#enjoy you filthy animals/j

[corrupteddoodles]

howdy hey mothertruckers it’s me ya boi corrupteddoodles

so, my mootie pootie oomf @thatfrogperson posted something like this earlier and since we share One Single Braincell i wrote something similar to it.

once again, it’s about the boys from My Strange Roommate

look at him and tell me that man isn’t in love with his roommate

like thatfrogpersons fic, the two have names

Adam- The inhuman roommate

Oliver- the human roommate

here’s the fic, enjoy:

Love.

It was a word Adam never really understood. He wasn’t human. He never was, and he never will be. His species was designed to stalk, maim and kill.

So why did he feel the way he did?

Adam had been watching this human for a while now. Under the guise of being his roommate. Oliver. Adam noticed how his heart- well, not really a heart, per se. It was more of a void- got faster when Oliver was in the room.

Oliver was a law student. He usually came home incredibly late, often crashing on the couch and falling asleep. Adam usually left him there, feeling nothing. But lately, he had picked Oliver up, and carried him to his room, feeing an odd sense of care, deep in his chest.

Adam didn’t understand what he felt. When it first started, he pushed it down, hoping it would go away.

It never did.

Despite the many, many chances he had, Adam couldn’t bring himself to kill Oliver. All he wanted to do was hug him. Protect him. Care for him.

Is this how “love” was supposed to feel?

[pin-k-ink]

INDULGENCE ⋆✦⋆ hoshina soshiro

synopsis ➸ soshiro already acted like an animal in heat 24/7. there’s no way some measly little chocolates could possibly make him worse… right?

tags ➸ aphrodisiacs, pussy drunk!hoshina, dry humping, riding, car sex, clothed sex, begging, marathon sex, overstimulation, switch!hoshina, cumflation, nipple play, manhandling, teeny tiny breeding kink

wc ➸ 4.2k

"Ugh, Soshiro, stop..." You giggled breathlessly, squirming as your husband's lips blazed scorching trails across your bare shoulders from behind. "I'll never finish getting ready for dinner at this rate."

His low rumble of amusement vibrated deliciously against your flushed skin in response. Powerful hands roamed over the satin curves of your slip, calloused palms kneading and stoking the growing fire smoldering low in your belly.

"Can't help myself when you're prancing around looking like this," Soshiro rumbled, nosing aside the thin strap to trail open-mouthed worship along your upper back. "All that gorgeous skin just begging to be marked properly..."

You shivered despite your attempt at playful admonishment, instinctively arching back into the solid wall of his broad chest. Those wicked hands slid higher, molding over the plush swell of your tits through the flimsy silk until you gasped softly.

"See? You want it just as bad, babygirl," Soshiro purred against the fevered throb of your pulse point, voice dripping sin. "Want me lavishing all sorts of ungentlemanly attention until even the fanciest dress can't hide how worked up I always leave you..."

To emphasize his point, thick fingertips circled your peaked nipples through the delicate fabric in tight swirls until you choked back a moan. Soshiro chuckled richly at your traitorous reaction, teeth grazing over that sensitive juncture of throat and shoulder warningly.

"Babe...please," you managed in a breathless rasp. "Don't start what we can't finish right now. You know I've got a surprise planned for us later this evening..."

That gave him momentary pause, allowing you to gather the tattered remnants of your resolve. But then his grip was flexing, short nails raking over your silk-covered curves in delicious reprimand that had you arching helplessly.

"Is that so?" Soshiro rumbled in between scorching drags of his tongue over your feverish skin. "Well now I'm just gonna be even more impatient to enjoy the evening properly with you, hm? Though maybe if you gave me a little sneak preview..."

One broad palm flattened over the apex of your parted thighs, grinding the heel against your rapidly dampening heat in a deliciously filthy promise. You bit back a strangled keen, legs instinctively falling open wider as the other hand bunched your skirt higher.

"J-Jerk," you whimpered breathlessly despite no real heat behind the petulant accusation. "Keep it up and your surprise will end up ruined before we can even sample it properly."

Soshiro made a considering noise against the racing thunder of your pulse, finally withdrawing enough for you to shakily gather your composure. His piercing stare tracked every tremor racking your frame with hunger, though, and you knew this momentary reprieve was only a stay of execution on his wicked teasing for now.

So with a concentrated effort, you smoothed your slip and fumbled for the nearby ornate robe to conceal your lingerie ensemble from roving ruby scrutiny. Soshiro prowled a lazy circle around you with a distinctly predatory edge to his gait that had tingles sparking fresh arousal in your gut.

"I'll try to rein myself in long enough for us to at least make it out the door tonight," he drawled at last, shooting you one of those heated looks from beneath smoldering lashes that never failed to rob what little air remained in your lungs. "Can't guarantee how well I'll behave once we're behind closed doors later, though..."

You swallowed hard, but met his blazing stare steadily despite your flush. "Good thing I'm an excellent influence when it comes to encouraging proper manners between us, then. Right?"

Soshiro barked out a low laugh at your playfully innocent tone, clearly dubious but willing to maintain the lighthearted bantering dynamic for now. Though his wandering stare continued undressing you with his eyes as you moved to slip into strappy heels and finish up the final touches with makeup.

"Alright, alright," he rumbled at last, snagging your wrist to tug you against his chest for one last lingering kiss that left you dizzy. "I'll leave you to your primping for now...but don't take too long down here, gorgeous. You know how impatient I can get."

You shivered at the heated promise laced through his deep rasp, drinking in every chiseled plane and cut of powerful muscle visible through his crisp shirt and slacks. Soshiro winked roguishly before allowing you to detach and retreat back towards the vanity, muttering something about needing a cold shower as he went.

Chuckling to yourself, you focused on meticulous touches while anticipation hummed through your veins. Tonight was your anniversary celebration - one you'd been eagerly planning every detail for over the past several weeks now. Including a very special surprise Soshiro had zero clue about waiting downstairs...

His footsteps trailed away as he descended to the lower level, finally granting you some breathing room to double check your appearance in the mirror. Everything had to be absolutely perfect before unveiling your cheeky gift later. You knew exactly how Soshiro tended to...appreciate any unexpected indulgences you bestowed upon him.

Speaking of which...you threw one last saucy grin at your reflection before grabbing your clutch and heading for the bedroom door yourself. No point in dawdling any longer now that your husband's notorious lack of patience was steadily building the longer you spent apart.

The lower hall was quiet and dim as you made your way to the central staircase winding down, ears perked for any sign of Soshiro lurking about. However, the only noises you detected were strange rustlings emanating from somewhere in the living area nearby.

Cautiously, you crept towards the archway and peered through - only to freeze in place at the truly bizarre scene unfolding in your absence.

There was Soshiro, casually settled amidst the plush sofa cushions while one hand idly polished off what appeared to be...the gourmet aphrodisiac chocolates you'd purchased especially for your intimate after-dinner indulgences tonight! Your jaw dropped in stunned disbelief as he greedily stuffed the last remaining morsels between his lips, not a care in the world.

"Soshiro!" you scolded before you could stop yourself, already surging forward to pluck the decimated box from his calloused grip. "What the hell do you think you're doing just gobbling up those expensive treats?"

He blinked up at you with patently faux innocence gleaming in those ruby irises, wiping a smear of velvety chocolate from the corner of his mouth with one knuckle.

"Not sure what you're so worked up about, baby. They're just fancy chocolates, right?" Soshiro shrugged unrepentantly. "Saw a mysterious box laying around while I was waiting for you and figured it was meant for me to sample."

You opened and closed your mouth several times, utterly flabbergasted that he could miss the significance so thoroughly when his eyes traced over the provocative packaging design now. But...perhaps that was for the best.

"You know what, never mind. You’re probably going to be fine..." you decided after a loaded pause, pointedly ignoring the flicker of victorious glee dancing through Soshiro's blown pupils at your deflated response. "We're going to be late for our dinner reservation if we dally much longer, so I'll explain more about it later tonight."

'He’ll probably be fine. He’s already insatiable anyway.' You thought silently.

Soshiro made a dubious noise at the back of his throat but thankfully rose to join you without further protest. As you tucked the crumpled confection box away in your clutch for the moment, he snaked one arm around your waist unexpectedly - lips brushing your hairline in an intimate nuzzle that had tingles erupting across your exposed nape.

"Lead the way, gorgeous," he husked in barely veiling hunger. "Though at this rate, I can't make any promises about keeping my hands off you once we're alone again later..."

You shivered despite yourself at the blatant forewarning, already feeling the banked embers of your own desire and anticipation rapidly catching light anew even in your husband's oblivious state. Honestly, you couldn't decide if Soshiro unknowingly devouring the aphrodisiac enhancements secretly boded fortunate or utter chaos for the night to come now...

By the time you were sliding into his car and buckling in for the short drive to the upscale bistro downtown, you couldn't quite shake the strange undercurrent of tension building between your forms. Almost like static charge crackling across exposed skin as Soshiro's heavy-lidded gaze continued pinning you with velvet intensity from the driver's seat.

It wasn't until he threw the vehicle into gear and began peeling away from the curb that you noticed the first visible cues that something was rapidly spiraling out of control, however.

Soshiro let out a harsh exhale, muscles in his jaw flexing tautly as his broad shoulders rolled in obvious tension. You watched curiously as one pale hand migrated from the steering wheel to rest heavily upon your thigh without preamble. Calloused fingers gripped the sensitive flesh with bruising intensity that made you inhale sharply.

"Babe?" you prompted in confusion as he began tracing slow, aimless circles against your inner thigh. There was a certain glazed edge to those blown crimson irises that set your nerves alight unexpectedly. "You okay over there?"

He grunted noncommittally, thick brows furrowed as if struggling against some unseen force. Another shudder rolled through his powerful frame, this one more pronounced. His hand clenched on your leg convulsively, making you gasp.

"Soshiro, what's—?"

In the blink of an eye, he cut you off with a strangled groan - body seizing up as both hands flew to grip the steering wheel in a white-knuckled vise. The car veered dangerously across the empty intersection before correcting, every tendon standing out in harsh relief along Soshiro's bared forearms.

"Fuck...!" he spat out harshly through gritted teeth. The muscle in his jaw leapt and flexed as if he fought for control against some inexplicable force wracking him from the inside. "Baby, are...shit, something's happening, I—!"

Another tortured keen ripped free of his broad chest as the car swerved again. By now, you could detect the sharp, musky scent of his arousal slowly thickening the air around you both in undeniable waves. Your eyes went wide, roving frantically over his contorted expression twisted in more agony than bliss so far.

"Soshiro!" you cried out sharply, reaching over to grip his bicep in mounting panic. "Oh god, what's wrong?! Talk to me right now before something—"

He whipped his head around to face you, effectively silencing your demands with one hauntingly intense look alone. Soshiro's pupils had blown to astronomical proportions, leaving only razor-thin rings of ruby irises visible. His nostrils flared in a harsh exhale, chest heaving as the tendons in his thick throat leapt convulsively.

Then his gaze raked down the length of your body with simmering hunger that sent a thrill of pure yearning zipping straight to your core. Soshiro seemed to scent the sudden flare of your arousal immediately, lips peeling back over blunt teeth in a primal snarl that stole what little breath you had left entirely.

"H-Holy shit..." he rumbled in a sandpaper rasp that was pure sin incarnate. "Is this what you meant about those fucking chocolates, [Y/N]...? Because if so, I might not...I might not be able to control—!"

The rest of his warning was swallowed up in another guttural growl, powerful frame bucking against the unyielding confines of his seat in desperation. You watched with a dazed sort of horror as his large hand abandoned your thigh in favor of palming the obvious bulge of his cock through his slacks - thick fingers flexing rhythmically against the growing swell until a choked whimper spilled over his lips.

"Oh god...fuck!" Soshiro rasped through clenched teeth, chest heaving rapidly. "M' pulling over so I can—fuck, baby, I can't focus when you smell so fucking good..."

