. For a second he thinks that you really do look like a princess. Prim and pretty and all his. 

He climbs into bed behind you, his towel slips down to reveal more of the firm cut of his hip and he presses into your backside. You push back in a stir and Chan has to bite his tongue not to moan. He needs you.

“Babygirl.” He drapes his arm over your stomach and pulls you back into the growing tent of the towel. His lips brush over the soft skin of your neck and he peppers gentle kisses across the flesh. 

“Baby.” He whispers and you hum. His fingers start to trace shapes into the clothed skin of your stomach and you sigh. “Chan?” You mumble, still mostly asleep. 

“Mhm.” His hand on your stomach trails down to lift the hem of your nightgown. “Do me a favor and open your legs, hun. Stay asleep, just let me make you cum.”

The indulgent glide of his hand up your flesh makes you shiver awake. You blink your heavy lids and sigh a soft moan at his touch. “Promise?” Chan kisses behind your ear. How could he say no to a voice as sweet as yours?

“Promise, now open up for me.” He pushes his covered cock against your ass and you push back with a moan and then you gasp. Your pleasure is interrupted by the pressure of your full bladder, it sends a sudden shock that makes you squirm. “Gotta pee, Channie.”

You attempt to sit up with the intention of rushing off to the bathroom real quick but Chan’s arm circles your stomach again, keeping you trapped against him. “Yeah? Gotta pee?” The kisses on your neck get firmer, his subtle grinding picks up and his hand pushes softly against your lower abdomen.

“Chan.” You moan in protest but it does little to stop him. The pang of urgency your body is sending you gets stronger with his subtle push and not so subtle grind of his hips. “I’ll be quick.”

He smiles against you, moving his hand back down to lift the hem of your gown up over the swell of your ass. “I know, hun.” His towel gives way and it’s his bare cock pressing against you now. “You wanna cum, right? Want me to give you what you’ve been begging for?”

Your body betrays you, shuddering as arousal starts to gush between your shaking thighs. You press them together in an attempt to hold your bladder. “Then you’ll stay here and let me give you what you wanted, won’t you? You’ll be my good girl.”

Chan’s hand moves between your legs, parting your plush thighs and firmly brushing a calloused finger over your clit. The contact makes you keen. “I can’t hold it. Can’t, please let me-”

“Pick one, Do you wanna pee or do you want to cum?” He kisses your shoulder and you go quiet. What do you do?

 “I’ll make a mess” Chan chuckles at your concern then licks his hand. He reaches between your bodies and tugs at his thick cock. “Do I sound like I mind a mess?” He slides his length between your thighs, pressing it against your heat. “If you don’t want me to make you cum I can stop. Just say the word.”

The thought of asking him to stop translates as insanity to you. He drags his hips back and starts fucking your thighs. He grinds against and fucks up over your clenching cunt. His tip gets caught on your clit and your chest vibrates with a deep moan. This is the most he’s touched you in days. It’s dizzying and Chan makes it worse when he leans in, lips brushing the shell of your ear and whispers. 

“Fuck, I missed you, baby.” His hand comes up to your chin and he turns your head just enough to take in the way your features twist in pleasure. “Tell me what you want.”

“More.” Your mouth was faster than your mind. “Yeah? More? Wanna piss all over the sheets? That’s how desperate you are?” You’re nodding, pressing your thighs together when his hips pick up pace. You don’t care anymore. You need him. 

“Nasty, baby. So fucking naughty.” The tip of his cock rubs over your slick clit with each thrust. Your body trembles with the sweet satisfaction of finally feeling pleasure and Chan lets you have that for a second or two before his grip on your hip becomes bruising.

 “What was it that you said that night? Something about me having a small dick, right?” He’s breathing heavily in your ear and you shudder, nodding mindlessly as you drift farther and farther from reality. “Look at me.” 

The movement is reluctant but you follow his request. Your low-lidded gaze meets his and your heart beats double time. “Is that what you said?”

“I’m sorry.” You whimper but that’s not what he wanted. He presses down on your bladder harder and you gasp, “Answer the question.”

The moan that echoes from you is unbecoming. It’s far from prim but very pretty. “Yes, I said it.. I’m sorry.” It’s less of a confession and more of a desperate plea but Chan accepts it with a hum.

 “You wanna stand by that? Wanna tell me how small I am?” He presses a bit harder and you groan, breaking eye contact and shaking your head into your pillow. “C’mon, call my cock pathetic, hun.”

The tone of his voice in contrast to his actions is as sweet as cinnamon. “C’mon.” You open your mouth to speak but nothing but half a whimper and a huff of hot air escapes. “Follow the rules to cum.”

“Y-you’re cock, is pathetic.” Chan pulls his hips back. “Gimme more, come on.” His pressure on your stomach lets up and you can breathe again. You inhale and exhale with a shake before giving him what he asked for.

“Your… cock is so pathetic. So small that you never make me c-cum - Chan…” His hips push forward, his cock catches at your entrance and bullies its way into your fluttering cunt. The words you’ve uttered are debunked in real time. 

“Pathetic, yeah?” He groans, fingers splaying over your bare stomach. “Y-yeah, I can’t even feel… feel it.” Chan smiles, pressing his hips firmer into you and successfully pulling a scream from your chest.

 You can feel the dam threatening to break, small trickles wet your thighs and you try your best to chase your orgasm while holding the mess but you can’t seem to find a way to get one without the other. 

“Chan, I’m sorry, I’m sorry I- I..” You’re not entirely sure what you’re apologizing for anymore. You feel desperate to cum, to empty your bladder, for anything and everything. Your boyfriend smiles behind you, finding your begging stutter cute.

“Nah, stick with what you said, baby. Can’t even feel it, right?” The steady rocking of his hips turns into shallow thrusts that actually do have you tearing up. 

Chan picks up on your attempt to hold back and presses harder, drilling his hips in and out of you and making the splinter of pleasure and pressure fuse in a way that you’ve never experienced before. 

“C-chan - Channie..” Your bladder leaks, wetting your thighs, the sheets, him. But you finally get to cum. You keen and he eats it all up. He tips your head back, admiring the way your teeth sink into your bottom lip before your jaw hangs slack with gasps. 

“That’s it, baby. I got you, just fall apart for me.” He wraps his arm around you, reaching down to rub harsh circles into your clit. You’re soaked, shaking through the mix of sweet releases. “Messy cunt.” He groans, pushing your thighs further apart and spanking your clit. 

You give him the sounds he was looking to hear with a shudder that makes him hiss. “C’mere.” 

 He pulls out and positions you on all fours over the messy sheets. You grab your pillow and bury your face in it just as he slides back in. He lets his head fall back with an elated sigh. A lazy slap on your ass follows and you whimper, “God, I missed my girl so much.” 

He moves slow and shallow, watching the way his dick disappears into you with each tremor and flutter your body offers. “Just like that.” He coos, picking up pace slowly but not slow enough for you to adjust. 

The new angle is deeper than before but it makes you scream all the same. “That’s a lot of noise for a small dick, huh?” A cocky breathy laugh rumbles through him but the pull in his abdomen cuts it short. Or maybe it was the way your cunt squeezed him as your second orgasm snuck up your legs. 

“Let it out, pretty girl. Gimme more, c’mon.” You break all over again. The last of you tried to hold wets his thighs and your pussy practically gushes around him. 

“Pissing on me again? Nasty girl.” He groans, seconds from falling apart. He reaches around and slaps your clit again and again, moaning at the messy wet sound it makes.

 “Gonna let me make a m-mess too? Gonna let me fill you up?” Each word is punctuated with a thrust until he leans forward, pressing into you while his eyes roll back and muscles tense. 

“Baby, ba - fuck… baby.” His voice gradually fades into a whisper until all you hear is him panting over you. The cool wetness of his thighs is a shivering contrast to the warmth of you. 

“Chan…” You whimper, failing to complete the rest of your plea. “Sh sh sh, you’re good, baby.”

“I’m sorry.” This time you know that you’re apologizing for the mess. He leans over you, running his hand through your hair and rubbing at your scalp. “There's no need to be sorry. I wanted it.”

“Really?” You turn your head, trying to catch his gaze with your glassy one. 

“Yes, really.” He kisses over your back with a sweet hum to both comfort you and distract you from the pressure of him moving again.

“You did so well for me.” You open your mouth to speak but a pathetic stutter escapes instead. Chan hums, rocking his hips into you and gently and running his hands up your back to soothe you.

“Look at me, princess.” You blink up at him and he coos, “You’ll do it again for me, yeah?”

His hips snap and you nearly do too. “Say it.”

ALSO, please follow my back-up acct. @minniee-verse 💕

Perm. Tag List:

@dreamingaboutjisung @nxtt2-u @kayleefriedchicken

@compersian @kibs-and-bits @lixiluvs @armystay89 @lghtdarling

@teddy-stay , @baconcupcakes123, @moonchild9350 ,

@krayzieestay, @soulsbbg , @stay-bi , @yzsqu , @lghtdarling @yaorzu-blog

@wealwayskeepfighting

[stick2vamp]

.. sebatsian meets an old friend again (reader) after he was put in prison and taken by urbanshade… reader was sent to the blacksite by urbanshade but they don’t recognize sebastian (i’m in need of angst)

𝜗 ˖ ❝ why can't we laugh now, like we did then? ᵕ ♡

— in which time has flown by: you look the same, yet he looks so different. ✧

↷　 sfw 𓈒 decided to lump these two asks together cause they're similar 𓈒 angst 𓈒 sebastian backstory spoilers 𓈒 lowkey (highkey) rushed

12 years.

It's been 12 years since they took him away for good.

12 years since he died.

You knew he couldn't have done it: sure, SEBASTIAN has a bit of a smart tongue, but he would never actually harm another person. Let alone kill 9 others. Yet, the charged him for it. Yet, they sentenced him to death row. Yet, they electrocuted him to death.

And only 2 years after they killed him, did they finally realize he wasn't the murderer. 2 years after they took him from you, did they finally realize they made a mistake.

How old would he have been now? 32? No, 31: his birthday hasn't passed yet. Speaking of his birthday, you should probably celebrate for him soon.

But it's hard to celebrate when you ended up in prison yourself.

Same as your late friend, you had been falsely accused. Same as your late friend, you had been sentenced to death row. Same as your late friend, you were going to die.

You wondered: would they put you on the same chair he once sat on?

You would never find out.

A company—Urbanshade, as they called themselves—showed up within your final days. They offered a way out, a chance to live, a chance to redeem. Of course, given the awards, it was nothing short of sketchy. It would be a big risk.

You signed up, along with many others.

It didn't matter anyway. Worst case scenario, you would die either way. You had to try and live for Sebastian. To make it to his birthday, and celebrate it for him.

Suited up in diving gear, a collar-like mechanism attached to your neck, you were ready to go.

You passed door 31.

While you were expecting the dangers that came with a mission like this, you weren't expecting them to be.. well, this.

Entities whose entire body was simply a face rushed up and down the halls, mangling everything in their path. Their razor, jagged teeth could easily tear your human flesh to shreds. Shrouded squid-like entities that scream as you shine your light at them or stand too close. A deformed bull shark with its thousands of eyes pulling you, ushering you to look at it. All entities that didn't make sense, yet still existed before your very eyes—and ears.

Door after door, you awaited a threat to show up. Would the lights flicker? Would they already be off? Would a giant window be looking into the whole room?

None of those.

Instead, a vent flew open,

—and for once, you heard a humanoid voice.

The thing—person, you reminded yourself—in the vent was not human, though. His voice did not belong to... his appearance.

His skin was a grey-blue color, matching the color of a fish more than a human. He had hair, though, and front-facing eyes. Predators eyes always faced forward, didn't they?

The.. being looked up from his tail, glowing cyan eyes scanning over your figure. He suddenly fell silent, loosing whatever words were on his tongue—well, if he had a tongue.

A look of recognition flashed in his eyes as if he had found something familiar within you. Admittedly, you found his voice fairly familiar yourself.

His tail lowered, no longer flaunting the items on display.

Eventually, he spoke up.