You could only mutely comply, adrenaline and arousal warring in a heady cocktail that spiked your pulse into double time. Every minute shift and harsh exhalation from his wrecked form beside you sent liquid heat pooling lower and lower in your core with searing intensity.

By the time he’d managed to wrestle the car off onto the nearest side street and engage the parking brake, Soshiro was an absolute disheveled mess - utterly lost to the wanton throes overwhelming every rational impulse of self-restraint left. The instant he killed the engine, he seized you with bruising aggression - nearly tearing the seatbelt from your chest in his desperation.

"Off...get them off now," he demanded in something dangerously close to a snarl, huge palms already tugging at the hem of your dress furiously.

"Soshiro, wait—!" you tried weakly, still reeling from his frantic outburst and the dizzying arousal swimming through your own senses. "Those chocolates you ate, baby...they were...they had some kind of aphrodisiac—!"

But whatever explanation you tried to eke out dissolved on a throaty cry as he finally succeeded in rending your panties away with a bestial growl. His fingers delved straight into your dripping folds without ceremony, curling and pumping with blistering demand as slick obscene noises rapidly filled the compact space.

"No more talking..." Soshiro ground out in a voice utterly shredded by need. His scorching stare pinned you immobile as he ruthlessly chased your shuddering release without hesitation or restraint. "Can't wait...I have to fuck you, baby. Right. Fucking. Now."

His lips crashed down against yours with blistering ferocity that left you panting. One huge hand cradled your jaw firmly as his tongue delved deep in a filthy promise that had you moaning helplessly. Then, just as swiftly as he'd begun, Soshiro was withdrawing entirely - leaving you dazed and achingly empty in his wake.

"Get in the back," he commanded roughly, already fumbling at his belt and slacks with trembling urgency. "Need room to spread you open, gorgeous..."

"B-But what about our dinner res—ahhh!"

Your squeak of surprise melted into a whimper of pure lust as Soshiro bodily hauled you across the center console to settle across his lap. Those ravenous hands didn't hesitate to wrench aside the skirt of your dress and shove your upper thighs wider, forcing you into a wanton straddle.

"Don't need to eat a fucking thing when you're right here," he husked filthily, dragging one thick thumb through your sopping folds. You bit your lip at the lurid, wet squelch it produced that left no room for denial. "Now, let's see if I can get that pretty pussy sucking me all the way down, hm?"

You were still sputtering wordlessly as Soshiro aligned his thick cock with your aching slit and began hauling you down against his straining shaft with a guttural groan. Despite the frantic need lancing through every nerve ending, his fat tip barely pierced the molten velvet embrace of your tight channel before you were already whimpering in earnest.

"O-Oh my god, babe..." you stuttered breathlessly, hands scrabbling for purchase against his shoulders. "Please, I can't, you're too big and I—!"

"Shut up and take it," he snarled, hips jerking up brutally to force a few more inches deeper despite the searing resistance. "Need to...so bad, baby, I can't...fucking need it!"

You could only keen brokenly as he began rutting into your quivering core in sharp, jagged thrusts - the raw stretch of your inner walls around his impossibly thick cock driving the air from your lungs entirely. By the time Soshiro was hilted balls-deep inside your molten heat, your entire lower half felt stretched to the very limit.

"So good, so fucking good..." he mumbled nonsensically, pressing hot, sloppy kisses all along your neck and collarbones while his hands guided your hips to grind in filthy figure-eights. "Can feel you squeezing...hnnngh, fuck, baby, it's never been like this, feels so—!"

Your head spun at his wrecked rambling, overwhelmed by the intensity of sensation as your pussy fluttered around his cock in instinctive welcome. This was unlike anything the two of you had shared thus far - a feverish frenzy that had Soshiro’s face buried in your heaving breasts, hips pumping with single-minded desperation to drive his swollen dick even deeper into your cunt.

"Please, Soshiro..." you gasped out, fingers tangling in his silky black locks.

"M' close, m' so fucking close already, but it's not enough, babygirl..." he moaned in a hoarse rasp against your skin. "I need more, please, fuck...!"

And then you were squealing as his hands dug bruises into your hips and yanked you upright, forcing your quivering thighs wider in a punishing vise that would have your legs screaming in agony tomorrow. Soshiro didn't pause or even seem to notice your desperate whimpers, however, as his gaze fixated on the point where his pulsing cock speared you wide open.

"Oh fuck, I can see it..." he groaned, the filthy words spilling from his lips seemingly beyond his control. "So pretty—you're so pretty, baby. And all mine, yeah? Fuck, look at how much your greedy cunt wants me, too..."

You whimpered in dizzy agreement, unable to resist following his heated gaze downwards to the lurid spectacle he'd created. You could feel the hot brand of his stare tracing each flex and roll of his cock disappearing into your flushed, aching pussy - your folds glistening obscenely with the mixture of his precum and your own arousal.

"Soshiro...baby, please, it's so much," you choked out, unable to tear your eyes away from the sight either. Your inner walls were practically convulsing in overstimulated agony around his girth, each inch dragging along your clenching sheath in a sinful grind that had tears welling in your eyes. "It's too much, I'm going to—!"

A strangled scream tore loose as Soshiro abruptly began fucking into your pliant body in brutal lunges that had you keening and thrashing atop his lap. You were pinned in place, though, as his massive hands kept you anchored in the perfect position for his merciless assault.

"I can't—gonna fucking cum already, baby," he grunted, voice cracking as his pace faltered and stuttered wildly. "Gotta, fuck, wanna fill you up so bad, make you take every drop. Gonna breed that pretty pussy nice and full, babygirl, gonna—!"

His final words dissolved into an inarticulate bellow, hips slamming upwards against your ass in a frenzy as he chased his own release. You could feel his cock twitching, the hot splash of his seed flooding your tender depths as he pumped you full in endless ropes that left you whimpering.

He didn’t stop for a second, didn't even hesitate. Instead, Soshiro simply shifted you forward with a feral snarl and began rocking his hips upward in a fresh frenzy. His fat cock continued sawing into you at an unforgiving pace that had you crying out at the brutal friction.

"Mmm, fuck, so good..." he panted, burying his face between the valley of your tits and nuzzling shamelessly. "So warm and soft and...god, baby, I can't stop. Need it again, I—gonna fuck you again, alright?"

Your head swam dizzily at his filthy promise, still struggling to process the fact that he hadn't even gone soft in the slightest. But then he was hauling you against his chest, wrapping your arms and legs around him like a limpet while he slid from the driver's seat and into the back of the car.

"Get on top and sit on my cock, babygirl," he commanded with a throaty groan, rubbing his calloused palms up and down the slope of your spine soothingly. "Want to watch you ride me..."

You didn't have time to even protest the new position as Soshiro hauled you up and then down again in a single thrust that left you both seeing stars. He was already rutting up into your dripping pussy with wild abandon, the slick sound of your bodies coming together a lewd accompaniment to your desperate cries and his growls.

"Fuck, you feel so good, baby, I—shit, I can't...I can't stop fucking you," he confessed, pupils blown to the point that only the thinnest band of crimson remained. "Don’t wanna, don't...need it, need you, so much..."

All you could do was cling to him for dear life as he used your body in the most exquisite ways. You could feel the thick spurts of his cum dripping from your pussy with each punishing lunge, a ring of white frothing out around his swollen girth every time he bottomed out deep inside. It was dirty, and obscene, and you couldn't get enough.

"M' gonna cum again," Soshiro panted hoarsely, sweat beading his temples and soaking his shirt as his hips jackknifed upwards in a relentless rhythm. "Can't, shit, can't hold back, baby...! Need it, need you, god, I...please, please, m' cumming...!"

Another raw howl tore loose as his cock throbbed, another load of his thick cum painting your insides as he held you impaled on his length by your forearms. Soshiro didn't slow his frantic rutting for a second, though, even as his chest heaved with the effort and his eyes glazed over.

"Baby...please, I can't, I need..."he mumbled deliriously, burying his face between your breasts with a choked groan. "Don't wanna hurt you, baby, but...god, please, just let me...need to keep fucking you, m' sorry, I can't help it..."

You weren't sure how long you rode the waves of his insatiable lust in the cramped backseat of his car. The windows were fogged, and the scent of sex was heavy in the air. Your limbs ached, and your cunt was sore and leaking. Still, you couldn't bring yourself to deny him what he needed, not when he was so beautifully desperate.

"Please," Soshiro gasped out, hips rolling against yours in a lazy grind. "Baby, please, keep going, need...god, please, keep fucking me, need your pussy..."

Your hands cradled his jaw gently, pulling him into a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss that made his cock pulse against your sensitive walls. He groaned into the wet tangle of tongues, rutting into you like a man possessed.

"Keep fucking me," Soshiro murmured against your lips, his hands running down your spine and clutching at your hips. "Fuck me, fuck me, baby, please...!"

You did as he asked, rolling your hips and bouncing in his lap with a steady pace, the rhythmic clap of flesh on flesh filling the car. You kept at it, the sound of your bodies joining echoing around the small space. Soshiro kept his grip on you, using his leverage to guide your movements, his hips snapping up to meet yours on each downstroke.

"M' so close," he growled, his words slurring together. "M' so close, baby, m' gonna fill you up again..."

You leaned in and kissed him again, swallowing his moans and whimpers as his cock twitched and throbbed inside of you. With a shuddering gasp, he spilled into you once more, his seed spilling out around the thick base of his cock and soaking the leather beneath your knees.

"So good," Soshiro croaked, his lips trailing across your jaw and down the slope of your neck. "You feel so fucking good, babygirl..."

You moaned as his tongue trailed across the curve of your shoulder, his hips rocking against yours in a gentle motion, his cock still pulsing and twitching inside of you. With a trembling sigh, he buried his face in your chest, his breath hot against your skin.

"Don't want to stop," he mumbled, his words muffled. "M' sorry, baby, don't want to, need to feel your pussy more...!"

You shivered as his grip on your waist tightened, his fingers digging into the supple flesh. With a sharp tug, he pulled you down, grinding his cock deeper inside of you, a groan bubbling up from his throat.

"Please," he rasped, his voice cracking. "Fuck me, baby, please, m' gonna die if you don't..."

You whimpered as he shifted beneath you, his cock nudging deeper and causing you to tremble. Slowly, you rolled your hips against his, earning a ragged moan in response.

Whatever happened after that was a complete haze of unrelenting, carnal bliss - your husband's endless stamina and boundless need consuming both of you entirely. It was only after what seemed like an eternity later, the two of you sprawled limply amongst the plush cushions, that a semblance of sanity slowly began filtering back through your fogged senses.

"So that's what those chocolates were really for," Soshiro murmured hoarsely against the sweat-slick skin of your shoulder, sounding slightly dazed. His large hand idly kneaded the plush curve of your ass, the other stroking over the slight rounding of your lower abdomen that his copious seed had caused. "Huh, who would have thought?"

"Well, technically, it was your fault," you pointed out, still trying to catch your breath. "You ate the chocolates without asking first, remember?"

Soshiro snorted, shifting to pull you more securely into his side. "M' not complaining, babygirl. That was easily the best anniversary gift ever."

You huffed, rolling your eyes. "I'm glad you enjoyed yourself, you jerk."

His rich chuckle vibrated pleasantly against your chest, followed by the soft press of his lips against your temple. You hummed contentedly, snuggling into his embrace despite the fact that you were both a sticky mess of various bodily fluids right now.

"Guess we'll have to reschedule dinner for tomorrow, though," Soshiro mused, the hint of amusement dancing through his husky rasp impossible to miss. "Or possibly the week after…"

You didn’t have time to question his words before you felt the telltale twitch and swell of his cock stirring back to life where it was nestled against your thigh.

"What the hell was in those chocolates?" you demanded with a squeak of surprise.

He grinned wolfishly, rolling you onto your back and hovering over you like a predator cornering its prey. "Not sure, but I've got a few ideas of how we can burn it out of my system..."

[hier--soir]

a lover's pinch | four

joel miller x f!reader

pairing: professor!joel miller x f!reader rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni summary: after a conference in new york, you and j miller phd take things a step further. warnings/tags: au, university professor joel, age gap [20 something years diff], ethically dubious relationship due to inherent power imbalance, i think i describe reader as having sweaty palms about 1500 times so it deserves a warning, alcohol consumption, the plight of being a woman in academia, oral [f receiving], unprotected piv sex [IN A BED ??? GASP] for you filthy animals, prone bone, a little roughness and then not much at all, uhhh pet names during sex.... uhhmm intimacy errrrrr.... soft!joel... feelings... okay bye word count: 9.3k series masterlist | main masterlist a lover's pinch playlist a/n: hey folks, thank you so much for all your patience as i took my sweet sweet time writing this. we get to know our prof a little better in this one so a fair amount of dialogue for you but yeah anyways i hope you enjoy it, and i'd love to hear what you think! [and if i Fell Off because of the depression, don't tell me lol] A WORD ABOUT THE TAG LIST: i will continue the taglist for this part and for part five, and after that i will rely solely on my notifications account @hier--soirupdates so pls follow that and turn on notifs to be told when i post writing x this is part four of ALP. you can read the previous parts here: one, two, three.

Saturday.

The conference centre is vast.

A large space that protects you from the threatening clouds that loom over New York City, and exposes you to countless dense conversations.

An NYU teacher’s assistant is glued to your hip, parading you through the centre with a wayward index finger that points out the bar, the room where the keynote speech will be given [large, with an imposing stage], and the room where you will give your presentation [less large, with a far less imposing stage].

Your presentation.  

You fight the urge to pull up the email for the thousandth time while she explains how there will be fifteen minutes to set up beforehand, and advises on when the doors will open for guests, and reminds you that you have a strict allotted time of 20-minutes, do you understand?

But the email is branded on the inside of your eyelids after this morning’s flight was spent reading and rereading and rereading the words. So you nod and smile and placate her on the tour of the centre, as you run through it in your mind.

We look forward to welcoming you to NYU’s Annual Classics and Ancient History Conference. Our team was intrigued by the presentation devised around your translation study in Athens…

“Did you hear me?”

You wish she wasn’t dressed so casually.

Loose balls of lint are collected on the back of her cardigan like trinkets, weighty and threatening to fall off in a sort of bread crumb trail behind her every movement. It makes your dress feel all the more serious, all the more formal. Navy blue and a little tight, with sleeves that slant across the middle of your bicep and a hem that cuts modestly across your lower thigh. Professional, smart, sexy, but not too sexy. You and Nora spent two hours at the mall picking it out last weekend. And you can see people in suits, in blazers, in dresses, everywhere you turn, but your eyes keep returning to the TA’s cardigan. Little pills, sad morsels of broken fabric.

She says your name sharply.

“Yes,” you snap to attention, and clock her poor attempt not to roll her eyes. “You were saying?”

“It’s an open bar,” she continues from a few steps ahead, slowly back away while raising her voice to be heard over the countless others sprouting across the room. “And food is served after the Keynote.”

Finally free of her and her cardigan, you scale the edge of the hall, curious eyes glancing across faces familiar and not. You notice some other postgrads from UNE, and some professors from your alma mater. But it isn’t until three hours into the conference that you notice him.

You’re in a painfully long conversation with Professor Carmichael, an ancient history department head from Boston, when you notice them.

“Well you see,” he’s saying, slowly. “The First Roman Triumvirate was very unique. Surely you agree with me there, my dear?”

“Of course,” you nod amiably. A waiter floats past you holding a tray of glasses. You grasp one with a grateful smile, and turn back to face him with a sip of cold white wine moving down your throat. “The Big Three, it’s all very interesting. Although I must say, I am personally more interested in the second triumvirat—”

“Oh they all say that,” he waves his hand. “Everyone is so taken by Antony and Octavian that they forget about Crassus! So tragic.”

“A very tragic death,” you offer an exaggerated frown. “I agree.”

Carmichael hums, eyes narrowing as if you’ve said something wrong. Sipping your wine, your eyes float over his shoulder, determinedly trying to spot any sign of food, gaze spilling across countless faces and tables and waiters and professors until one set of people makes you pause.  Wild dark hair atop a floral dress floats in your vision, her pale hand hovering over the sleeve of a tall man in a suit. You watch the backs of their heads; the way the woman tilts her chin upward to speak to the man and laughs at what he says in return. That laugh. You frown, and feel yourself take a step forward, a step in their direction.

“Is something the matter?” Carmichael asks and you halt, flash him a sweet smile and shake your head.

“No,” you rush, practically tasting the opportunity to escape the conversation. “I’m sorry, Professor, I thought I saw someone waving me over. If you don’t min—”

“Always so many people to talk to at these things,” he says in a sing-song tone of voice, smiling obliviously. “All in due course, dear. You’ll find them later I’m sure.”

It’s not until fifteen minutes later that the tap comes on your shoulder. You turn and feel relief wash over you as you come face to face with Rachel, with her tangle of curls and bright orange dress. But then a jolt shudders through your frame, for you spot the man accompanying her; the man you watched her traipse around the room with, the man in the sleek black suit—Joel, hovering a step behind her.

“Rachel,” you blink. “Joel. Hi—”

“I didn’t know you’d be here!” Rachel says. Her eyes are wide, lips pulled back into a crooked grin that immediately sets you at ease. Joel, on the other hand, looks uncomfortable to say the least. You watch him tuck his hands in his pockets and then take them out again quickly, lips pursed together in a tight line as he glances between you and Professor Carmichael.

“Joel,” she grips the sleeve of his blazer and tugs him forward to stand beside her. You watch where her hand grazes him - the ease with which she jostles him around. “Did you know?”

“No.” He stares for a moment, lips parted and eyes darting across your face, shaking his head. “No, I didn’t know.”

“I’m giving a presentation,” you explain quickly, eyes darting between the two of them, fingers tightening around your glass every time your eyes settle on him. He trimmed his beard again; the hairs are shorter, neater—almost too short and too neat for your liking. His shirt is pressed and crisp, shock white beneath the midnight black of his jacket. He’s wearing different glasses. Tortoise shell glasses. Someone clears their throat to your right, snapping you out of your reverie. You apologise quickly, “This is Professor Carmichael.”

“Of course,” Joel nods, stepping forward to grip the older man’s hand. “Good to see you again, Professor.”

“And you, Professor Miller,” Carmichael chuckles, patting a shaky hand against Joel’s shoulder. “When was the last time we crossed paths? A year ago?”

“Must’ve been a year,” Joel smiles easily. His eyes slip to look at you every few seconds. “The conference in Ottawa.”

“The conference in Ottawa!” Carmichael cheers, nodding away. A weight sinks in your stomach like a cinder block as you watch the Professor gear up to wrangle Joel and Rachel into another conversation about Crassus’ untimely demise. But then Rachel slips away, called out to by someone across the room. And before Carmichael can open his mouth, Joel is speaking again, that honeyed drawl like music to your ears.

“Excuse me, Professor Carmichael,” he smiles again. Two of his fingers grip your elbow, tugging you a step backward. “Do you mind if I steal my star student for a few moments?”

Joel tilts your body to the left, and then the two of you are veering off into the crowd, wandering through throngs of people, his warm fingers pressed against the soft flesh above your elbow.

“Didn’t know you’d be here,” you say under your breath, glancing around warily, trying to spy any curious eyes that might notice the two of you.   

“Could say the same thing,” he murmurs, dragging you to a stop at the edge of the hall with his eyebrows raised. “When’s your talk?”

“At one. Overlaps with the Keynote, which I’m a little relieved about,” you smile, a pinched, tense thing. “Hopefully everyone will go to that, and I’ll have a smaller crowd.”

Joel’s eyebrows raise. You think you notice his shoulders stiffen. “S’that right?”

A persistent pang of hunger stabs through your stomach, you rub a hand over the front of your dress and nod. Curious brown eyes follow the movement.

“Here,” Joel reaches into his pocket and pulls something out. His fingers graze your skin as he tucks the shiny rectangle of foil into your palm. “They don’t put out any food until after the Keynote.”

It’s a granola bar. Peanut butter and banana. You stare at it for a moment, almost dumbfounded by the kindness of the gesture. By how attentive he is; how much he notices without you even having to speak.

“Thanks,” you say. Nestle it into your purse and give him an appreciative smile.

“Sure,” he nods jerkily. Adjusts the glasses on his nose. “I’m disappointed to miss it.”

“Oh?” you blink. Your eyes focus then, flitting downward to focus on the badge hanging from his lanyard.

Joel Miller, Ph.D.

University of New England.

Keynote Speaker.

“Oh, shit.”

“Mhm,” Joel squints at you. “Sorry if I don’t share the sentiment that everyone comes to watch me instead of you.”   

“Why didn’t you…” you gape. “You didn’t say you were giving a talk?” 

“You didn’t ask.”

“The Keynote speech is a big deal,” you say, as if he wouldn’t know.

“I was their third choice,” he shrugs you off with practiced ease. “First two weren’t interested.”

“Third time lucky then,” you smile, and he chuckles. Someone calls Joel’s name then, and you both spin to see Rachel across the room with a group of people, all eagerly waving him over. Something nasty curls in your chest – something bitter and unwarranted and cruel. You smother it with a mouthful of wine and a soft smile of farewell to him as he turns and walks in her direction.

A hand clasps down on your shoulder and you flinch, turning to see Professor Carmichael beaming.

“Where were we then, my dear?”

You eat Joel’s granola bar at the back of the hall five minutes before your talk and walk onstage with the taste of peanut and banana on your lips, brushing crumbs of dried oats off your fingers.

Fifteen people attend, spotted miscellaneously across the amassed rows of chairs. The slide clicker is damp in your palm, and your thumb hovers trembling over the button, awaiting each moment you need to press down.

“Working alongside some fantastic translators,” you tell them. “We focused on studying the disparities between how Greek texts are translated by men and women. Particularly, we aimed to delve into the way emotive language has been downgraded or elevated depending on the lens through which a text is being viewed.”

Professor Carmichael sits in the front row, those sun-spot covered hands clasped in his lap, offering an encouraging smile as you shift upon the stage. Rachel is a few rows back, and she nods intently whenever you glance in her direction.

“One of our main points of focus,” you continue. “Was to understand points of difficulty in translating while accounting for cultural nuances, and how the context of differing authors can impact upon this. In my next slide—”

It’s as you turn to glance at the display that you notice them for the first time. Three rows from the front, where a group of men sit. Two of them young, maybe around your age. You change your slide and watch them whisper in each other’s ears. One of them points at you. Or not you, rather—your legs.

And you yearn for it to be meaningless. A meaningless gesture between colleagues. Meaningless legs, meaningless dress, meaningless curves and slopes and dips and spins. But as you continue, you know it can’t be. The way they talk through your presentation, as if they aren’t bothered to be heard. The way they leer at you over Carmichael’s shoulder, grinning to each other. Your words in one ear and out the other—simply a talking point for them, a blue dress, something to stare at. Your dress feels hot, tight, and your chest feels hotter, tighter under the lights as those eyes glaze over you. You glance back towards Rachel. She gives you a thumbs up that doesn’t serve to cool your nerves.

“When translating word for word in our field, it’s uncommon,” you stutter to a stop, eyes flashing warily. “Sorry, it is not uncommon to find that narratological creativity dwindles.”

You hear a chuckle to your right and swallow down the urge to shoot daggers in the direction of the sound. “Translators struggle to maintain the in-depth imaginative expression that the original Greek text inspires. But through my discussions with Professor Samaras, we found that…”

It’s in the final minutes that you notice him. Tucked away in a back row of the room, arms folded across his chest. You pause for a moment, words caught in your throat. But Joel merely gives you a short nod. The faintest hint of a smile, of the corner of his eyes slanting upward, and it’s as if a cool breeze washes over you. Hands steady, knees lock, and you push through. You don’t look at any of their faces until it’s over.