"[Reader]?" His name escaped his mouth (which, you now realized he did in fact have a tongue) as an almost hushed whisper. He hesitated, his mouth staying open for a few seconds more as if about to say something else before it slowly closed. He continues to stare, stare and fall silent once more.

The way he said your name was a tone that screamed yearning.

And it pulled at your heartstrings.

The way he said your name as if he had known you for his whole life, made you pause for a second.

He knew you—or, at least thought he did—but you didn't know him.

"I'm sorry," you started, speaking before you could realize just how wrong you were, "But, do we know each other?"

He blinked.

You learned his name was Sebastian—and you figured that was probably why he seemed a bit familiar to you. He reminded you of your friend, of course. Same name, similar voice, snappy tongue.. It's as if you were looking at a reflection of your late friend.

Sebastian let you stay for a bit and buy from him, occasionally making small talk. You were amazed by how low the prices were. Only 30 for one battery? You were sure it'd be something like 75 instead!

As you picked up yet another battery, he spoke to you. "Wise choice to stock up on those. There aren't very many of them down here."

"Really? I've found quite a few," You mumbled as you stuffed it into your pocket, simultaneously taking out some research and placing it on the table.

"Of course you did," Sebastian mused, grumbling slightly. He fiddled with his claws, glancing away from you.

You paused, "What's that supposed to mean?" You casted a narrowed glance over to him.

"Nothing, nothing."

Of course he couldn't expect you to recognize him. Not when they had turned him into a monster. Mutated him until nothing but his voice was slightly recognizable. Even then, years of smoking and being stuck here made his voice more gravelly than it used to be.

Sebastian knew this, but it still stung when you looked away from him without any indication you knew who he was.

Nothing was left between the two of you anymore.

But his heart, bruised and bleeding, still wished for you.

Maybe that's why he gave discounts to you. Maybe that's why he contained his snappy tongue for once. Maybe that's why he casted you an almost desperate look when you told me you were going.

And maybe that's why he wished he reached out for you—but he didn't. He let you crawl back through that went. Sebastian let you leave him just as he left you.

So when you met him again, in the dimly dark room where he slid you a file,

—maybe that's why he vowed to make sure you make it to celebrate his birthday with him.

[yoohyeon]

I already regret waking up at 7am tomorrow 😭

[monstersholygrail]

A Surprise Visit (1k Celebration Fic)

Tentacle Monster x fem!reader — multiple orgasms, breeding, primal play, aphrodisiac injection, rut, dub con, bondage, double penetration, aftercare

a/n: Also just wanna thank you guys for 3k as well! Sorry it took me so long to get to this

The clock ticks by, the noise echoing throughout the empty room. You tap your pen against your desk in time with it as your thoughts drift past your home and go to your Tentacle Monster bf. The house far too quiet without him around.

You should’ve been used to this by now, you really should’ve! Your Tentacle Monster bf always traveled back home around this time of the month. Always very insistent to keep up visits with his family.

And you totally understood. You’ve met his parents and family members a handful of times. Never on their homeland but here in your home with your bf. Tentacle Monster bf was always very firm about the dangers of the swamp in which his family lives in its depths.

So you let it go, believing he of course knows best. Every month you wave your bf off as he leaves home and disappears for about a week or so. Always coming back right when he says he will. But something was… strange this time around.

It seemed to hit your bf about a week earlier than usual. His moods and behaviors changing as they always did around the time he left to go see his family. Growls so low you almost couldn’t hear them leaving him whenever he sees someone else looking at you. Making sure to rub himself against you until you were fully drenched in his scent. Always keeping at least three tentacles on you at all times, his clingy behavior somehow worsening these last few days.

In fact, he couldn’t keep himself off of you. Always squirming into your clothes as soon as you walk in the door, slipping them off with ease. Before you knew it he was fucking you on every available surface until you two got into the bedroom where he brought you to orgasm after orgasm until you passed out wrapped up in his slick tentacles.

After about five whole days of this, your Tentacles Monster bf brought up the idea of him leaving for his trip early, sitting you down in the breakfast nook, his tentacles wrapped around your hands. Though he respectfully discussed it with you, you still felt a bit ambushed— like it came out of nowhere. You tried to be as understanding as always but seriously, what the hell was going on with him? You were seriously worried, he’s never gotten so wound up to this extent.

His abrupt departure only made you worry more, not wanting to assume the worst but it’s as though your thoughts have a mind of their own as they travel down those dark pathways anyway. All with absolutely no way of getting answers due to your bf being miles away while you’re stuck here sitting at home.

Well fuck that.

No longer fine to just wait around, you want to take action. You want to be with your bf and help him through whatever’s going on with him. As well as get some much needed answers. Your determination fuels you, causing you to charge in head first.

Right into the Eternal Swamp, a home for a large portion of the Tentacle Monster population. Mostly due to its natural resources…and the fact that it makes any human who dare enter to go insane. All to feed the land’s inhabitants.

You look out the window of your car as you arrive, the edge of the swamp barely even visible over the fog. Bringing with it a cold sense of anticipation that you chalk up to nerves. What the hell are you thinking going in there? This is crazy, you’ve definitely gone crazy. But your heart beats wildly in your chest, urging you to go to your bf.

Not letting another moment of hesitation take you, you swiftly exit your vehicle. Walking with steady and firm steps into the swamp. That strength and courage slowly leaves you the deeper you go into the swamp. The fog growing so heavy you can no longer see the sun or even what’s standing right in front of you.

You make your way through the swamp as best you can, peering down at the ground to make sure you don’t deep dive into its waters. You can’t help but start second guessing your choice again. The anticipation building the longer you’re in here. Why? You’re not sure but it sends a chill running down your spine.

Tentacle Monster watches you through the fog, his vision blurry with the haze of lust clouding his mind. His rut sending him spiraling into insanity, surely. It was worse this month, that was a given. For one it hit him sooner than usual and now here he was, conjuring your figure before him just so he can find a little bit of relief.

But your scent was so potent, your form so vivid, and your voice as you call out his name so clear. It takes a moment for it to click in Tentacle Monster bf’s mind that you’re actually here. And when it does, his brain goes haywire. Nostrils flaring, body crouching into position. A predator posed to strike and take down its prey.

You remain as clueless as ever. Hopelessly trying to look through the fog and find your way to your bf. Praying he finds you before you’re eaten alive. A snap of a branch echos throughout the swamp and you gasp, head jerking toward the sound. Your body’s frozen as if staying still might hide you from any lingering beasts. At a subtle swish within the fog your mind fires off alarms, body forcing you into flight or fight. And boy do you fly.

Bolting forward you suddenly couldn’t care less what you might run into. And it’s a good thing as a second later a ferocious growl rings across the swamp, making your stomach drop. Your bf chases after you, all that’s processing is that his mate is running from him. Tempting him with your sweet pussy in order to drive him mad.

Pumping your legs as fast as they can go you stumble through the swamp. Cursing under your breath in a panic as you smack into branch after branch. It’s slowing you down and whatever’s after you must know this place a lot better. Just as the thought occurs, a tentacle snaps out, curling tightly around your waist. It’s caught you.

A scream rises from your throat as you thrash around, desperate to escape. Tentacle Monster bf growls in appreciation as your body grinds against his long tentacles. First with your little game and now this, your bf is more than ready to take you and ask questions later. He needs inside of you. More of his tentacles eagerly wrap around your enchanting body, sharply pinning you down onto the swamp floor and spreading you open.

For a moment a spark of familiarity shoots through you but you’re a little too busy freaking the fuck out to pay it any mind. Your thoughts are quickly diverted anyway as you feel tentacles sliding your panties to the side, exposing your pretty pussy to open air. Tears spring to your eyes, this can’t be happening.

Tentacle Monster bf plunges inside you with one swift thrust, his tentacle’s slime acting as a natural lubricant as well as an aphrodisiac. Getting you all nice and ready for the fucking of a lifetime… Now that he’s inside you, your bf’s mind clears a little. Allowing his curiosity and fear for your safety to mix amongst the lust. His big body leans over you, noting your shaking form with unease. “What are you doing here, my mate?”

You gasp, your body instantly relaxing as your eyes shoot open to be met with the lovely vision of your bf. It was him. It was him the whole time and it’s him now inside of you. Tears of relief quickly replace tears of fear and your bf is quick to comfort you, his tentacles caressing you in a way that’s now soothing instead of suffocating.

“W-was worried about y-you. Acting weird. Needed to understand,” you stammer out, your body slowly ceasing in its shaking. Tentacle Monster bf sighs, knowing he can no longer hide this from you.

“Every month my kind go through an intense need to breed their mates. We cannot stop pumping our seed inside their fertile wombs until it takes or the week ends. During that time I come here to relieve myself.”

Even now your bf is slowly rocking his tentacle inside your pussy but you don’t think he notices he’s doing it. Meanwhile you can’t help but moan, the aphrodisiac causing your body to tingle and your mind to grow hazy.

“I-I can help you,” you offer and you can see your bf’s eyes flashing with barely controlled restraint.

“But I would not want to break your fragile human body, my heart,” he grits out. His tentacle picking up pace anyway and you arch into it, body squirming against his tentacles again.

“Can handle it. Promise,” you whisper as the aphrodisiac swells across your body, making your pussy slick with need and your veins run hot with lust.

That’s all the restraint your Tentacle Monster bf has. The moment the words leave your lips he’s withdrawing his tentacle only to thrust two more in your pussy. You cry out as he takes you like a feral beast, fucking his tentacles into your perfectly restrained body.

Your bf growls, the heat of his rut roaring to life and pumping through him with urgency. His tentacles move you at a brutal pace. Forcing you to meet his every thrust without being able to escape anything he’s giving you. Using you like his perfect little fuck toy as he takes his pleasure from your body and returns it to you tenfold. And you love it, eyes rolling back in ecstasy as your body jerks in time to his rhythm.

With his tentacles plowing inside you, it doesn’t take long for your orgasm to build. And god is it good, the way he’s fucking you taking you to heights you’ve never known. Your cries of pleasure charge the air around you and your bf lets out a rumble as he ruts into you even harden until you’re thrown off the edge.

But he doesn’t stop there. Tentacle Monster bf keeps fucking into you, never letting the pressure ebb away as your essence coats his tentacles. Needing more. “Come again for me, love. Come on, I know you can do it. Just one more,” your bf snarls like a monster possessed.

His words repeat in an endless cycle as he snaps his tentacles inside your cunt over and over again. Working you through so many orgasms you lose count. You release all your senses to him and happily. Getting completely lost in the feeling of him as his tentacles fill your every hole till you’re squeezing down on him in every possible way.

The sky is dark by the time your bf gives you his final thrust, burying himself to the hilt and spraying your fertile womb with his seed. Chilling noises rip from your boyfriend’s throat that you’ve never heard before yet you can’t help but feel turned on by it as your body twitches with overstimulation.

Tentacle monster bf slumps on top of you, his tentacles covering every inch of your body in a way that has you smoothly falling down from relentless pleasure. Both of you finding peace in a place you once thought could drive you mad. Maybe it has. But as your bf whispers words of affection and praise in your ear saying how well you handled his rut and how he can’t wait for his eggs to grow inside of you… you don’t really care if you have gone mad.

[joelscruff]

imperfect for you (joel miller x f!reader)

masterlist | a/n written for @janaispunk's 1500 kisses challenge! i got joel + nose kisses with this lovely moodboard and actually managed to write something!!! believe it or not this started out as a drabble lmao. i hope you like it jana - sorry it's a bit late, and congrats again on your milestone 🤍 summary: you never thought joel miller would accidentally call you baby. warnings: age gap (joel is mid 40s, reader is 23), fluff, very brief instance of blood, tending to a wound, joel is eepy, soft kisses, cuddles word count: 5.5k ao3 dividers by @saradika-graphics

"When's the last time you slept?"

He doesn't bother to grace you with an answer, hands clenched on the steering wheel as you barrel down the vacant stretch of highway back to Lincoln. He's been ignoring you for the past fifteen minutes now, eyes straight ahead, brow furrowed, jaw clenched. But he looks pale, almost sickly, the whites of his knuckles stark against the sudden greenish hue of his skin. The last thing you need is for him to pass out and for the two of you to crash into a damn ditch.