And when it is, and scattered applause decorates the air, you can’t help but cast a smile in Joel’s direction. A smile that slips and wavers when you spot the broad expanse of his back, that sharp black blazer, as he slips out the doors without wasting a second.

The rest of your audience follows suit, a slim line that wanders out the doors without a second glance—spare Carmichael, who tells you he was quite taken with how you presented yourself, my dear.

You hear your own name and turn to see Rachel approaching, a burst of floral frock and swinging earrings. Her smile is wide and crooked, and you can’t help but smile back.

“That was wonderful,” she cheers, squeezing your shoulder. “I was so taken by how you spoke about the importance of linguistic quality assurance when translating emotive texts. Brilliant!”

Your face warms. “Thank you,” you shake your head quickly. “It was… thank you. That’s very kind.”

You glance over her shoulder, wondering if he’ll reappear – perhaps share her sentiments, maybe shower you with praise. He doesn’t.

She catches you looking. “Joel was in a rush,” she offers easily. “Lots of people wanting to talk to the man of the evening.”

“Of course,” you swallow thickly. Another smile.

Rachel stares at you curiously. “He’s very impressed by you, you know.” Her voice is warm, gentle—soft spoken like a mother who can sense the slightest flash of insecurity. You cringe immediately, feel your arms cross protectively across your chest. Don’t give the game away now. “Honestly, I think he read your comparative paper on the katabasis three times. Practically raved about it when I asked what it was.”

“Oh,” you blink, shifting uneasily under her gaze. “That’s… wow, I’m flattered.”

“He sees a lot of potential in you,” she says.

“Right,” you nod. “Well, he’s a grea—you’re both great teachers. I’m very lucky to be learning from the two of you.”

She doesn’t speak for a moment, and you fear your face grows warmer in the silence. Can feel the slick on your palms returning, the flash of heat in your chest, the longer you sit in it. You make a quick and tumbling excuse to flee the scene, spitting a mess of thank you so much and just need some fresh air, before you’re stumbling out of the hall and wandering outside on newborn deer legs. You snag a flute of something bubbly off the bar on your way, and find yourself on a secluded bench in the breezeway behind the conference centre.

You sit there alone and watch the grass, the way the light from inside shines out across the green. Feel the chill of the wind slip past you, rustling your hair and raising goosebumps on your bare legs. Sip dry Cava and contemplate how many more of these things you can feasibly imagine attending in your career. There’s a single text from Nora on your phone, asking how the presentation went. You tuck it into your purse, leaving the message unanswered.

By the time you hear the door hinges creak, the glass is near empty. You spy a shadowy form snaking its way down the path, headed in your direction.

“Mr Keynote Speaker,” you hum. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

“Funny,” Joel mutters dryly, knees cracking as he falls onto the bench beside you. A heavy sigh slips from between his lips, fingers lacing together in his lap as he gazes across the breezeway. You down the last of your drink and place it on the concrete by your feet. “Needed some god damn peace and quiet. All that chit chat drives me insane.”

You murmur in agreement and stare at the side of his face – the neatened beard, the thick frame of his glasses. Purposeful or not, the side of his body is pressed against yours. Thigh to thigh, shoulder to shoulder – he’s sat directly in the centre of the bench. Heat radiates off his body and it’s almost too warm, and yet you find yourself relaxing against him.

“First time at one of these?” Joel asks gruffly. He’s still not looking at you, his eyes trained on a pigeon pecking at a discarded foil wrapper on the grass.

“Is it that obvious?” you grimace.

“Only because I’ve been to twenty of the damn things,” he says. “Y’learn how to smell the nervous energy comin’ off the first timers.”

“Twenty?” you mutter. Feel your stomach curl and twist at the idea of doing this day nineteen more times.

“Somethin’ like that.” Joel glances at you from the corner of his eye. “Went to a lot during my second degree. Had to get good at talkin’, fast.”

“Ahh,” you say. “So, you weren’t always such a sweet talker then?”

He lets out a low chuckle, as if amused by the thought. “Sweet talker, huh? That what I am?”

You shrug, suddenly emboldened by him following you outside, by how close he is, by how open he seems.

“I suppose,” you say slowly.

“And what gave you that idea?”

“You here alone?” you offer a poor imitation of him, voice low and breathy with your awful take on a Southern twang. “Meet me in the bathroom.” You wink, quietly delighted by the way his lips have tightened into a flat line.

“Funny,” he says again, entirely unamused now.

Something warm shifts in your lower stomach. Something wet—a vivid memory of him on the ground behind you in the bathroom of a bar, of hands spreading you open, of his tongue pressing inside you, of The Eagles playing faintly in the background.

“You do that kind of thing often?” you ask.  

“Do what?”

“Approach young women at bars,” you wiggle your eyebrows, smirking. “Rob them of their virtue in the bathroom and then hope you never see them again.”

“You? Virtuous?” Joel rolls his eyes. You can see the corner of his lip curling upward. “Must be gettin’ yourself confused with somebody else.”  

“Maybe,” you smile.

“Sometimes,” he casts you a look, after a moment. “Not… often. And not young.”

“Younger,” you counter quickly.

“I didn’t expect you to be…” he trails off and shakes his head. “It’s not a thing I do, alright?”

“Of course not.”

“It’s not.”

“You don’t date then?”

He tilts his head at you curiously, eyes planted firmly on your face now. “Not for a long time.”

“Why not?”

“Been busy,” he grunts, clearly growing impatient by the line of questioning.  “Spent a lot of time studying. Working.”

“Where did you study?” you press.

“This twenty fuckin’ questions?” he snaps, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “Came out here for—”

“You came out here,” you interrupt. “Because I came out here.”

He glowers at you, but doesn’t try to deny it.

“Night classes at Texas A&M for my undergrad,” he grits out. You smile sickly sweet, pleased. “Did my postgrads part time at UT Austin,” Joel says.

Your eyebrows kick up again, the teasing pretence all but forgotten. “Sounds… unconventional?” you offer softly.

“That’s one word for it,” he agrees vaguely. “Spent the better half of a decade at school just to end up teaching at one. Ain’t that somethin’.”

“And before that?” you press.  

“Before that,” he continues with a wry grin, one full of distaste and frustration and resentment. “Was a contractor for a long time. Houses, buildings.” He rests a hand against his shoulder, fingers pressing against the muscle there, as if working out a decade old knot.

And for a moment you can see it. Can almost taste it. Collared shirts and glasses replaced with hard hats and hammers and dirt in the lines of his palms. Joel carrying a plank of wood on his shoulder, wearing a toolbelt. Joel on his knees, sweat shining on his forehead while he wields an electric drill.

Your dress feels too tight suddenly. Too warm.

“A contractor,” you say distractedly, and hope he doesn’t notice how your thighs press together.

“Mhm,” Joel nods. “With my brother.”

“You have a brother?”

He ignores that. “Where did you study?”

“San Diego State,” you flash him a grin. “Go Aztecs.”

“Good school,” he hums. “You’re a long way from California.”

Only a little further than Texas, you think.

“You did good up there,” Joel adds.  

Your smile dips and wanes into a scowl, uninterested in the change of subject.

“What?”

“It was…” you shake your head slowly, face warming as you glance down to your lap.

“What?”

“It just wasn’t what I expected.” You pick at a loose thread on the hem of your dress. “That’s all.”

“And what did you expect?”

“To be listened to,” you grunt. “Not gawked at by some ancient jerkoffs that were only there to stare at my ass when I turned to change a slide.”

Joel nods, quiet.

“I wanted it to matter,” you mutter. “Wanted to… fuck, I wanted to impress them.”

“I was impressed.”

“Oh yeah?” you snort, finally looking up. “You hightailed it out of there pretty quickly.”

Joel shakes his head and stares back at you, gaze heavy. His hands tighten into fists against his thighs, knuckles lightening to white as he squeezes. You shuffle on the seat—ignore the flare of heat that erupts where your shoulder nudges firmer against his. 

“I guess you could say,” he speaks slowly. “I’m tryin’ to keep my distance.”

You arch an eyebrow and attempt to swallow the laugh bubbling up your throat.

“Well, you’re doing a great job,” you smirk.

Joel laughs and your smile falters, mouth going slack at the sound. How rare it is, and how much rarer to have it all to yourself like this. For all of his sharp angles, his sweet talking, his harsh words, and harsher touch—that laugh is the cruellest part.  

He jostles his shoulder against yours a little. An acknowledgement; perhaps a glimpse inside. Something that says, I know, I see it, I feel it, I can’t stop either.

“You make it hard,” he says then, and his voice is soft—almost a whisper.

“How’s that?” You match his tone, as if you’re two little kids who’ve snuck outside to share secrets where no one else can hear them.

“You bein’ here,” he murmurs, eyes searching. “Startin’ to feel like you’re everywhere I turn.”

A breeze swims past and you shiver, locks of hair floating in a mess around your face until you pat them down. Joel moves almost imperceptibly, curling his side tighter against yours to shield you from the onslaught.

“I know the feeling,” you admit.

The muscle in his jaw ticks and he clears his throat, looking out across the green again. For a moment the pair of you sit in silence. Not as professor and student, but simply a man and a woman on a bench. Breathing the same air, soaking in a shared silence that only the two of you could understand. And there are so many more questions you want to ask him, so much more you feel compelled to know, but instead you settle for this—sitting on a bench together, shoulders and thighs and chests pressed side to side, two frames moulded around the welcoming shape of one another. For now.

“It gets easier,” Joel says then, jaw tense as he spares a glance back in your direction. “This stuff, these people, all the talkin’.”

You acknowledge him with a small smile, just the slightest twitch of your lip. Don’t bother saying, maybe for you. Maybe for a man.

“You know,” you suck in a breath and give him a lazy smile instead. “I think this might be the longest conversation we’ve had without ripping each other’s clothes off.”

“Mm.” He leans his head back to rest on the wall, eyes focusing up towards the sky.

“I like it,” you say quietly. Hear how vulnerability chimes in your voice – a wobble that begs to be ignored and understood all at once. “It’s nice… talking like this.”

Joel’s head tilts towards you, dark eyes locked on yours. He doesn’t say anything, but you can see that wariness in his eyes. The same wariness that poured out in flecks of brown and amber and gold in the light of your bedroom a week ago, when he told you he was fifty. A hesitant curiosity, an incessant suspicion, a bark of disbelief. You feel the desire to pluck the feeling out of him and swallow it whole. To lock it safely inside yourself and make it so he never has to feel it again.

So you lean in a press your lips against his. Painfully soft, just a whisper of two mouths slotting together. Chapped and dry from the wind, he tastes like bitter sparkling wine. You sigh into him, uncaring. Hook your ankle around his, place your hand on his thigh, and sink closer, deeper.

He pulls back an inch, mouth still hovering over yours, the tip of his nose pressed into your cheek.

“Shouldn’t do this here,” he warns quietly, eyes still closed. His breath is hot against your face, and you inhale the taste of mint and Cava and Joel.

“I know.” You grip the lapel of his blazer and kiss him again. Firmer this time, grazing your tongue along the seam of his lips until he welcomes you inside to taste behind his teeth. The frame of his glasses presses into your nose, your cheeks, and you smile into his mouth. Rough palms and lazy fingertips graze the skin of your bicep, your neck, until they find a home at the nape of your neck. His thumb presses against the hinge of your jaw, hot wet tongue working your mouth open until you’re whining, teeth nipping at his bottom lip and fingernails digging into the meat of his thigh.

Only when you move to press a hand beneath the collar of his shirt does Joel pull back again, this time to stand and take a step away from the bench. A tinge of scarlet creeps its way from the hollow of his throat to the apple of his cheeks. He clears his throat and glances over his shoulder, towards the door. When he looks back, there’s something new there. Some dangerous that flashes in his eyes and lingers when his gaze dances down the curve of your body against the seat.

“Where are you staying?” you ask, breathless.

For a minute he doesn’t answer. Simply stares, contemplating, broad chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. The lenses of his glasses are fogged, and you watch them slowly clear.  

Then— “The Pendry.”

Joel reaches into his pocket and retrieves something small and laminated. You take it from his outstretched palm carefully. “Fifth floor.”

You stare at it for a moment. Turn it over in your palm once, twice. Read the room number printed on the key card before tucking it safely into your purse. When you look up again, Joel is already walking back inside.

It’s nearing midnight by the time you arrive at the Pendry – a high rise in Manhattan West, the kind with a fancy lobby and a doorman in a neat black suit. The polar opposite of the hotel where your suitcase lies unopened across the city. You feel out of place in an instant, but you’re still in your dress, and the staff don’t bat an eye at your presence. The key card he gave you is hot where your fingers curl around it, plastic damp and foggy with the sweat from your palms. By the time you reach his door you have to wipe it on your dress before the sensor will recognise it.

A hollow beep echoes through the hall, and his door presses open with a soft hiss.

The room is enveloped in darkness. Moonlight shines in through a slim gap in the curtains, highlighting vague edges of the space. A desk against the wall, a large bed on the left of the room. For a moment you consider that he isn’t here—that he got caught up at the conference, sweet talking into the midnight hour with other professors and alums. You can hear sounds from the street, music and car horns blaring, even from the fifth floor. But nothing else. No Joel.

Tentatively, you take a step inside the room. And then another. Kick your heels off and feel rough carpet hairs sift between your toes. Holding your hands out into the darkness, fingertips ghosting the wall for support, you venture further into the room, only pausing when your shin thumps against the corner of something sharp and sturdy.

You spit a surprised curse and stumble into the wall, hands falling to grip your leg where it throbs and smarts.

“Jesus fuck,” you hiss, smoothing your fingers against the already forming lump.

A lamp flicks on, and the room lurches into view, tinged in a soft yellow light. You jump, eyes squinting against the sudden brightness. Bed sheets rumple and shift, and Joel is frowning at you from his place amongst the pillows, a hand raising to drowsily scratch his chin.  

“The hell are you doin’?” he rasps.

Heat flares in your face as you straighten up, mirroring his frown. He moves slow, a sluggish stretch out of bed, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers and a t-shirt, and he looks almost concerned. It gives you pause for a moment, eyes unsure of where to settle, as you note just how much of his body you’ve never seen before. The soft muscles in his legs, the dark hair over tan skin. You can see the slight round of his stomach through the thin fabric of the shirt.

“Were you asleep?” you accuse.

“Thought you weren’t coming,” Joel mutters, and the sound is a fractured medley of words and yawns. You feel a dull pang of disappointment in your chest as you watch him rub sleep from the corner of his left eye.

“Were you hoping I wouldn’t?”

He doesn’t respond.

“You gave me a key.”   

“I know,” he sighs.

“Of course I was going to come.”

He nods. Yawns again, hand snaking upward to cover his open mouth.

You turn your back on him slowly. Take a glass from the little kitchenette and let the faucet run a cool burst of water into it. Little specks of water splash up, dotting against your hand. Your feet ache from wearing those damn heels all day, but you wilfully ignore the pain, gulping down half the glass while staring at your reflection in the splashback. Blue dress, hair tucked behind your ears, charcoal smudged around the curve of your eyes.

Joel’s fingers wind around yours, peeling the glass from your clutch so he can steal the final few sips. He discards it on the counter and leans against it. You try to make out his expression in the shadowy light, wiping your water-dotted arm against your side.

“S’a good dress.” He looks more alert suddenly, eyes sharp and focused, wide shoulders squared.

“Yeah?”

“Mm.”

“Didn’t say anything about it earlier.”

“Was tryin’ not to think about it,” he says plainly. “And how badly I wanted to take it off.”

Your hand stills. That misplaced disappointment slips out of the room, an unwelcome third party, and you grin at him. A sleazy, sleepy smile, and walk backwards in the direction of the bed without taking your eyes off of him.

“So take it off,” you challenge.

Your heartbeat is a steady thrum against your breastbone as he crosses the room. Badoom, badoom, no less than three strides and he’s there, gripping your waist to turn you so his chest is against your back.

Your zip is a low whir in the air, spinning downward slowly, slowly, from the nape of your neck to the sloping base of your spine. Deft hands trace skin, grazing every mark, every freckle as they are revealed to him, until the material of your dress is a gaping smile across your back. You shiver as the air rushes to meet your bare flesh, and then careful—cautious—you feel a pair of lips press against the top of your spine, soft pink against steely vertebrae. You say his name, low and surprised, and he doesn’t say anything. Those hands push the dress down your arms, and you watch it tremble and fall, a mess of blue at your feet.

You can hear his breathing; the way it stutters and jumps as he traces the clasp of your bra, the arch of your spine beneath it.

“Take it off,” you say again, and feel a sharp scratch of desperation that perhaps this time he won’t deny you this. This something that you’ve not experienced even once, and yet you find yourself missing.

The idea of his skin against yours is something prophetic, something inevitable, something divine—something determined far before the two of you met in that bar. It’s out of your control or his, irrevocable—a beast bred from desire that claws and snaps at the bars of its cage, calling you kicking and screaming into each other’s arms.

His fingers pluck at the clasp, and you smile. Sigh in relief as your bra hits the floor and the weight of your breasts are borne to the increasingly warm air. Joel is still behind you, still not seeing you. But broad palms splay across your back, massaging and flexing into your skin as they roam your sides, your stomach, up your front to cup your breasts. You gasp, eyelids fluttering as he squeezes softly, palms warm and solid against the stiff peaks of your nipples.

“Fuck.” Joel’s nose buries itself in your hair, his forehead against the back of your head. Your legs shake, and you lean back into his chest, your body a soft and tremulous thing that would surely float away if he weren’t here to hold you up.  

His hands are on your breasts, sweet and tender and finally, and you wonder how long this wanting will feel like burning. Like nicks of flame that gloss over you and spit embers at anyone who dares to get too close—at him, sparking and sputtering as they collide in a spitfire symphony. This man who lives set ablaze in his own right. This man who welcomes your flame every time—swallows it whole, and lays kisses against the back of your neck with lips still warm.

Calloused fingers roll and circle your nipples, playing gently, listening for every gasp, every sigh, before diligently repeating whatever it was that called the sound forward. Your underwear is all but ruined, already damp and clinging to the slick skin between your thighs. And you can feel him against your lower back, albeit unmoving—not grinding against you, not pushing you down onto the bed, but waiting – for what, you can’t be sure.

You turn around faster than he can stop you. Hook fingers into the band of your panties and drag them down in a swift movement before straightening, holding his gaze all the while. And Joel—

He looks in pain. Dark eyes lock onto on your face and don’t stray. Don’t dip downward, don’t glance around the room. His hands hang by his sides, palms facing upward in a dejected fashion, jaw slack as he just—waits.

“Why won’t you look at me?” you whisper.

“You don’t….” he shakes his head. “If I look, I won’t be able to forget. And I—I can’t—”

There’s a flash of that memory again. Sweating in the dark bathroom of a bar in Portland. Joel wiping stained lipstick from your chin. The words I’m gonna remember this dripping from his swollen lips.

You take a step forward. Feel your nipples graze the soft material of his shirt. “And what if I don’t want you to forget?”

He says your name quietly, shoulders tense. But when you grip the hem of his shirt, he doesn’t stop you. Rather, he lifts his arms and lets you drag the fabric over his head. You marvel at the bare skin, eyes dancing across jutting collarbones and the soft swell of his stomach. Watch the way his chest rises and falls as stilted breaths flurry inside him before spilling into the air between you. Admire the trail of dark hair that rests between his bellybutton and the soft band of his underwear. His eyes don’t leave your face as you push the boxers down his legs.

“So handsome,” you say and Joel exhales, hands hovering a hairsbreadth from your waist. The weight of the moment hangs heavy between you. This moment of more. To be with him like this feels like more. To be naked feels like more.

You grip his hand and raise it to your breast again. Squeeze your fingers over his. His thumb flicks across your nipple and you gasp. His eyes darken, nostrils flaring as he fights to restrain himself.  

“Joel,” you whisper. “Look at me.”

Finally, he does. Those brown eyes flickering downward to rake in the sight of your body.

He’s on you in a second, mouth slanting desperately against yours while his hands drift aimlessly across skin, untethered in their access. Fingers pinching and grabbing and squeezing, teeth searing at your lips, and you gasp as his cock presses against your stomach. The long, thick weight of him, drooling and needy. Your fingers slip around him, rub softly over the underside of his head, the vein on the underside of him. Joel grips your wrist and pushes you backward a step, his lips leaving yours with a wet smack.

“Sit on the bed,” he orders firmly.

You wander backward, stumbling onto the edge of the bed when your calves collide with the heavy wooden base. He watches you, hand drifting to wrap around the base of his cock. He strokes himself gently, black eyes tracing vigilantly over every inch of your body. And you expect him to push you down, to crawl on top of you. Instead, you watch with bated breath as Joel drops to his knees in front of you. His knees crack as they bend but he ignores it, nudging your thighs apart so his broad frame can fit between them. Hooded eyes gaze between your thighs, roaming across all of the bare skin on show. Slowly, he lifts a hand and rests it gently on your mound. Calloused fingers stroke over the dark hair there, stroking through the short curls. You sigh and cant your hips up, but Joel only grunts, his free hand squeezing your thigh to hold you against the mattress.

Before you can process it, he’s leaning forward, nose nestling in your hair as his warm tongue parts your folds. You groan in unison, your fingers carding through his curls to hold him against you. He murmurs something that you don’t quite catch over the roaring in your ears, but you don’t care. Too caught up in a smooth slide of his mouth slotting against you. The flat of his tongue glides up and down your sex, smearing a mess of slick and saliva in his wake. You gasp as it flicks sharply across your clit, your jaw tensing at the harsh sensation. Joel notices—pulls back.

“Tell me,” he urges.    

“Slower,” you say quickly, voice feeble and desperate.

“Slower,” Joel repeats with a nod, and he massages your thighs as he licks into you, fingernails scraping your skin as his grip tightens and loosens and tightens and loosens. He traces slow circles around your clit with the flat of his tongue that have you gasping and bucking against his face. And when his tongue presses inside of you, you moan, fingers twisting in his hair and tugging.

“Fuck,” he growls into you, and he likes that. You do it again and his eyes flick open, pupils blown, gaze darting wildly across your stomach, your arms, your breasts, your face – watching, admiring, taking in every detail of the offering that you’ve laid so generously at his altar. The tip of a finger curls inside you and he grins when your thighs tense around him. He rears his head back to watch how you welcome him inside, eyes locked on the way your weeping cunt clenches and drips around one of his fingers, and then another.

“Yeah,” you sigh, nose scrunching at the slight stretch. “Yeah, like that, fuck.” 

“Look at you,” he mutters. “Christ.” And then the cut of his wet red mouth is back on you, lips parting to suck against your clit until you’re crying out, voice a hoarse shout as you speed rapidly towards your end.

“Shit, Joel,” you gasp. One of your legs kicks out straight and his hand drops from your thigh, one set of fingers working you open while the other comes up to part your lips, giving himself more access. As he lathes wet kisses against you, the coarse hairs of his beard scraping your inner thighs, you can feel it. That liquid heat that coils and stirs in the base of your stomach.

“Joel, I—ohh—I think I’m gonna come,” you whimper, hand shooting out to grip his shoulder. Your nails dig into the tense muscle there, using the leverage to rut your hips against his face.