"I'm just saying," you continue with an exasperated sigh, "I could drive the rest of the way, we're almost there."

No reply. You roll your eyes and cross your arms indignantly in the passenger seat, returning his icy demeanor. He's in one of his moods again, the ones only Tess really knows how to handle, but you'd volunteered to try your hand at a supply run in her stead which means she's not here to mediate. You should've known some issue would arise, stubborn Joel inventing problems in typical Joel fashion.

"You could've tried to last at least one more hour pretending to like me," you mutter, loud enough for him to hear. He doesn't say anything.

Almost a year of working with them now, and you still don't understand him. You're not sure you ever will. Tess, she's much easier to understand, much more open to being understood. She'd seen your potential and taken you under her wing, brought you in to help, taught you everything you needed to know about smuggling. And Joel... well, he's a different story.

"You know, Tess thinks I have promise," you continue anyway, expression crumpling into a scowl, "She thinks I can do this. I don't get why you don't."

No answer.

"And don't say it's 'cause I'm a kid, because I'm not. I'm twenty three now, I'm past the point of being called a fucking kid. The shit I've seen in that QZ-" you cut yourself off, shaking your head, "I'm not a kid."

His lack of response is beginning to hurt deeper than you'd really like to admit. You glance over at him again; he's still staring straight ahead, still ignoring your presence. It makes unwanted tears prick in your eyes, nose stinging a little as you peer down at your lap and fold your hands together.

You'd been excited for this supply run, probably against your better judgement. You'd wanted to show him how much you know and understand, how hard you've been working, how you're up to the task. Hoped maybe he'd give you a smile - rare, but not impossible - and tell you that you did good, that he sees potential in you too.

You care what he thinks, almost more than what Tess thinks. And you know why, can sense it deep in the pit of your stomach and in the way your heart stutters when he looks at you, but you're clearly living in a fantasy world if you think he's ever gonna get past whatever this stigma is that he has against your age. She's too young, Tess. She'll get hurt, Tess. She shouldn't be doin' this, Tess. You've heard it all, muffled through closed doors in a dark and damp hallway.

He doesn't want you, and you're not sure how much longer you can go on like this. If he's not willing to change his stance, view you as anything other than an inconvenience...maybe Tess will have to find somebody else to help out.

"I know what I'm doing," you mumble, a tear dribbling down your left cheek, "I just wanna help."

You spare him one more look, fruitlessly hoping that maybe he'll feel bad now that he's made you cry - a childish thought, considering you're trying to make a case for being mature, but you can't help it. You know he's capable of being gentle, of being kind. You've experienced it with him before, quiet moments between the two of you in his apartment while waiting for Tess to return, making small talk, him peering at you with a softness in those brown eyes that have since made frequent appearances in your dreams. Moments where you swear you felt wanted under that gaze, but it must've been in your head, because you certainly don't feel wanted right now.

He doesn't look well, you have to admit. His skin is covered in a sheen of sweat, getting paler by the second, turning an unnatural grey color akin to some of the hair on his head. His eyes are glassy, dark bags settled beneath them that you've noticed getting worse and worse over the past few weeks. You shoot a glance at his hands again and are surprised to see that he's loosened his grip, that his fingers seem to be trembling against the rubber.

"Joel," you say, raising your voice a bit, "Joel, are you okay?"

His lack of response no longer angers you - it worries you. Carefully, you reach over and slowly wrap your hand around his right wrist, eyes trained on his face. At your touch, he finally turns to look at you, almost like he's only just noticed you're even there.

"You say somethin'?" he asks, voice raspy, a bit slurred.

Your grip tightens on his wrist, "I think you should stop the car."

He looks at you curiously, dazedly. It's the expression of a man who's running on two, maybe three hours of sleep in the last few days. You choose your next words carefully, eyes flickering back and forth toward his face and the road that he's suddenly no longer watching.

"Let's slow down a bit," you murmur, thumb stroking gently along his skin - he's warm, warmer than normal - "I'm gonna drive the rest of the way, okay?"

You expect some pushback, an attempt at an argument, but the tiredness is setting in quickly. Without any hesitation he eases his foot off the gas and you hurriedly reach your own leg over into his space to push down on the brake. He doesn't seem to notice the way your bare leg brushes his jeans, the crease in your knee bending over the warmth of his thigh.

"There we go," you say softly, bringing the car to a slow stop. He's still looking at you, eyes unfocused as you carefully lean over a little more to unbuckle his seatbelt. You try to ignore how good he smells, how big he is compared to you, putting all your attention on getting him out of the front seat. You unlock his door and then unbuckle your own belt, hurrying out of the car to his side.

"M'okay," he mumbles as soon as you open his door. You start to help him out, and you think he's becoming a little more aware of the situation now, allowing you to pull him to his feet as you tug open the back door. "What's happenin'?"

"You're just tired," you tell him softly, "It's okay, you can sleep in the back, I'll drive."

"Bill n' Frank's," he says as you lead him the right way, pushing him a little and helping him place his knee down on the seat, "Y'know where it is? You remember?"

"I do," you tell him confidently, your hand coming down to press flat against his back - he's so solid, heat radiating against your palm, "Only twenty minutes away now, I got it. You just sleep."

He doesn't argue; in fact, he makes your job easier by crawling onto the seat and settling down with a low groan, rolling onto his back and breathing deeply. You can't help but let a small smile cross your features, watching as one of his hands comes up to rest atop his belly, the other dangling onto the floor. His eyelashes flutter a little, lips parting, and you're about to shut the door when he speaks again.

"I know you jus' wanna help, baby."

You stand there for a moment just staring at him, confusion racing through your thoughts. Goosebumps rise on your flesh as the last word repeats like a mantra in your head, steady and slow as Joel drifts off. It's only when the door is shut and you're in the front seat that you're able to put some meaning to the words, eyes wide as you stare at the faded lines on the road.

I know what I'm doing, you'd said, I just wanna help.

You leave him in the car when you get to Bill and Frank's, typing in the gate code with a backward glance at his loose form in the backseat. They must see him on one of the security monitors, because as soon as the doors open you spot them sprinting out of the house toward you, a scanner gripped in Bill's hand. Typical.

"He's okay," you tell them as soon as you're out of the car, instantly alleviating their stress, "He's just exhausted, I think he needs to sleep for a little while."

"Understatement of the century," Frank replies with a relieved laugh, eyeing the backseat, "Think we can get him in the house?"

"Just leave him in the car," Bill says with a wave of his hand, already turning to head back towards the house with the scanner hanging out of his pocket, "He'll be fine."

Your gaze meets Frank's and he rolls his eyes, "Come on, baby, let's get him upstairs." Your brows go up at the pet name, the same word that had fallen from Joel's lips only twenty minutes ago, but then Bill is shuffling back over with an annoyed look on his face and you quickly realize he's not talking to you.

Getting Joel out of the car proves to be a lot more difficult than getting him in. You try a gentle approach at first, brushing his arm and stroking his skin with your thumb again like you'd done earlier. You can feel Frank's eyes on you as you squeeze Joel's bicep, his wrist, his thigh, and you pretend you don't see the look that passes between him and Bill as you step out to let them take a turn.

Bill goes for a much more aggressive approach, shaking Joel's shoulders wildly and practically yanking him out of the car. Understandably, Joel wakes with a gasp and kicks his legs out, hand reaching for his pistol as he frantically tries to escape Bill's grasp. Before he can grab it though, he's suddenly falling forward, knees buckling as he faceplants onto the pavement beside the car.

Well, that certainly wakes him up. His hands press into the gravel and his head shoots up, blood trickling down his nose as he peers up at the three of you, stunned.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Bill," Frank groans.

"That was not my fault."

Ignoring them, you kneel down and gently touch Joel's shoulder, a concerned look on your face as you eye the splattered blood on the ground, "Fuck, are you okay?"

"What in the hell is goin' on?" he groans, turning to look at you, "Did Bill just break my fuckin' nose?"

"Don't be dramatic," Bill barks, spinning on the spot and heading into the house, "Shoulda just left you in the car."

Joel starts scrambling after him, rising up and standing on wobbly legs, hand reaching for his pistol once again. You and Frank grab him before he can do anything, both of you taking an arm and holding him back.

"Joel, you're exhausted," you tell him quickly, utilizing all your strength, "You just need to lay down. Please."

He turns his face to look at you and something flutters in your chest when you catch the way his eyes soften, the anger in his expression fading as he acknowledges your presence. You can vaguely make out Frank watching the two of you in your periphery, but you try your best to ignore it, instead opting to give Joel a reassuring smile.

"Let's just get you cleaned up, okay?"

You're grateful that Frank leaves you alone with Joel to tend to his nose. You've only met him a handful of times, but each time he'd somehow been able to clock the way you interact with Joel, the way you look at him. The last time you'd been here he'd subtly pulled you aside to give you a few words of wisdom.

"You do realize he's extremely unavailable, right?"

"I- I don't know what you're talking about."

He'd smiled, tapped his nose and given you a knowing look, "And I don't just mean because of Tess. That man is emotionally constipated, kiddo. He's an island." He'd laughed then at your confused expression, shaking his head, "Just be careful, s'all I'm saying."

You'd gone to walk away, forget the conversation even happened, when he'd softly called after you:

"And I'm pretty sure Tess would hang your head on her wall."

You think of those words now as you stand in front of Joel in the small bathroom off the landing, lip between your teeth as you eye the cut on his nose. It isn't broken, thank fuck, but you can see some dirt and gravel in there that you need to clean out.

"It's not broken," you tell him softly. He's sitting on the edge of the bath tub, peering up at you with a much more alert expression. The fall definitely woke him up, not to mention the choice words he and Bill had thrown at each other as you and Frank helped him up the stairs. He's still exhausted though, and he needs to rest.

"I know it's not," he grumbles, "Just wanted to give Bill a piece of my mind for once."

You laugh softly as you reach for the damp cloth beside you, bringing it up to carefully pat it against the gash on the bridge of his nose. You can feel his eyes on you, watching and assessing as you do your best to wipe the area clean.

"I can do that myself," he murmurs.

"I just wanna help," you say quietly, and your eyes fall to his in a knowing glance. He doesn't seem to remember though, just nods and lets you carry on.

It's rare for you to be this alone with him. And by that, you mean this far from Tess. You're painfully aware that it would be impossible for her to walk in at any moment, to see the way you're standing over him, touching him. Frank's words from last time echo in your head but you're not quite sure you believe them; would she really be that angry if she knew how you felt about Joel? It's not like he'd return it, right? The man is twenty years your senior and, as Frank said, extremely unavailable. Not to mention Tess and Joel's relationship has been a point of confusion to you for a year now, still unsure exactly what they are to each other - would she really care?

You reach for the antiseptic - one of the many perks of having an injury in a supply house - and carefully dab some onto the cloth. Your hand trembles a bit as you reach up to carefully hold Joel's chin, your thumb getting lost in his greying beard.

"You haven't shaved in a while," you breathe, your eyes meeting his, and you wonder if you've already crossed a line by even noticing.

He doesn't seem to mind though, sighing deeply, "I haven't slept in a while, so let's hurry this up," he eyes the cloth, "Don't gotta warn me, just do it."

His words bring you back to the present, and you slowly ease the cloth down onto his cut. He hisses a bit, a normal reaction, but it only takes a few seconds to clean and then you're already reaching for a bandage, reluctantly letting go of his chin.

"I was worried about you, before. In the car," you tell him softly, unpeeling the adhesive, "Why haven't you been sleeping?"

His eyes fall to the floor, "I just don't sleep good. Never have."

"Is there anything I can do?"

He shrugs, gives you a humorless laugh, "Handful o' pills and a couple sips o' whiskey usually does the trick."

It makes sense, then, why these past few weeks he's seemed worse. It's been longer than usual since your last supply run and the three of you had started running out of vital supplies over a week ago now, not only for buyers but for yourselves. Joel had written whiskey near the top of the latter list, along with hydromorphone which he'd underlined several times.