He groans into your sex, fingers moving faster, unforgiving against that spongy spot deep inside that sets you alight. His teeth graze against your clit, the lightest brush, and your stomach is tensing, every muscle in your body locking up.

“Give it t’me,” he says gruffly. “That’s it, come on, baby.”

A choked gasp falls from your lips and then you’re coming, twitching against his face, pussy bearing down on thick fingers that stoke you through the high. Your hand leaves his shoulder to grip the back of his neck, holding his face against where you’re aching for him still. Joel moans, a low sound from deep in his chest, dragging his fingers away so he can drink down every heady drop of your orgasm.

Baby.

The word rings in your head, bouncing inside your skull, a fierce ricochet. Baby.

Trembling fingers feather across the cowlick at the crown of his head, twisting and petting soft wayward curls as his mouth pulls back, a wet drag across the skin of your hip. You catch a glimpse of his cock, heavy and throbbing between his thighs.

Joel’s teeth nip at the sensitive skin of your thigh, a sharp pinch that makes you flinch. Tired muscles tensing, face twisting up as he sucks and licks, hot tongue soothing over the stinging red mark. He breathes your name, mouthing the sound into your flesh once, twice.

“I’ve been tryna remember this,” he murmurs. “Only ever had it for a second.”

You whimper as he licks into you again, slowly. And you’re so sensitive, and maybe—maybe—it’s too much, too soon, but he doesn’t care. He grips your calf and tucks it over his shoulder. Holds it there in a vice grip.

“Wasn’t enough,” he says. Dark eyes look up and you’re rapt in them—bound and boneless simply from having those eyes on you you you nothing but you all he sees is you and he loves it, you can tell. Thrives on the way you melt beneath his rough fingertips, the wet drag of his tongue. “Remember that first day in my office?

Remember, remember, remember, how could you forget? I’m gonna remember this this this.

“Yes.” Your leg trembles against the side of face, the coarse hairs of his beard scratching your skin. The tip of his tongue lathes slow circles around your clit. A cruel, leisurely slip of flesh on flesh that has you gasping and twitching beneath his hands.

“I wanted this that day,” Joel rasps. “Needed it. But you were gone so soon, ‘n’ I couldn’t help myself.”

“What—oh fuck—” He flicks his tongue faster, hot swipes from side to side that have your thigh clamping down against the muscles in his neck. Your mind is a blur, eyebrows furrowed as you try to make sense of his words.

“Fucked my fist the second you left,” he growls. “My fingers in my mouth, the taste of you—Christ, couldn’t stop thinkin’ ‘bout it.”

“Joel,” you gasp, impatient. “I—get up here. Please, just—”

Strong hands push you up, push you back, further onto the bed until your head hits the pillows. His hair is a wild fray around his head, knotted and mussed from your fingers raking through it.

“I don’t have anything,” he says.

“I don’t care,” you say.

His knees press onto the mattress on either side of you and his eyes glance down your chest before he grips your waist and he’s turning you. Your stomach meets the sheets and you move to arch your back, to tilt your hips up towards him, but a firm hand rests on the small of your back, and keeps you down.

“Like this,” you hear him say. “Trust me.”

His chest is flush to your back, and you can feel him there, knuckles brushing the flesh of your ass, spreading you apart so his cock can press inside. The pillow swallows your wet gasp, and your eyes pinch shut against the stretch as he sinks deeper and deeper. Every delicious inch splits you open wider, further, carving out that space that’s just for him, and it’s more. Your vision blurs and you clutch at the sheets, fingers tangling in linen as Joel’s breathy groans fill the air.

“God,” he grunts. “Always so fuckin’—tight.”

You cry out as he begins to move, pressing you further into the mattress. The stretch of him is so broad—so deep—it has hot tears pricking in your eyes. Your legs are straight, almost clamped together, leaving the smallest gap for him to break through. His chest melts against your back, sweet sweat sliding from skin to skin. And his stomach is soft against the base of your spine, but his teeth are sharp where they nip and smart against the skin of your shoulder, your neck. He sets a pace that has you biting down into the pillow to muffle your groans. It’s almost overbearing how good it feels, how he surrounds you. Flat against the mattress, there’s nowhere to hide from the pleasure, no way to twist or curl your body away from how good it feels. A choked moan is muffled by the pillow.

And then his fingers are in your hair, dragging your head up.

“What are you fuckin’ doin’?” he grunts. You gasp, eyebrows furrowed and mouth ajar as you take take take. He pulls your hair harder when you don’t respond, presses his chin against your shoulder, lips curling against the skin of your neck as he speaks. “Don’t do that, not here. No more hidin’, I wanna fuckin’ hear it.”

He grips your hips and drags you upward so you’re on your knees, bracing against your forearms, and then his hand snakes around the front of your body, fingers dragging between your thighs as he begins moving again.

“Oh fuck,” your eyes widen in surprise, jaw hanging slack as he rolls his finger in expert circles over your clit. “Fuck, fuck.”

“Yeah?” he gasps.

“Fuck,” you repeat, mewling every time one of his thrusts sends your face forward into the pillows. “Yes, oh god.”

“Yeah, you fuckin’ like that.” Each word is punctuated by a thrust of his hips. “That’s it, lemme hear it.”

“Joel,” you cry out, voice cracked and broken. “So good.”

“I know, baby,” he grunts. “I know.”

“You’re so—deep,” you gasp.

“I know,” he soothes.

“I missed this,” you babble, mouth moving faster than your mind. “Missed you.”

“Christ,” he spits, pulling you up until you’re leaning against his chest. His fingers are a blur against your clit, cock a fast wet shift in and out in and out.

You tilt your head back against his shoulder, mouth hanging open as you press your ass back into him.

“Missed me?” Joel says, and his cheek is warm against yours. Wet. Your face is wet. “Gonna show me how much?”

“Yes,” you moan. His free hand grips your breast, squeezing and pinching.

“Need to get my fuckin’ mouth on you,” he growls.

“No,” you beg. “Joel, don’t—fuuuck, fuck, don’t stop.”

“Wanted to,” his hips stutter against you, losing momentum for a second. “Jesus, wanted to take my fuckin’ time.” You snake a hand behind his head to grip his hair again, to press his face into your neck. His mouth latches onto your skin, spit mixing with sweat where his teeth and tongue trace your roaring pulse. Your thighs are trembling, knees weak and wobbling against the mattress as he pistons into you, unrelenting, unforgiving.

“I’m—” your eyes start to roll back. You can feel your back arch and twist against him, toes curling into the sheets. “Oh my God.”

He says your name in a panicked hiss and pulls out.

You gasp at the loss, eyes flying open in alarm. He moves your body, not wasting a second as he lowers you down onto your back presses inside again, hands gripping the underside of your knees, holding them against your chest. Practically bent in half, you tremble in his grasp, eyes blurred and wet as you sob his name.

“Lemme have it,” he goads you, voice a dull vibration against your chest. “Bein’ so fuckin’ good for me, yeah, just like that.”

And it feels like something splinters within you as heat floods your senses, vision whiting out until all you can see is the soft edges of his curls against your chest, the wet smear of his tongue over your nipple. All you can hear is the words he speaks against your skin.

I’m close, he warns, and you say yes, say please, say I want it, because you do.

“Where?” You call the shots.

And you say, Inside, say, I want it, because you do.

Because you want everything. Everything he has and whatever dark matter is left after that. And everything is a naked thought, a stark realisation, a frighteningly bare streak of madness that zips down your spine and melts in your belly, and you can feel yourself tightening around him with the enormity of it. Can feel your body squeezing and sucking and holding it holding it holding it and with black eyes, spheres of a night sky’s pitch, he stares at you. Unruly eyebrows pinched tight. Mouth slick and swollen and snarling, white teeth grit like prison bars, keeping everything contained inside himself, just out of your reach.  

“Fuck,” Joel spits, pleading, desperate. “Don’t—”

But his hips are bruising against yours and you relish in the ache. The jut of bone amidst the softness of his skin, a reminder of the coldness in him, the determination, the impatience. And you know that you can only have so much softness until there is stone. But you cannot understand don’t, you never have with him, so you grind upward. Meet him thrust for thrust, and shiver in delight as a tortured expression passes over his face. And when you come again he curses, broad palms bearing down on you, holding your frame into the mattress as he pushes you through it, prolonging that naked thought, that fearsome idea. You only hope that he cannot see how your own everything spills. How it cools and congeals around him with its palms spread open, longing to receive as much in return.

Joel comes with a shout, hips dragging backwards so his spend can spill across your stomach and the puffy lips of your sex. He grips his cock, milking himself for all he’s worth until wet ropes of his come are smeared across your thighs too. You gasp and writhe against the bed, trying in vain to keep your heavy eyelids open, not wanting to miss a second. The shine of your slick on his thighs and lower stomach is clear in the dim lighting, and you smile at the sight of it – your claim on him. Chest heaving, he follows your gaze, fingers swiping across his skin before sinking into his mouth. He groans around his fingers and you stomach lurches as he lowers his chest to the bed, mouth drifting between your splayed thighs.

You cup his jaw and hold him still.  

“I can’t,” you murmur, and your voice is cracked and broken. “S’too much.”

And he agrees, tracing the marks on the inside of your thighs with his mouth until your eyes drift closed.

Time passes slowly after that. You don’t open your eyes for a while. Too fucked out, too tired, too tender.

There’s a warm glide of something soft and wet over your stomach, your thighs, between your legs—Joel cleaning up his mess. You almost wish he wouldn’t.

“Sorry,” you mumble a few minutes later. “I’ll go in a second.” But your eyes are closed, and the sheets smell like him.

You feel the mattress dip beside you. Hear a soft click as he turns off the lamp, and darkness swells around you once more.

“S’okay,” he says, and his voice is so close, as if he were whispering against the shell of your ear, breathing the words into you. “Don’t have to go.”

And it makes sense not to go. To stay, to stay, to stay. To sink deeper into the hotel mattress, and let the sounds of his heavy exhales lull you further to sleep. He doesn’t touch you. Doesn’t come any closer. But you can smell him. Can feel his warmth, a radiating sun that shines across the side of your body closest, and you sink deeper still.

You think of the katabasis - the hero’s journey spiralling down into the underworld. Of Orpheus seeking the safe return of Eurydice, his love lost too soon. Of Odysseus, guided by Circe to discover Teiresias on his quest for homecoming. Of Aeneid, venturing downward to meet his father and hear his true destiny. This descent into the afterlife, into the realm of the dead, wherein upon return our hero is irrevocably changed. But to stay, to stay, to stay. So warm it is here, you think, so lovely and warm to descend wholly into this wanting, this burning, this everything.   

“Is this a good idea?” you murmur, voice a drowsy call into the darkness. “For me to stay?”

Joel doesn’t respond.

tags: @lovely-ateez @nana90azevedo @stevie75 @evyiione @dameron-grant-spector @brittmb115 @ashhlsstuff @casa-boiardi @bbyanarchist @hopplessilse @joeldjarin @anoverwhelmingdin @bluevxnus @kelp-dreaming @prettyinpunk85 @spacelatinos4life @iluvurfather @mrsquill @sarap-77 @sunnywithachanceofjavi @alleyy-katt @zeida @mendessi @love-the-abyss @myrealmofchaos @a-roving-woman @punkshort @gracie7209 @whichwitchwanda @fellinfromthetop @bitchwitch1981 @suzmagine @@lmariephoto37 @harriedandharassed @cumberpegg @tonysttank @ourautumn86 @my-tearsricochet @shotgun-shelby @5oh5 @psychedelic-ink @what-is-your-wish @sugadolly @elissaaa @nobodycanseeinsidemysoul

thank you for reading! x

[klausysworld]

Heyy, please could you so some nsfw yandere elijah mikealson head cannons <3

Yandere!Elijah NSFW Alphabet:

A=Aftercare (what he’s like after)

Elijah would never leave you for even a second after your activities. He’s immediately telling you how amazing you were, kissing up your neck and your jaw as he whispers praises into your ear. He’s gentle and soft after, washing your sensitive skin carefully and kissing your lips delicately.

B= Body part (favorite body part of his own or yours)

Elijah is a thigh man. Whether it be his hands on them or his face between them. He loves to see you in a tight little skirt that hugs your curves and has your squeezing your thighs together. His favourite part of himself is his hands. He knows how fast they can turn you on, he lives for how you squirm with his fingers inside you and a hand round your throat.

C= Cum (anything that has to do with it)

Elijah loves to cum down your throat. He loves to watch you choke on his cock as you try and swallow everything he gives you. He often pulls out to cum over your back or stomach, loving how you look coated in his desire and taking pride in washing it off you.

D= Dirty secret (Pretty self explanatory)

Elijah is an absolute animal. He switches from gentleman to beast in seconds. He wants you on your knees, on all fours and he wants you to do exactly as you’re told, exactly when he says it.

E= Experience (does he know what he’s doing)

Elijah is a calculated, intelligent man vampire who has been in the world for over a thousand years. He knows exactly what he’s doing.

F= Favorite position

Doggy mostly. He enjoys having a tight grip on either your throat or hair while he pounds into you over and over. His words are filthy as his hand hits the skin of your ass to make you jolt and let out rasped moans while he fills you up.

G= Goofy (how serious he is)

Elijah is a very serious man. He handles sex almost like it’s business, he knows where, when and how he wants you. Though there are exceptions when he may have been roped into drinking with his brothers and is much more relaxed and clumsy.

H= Hair (grooming habits)

He’s a neat guy, well trimmed and happy with his appearance though if you were to request something he would adjust, for you.

I= Intimacy (in the moment romantic or rough/dirty)

It’s a mix. It often begins romantic but his animalistic urges nearly always make it much rougher than he intended. There are however, occasions where he’s able to control himself and he’ll be sweet for you. Tell you you’re his good girl while fucking you nice and slow in missionary.

J= Jack off (does he masturbate and how often)

Not once he has you, it’s unnecessary but when he used to watch you, always. He used to sit outside your window or within your closet with his hand around his dick while he watched you change.

K= Kink (kinks what he likes and indulges in)

Elijah is always tying you up, blindfolding you and covering your mouth with his hand to watch you squirm as you try to cry out. He’s very much up for BD/SM and wants to see how far he can push you to find your limits.

L= Location (where he likes to get it on)

Bed, wall, kitchen counter, couch, holding her up in the middle of the room, under the table, bent over the side, anywhere he can.

M= Motivation (things that make him tick/turn ons)

Short skirts and booty shorts have him pining you against the wall with his crotch on your ass. Tilting your head to expose your neck for him has him feral.

N= No (turnoffs or absolutely won’t do)

Elijah wouldn’t feel overly comfortable with touching you in your sleep. He may touch himself to your sleeping body, but touching you (even with your consent) makes him feel dirty and cruel. He loves you too much and wouldn’t want you to regret your decision when awake.

O= Oral (receiving or giving and how skill full he is)

Elijah is extremely skilful. He lives between your thighs and knows just how to use his tongue. And as for receiving, he is all the more eager. He loves the way you look with your mouth stretched around his dick as you show him how perfect you are for him.

P= Pace (how fast he is and how long he will last in bed)

He’s quick with his movements but keeps them going for hours on end. He can last for ages, he makes sure to pull at least two or three orgasms out of your before releasing himself.

Q= Quickie (does he prefer fast and hard)

Elijah loves to fuck you nice and hard but that doesn’t mean its over quick. He still wants to have you for as long as he can.

R= Risk (does he like to try new things)

Elijah has already tried pretty much everything but he is all the more happy to see how many of them you will enjoy. Whatever you request, he is up for.

S= Stamina (how many times can he go and how does long each round lasts)

Elijah would go for days if you were able. He loves your body so much, he wishes he would never have to stop.

T= Toys (is he game for using sex toys on himself and/or you)

Elijah is up for toys, he enjoys to see how long you will last with a vibrator inside you before you’re begging for him to fuck you. Leaving inside you and messing with the level throughout the day before returning to find you grinding against his pillow with filthy moans filling the air.

U= Unfair (how does he tease or does he enjoy suspense themselves)

He likes to grope at your breasts, ass and thighs, seeing you get worked up while teasing himself with the feel of you always has you both running hot. He loved how worked up he can get you with just his hands, he loves how you beg for him.

V= Volume (is he loud, what sounds, and does he talk)

He’s more a grunter. Though he’s more prone talking, whispering pure filth into your ear and encouraging your moans to grow louder and louder. He’s much more vocal if you’re on your knees, wanting to spur you on and let you know you’re doing an excellent job.

W= Wild card (random sincannon of any sort)

Elijah has a small thing for voyeurism. It would have to be someone he knows is no threat to him, but he can’t help how hot he finds it to watch you be pleasured by someone else with your eyes on his as he stroked himself to your sounds.

X= X-ray (what’s down below in dem pants)

Elijah is very well endowed and he knows it. He may be polite and well mannered but the second he has you alone he’s cocky and pressing his hard on against you to show you just how big he is.

Y= Yearning (sexdrive level)

Elijah is often composed and won’t actively tell you that he needs you but it’s quite obvious that he yearns for you almost constantly with the amount he has you held down.

Z= Zzzz (does he sleep after if so how quickly after)

Elijah doesn’t fall asleep very quickly at all. But it’s okay because it means he has time to clean you up, pamper you and read you to sleep. He will only sleep after you’re knock out against him and he knows there is absolutely nothing that could take you from him.

[saint-mona]

There are new members of The Beatles fandom and I wanted to share a valuable resource that was curated from the remains of the old LiveJournal platform:

This library of Fanfiction has been a blessing! Created by @chut-je-dors , there are fics on here that are many years old. Written by fandom elders past.

Perhaps you are aware of this archive, if not, reblog to share with everyone. The holidays are a time of giving. What better way to give than the gift of ‘J&P’ smut 😈

Enjoy, ya’ filthy animals!!!

[whumpdrivethru]

Hi, can I please order a nightmare/night terror where the whumpee devolves into a panic attack and/or a dissociative episode and the caretaker comforts them?

Thank youuuu 🥰

First of all, I am sooooo incredibly sorry at how late this is, but college has legit been destroying me. i hope you enjoy this meal tho < 3

-Nat

Rough Night

TW: Smoking, knife, asthma, sadistic whumper, creepy whumper, non-con (non-sexual) touch, implied torture, nightmare, dissociation, captivity, blood mention

Everywhere. The pungent, seemingly everlasting scent of tobacco smoke had filled the room, crawling into Whumpee's lungs with a disturbingly familiar and yet irritating burn. Being asthmatic, he was a whole lot more sensitive to it than the average person, and Whumper knew that, and it was all the more reason for him to take pleasure in his old, filthy habit.

Though the smoke wasn't the only reason Whumpee's breathing had constricted. A rough, calloused hand landed on his head, petting his hair in a humiliating display of mock-comfort. A harsh laugh escaped Whumper's lips, revelling in how Whumpee's entire body tensed, his breathing laboured, and his eyes wide and darting everywhere.

The man's grip tightened on his captive's hair, roughly fisting the strands with his fingers. "It's pretty adorable, you know, the fact that you thought you'd get away with this," he crooned in an oily voice that sent shivers up his spine.

Whumper took in another long drag from the cigarette clutched in his left hand, slowly exhaling in Whumpee's direction, making him cough, his eyes watering and nausea settling in a pit in his stomach. Any further and he was going to have an asthma attack, one of Whumper's favourite methods of tormenting him, though it only lasted for a short time until he gave him an inhaler. He couldn't have his favourite toy dying on him, now could he? Besides, it wasn't hard for him to come up with more sick punishments for Whumpee anyway.

He threw his dead cigarette on the ground, stamping on it with his boot. "No matter how amusing I find your optimism, it doesn't override how bloody annoying it is when you do exactly what I explicitly told you not to and make me have to chase you around," he snarled, his hold on Whumpee's locks even crueller now, warranting a soft whine to escape his lips.

"Since following simple rules has proven to be so difficult for you, how about we try a little something to make them stick?" The phrasing of it as a question was mercilessly ironic, as though anything in this was up to Whumpee.

He pulled a glinting switchblade out from his pocket, twirling it around with his fingers, a sadistic half-smirk gracing his lips. 

On instinct, Whumpee tried to pull away, which was quite possibly the most foolish thing anyone could ever think of doing, and still he found himself in the other man's furious death grip, the bitingly ice-cold blade of the knife pressed into the skin of his abdomen underneath the flimsy, shredded shirt making his skin crawl. 

He bit down a scream, one of many to come, but it didn't matter, none of it did because he would scream anyway, loud enough until his throat burned, up until he'd lost enough blood to pass out, but not quite enough to die. 

He wasn't sure which he despised more, his own screaming or Whumper's sick laughter, but the truth was, both of these poisons were being poured into his ears anyway. . .

Cold sweat ran in rivulets down his forehead, shivers racking his entire form as the covers slipped off his shoulders, his mind still racing with all the fear and panic of a wild animal. 

“J-just leave me a-alone, please, please, I won't try to run- to run away again,” he pleaded, voice hoarse and broken. 

He hadn't even registered that he'd woken up, biting down hard on his lips as he tried to quiet himself, practically fighting against the covers that felt like chains biting into his body. Whumper was still there, sneering at him. He was always there, in the dark corners of his mind, his rough, calloused hands wrapped around his neck, fisting through his hair, dealing harrowing punches to his form. 

Stop. Stop. Goddamn it, you bastard, what the hell did I ever do for this, just stop! 

But it didn't stop. Like how Hell never stops burning. 

“Sweetheart?” Caretaker's voice called out, cutting through his toxic chain of thought. 

He turned around abruptly, his eyes boring into hers, a silent cry for help, even though he wasn't sure who he was looking at. 

“Another nightmare?” she questioned again, pulling him closer into her embrace. 

It had taken Whumpee some time to figure out that he was safe, that the embrace was much too delicate to be Whumper trying to stop him from running away, to stop trying to fight and to catch his laboured breath.

“I'm fine,” he answered, much too late, nuzzling into the crook of her neck and smiling softly as though he was just responding normally to a gesture of affection, as though what he'd just seen  and done was another annoying thing he could just brush off. 

It was something he'd trained himself to do. Normally, his dissociations were a private matter, limited to his thoughts, but sometimes, they got terrible. Like right now.

“You were screaming,” she attested, pulling away from him, the look in her eyes turning more stern now. 

He let out a soft curse, a frustrated look that was somewhere between guilt and annoyance colouring his features as his brows furrowed, and the muscles in his shoulders went tense. 

This just had to happen every goddamn time didn't it? Another nightmare where he seemed to lose control he'd spent ages building, all the defiance, the fear, the hot shame burning at the back of his throat like pure acid. 

Whumpee wasn't even sure when the tears started flowing down his face, tasting like salt on his tongue, and it didn't matter that he'd stifled them, or suppressed his shivering, Caretaker noticed anyway.

She always did.

“Hey,” she started gently, her hands coming to rest on his shoulders, “you're alright. Whatever you've taught yourself to hide, you don't have to around me. You shouldn't have to suffer alone,” she added, rubbing circles into his shoulders.

“I just.  . .didn't want you to have to suffer with me,” he explained through a sniffle, his voice half-broken, half-steady.

“Sweetheart. I am in no way better off not knowing about anything that's hurting you. When you tell me, I worry less. Because I still notice even when you try to hide, Whumpee.” 

He nodded in response, his few false starts proving fruitless, trying to steady himself, allowing himself the luxury of letting a stray tear stream down his face every now and then as Caretaker kneaded out the tension in his muscles, her fingers blissfully cool against his shoulder blades.