"You should've told me you weren't feeling well," you murmur, applying the bandage carefully, "I could've driven the whole way."

"Could've, should've," he dismisses you with a grunt, "Doesn't matter now, does it? We got here, that's what counts."

You linger a little longer than you should on the bandage, thumb falling to gently trace the crease of his nose as you assess your work. It might scar, but it feels pointless to voice this - he already has so many, scattered across his face and neck like confetti. It hurts a little, knowing he's been through so much, seeing the evidence written all over him.

"My mom had this superstition," you tell him softly, a smile playing at your lips as you trace one of the scars under his eye, soft and delicate, "Whenever I got hurt, skinned my knee or busted my elbow playing, she'd bandage me up and then kiss it. She said a kiss would seal her love in there, keep me safe and protected. And if it scarred, that meant it worked."

He blinks at you, expression faltering a bit, "That's...that's a nice thought."

You shake your head, "It's silly, and not true. But... but I still do it anyway, even though she's gone. Just in case," you bite your lip, "I mean, who doesn't wanna feel a little more safe? A little more protected?"

Your gazes lock, and neither of you seem to move, caught in the stillness of the moment and the way your thumb is still stroking his face. You know you have limited time, maybe a few seconds before he breaks it, so without much thought at all you lean down and lightly press your lips to the bandage, eyes closed.

He inhales sharply, a sound that triggers butterflies in your tummy as you hold your mouth against his nose, soft and sweet. It's the closest you've ever been to him, even if you're kissing gauze and not skin - you can still feel the warmth radiating from him, sense the way he freezes below you. A squeaking sound pierces the silence, his hand squeezing the edge of the bath tub tightly. It startles you, your eyes blinking open as you pull back to look at him.

His cheeks are tinged pink, eyelids heavy as he peers up at you with slow blinks.

"You're tired," you breathe, unable to stop your hand from flitting to his hair, pushing a little behind his ear, "Let's get you to bed."

The Joel Miller in Bill and Frank's guest room is not the Joel Miller you thought you knew.

This Joel is loose, pliant. He lets you lead him into the bedroom with a hand on his back, lets you carefully turn him on the spot to reach up and undo the buttons on his flannel. Frank had told you on your way up to make sure Joel didn't get blood on the sheets, so you're only following orders, only doing what you were told.

"Sorry," you murmur softly, fingers shaking every so often as they toy with the buttons, sticky with his blood. Joel doesn't seem to notice though, retreating more and more into the sleepy state he'd been in earlier.

Once his flannel is off you assess his t-shirt and jeans, and you're not sure how to feel about the fact that they didn't get dirty in the fall. On the other hand, though, you're not sure you'd have been brave enough to take them off. Instead you help him toward the bed, pull back the sheets and carefully push him ahead.

"There you go," you whisper, helping him under the covers and pulling the blankets back over him. The sun is streaming through the window, casting the golden light of early evening across the bed, and while it's quite beautiful you shut the curtains anyway, knowing he'll sleep better in darkness. When you turn back around, he's already fallen asleep, lips parted, face peaceful. A different man.

You don't linger, even though you want to.

It's around ten o'clock when you decide to check on him again. You'd watched a movie with Bill and Frank, feeling more than a little unwelcome as Bill tossed you a few dirty looks every so often, though Frank repeatedly told you to ignore him. Now they're in bed downstairs while you pad from your own room across the hall to Joel's, turning the knob carefully. The hinges squeak a little as you open it and you wince.

"Who's there?" you hear Joel grumble from the bed. So much for just taking a peek.

"Me, just me." You push the door wider and walk inside, eyebrows going up when Joel turns on the bedside lamp. He seems a little more rested, although you know he still needs a full night's sleep. "I sent a message to Tess through the radio to let her know we're not coming back tonight - well, Frank did. Picked a song called Tomorrow or something like that."

"Hope it was the Johnny Mathis version," he mumbles, and you watch as he brings his hands up to rub across his face. He accidentally dismantles the bandage and you step forward without really thinking, hurrying to his side and reaching down to fix it.

His hand comes up to grab yours and you freeze in place.

"I can do it," he says, giving you a curt look and then releasing your hand to adjust the gauze himself.

Well, you suppose lax and sleepy Joel couldn't stick around forever. You stand awkwardly by the side of the bed, toying with the edge of the blanket as he rubs his eyes and sits up a little, leaning back against the headboard. He looks so much older in this light; you can see the little flecks of grey in his beard and hair that have been starting to get more noticeable lately, the crows feet, the wrinkles.

He's so handsome.

He turns to look at you with a frown, as if he's only just realizing what you said, "We can go back tonight, I'm fine."

"You're not and you know it. Besides, it's already past ten and now I'm tired, I won't be able to drive."

"I can drive."

"Joel," you surprise yourself by sitting down on the edge of the bed, narrowing your brow as you give him a serious look, "You can't drive. You almost fucking killed us both."

"No I-"

"Yes you did," your tone is firm, suddenly angry - are you angry? - "If I hadn't been talking to you, if I hadn't noticed something was wrong, you would've driven us off the damn road."

He goes quiet at that, frown deepening, the lines on his face more prominent in the low lamplight. You sigh, eyes falling to rest on where your hand is settled on the bed, only inches from his. Part of you wants to reach out and touch, feel the warmth of his skin, the rough of his palm - the other part decides to do something even more stupid.

"You called me baby."

It's out of your mouth before you've even really acknowledged it, and once the words have tumbled out you know there's no taking them back. Your gaze snaps back up to his, slightly surprised to see that he doesn't seem very shocked by your admission.

He clears his throat a little, averting his gaze and shuffling a bit under the covers, "Did I?"

"...Yeah."

You think maybe he'll say something else - anything else - but he doesn't. God, it really is like pulling teeth with him; he's so fucking beautiful but so impossible, never being able to expand on something unless prompted, never being able to answer a single question without jerking you around first. How the fuck has Tess managed to deal with it for so long?

The thought of Tess sends a wave of guilt through your body, Frank's words echoing in your head, but you shove it down.

"What made you... I mean why..." your voice is soft, apprehensive and shy in the quiet of the bedroom, "why'd you call me baby?"

A beat of silence. Then-

"Don't ask me that."

The mood has shifted, your sudden anger ebbing and his annoyance fading into something else, something on the brink of being real. He's avoiding your eyes, peering at the window with the curtains drawn and tapping his fingers anxiously against the mattress, so close to your hand. He's nervous; you're making him nervous.

You stay silent, hoping he'll speak again, hoping maybe just this one time he'll tell you what he's thinking.

"I don't know why."

The words are barely a whisper, almost like he's telling you a secret, and he leaves them hanging in the air briefly before amending - "Well," he sighs and finally looks at you, an emotion you can't place crossing his features, "that's not true. But... I didn't mean - fuck, I was passin' out, for Christ's sake, I didn't realize-"

He cuts himself off again, raising his hand up to press his fingers to the bridge of his nose, briefly forgetting the bandage. He winces when he comes in contact with the gauze, "Can I take this off? It's drivin' me fuckin' crazy."

"Let me do it," you say quietly, inching forward on the bed and reaching for his face. He flinches when you go to touch him, and your hand freezes mid-air.

"Sorry," he mutters, shaking his head like he's shaking off a sensation, a chill, "Go ahead."

With careful - and slightly trembling - fingers, you remove the bandage from his nose. It looks much better than before, no fresh blood in sight, and you suppose it's okay for him to keep it uncovered for the night. Without really thinking about it you gently thumb the side of his nose just shy of the cut, the tips of your other fingers brushing against his cheek.

"It's not too bad," you murmur, and before you know it you're suddenly cupping his jaw, feeling the weight of it in your palm. Your gaze falls to his lips, your thoughts going a mile a minute.

You realize you're close enough that you could kiss him, if you really wanted to. If he really wanted to. All it would take is one small movement, one little push from the both of you, one leap of faith...

And then he whispers your name, almost a warning, and it's like his thoughts are mirroring yours - like he can see exactly what you're picturing, wishing for. Your eyes meet his and you feel a flutter in your stomach when you see the way he's looking at you, a quiet hunger hidden in the deep brown.

You decide to test the waters. You lean in and softly press another kiss to his nose, this time without the gauze in the way. Just like you'd thought, his skin is hot under your lips, soft but scarred, and his smell - god, he smells so masculine and safe, invading your senses as your lips trail downwards to press a small kiss to his cupid's bow, then another to the corner of his mouth. It's sharp, prickly from his scruff, but it doesn't bother you in the slightest - in fact, you kind of like the dull pain, the way it grounds you, keeps you in the moment.

"Baby," he whispers, and a soft little whine falls from your lips without meaning to as your lips move to ghost across his mouth, going for another kiss - a real kiss.

He pulls away before you get there, but then his hand comes up to touch your face, big and wide. He holds you like you're precious, small. His baby.

"S'not right," he whispers, though his thumb strokes your cheek soothingly, "S'not okay for me to want you like that."

You close your eyes at his touch, breathing deeply, "But you do."

"Yeah, I do," you hear him murmur, "You know I do."

"For how long?"

He doesn't respond right away, just continues to stroke your cheek, hold what feels like all of you in his warm palm. You tilt your head a bit to the side, eyes fluttering open to look at him again. You catch the way his lips turn up a little at the movement.

"Too damn long," he sighs, "But that don't... that's not..." he brings his other hand up to cup the other side of your face, holding you still as he peers at you in earnest, brow furrowed, "Point is, we shouldn't... you shouldn't be out here alone with me. Tess knows how I-" he cuts himself off again, and you can see now how difficult it is for him to communicate like this, to be open and honest, "I told her it wasn't a good idea."

"Why?"

He laughs lightly, thumbs circling the apples of your cheeks, "'Cause look where we ended up." He swallows, eyes falling to your lips, "Look where you are right now, baby. Look where my damn hands are for cryin' out loud."

"Keep calling me baby," you breathe, a desperation in your voice that betrays your emotions, tears pricking in your eyes as the weight of this conversation comes crashing down around you. He wants you - he's always wanted you. His words to Tess about not wanting to put you in danger, wanting you to stay away, those soft looks you've shared in his apartment, the small talk, all of it - it's because he wants you.

"We can't do this," he murmurs, leaning in to press his forehead to yours, eyes closing, "I can't do this, you're so- you're too-" he groans, fingers digging into your hair, "You're so young, baby."

"I don't care," you whine, butting your head forward to chase his lips, suddenly yearning to be kissed and held and protected by him, be wrapped in his embrace.

But he pulls away, removing his hands from your face and shuffling back a bit on the bed, away from you. Your hand drops but you reach out pathetically for him anyway, moving closer, attempting to pull the covers back. His hands capture yours and he squeezes them firmly, shaking his head.

"You need to go back to your room," he tells you, and his tone has changed from soft to serious, "It's late and I'm... well, you know I'm fuckin' exhausted. And you've had a long day." He looks at you with pleading eyes, like he's silently begging for you not to put him in this situation, "Let's just call it a night, okay?"

"But-" you start, tears shining in your eyes.

"Please," he breathes, "Please don't make this harder than it needs to be."

You do not want to get up from his bed. But you do.

You do not want to leave his room. But you do.

You do not want to lie awake in your own bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking about how his hands felt on your face, the way his eyes searched yours, the way his skin felt under your lips.

But you do.

You lie there for hours, thumbs twiddling against your belly, tears trickling down your cheeks every so often. All you can hear in your mind over and over again is the word Baby, punctuated by that soft groan he'd made, the way his thumbs had stroked your cheeks, how large and warm and safe he'd seemed in that bed.

All you want to do is be in that bed with him.

So it's no surprise when, as the sun is beginning to rise and that warm golden light starts to stream through your window, you crawl out from under your blankets and cross the hall one more time.

"We shouldn't" he murmurs when you climb into bed with him, when you tuck yourself into his side and bury your face in his shoulder, but his hands are already in your hair, fingers stroking along the back of your head.

Your bodies mold together like they've always been meant to fit that way, your legs tangled with his, arms trapped under big biceps and hairy forearms, breasts flush with his suddenly bare chest.

"I wanna be your baby," you whisper.

The nose you'd kissed brushes slowly up and down the side of your face, and he doesn't hesitate this time. He reaches up to turn your head, presses his lips against yours and lets you melt into him. Lets you trail your hand downward to unbutton his jeans in the silence of the early morning.

"You already are."

[illubean]

Could I get headcanons for Feitan, Illumi, Leorio, and Chrollo falling for gn!reader who by all means seems like a strong, nuturing, emotionally stable individual but every once in awhile casually says or does smthin that makes people go "Oh you're a little fuckin nuts, actually"

(e.x.: Most of their D.I.Y. furniture is made of different kinds of bone, morbidly interested in the more gorey parts of their jobs, probably works in a field that allows them to be around the dead often like a taxidermist or a mortitian, highkey just unabashashedly a morbid little freak™️ whenever it comes up naturally in conversation but otherwise comes across as just an attentive lil guy you could bring home the average parents would love.)

HXH Men with a Morbid!S/o

Characters: Leorio Paladaknight, Illumi Zoldyck, Chrollo Lucilfer, Feitan Portor Type: Headcanons, Gn!reader

this is so me

Warnings: dead things and body parts and stuff

Leorio Paladaknight

being an aspiring doctor, Leorio thought that your knowledge on both human and animal anatomy was pretty useful

at first he didn't think much about your job and just assumed you were some type of doctor or biologist or something

he often asks you questions as he studies and you're a pretty good tutor

the first time Leorio realized you were kinda weird is when one day you were walking down the street and saw some roadkill

and you were like "aww too bad, the skin and bones are too damaged to harvest"

and you kept walking like it was normal while he was like ?!!??!?

or you guys were having a normal conversation and you say something like

"if you died i'd taxidermy you and re-articulate your skeleton so you'd be with me forever <3"

1 taxidermizing humans is illegal and 2 WHAT

he is cold sweating wtf did he get himself into

when he comes to your house for the first time and sees a bunch of bones, animal skins and wet specimens he damn near passes the fuck out

how do you just casually have dead things and remains around your house!?

AND WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU MADE YOUR COFFEE TABLE OUT OF CAMEL BONES?

he is freaking the fuck out and you're just like "dw everything is ethically sourced :D"

yeah he thinks you're a freak and he is too fearful to break up with you ever (not like he was planning to anyways)

Illumi Zoldyck

whatever drew Illumi to you had to have been some type of power

aside from that power, to Illumi you were relatively normal and had a good grip on your emotions which made you a perfect candidate

that being said he could care less what your job was, you'd just end up working for or with him eventually

when he started bringing you around the estate, you often sought out their guard dog Mike and Illumi couldn't think of why

that is until you came back one day with a human femur and bright smile on your face

"... where did you even get that?" "From one of Mike's victims. If I collect enough I could make a whole set of bar stools!"

he blinked at you and chose to ignore your statement

i mean, to each their own am i right?

so you have ah hobby, big deal

Illumi just thinks you're pretty normal personality wise until you randomly but casually drop information about what you do in your free time or have in your home

so now whenever he has a job Illumi calls you in for cleanup

you get to do.... whatever it is you do and there's no evidence of a dead body left behind, it's a win win

Chrollo Lucilfer

he couldn't care less what your job is because it's probably not worse than his 😭

he didn't really notice anything "morbid" about you until he asked about your jewlery

you wore things like resin caster bug pendants or bird skull earrings and stuff

he just assumed they were fake and you bought them because they looked badass

but then you told him you make it all YOURSELF

he is intrigued

he doesn't really question you past that because you were probably buying the bones and stuff somewhere (spoiler alert you're not)

what really caused him to think was when you casually just picked up a dead rat off the floor in some abandoned building you were exploring and suck it in your pocket

bro was so confused

"What do you need that for?" "To make a new necklace :3"

yeah now he knows that your odd taste in jewelry goes deeper than just that

he won't judge you though, if anything you're a better person than he is considering you don't kill things yourself

he is literally a murderer and a thief and has committed like 3467633788 crimes so he couldn't judge even if he wanted to

so now when he sees dead animals and what not he bags them up and brings them to you

he likes to sit in on your cleaning and making process

you seem like a perfectly normal and sweet person to everyone else but Chrollo knows about your freaky little hobby and it just makes him like you even more

Feitan Portor

I feel like for you and Feitan to even be acquainted you have to be part of the troupe

whatever you do outside of it is your business

buttttttt since you are his s/o and Feitan is probably homeless he crashes wherever you are

thus him finding out about your hobby and other job

out of everyone on this list he is the most interested

he too is a morbid little freak

he goes with you to find things and will help you with the cleaning/taxidermy or whatever process if you let him

what he doesn't understand though is why you don't just kill the things you want instead of hunting for already dead things

sometimes he will go catch like a squirrel or something and bring it back to you like a cat and tell you he found it like that

Fei baby. No the fuck you didn't

after doing what you're doing for so long you can tell what caused an animal to die but you wouldn't tell him that

he's just so cute and wants to be supportive of your hobby <3

[arbitrarykiwi]

OH.MY.GOD. i absolutely loved ur nam-gyu fic it was actually insane, it was sooo juicy, so well written, so in character!!! i literally loved every single word i can’t stress this enough😫😫 please write more about nam-gyu!! i would also like to see a more loser side of him since in ur fic he was like sooo suave but i feel like he’s really just. some guy getting minimum wage to promote a fuckass club. ANYWAY! thank u so much!!!

I Like 'em Weird

HEEEYYY!! Thank you soo much for your kind words, catch me crying sobbing and throwing up 😩😩. When I saw this request I got right to work I was so excited. Admittedly this was a bit challenging for me (I’m a sucker for the sugar daddy/sweet talker trope) but I tried my best and I hope you like it!! I had so much fuckin fun 🤭🤭🤭

Warnings: Smut (18+), drug usage, sex while under the influence, awkward! Nam-gyu, oral (m receiving), deepthroating, face fucking, sex in a club, sex in a club bathroom, thigh fucking, choking, squiring, creampie

When you went to the club with your friends, on a Friday night with a plan to get fucked up and laid, they didn’t not think you were referring to the awkward club promoter who hung around the egotistic, purple haired rapper, Thanos, like a lap dog.

You were acquaintances with the rapper, he’s been frequenting the club you often find yourself at with your friends recently. Hell, he’s even bought your whole friend group rounds and rounds of shots- he’s even hit on you a couple times. But he was not your type.

The club promoter that was always next to him, black jacket over his hands, ringed fingers frequently coming up to cover his mouth, glaring at most people around, not trying to have every hot girl sit on his lap or dance on him like his purple haired counterpart part- now he was your type.

When Thanos showed up, beginning to frequent the club a few months ago, you saw more of the odd promoter on the club floor. You knew he worked there as a promoter but he always seemed to be in the back, preferring only the drugs of the scene rather than the whole scene itself.

A few weeks back when you found yourself at this same club, with Thanos walking over from his VIP table to buy your friends drinks, you finally asked him about the black haired shadow he seemed to have. “Oh him? That’s my boy Nam-su!!” Thanos said throwing an arm loosely around your shoulder. “You like him, he’s a charmer isn’t he?” Thanos drunkenly said looking back over to where ‘Nam-su’ was.

He was seated on the sofa, looking around erratically. He was glaring at pretty much anyone who came near him. No girls even looked his way. You and Thanos watched on as he leaned over the glass table in front of him and begins to snort a line of whatever substance was on the table.

Yeah, real charmer.

But something about him made you crave him. You wanted to fuck him. “Yeah….So his names Nam-su?” You ask again, trying to make sure you remember it. “Yep! That’s my boy Nam-Su!!!!!” Thanos calls out loudly, enough it’s apparently heard over the loud music by the so called ‘Nam-su’, who looks up and glares over at the two of you before rolling his eyes.

“Doesn’t look to happy does he?” You ask with an uneasy laugh. One of the bartenders who brings you a drink leans over the bar and laughs “That’s ‘cause that ain’t his name. His name is Nam-gyu.”

So there you found yourself that Friday with a goal in mind. You needed Nam-gyu. So after getting more than a few drinks in your system and your friend dragging you over to Thanos’ little group- you decided to put your plan in action.

He was currently sitting next to Thanos, rolling up a blunt, his hands shaking and his leg bouncing. Thanos was talking up some girls, having took the blunt that Nam-gyu originally rolled for him and Thanos; sharing it among the group of girls who threw themselves at the rapper.

He was pissed to say the least, the blunt he rolled now being wasted and not passed to him. He sat there a scowl on his face as he very obviously mumbled to himself, and conveniently there was a spot on the couch next to him.

You make your way over, sitting down next to him. He immediately looks up, looking at you like you’re crazy. Why the fuck were you coming over to him? He was never really a ladies man, sure he had experience but not with a woman such as yourself. You were way out of his league he thought.

You lean your elbow on your leg, resting your chin in your palm as you look at him. “Mind if I join?” You say in a sickly sweet voice, smiling at him. Instead of flirting or acting as suave as Thanos- he looks at you like you’re stupid.

You can practically read the ‘Why the fuck are you even near me, I’m not sharing my shit with you’ look. You can tell he really doesn’t even realize you’re flirting with him. You groan and reach into your bra, pulling out a bad of weed and a small bag of white powder. “Chill out, I’ll match with you.” You say laughing, offering the substances out.

This seems to catch his attention. He raises an eyebrow conspiratorially, “This isn’t going to get you on some pedestal with him, you’re better off dancing on him.” He says, and oh fuck his voice is so delicious, it’s wavering, a low tone, almost like he’s anxious to be talking to you, like he expects you to only be doing this to somehow get closer to the purple haired rapper.

You laugh, the sounds catches him of guard and makes he heart thump against his chest in a way he despises. “I’m not trying to get on some pedestal with him.” You say pointing over to Thanos, “If anything I’m trying to get on ‘some pedestal’ with you.” You finish, pointing to him.

The words make him think he’s hallucinating, he’s questioning how much drugs he’s done tonight. He’s never been with a girl like you, he’s not even sure he’d know what to do with himself.

“Yeah, yeah, alright.” He mumbles taking your bad of weed from you. He inspects it, like he’s expecting you to hand him some trash weed. “It’s not weak shit, ‘s good.” You say pointing to it as he takes a nug out and inspects it.

“I dunno. Girls like you usually have shit weed.” He grumbles. You furrow your eyebrows and scoff. “The fucks that supposed to mean?” You ask, he doesn’t answer, only responding with another question of his own, “Can you roll?” He asks it like he already knows the answer and you can’t.

He really was not the ladies man. No wonder you didn’t ever see him leaving the club with a female companion. You decide to not answer him, instead just reaching over to grab your weed back from him. He assumes that you’re gonna take your stash and leave but you don’t.

You grab the cigar off the tray in front of him, the one he was about to begin to roll when you showed up. Beginning to split it, your nails run down the cigar breaking it open dumping the tobacco onto the rolling tray into the pile already accumulated by the past blunts smoked by the group.

He watches on, surprised by how well you do it. He wasn’t too impressed by the girls Thanos usually had rolling- but you? Well it made him less uneasy. But he was still so awkward next to you.

You could see him out of the corner of your eye, beginning to break down the weed with hands that would not stop shaking. Admittedly you loved the visual, his long slender fingers rolling the weed to break it down, adorned with a couple silver rings, it was a real treat. But it was so interesting to see him work like that, like he truly had no idea you actually found him attractive.

You reach over to grab some of the weed he was breaking down, purposefully running your hand along his, your manicured nails dancing along the top of his hand. It makes him freeze, you can see him tense up. You draw your hand back to begin to fill the wrap with the weed you picked up. You think maybe you’re shit out of luck- that he really wasn’t interested. But, when you look up to his face his eyes are trained on where the feeling of your fingers lingered on his hand and the corner of his bottom lip was caught in his teeth.

“I’m not gonna bite y’know…” You say in a soft sweet tone, scooting closer to him so your thighs press against his. You’re shoulder to shoulder. “I know..” he mumbles in response, dusting his hands off and then leaning his elbows on his knees. He’s sat forward, arms hanging down between his knees.

His eyes turn towards you, anxiously darting around your face, tracing the column of your neck, to your collar bone, to where your super low cut dress digs into the swell of your breasts, making it look like your tits we’re nearly ready to fall out of the dress, then down lower to where his eyes lock on to where your bare thigh presses against him.

His eyes then watch on as you expertly roll the blunt, tucking it into itself. You leave a part of it unrolled, your tongue coming out to lick at the blunt. He thinks his heart stopped or maybe his heart beat is all the way in his dick- he doesn’t know. But he watches as your tongue slowly lathes over the wrap, it’s like you’re putting on a show that was only for him. He can feel himself getting uncomfortably hot.

You finish, your eyes turning towards him as you fold down the flap, sealing the blunt, and then passing it over to him. “Is it up to your standards, sir?” You say teasingly, leaning towards him a bit more. You can see the way his Adam’s Apple bobs when he swallows thickly when the nickname falls from your lips.

He brings one of his hands up to his mouth, dragging the skin down, like you would literally be the death of him- like he’s trying to compose himself. You really haven’t done much and you already seem to have an effect on him- oh you’re fucking him tonight.

He snatches the blunt from you, inspecting it. He hated to admit it was good, maybe even better than the ones he would roll, but he wouldn’t tell you that. “‘S good enough.” He says and shrugs. “Woooow” you say laughing, “I see how it is…tough crowd.”

He puts the blunt in his mouth and grabs a lighter. He looks ungodly good with the blunt hanging loosely from his lip as he searches for a lighter. He looks to the table to try and find the lighter he brought- it wasn’t there. Maybe in his pocket? His hands pat the pocket of his jacket and jeans, it wasn’t there.

Then you’re leaning over him, flicking a lighter that you brought and lighting the blunt. When he begins to inhale, his eyes lock with yours, taking in the way you look against the red-orange hue of the flame. When the blunt is lit, you flick the lighter off and slowly lean back.

“Thanks.” He mumbles, settling back into the couch and hitting the blunt. As the smoke slowly flows out of his mouth, he hands the blunt out to you. You move to lean on the back of the couch, one arm propped up. Your chest was pressed into his as you lean even closer to him to grab the blunt. As you put it to your mouth and inhale your eyes never leave his.

He looks at you as if you’re a puzzle he’s trying to solve. Here you were, all up on him, in a cute little leather dress and heels that looked like they were more than his rent for a month, all with a pretty little face to match.

You let the smoke sit in your mouth before letting slip past your lips only the smallest bit before inhaling through your nose. He could feel himself become hot, shifting his hips forward on the couch to adjust his cock that begins to swell against his thigh.

“So you’re a promoter here?” You ask, and suddenly he seems to connect the dots (or at least he thinks he does). You probably wanted free drinks or a vip booth or free cover, but all that- anything he gives out, comes out of his pocket and he hardly had money for the weed he was smoking now.

“Yeah. But I can’t get you free cover, or drinks, or a VIP band.” He says curtly, inhaling from the blunt you handed back to him. You scoff, a bit offended he felt so little of you but with the people he hangs around, and the girls of the scene; you can’t blame him for thinking that.

“I don’t care about that. Was just tryin’ to make conversation with you.” You say pouting. He quirks up an eyebrow and laughs, “Okay, humor me..” he says turning to lean closer to you, “then why are you talking to me, you didn’t want my drugs, you don’t want to get closer to Thanos, don’t want free drinks or VIP, what the fuck could you possibly want from me?”

You take the blunt back as he passes it, inhaling before speaking, “Simple. You’re hot. I wanna fuck.” You say shrugging. He’s not even hitting the blunt and he chokes, sitting up straight and looking at you wide eyed like he hallucinated the whole thing. You laugh at his reaction, it’s a genuinely loud laugh that has you clutching your stomach.

“You…what?” He asks, his voice unsure, like you’re speaking a different language. He did not expect those words. you giggle again, “Here, I’ll put it a different way….” You muse as you lean closer, your faces inches apart. “I. Want. You. To. Fuck. Me.” You say annunciating every word, your free hand that is resting against the back of the couch reaching out to play with a strand of his hair.

“Yeah, okay..” he says swallowing and nodding excitedly. “Let’s go.” He finishes. You shake your head “We still got nearly a whole blunt to finish, we’re not leaving anywhere just yet.” You grin, your hand holding up the blunt. He looks at you like a kicked puppy, pouring.

You roll your eyes “So eager. We can have a little fun while it finishes, everyone here is busy themselves or drugged out of their mind.” You coo to him, he looks at you confused. You laugh softly to yourself, your free hand grabbing the hand that’s resting on his bouncing leg that’s close to you. You guide his hand to your inner thigh, dragging it up your flesh until his pinky finger is brushing against your clothed pussy.

His breath catches in his throat, fuck, you’d be the death of him. His hand turns, his fingers almost immediately fall into a rhythm of rubbing up and down your cunt over your panties. It makes you bite your lip and nod in approval, the small movement of praise and the feeling of your warm cunt beginning to soak through your panties onto his finger makes his cock swell to a large tent in his jeans one that was impossible to hide.

You remove your hand from over his, reaching over to grip his cock over his jeans, massaging the bulge. His head throws back, landing against the back of the couch. “Come on now..” you say, emphasizing your words with a particularly hard squeeze, “still gotta be with it enough to hit the blunt.” You tease handing it over to him.

He doesn’t lift his head, instead he reaches out blindly to grip your hand, fingers wrapping around your hand to find the blunt. He grips it, pulling it to his mouth. You let out a surprised squeak when his hand moves to push your panties to the side, his fingers returning to your bare cunt.

When he feels the warmth of your bare pussy against his hand he lets out a moan around the blunt that he pulls from his mouth. His fingers dip into your folds, just feeling you. You’re already beginning to get wet, allowing his fingers to move easily as he begins to spread your arousal around.

You pass the blunt back and forth, never stopping your ministrations on each other. You couldn’t help but to grind against his hand, catching your clit on his palm with every roll of your hips. You’re dripping over his hand, only making him even more desperate for anything you’re willing to give him. He doesn’t say anything, he literally thinks he couldn’t if he even tried.

Your hand continues to massage his clothed erection, your hand moving up and down over the fabric, cupping the girth of his cock. You knew the possibility of someone looking on and seeing the two of you was high, but the idea only made you wetter. You knew it would be quite a show, and anyone who saw it would be too drunk or high to remember it the next day. So if they wanted to look on, let them.

When you let the last hit you took roll out over your mouth and look over to him to pass him the blunt, you’re met with a delightful sight. He’s leaned back in the couch, head thrown back as he takes the blunt. His legs are spread wide, hips rolling up to meet your hand.

When he hands the blunt back to you, you realize it’s basically at the end of its life so you’re putting it out on the ash tray and scooting closer to him. Your nose trails up his neck until your lips reach his earlobe. “The blunt’s done.” As soon as the words left your mouth his head shoots up and he turns to you.

His eyes trace over your face frantically as if he’s searching for some sign that you backed out of the idea you proposed. “Still wanna fuck?” You ask simply, playing with a silver chain that he has around your neck. He nods frantically, “God, yes..” he says breathlessly.

You giggle and pull him into you by his jacket. When you kiss him you can feel him tense up a bit, he takes a second to relax and when he does he’s melting into you. His lips move with yours, a little messy but it’s so desperate and eager you don’t even care. You’re pulling him impossibly closer to you, your tongue snaking into his mouth.

You begin to stand off the couch, pulling him with you so you two don’t break. When he’s standing fully his hands are on you, on your waist, on your ass, just feeling you. You were like the many porno mags and videos he’s jacked off to, nothing like anyone he’s actually fucked before.

He hardly could pay for his apartment so he normally worked over time at the club you found yourself in for overtime that was hardly worth it. So the girls he usually fucked were shitty hook ups in the ally or even using a glory hole that’s in the club, but you? You were a whole new caliber for him and he wanted to make every moment of it.

You pull away panting, he’s the same. “C’mon.” You simply say and drag him off to the back hallway of the club where the bathrooms were. Once you make it to the hallway, you’re back on him, kissing him with a fury as you guide the two of you into the ladies bathroom.

You two fumble through the door, crashing into the wall of the bathroom. His mouth is doing wonders, you’re addicted to the feeling of his lips on yours and he is the exact same.

The kiss is desperate, like he’s worried you’ll rip away from him and go off into the crowd of the club never to be seen again. You pull him into one of the stalls of the bathroom by the fabric of his shirt. When you have him in one of the bathroom stalls you’re pushing him backwards, his back collides with door, closing the stall.

You’re thankful that the bathroom was decently clean, sure the walls were covered in graffiti and there was most certainly a glory hole carved into the wall of the stall- but the toilets and floor were free of piss and vomit- which is why you picked the girls bathroom in the first place, hoping to get the better end of the bargain between pick of bathrooms.

His hand drops from your hip, reaching behind him to fumble with the lock of the stall, latching it in place. His hand is back on your hip, like he needed to feel you and any moment away from you is like he’d die. You pull away from his lips and you swear you could cum from the facial expression he has alone. His eyebrows are upturned in desperation, his mouth parted as he try’s to catch his breath.

You don’t give him time to, your lips begin to trail down his jaw, leaving open mouthed kisses as you move down his neck. His grip on your hips is like a vice, his nails beginning to leave crescent shaped marks where they dig into the leather fabric of your dress.

His hands move around your back and down gripping at the leather of your dress to pull it up over your ass. His hands are against your flesh almost instantly, meeting your ass and gripping at the flesh, squeezing it and kneading it in his large hands

You could feel his pulse as you kissed along the side of his neck, it was erratic and hard, like his heart was about to jump out of his chest. You nipped and sucked at his pale skin, leaving red and purple hues in your wake. Marking him as yours.

“Y-you’re a fucking minx..” he says breathlessly, his head kicked back against the bathroom door. You bite particularly hard at his shoulder, he grits his teeth and growls, a sound that makes your cunt throb. One of his hands pulls back to slap your ass, it’s a hard, sharp sting; the sound resounding through the bathroom. You moan against his skin and arch back into his hands.

He lets out a breathless laugh, like he truly can’t believes that you are on him right now. He wasn’t a virgin, far from it. But the girls he was with were never anything to write home about, always a drugged out one-night stand, him usually doing all the work for her to only do the bare minimum if it meant the girl got drugs.

But you? Oh fuck. He genuinely thought he was dreaming.

“Mhm…I know…” you mumble out between giggles. Your hands run up his chest and up to his shoulders, beginning to push the jacket he had on off his shoulders. He beats you to it though, he’s so eager.

He shoves his jacket he was wearing off his shoulders, taking it off and grabbing it, beginning to move to throw it over the bathroom stall. But you grab it moving to bunch it up and toss it on the ground between you two. “Bitch, what the-“ you can see him about to begin to scold you for dropping his jacket to the floor, his voice angered. But he’s cut off when you drop to your knees

“Oh…” he breathes out, looking down at you in awe. “Yeah, ‘oh’” you mock with a giggle, your hands running up his thighs, and then trailing inward to grip at the bulge in his jeans. Your smile widens as you hear the choked gasp he lets out. “For someone who was so callous and cold with me up until a couple of minutes ago, you’re really hard aren’t you?” You say looking up at him.

He lets out a sound that resembles a growl, looking down at you with the same angry stare but his eyebrows are turned up, the telltale sing of his desperation he’s trying to hide. You make quick work of undoing his button and zipper. You pull his pants and underwear down just enough to free his cock.

You figured he’d be packing, but fuck. He was long and heavy, veins running along the underside in tantalizing lines. It has your mouth watering.

“Fuck you’re huge..” you praise as you run your hands up and down his thighs, leaning in to place gentle kisses along the side, starting at the base of his cock and working your way up. “You’re a dream..” he mumbles out, more to himself than you. It makes you giggle, pulling away before placing a kiss on the tip of his cock, your tongue coming out to lap at the bead of pre-cum that beads at his red and angry tip.

“No, ‘m real.” You hum, placing another kiss to the underside of his tip. He shudders. You turn your head to the side, sticking your tongue out and pressing his cock to it. You slide your tongue back and forth a few times, wetting his cock. “What’s it gonna take for me to prove I’m real?” You say looking up at him with a pout, as you speak your lips brush against his dick.

“Hmm, I know! Fuck my throat.” You say with a grin, looking up at him. You watch as he bites his bottom lip, a muffled moan coming out of his throat. “That should make you know this isn’t a dream.” You giggle as you part your lips, slowly slinking down onto his cock.

When he passes through your soft lips and into your warm mouth his stomach tenses, a groan coming through his closed mouth. You move your head down, taking more of his thick cock into your mouth. Your tongue flattening to lick at the veins on the underside of his dick.

His eyes finally open, looking down at the sight below him and letting out the breath he had been holding. He reaches down, cupping your face to feel how stretched out your jaw was- yet you’re taking him so well. His hand moves to the back of your head, beginning to guide you up and down his cock. Your eyes never stop looking up at him, taking him in your throat so fucking well.

If he were to die right here and now, he would be a happy man. The heaven that was your mouth was something he didn’t know he was aching for, for what seemed like years; even if he just met you- like the solace that was your mouth was the answer to all his problems.

And so he began to take it out on you. Which is just what you wanted. Both his hands meet at your head, cradling your skull as he begins to thrust his cock into your throat. You brace your hands against his thighs, pushing his jeans and underwear down further so you can rest skin to skin.

His hands push you down his cock, letting out a strangled groan as your tongue lathes over the entirety of his dick as he begins to draw it in and out of your warm, wet mouth. His head is thrown back against the stall, his mouth parted, letting all the little gasps and whines he’s letting out be heard for anyone in the bathroom.

His head lolls to the side, his eyes that were screws shut open to look down at you and when he catches your gaze he lets out a breathless gasp, “H-hah….you sure know how to suck cock don’t you?” He rasps out, trying to seem unfazed but his shaky words give him away.

You purposefully begin to make filthy slurping sounds, head pushing down farther than his hands were pushing you. You’re opening your mouth as wide as you can, sinking almost all the way down. You never break eye contact. He watches as your tongue slips past your lips, even with a mouthful of cock, a trail of your saliva beginning to drop from the pink muscle.

All he can think about is the feeling that your tongue would offer his balls and the tightness of your throat around the entirety of his cock. So his hands meet the back of your head again, and push you the rest of the way down.

He’s hunched over you, pressing your nose to his pelvic bone. Your tongue runs over his heavy balls, your throat swallowing around him, it’s an unearthly feeling. His hips grind his cock into your mouth, shivering at the feeling of your warm tongue and wet spit covering his balls and making a complete mess of him.

He pulls you off of his cock by the back of your hair, looking down at you like you just gave him the secret of the universe, “How the fuck do you do that…” he asks in an awkward tone, genuinely baffled, his voice shaking. It makes you laugh, your need for him only growing stronger with his awkward quips.

“I dunno..” you shrug, a trail of spit connecting your plush lips to the tip of his cock. Your tongue darts out to lick at the string, disconnecting it. One of your hands lifts up to begin to pump his cock. Your spit that coats his girth only serving as extra lubrication for every flick of your wrist. “I just do it..” you mumble, looking up at him innocently.

He tosses his head back, both of his hands coming up to drag his face as he groans, trying to catch his breath that he swears you stole from him. “Holy fuck…” he groans to himself, you really are too much for him.

With your hand still moving up and down his cock you place your mouth back on his tip, swirling your tongue around it to collect the salty pre-cum that is spilling endlessly out of his slit. His hand clasps over his mouth as he lets out a choked moan, his other hand coming to rest on the top of your head, gently guiding your movements once more. “Y-you’re so fucking good at this…” he pants out, his hips beginning to thrust into your mouth.

You accept it gratefully, your mouth dropping open wide and taking him deep in your mouth. His eyebrows turn upward as he realizes you really are letting him truly fuck your mouth. He reaches his shaky hands down, cradling the sides of your skull and holding you still as he thrusts brutally into the warm tightness of your throat.

You’re choking around him, even forcing spit out of your mouth to make it infinitely more messy. He looks down at you with clenched teeth, his bottom lip becoming caught between his teeth as he continues his pace, the tip of his cock slipping past the tight ring of your throat every time he surges forward.

He can feel himself getting close, but he doesn’t want to cum in your mouth. No, he’s going to savor this, he wanted to cum deep in your pussy.

He’s grabbing the back of your hair and hauling you to a standing position. You’re spun around and pushed up against the wall of the bathroom stall, his hands are working to bunch your dress even higher. He’s running his hands along your stomach and then down lower. His hands grip at your inner thighs, pulling your ass back against him as he rocks his hard length between the valley of your ass.

You’re panting breathless, your hands braced against the stall as you push back against him. You shake your ass a little, whining when you feel his cock slip down between your thighs. “Close ‘em.” He growls, his hands moving to your hips. You do as he says.

A high pitched whine comes out of your mouth when you feel him begin to draw his hips back, running the length of his cock between the lips of your cunt. Every time he surges his hips forward his thick cock-head catches your clit in the most delicious way.

You can feel your cunt wetting his cock as he fucks your thighs, helping him to slide his cock even more. With his forehead resting against your shoulder blade, you’re hearing every pant, groan, and moan that falls out of his lips. And fuck does he sound so good.

“So fuckin’ wet.” He groans out, his hands holding your hips in a bruising grasp. He shifts his hips ever so slightly, the top of his cock grinding up against your clit, moving back and forth in short motions to keep his throbbing cock-head against your puffy clit. “Please, want you inside me…” you cry out, your eyes looking back over your shoulder. He groans, his hands grip harder at your hips, his movements stalling like he’s trying to contain himself from burying his cock balls deep inside you right then.

“Lemme feel you some more..your thighs are so soft” he says lowly, his head picking up from your shoulder to nuzzle into the crook of your neck. His movements continue, “feels so fuckin good, perfect fucking cunt…so soft…” For someone who wasn’t very talkative when you first met, he’s sure running his mouth now. And oh my god, you love it.

He shifts again so he can run your pussy along the entire length of his dick. Your cunt weeps around him, making an obscene mess between your thighs. He’s panting heavily against your neck, lips beginning to kiss along your neck in messy sporadic movements.

All you can do is helplessly rut your hips back against him, dragging your pussy along his cock as he thrusts. It feels so fucking good, every time his tip hits your clit you’re jolting against him. One of his hands moves from your hip up to the top of your dress. He stretches the fabric down, your tits spill out from the fabric, and one of them is instantly grabbed by his hand. He’s squeezing the flesh like it’s a life line.

“Holy fuck…” you call out in a shuddering breath, your knees beginning to feel weak. “Please, f-fuck put it in.” You beg, your head tilting to nudge his face, he tilts his head up and latches his lips onto yours. The kiss is mostly tongue, it’s frenzied and messy but it’s so so hot. He pulls away with a grunt “Fucking impatient.”

He shoves you into the bathroom stall by the back of your shoulder. Your tits are pressed into the cold metal of the stall as he grips the base of his cock, dragging it up and down your pussy, collecting your arousal on the head of his dick.

It’s a phenomenal feeling and when he looks down, one of his hands gripping one side of your ass and pulling, the sight that greets him is even better. Your sopping, wet cunt is clenching around nothing, pushing more arousal out onto his cock. He circles the tip of his cock around your entrance, he sucks in a deep breath- he genuinely has to gather himself so he doesn’t shoot his load right there on your spread pussy, as much as that would be a great sight.

When the head of his cock begins to sink into your tight hole you both let out shuddering gasps. And when he cants his hips forward ever so slightly, his fat tip sinking fully into your cunt with an audible ‘pop’, both of you let out moans.

“F-fuck you’re so t-tight.” His voice is wavering, shaky, desperate- it has you going insane. It’s like you’re squeezing the life out of his cock, and you were. He swore your greedy cunt was sucking him in. His hips surge forward, sinking further into your sopping walls, his arms leave your hips to wrap fully around your waist, pulling you flush against him.

“O-oh my fu-fucking god.” You sob out, it felt like he was splitting you open, but you wanted, needed, more. You’re forcing your hips backwards, making his cock sink into you more. He lets out a surprised gasp, his arms tightening around you as he hisses through clenched teeth, “F-fuck!! S-slow down, girl. S-shit.”

You can’t help the fucked-out grin that spreads across your face as you hear him, it’s a desperate plea, like the consuming squeeze of your cunt would be the death of him. You don’t listen, instead you push your hips back one final time, your ass becoming flush with his hips and thighs.

When his cock is sheathed fully in your spasming cunt he lets out a choked groan, arms squeezing around you so tight you damn near thought you’d break. And you echo, the feeling of the entirety of his cock is so intense. You’re feel like you’re split open, speared on his cock. You swear you can feel the tip of his cock press softly against your cervix.

“Y-you’re so big…” you say breathlessly, eyes rolling so far back you swore you could see your skull. You try to begin moving your hips against him, but he squeezes you even tighter- a squeak coming out of you, your movements halted. “Don’t you dare….” He rasps, his chest heaving against your back, “…fucking move.”

He’s holding you still, he has to regain some ground before you begin to fuck yourself back against him. He’s thinking anything he can to get his mind off of cumming deep into your cunt here and now. He can feel your walls spasming around him, greedily sucking him in like it’s coaxing him to thrust into you.

He sits there a couple moments before unwrapping his arms from your waist and leaning back, his hands finding purchase on your ass. He draws his hips back, the delicious drag of his cock pulling out of your cunt has you resting your head against the wall, hands curling into fists then flattening again as your tried to grasp at something to keep you on this plane of existence.

He draws his cock so just the tip rests in your pussy before slamming back in. He lets out a choked groan, the feeling of your messy walls coating his cock with your syrupy arousal and squeezing around him like a vice is better than any drug he’s ever tried- and he’s tried a lot.

“Tightest fucking c-cunt…” he rasps, his hips positioning into you at a brutal pace, the plush of your ass recoiling against his thighs with every thrust. “Where the f-fuck have you b-been..” he says between thrusts, his breath heavy, “…all this fucking time.” His thrusts are erratic, sloppy even, but it’s so so so good.

You can feel your cunt gush around his dick, with every thrust his cock kisses your cervix in a pleasurable pressure that has you rocking back against him harder. “H-harder, f-fuck, harder!” You cry out, one of your hands coming down to play with your clit.

He sees this and leans back over you, swatting your hand away before replacing it with his. His thrusts speed up, becoming rougher, his cock abusing your cunt. “I-if that’s what you need I want t-to be the one to do it..” he whines into your ear. It has you moaning, arching into his touch and creaming around him even more.

His fingers dance along your clit, the soft feeling of your pussy is surely going to be something he remembers for days to come. You’re so wet his hand slides effortlessly around your silky bud. “I-I’ve fucking dreamed of a pussy like this…” he moans into your hear, his hips jackhammering into you. Every messy thrust creates a wet splashing sound as your arousal coats his thighs and your ass.

All you can do is nod helplessly against the bathroom stall, your hand gripping at his wrist as his fingers work against your sloppy cunt. “And you’re fucking creamin’ around me so much, makin’ such a fuckin’ mess…” his words broken up by his moans, “You’re like right out of a f-fucking porno…” he adds with a particularly high pitched whine as you bare down on him hard.

The compliment is awkward but you couldn’t help it, the idea of him alone in his apartment fisting his dick desperately to porn videos he could only dream of reenacting, and now he’s living it- made you tumble closer to the edge more than you cared to admit.

“F-fuck I’m close.” You sob out, your hand gripping his wrist in a vice like grip as his fingers dance along your clit, massaging it between his two fingers before going back to drawing circles, “H-holy f-fuck I can feel it, squeezing my cock so fucking t-tight.” He choked out, his thrusts becoming deeper and harder as he draws his hips all the way back to only to let them back forwards, slamming into balls deep.

“C-cum in me please, fuck I-i need to feel it.” When the words fall from your lips he lets out a choked sob, “F-fucking h-hell yes, fuck yes I will..” he says, almost like you answered a silent prayer he had. His fingers working faster against your puffy clit, his thrusts becoming sloppier as he pounds your puffy cunt.

“Gonna c-cum so fuckin deep in you…” he groans out, his lips ghosting along your earlobe. You nod desperately, “P-please, oh god, please!” You cry out, the worry of people hearing you is long gone.

His hand that wasn’t playing with your clit leaves your hip to travel up to grab your neck. He squeezes, pulling you up and back against him. It makes his cock drive impossibly deeper. You moan out, it’s a strangled sound that only makes his hips piston up harder into you.

With his fingers working faster against your clit, his cock pile driving your poor cunt, and his hand grasping at your throat enough to make your vision go hazy- you’re hurling towards a powerful orgasm in a split second

You cum and you cum hard. You let out a high pitched moan, your cunt squeezing and baring down on his cock like you’re trying to milk him, almost forcing him out of your pussy with how hard you’re pulsating. And you look down in shock when your release gushes out of you in a violent stream.

“O-oh my god…you’re fucking squirting.” He exclaims breathlessly, still working his fingers against you and thrusting his thick cock into you spraying your cum everywhere. It floods around his cock and sprays to the floor. You shake against him, crying out as you continue to cum. And he’s right behind you.

The sound he lets out is sinful, something that you wish you could have recorded. You feel each thick spurt of cum flood the inside of your cunt in. It’s so warm, filling you up even further than you already are.

His hips rut against you, trying to fuck his cum deeper into you. Your head falls back against his shoulder, your body violently shaking against him. When you look down you see the bathroom tiles are flooded with your release. You can also see the cum that drips out of you onto his cock, covering his balls with even more of a mess.

He drops his hand from your neck to your waist holding you against him as he falls forward, his other hand resting against the bathroom stall, your own hand falling right under his to also steady yourself as your two stand there breathless. You’re sure if he wasn’t holding you up by your waist you’d fall boneless to the floor.

You look back down to where you to connect, the floor covered in a debauched mix of both your cum. You let out a whimper when you watch a thick glob of his cum fall out from you and onto the floor with a ‘plap’ sound.

“You filled me so much cum…” you whine, hips rolling against him. He squeezes you, “Keep s-still, f-fuck.” He hisses, his softening dick over sensitive in your tight pussy. “You fucking milked me….” He retorts, “s’not my fault.” He mumbles.

“Would it be too late to ask for your phone number or was this like a one off thing or…” he begins to ramble. “I let you cum in me, you made me squirt- I’m getting your fucking phone number.” You say laughing. “O-okay good.” He sighs against you.

You think he’s about to pull out, allow you to get dressed and be on your way but no. His hips begin to rock into yours again, “C-can I please make you squirt again… I wanna see it.” He begs, his nose running against your neck.

And when he asks like that, a whiney lilt to his voice. How could you say no?

im literally having so much fun getting through these requests. Requests are still open they will just take some time!!

Next up I got another nam-gyu smut (this time he’s ROUGH!!! Yall like omg the stuff im writing is filthy).

And we also have so much love for the original thangyu request so I got a couple requests for that coming up 😩😩

As always, thank you for reading and sending in requests. Your love is always appreciated 🥺🥲🥲🥺 - <3 kiwi

[landosjupiter]

friends with benefits!lando who can’t ever take his eyes off you. even at a party surrounded by all your friends, he’s fucking intoxicated by you. he traces the skin tight dress that encompasses your figure, leaving little to the imagination. the thoughts immediately fills his head: dress on or off? are you wearing panties or is it just a thin layer of silk that separates him from the thing he wants most?

friends with benefits!lando, who laughs when you pass him. scolding him with a playful slap to his shoulder that “all our friends can see your hard-on!” his palm circles your wrist to tempt you back towards him, lips grazing the shell of your ear and stubble scratching the sharpness of your jaw. too close to be ‘just friends’, too far apart for your liking.

friends with benefits!lando who whispers tempting promises into your ear as though you’re the only people left on earth. “are you gonna come home with me, love?”

you fiddle with the lapel of his jacket, biting back a smile on red-stained lips. “that depends. what’ll we do?”

with his hand hovering above the curve of your hip bone - just a light enough touch to be deemed ‘respectful’ - he murmurs, “anything you want.”

friends with benefits!lando, one hand on the steering wheel while the other touches whatever bit of bare skin of yours he can reach, driving like a madman because he doesn’t want to look anywhere but at you. sloppy kisses as you drag him to his apartment, manicured fingers peeling away clothes.

“you’re wearing so much,” you whine against his lips as you desperately try to unbuckle his belt.

“and you’re wearing so little,” he replies when his hand sneaks up your dress, only to be greeted by your slick, uncovered pussy. “is all this because of me, baby?”

friends with benefits!lando, who pins you beneath his warm body the minute you’ve undressed, pink lips trailing from your jaw and downwards, sucking bruising kisses across the plump slope of your breasts.

friends with benefits!lando, who gently pushes into you, trying to lessen any pain that might come from the burning stretch by telling you to keep your eyes on him. he groans when your hips buck up to meet his, pushing his cock deeper into your pussy, desperate whines slipping from your lips.

friends with benefits!lando, large hands leaving imprints on your ass and hip, moaning into your neck as he rocks gently against you. soft skin on soft skin.

friends with benefits!lando, fixated on the sight of his cock slipping into your warm cunt, fingers pressing down on where he can its outline pressing against your cervix. “taking me so well, aren’t you, baby?”

friends with benefits!lando, who’s favourite sound on earth might just be your cries when you come undone at his praise, gripping his neck to pull him closer as you whimper his name over and over again.

friends with benefits!lando, blurting out, “god, i love you” as his cum fills you up, so warm, so full that it leaks out your pussy from around his cock.

but you just reply with a moaned, “no you don’t”.

your admonishment causes his breath to stutter, and he murmurs a low what. your hands cradle his head, pulling him in for a long kiss, lazy and tired and fucked out, before whispering, “you don’t mean that. you’re not thinking clearly.”

after all, a pussy drunk man will say any word that comes to mind.

friends with benefits!lando, probably would’ve said it anyways.

//

my first time writing smut so any criticism/advice is appreciated. requests are open 🤍🤍

[moremaybank]

Any Dad!JJ? You’re just one of the best at writing him.

dad!jj for the soul !!!!! i hope you enjoy, angel! i really enjoyed writing this one! 🤍

jj's elated when he sees his six year old babygirl, avery, walking out of her classroom. it's three-thirty on the dot, a time jj looks forward to daily when he picks up your daughter and takes her to work with him while they wait for you to meet them there after work.

avery reaches him, and he crouches down to her height so he can press a kiss to her cheek. "hi, babygirl."

"hi, daddy!"

he loves how chipper his little girl gets when she's around him. she lets it be known that she adores his presence, and that's what he's always dreamed of as a parent.

"mama killed it on your hair today," he says. he yanks gently at one of the braids you'd put into her hair earlier this morning. "look at these. phew. think my babygirl's a model."

she giggles at her father's affectionate words, cheeks heating with love. her squeals grow louder when jj scoops her up and makes his way to his truck. he buckles her into her booster seat, ruffling up the top of her hair playfully before shutting the door and getting into the driver's seat.

"hey, daddy?"

"'sup, aves?" he asks, pulling out of the parking lot and starting on the journey to the auto shop.

"what colours do boys like best?"

he arches a brow. "what d'ya mean, sweet girl?"

"dunno...like what colour do you like most on mama?"

"hmmm," jj says, pondering out loud. "that's a hard one, baby. i think your mama looks good in everythin'."

an adorable huff escapes her pursed lips. "daddy. 'm serious. you have to pick one."

the truck zooms down the road, passing by avery's favourite fast food joint. jj can't help but speed up just a smidge, hoping and praying that she won't look out the window and wrangle a chicken finger combo out of him. 'cause then he'd have to get one for her. he's never said no to his princess and he doesn't plan on changing that any time soon.

"mm, i guess i'd say red. i like when she wears that matching lipstick too."

jj looks up at the rear view mirror, catching the way avery nods before a presumable heat takes over her face. the dimple she'd gotten from him peeks through as she smiles to herself.

"what're you smilin' about?"

"nothing, daddy. i just think i'm gonna wear red for the dance tomorrow."

he arches a brow, but he doesn't push her on her answer. "whatever you want, babygirl."

˖ . ݁ 𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

jj hears the click-clacking of high heels against the floors of the auto-shop, and he doesn't need to wheel out from underneath the station wagon he's working on to know it's you.

"hi, mommy!" avery greets cheerfully, getting off the spinning chair jj had secured for her from the break room. she runs over to you as quickly as her smaller feet can manage, and you meet her with an equally thrilled grin. you pick her up and squeeze her into a tight hug.

"hi, baby." you smooth down some of her frizz. "how was school?"

"it was good. chrissy shared her chocolate bar with me, and kyle gave me a flower at recess."

neither of you can see it, but jj makes a face under the car.

kyle? who the fuck was kyle?

"he's a good best friend to you, baby," you tell her. "did you thank him?"

"yes. and he's not my best friend anymore, mama. he's my boyfriend."

this time, you do see jj's reaction. or, rather, hear it anyway.

"what?!"

something that sounds like a bang rings through the air, followed by a shit (to which your daughter snickers, always one to find her father hilarious). then, he rolls out from beneath the vehicle, rubbing his forehead to ease the sharp pain. his eyes find your daughter's, though, and he's as stern as you've ever seen him.

"aves— you can't have a boyfriend!"

"daddy, i'm six. i'm not a baby," avery reminds him, sounding every bit like a teenager instead of her actual age. the sass never failed to make you smile.

just like her daddy.

"yes, you are still a baby! my baby!"

"j—" you interject.

"nah. nope. no way."

"why don't you go back over there and colour, angel?" she nods, and you set her down, watching as she runs back to her chair. she takes a sip of her apple juice, bringing her attention back to her artwork.

deciding she's not at all bothered by jj's theatrics, you walk over to him and help him stand. you look up into his cerulean eyes when he towers above you. "babe, relax. she's six."

"exactly! she's a baby! she can't have a boyfriend. s'just not happenin'."

you give him a knowing smile, your arms looping around the back of his neck. "you were my boyfriend when we were six," you remind him. "don't think you found anything wrong about that back then."

he frowns, but pulls you in closer by your hips anyway. no matter what, any time he's around you without touching you, it just seems like a waste.

"that's different. i was a nice boy."

you both realize avery's been listening quietly when she chimes in. "kyle's nice too, daddy. he kisses my cheek everyday at the end of school."

she says it like it's a fact. like kyle never misses out on what infuriatingly sounds like a tradition to jj.

jj thinks he's having a stroke.

"he's puttin' his lips on you, now?!" his forehead falls to your shoulder, and he slumps against you like the six-foot baby he is. "oh god, i think i'm gonna be sick." a beat passes, and then he distances himself from you. the sulk is still prominent on his face, and now, it's probably permanent. he pulls at his collar, shifting uncomfortably as he tries to fan himself off. "'m i sweating?"

avery hops down from her chair, strutting over to her father and tugging at the leg of his coveralls, silently requesting that he crouch down to her height. of course, jj immediately falls in line.

"don't be mad, daddy."

"wait, wait, wait— is kyle the reason you're wearin' red tomorrow?!"

"don't worry, daddy." she pats his cheek like he's the one who needs reassurance. to be fair, he clearly is. "kyle's nice. just like you."

and with that, she trots off back to her chair with a cheshire cat smile, clearly feeling accomplished.

"yeah. he better be," jj mutters bitterly, standing back up.

your hands reach out to grab a hold of your husband again, and it draws his attention back to you. your hands frame his face and you give him a smile. "you're gonna be a total nightmare when she grows up and gets a boyfriend or girlfriend for real."

"damn right, i will. like i said, she's my baby."

you raise a brow. "i thought i was your baby?"

his tongue darts out to wet his lips, and then his mouth forms into a smirk. "see now, she's my baby. but you're my baby." his hands migrate down to your ass and he gives you a squeeze. "you pickin' up what i'm puttin' down?"

"oh, i think i am."

concepts ; concepts (ii)