He'd calmed down a little under the gentle touch, letting out a soft sigh in spite of himself. Maybe it didn't completely erase his pain, but touch was a primitive thing, relaxing his body and letting his mind reflexively follow suit. 

He wasn't sure how much time had passed, but Whumpee found himself pulling Caretaker into his arms; wrapping them gently around her form. “Thank you. For everything, love,” he said softly, kissing her forehead.

“Nothing you need to thank me for, sweetie.”

Maybe a harsh past doesn't truly leave you unscathed, scars marking your form, prone to reopening. But it is fortunate that people and products are not one and the same, and you aren't a broken object in need of fixing and covering up. All it truly takes is someone to make the darker nights just a little less desolate and foreboding. 

You have been served by Natalia 💙

[plaindangan]

Jigsaw Junko has made one of the most dangerous traps yet… leaving Shuichi alone in a trapped room with Tenko… and the only way out is to have sex~! What’s gonna happen when the pair have no choice~?

Disclaimer: R18 material! If not to your liking then please do not view!

PLAP! PLAP! PLAP! PLAP!

"J-j-just s-so you know!! Tenko is only doing this b-b-because she kn-nows a...aaaaaaaah d-degenerate like you and his filthy, m-m-m-monstrous, perverted, caaaaaaaawwwwwwwwkkkkkkk!!!....O-ohhh!!" Wiping a bit of drool from her lips, she blushed and looked away. "I-I just knew you wouldn't be able to resist a pussy to fuck anyways, s-s-so this is just a matter of convenience!! Tenko is not enjoying this!! She's not!!! Tenko...Tenko definitely don't want you to fuck her faster....a-a-a-and you better not squeeze her boobs too!!! Th-that would be the worst, you degerate!!!"

"A-a-aaaaaaaahhhh, hahahaha, if you say so~" Shuichi said, giving a rare cheeky smile at Tenko, not touching her further....

"....D-d-d-don't be coy with Tenko!!" she pouted and began finally began to coo in peace and pleasure as Shuichi fondled her. As much as Tenko claimed to dislike Jigsaw Junko's trap...admittedly? Stripping both herself and Shuichi naked, riding his twitchy dick while straddling he laid back in a chair, and even 'totallynotbecauseshelikedit' kissing him during the process? Well, it was...nice for a change~

Much to Jigsaw Junko's chagrin - she wanted cringy anime boy beating, not a steamy lovefest, damn it!!!

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #208

Today was another very busy day.

Once again, I ended up going to bed a lot later than I should have, last night. And once again, I was woken prematurely - this time, by Br's alarm. It is very loud, and it sounds like this; make sure the volume is relatively low before you play this one:

...That's all right though. Br needs a strong alarm in order to wake up. Some folks are like that.

Hey, Sephiroth? Do you need a very strong alarm to wake up in the morning? Or does a soft one do? I tend to wake up very quickly in response to any unusual sound. And I guess unlike lots of people, the transition between awake and asleep is very abrupt for me, unless it is late and I am fighting sleep. But in the morning? I usually end up waking just before whatever I set my alarm to, and once I'm up, that's all there is to it; it's like flipping a light switch. What's it like for you? And how long has it been since last you slept someplace comfortable, anyway?

Initially, I thought I was gonna go back to sleep, but I decided instead to drive Br home. J sat in the back seat. It was a nice drive to her house. And it was a nice drive on the way home. I snapped a lot of pictures for you; the morning sun sparkling through the trees was absolutely delightful, and... I remembered the way you marvel at nature, so I thought you might like to see. Oh, and, don't worry; Br's road almost never gets any visitors except for us, so it was perfectly safe to stop and marvel:

J also took a few pictures for you:

...He also got a few pictures of me taking pictures, for some reason, hahaha...

...Then he took a few other ones, too, for some reason, hahaha...

...I make such weird faces, hahahahaha! 🤣😅

Near Br's house is a place that J had been wanting to explore for a while now. I don't really see the appeal of industrial settings, but J gets curious about them sometimes. And we had time before I had to go to my friend BB's house. So J took some pictures there, too; I was too busy driving:

...Some of the graffiti one sees on trains is really very amazing. I have no idea how someone can render something so realistic as this with a medium as unforgiving of mistakes as spray paint, but this person managed, and did an incredible job of it. I hope they're working as an artist somewhere...

After all this, J and I were hungry. So J found a spot that was named after his departed brother, and so we decided to go there. But it was a cash-only place, and we only had $18 on hand. We ended up splitting a plate of french toast with sausage and an egg, and it was wonderful! We left the remaining 3-ish dollars behind as a tip, for a little over 20%.

We still had plenty of time before I had to go to BB's house. So J and I went home, and M and J watched some new 3D animated Star Trek show together while I kinda-sorta napped. I feel lucky that J and M will let me nap next to them.

I imagine that if I was zonked out and ended up falling asleep in your general vicinity, I'd probably be safe with you, too. I wonder if you'd sit with me for a bit and enjoy the calmness of the surrounding things.

Anyway, after that I went to BB's house. Some heavy things happened in her life recently (they are for the better, but still heavy), and we talked about it for a while as she did raids in FF16. Once she was all done with that, she showed me the nest that some birds made on her house. These might be a bit hard to see since I had to zoom all the way in, and my cellphone camera isn't the fanciest, but there are babies in the nest:

When we went out to go eat, I took a few more pictures of the birds out the window, too:

Hey, Sephiroth? Do you like birds? If you do, do you have a favorite one? I tend to like crows and ravens and pigeons; no one seems to like these ones, for reasons I don't fully understand. Most people in my world think that ravens and crows are bad luck. And most people in my world think that pigeons are filthy. It's so strange; ravens and crows are highly intelligent and delightful birds. And pigeons used to be companions to humans before they were abandoned to the wilds and shunned. I feel really sad about both of these things, so maybe that's why I love these ones a little extra; it surely seems like they should have a little extra appreciation.

When we got back, we watched videos of this guy called Kitboga, who has made a career of scamming scammers. I wonder if you might find this one funny; you worked in a corporate environment for a while, so I imagine you understand what setting a password is like:

...How nice it would be to hear you laugh in response to something silly instead of something sad. How nice it would be... I hope I get to hear it someday.

I had a wonderful time with BB, and now I am home. Have been for a while. And it is going on 1AM. So I guess I'll stop writing and get to bed; I surely need the sleep.

Hey, Sephiroth? Please stay safe out there, won't you? And please try to take good care of yourself and the people around you. Also, please try to find the magic in little things, like sunlight sparkling through the trees, and in silly things, and in art, and in the flight of birds.

I love you. And I'll write again tomorrow.

Your friend, Lumine

[nats-reads-reviews]

September 2024 Reads & Reviews 📚 🍂

Filthy Rich Fae by Geneva Lee 3.5/5 ⭐️ This book follows a lot of romantasy tropes of fairy variety and was a bit predictable. But I liked that it took place in NOLA and it was a fun, engaging read! Good spice just wish it had started sooner in the story.

Iron Flame by Rebecca Yarros 4/5 ⭐️ I really like the Fourth Wing series but this was wasn't my favorite so far. The book was very long, and I felt like majority of the story was filler for conflict at the end. I felt some of it would benefit from being cut out. The ending was really good through but also equally heartbreaking. I love Violet and Xaden's relationship and their partnership to do what's right for the whole continent. I'm really looking forward to Onyx Storm!

Stone Blind by Natalie Haynes 4/5 ⭐️ Really entertaining and often times funny story! This book definitely highlights the hypocrisy and lack of self-awareness the men had regarding the women they interacted with. It also highlights the Greek gods great strengths and weaknesses- specifically their lack of foresight and ability to empathize with others. Their weaknesses often get in the way of their powerfulness and the irony is not lost upon me!

Where He Can't Find You by Darcy Coates 3.5/5 ⭐️ This was actually a really creepy book, especially for YA horror. I enjoyed the lore of The Stitcher and the back stories of the characters. I just wish they would have explained what animated him, as well the impacts he had on technology and the animals behavior - I felt missing that was a bit of an oversight.

Always Running by Luis J. Rodriguez 5/5 ⭐️ Wow, this was such a great coming on age memoir! Rodriguez had all the cards of success, empathy and healing stacked against him but he used all that hurt to make positive changes in his life and the lives of the members of his community. His bravery to speak up and promote peace, growth and equal opportunity for everyone in his community is incredible!

Opioid, Indiana by Brian Allen Carr 1/5 ⭐️ This was a pretty strange book that was mostly the inner musing of the main character. I felt the story was inconsistent and ended without resolution but the main character has some takes on things that happen from his past and present situations that I appreciated his perspective on. I can't say I'd recommend this book but it was entertaining.

[dhr-ao3]

Sparks Fly

Sparks Fly https://ift.tt/tJ23qsv by worthlesswriter A one shot inspired by the song/feeling of Sparks Fly by Taylor Swift Words: 2453, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Series: Part 8 of An Anthology of Song-Shots Fandoms: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: F/M Characters: Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy Additional Tags: See I am capable of writing happy shit, It doesn't happen often but I can do it!, don't expect it another happy one for a hot second though, Based on a Taylor Swift Song, no beta we die like many of the characters I write, This was manic, You're Welcome, enjoy it you filthy animal, Hermione Granger goes on a date!, She did not want to go on the date, but she ends up being happy that she did!, God I love Taylor Swift, I love these songshots! via AO3 works tagged 'Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy' https://ift.tt/yBth9If January 07, 2024 at 11:04PM

[ethereal-bumble-bee]

About Time- Chapter 1: Where Am I?

(Note: I know it’s been four days, I can explain 😭. I’m finally back in my writing groove after a while, so enjoy chapter one of the fic I’m writing!)

        If it had been a normal day and Ezra had found a random, filthy stranger screaming himself hoarse on her bathroom floor, she’d have called the police- but the second she saw this random, filthy stranger on her bathroom floor, only a vague sense of confusion filled her.  “Who the hell are you?” She asked, glancing about the room for any open or broken windows he could have fallen through. “And what are you doing in my apartment?”

    The boy stared up at her, his eyes shining and his face looking on the verge of tears. “I- I don’t know,” he said, his gaze darting from wall to wall, taking in where he was. “This isn’t the lodging house, is it…”

    “Lodging house?” Ezra snorted. “I think you mean the animal shelter, buddy. You’re covered in mud.”

    The boy looked down, as if he was just noticing the state of his hair and clothes. “That’s new,” he protested, and Ezra held back a laugh.

     “If you insist, then I guess I’ll believe that.” Holding out a hand to help him up, she took a moment to study him. He stared back at her, and for a moment it was just a stand off between the two, neither wanting to speak first though the silence was unbearable. Finally, the boy cleared his throat, brushing the extra dirt off of his lap.

    “I’m Jack,” he said limply. “Who’re you?”

    “Ezra.” 

    Jack frowned, his eyes looking around at the bathroom yet again. “Where is this place?” He asked. “I was asleep, and then- then I was here.”

    “You’re in my apartment,” Ezra retorted. “I heard a crash, came to investigate, and suddenly there’s a random stranger in my bathroom.”

    Jack’s face twisted in confusion, and he moved to the window. For a single, terrifying second after he threw open the window, Ezra thought he was going to jump. She was surprised when he looked out at the street below and gasped, his eyes following the cars moving slowly down the street and the people walking from here to there. “What the fuck,” he whispered, and Ezra raised an eyebrow.

    “What, you’ve never seen the streets of New York before?” What kind of drugs is this guy on?

   “No, no, I’m from New York, it’s just…” Jack’s hands moved wildly, like he was reaching for a response and hoping to pull it out of midair. “It doesn’t look like that, I can tell you. What year is it, two-thousand or something?”

    Ezra chuckled. “Nah, buddy, it’s 2023.” She gesture out the window. “It’s been like that for a while.”

    Jack’s eyes widened. “Hold on, what?”

    “It’s 2023,” Ezra repeated. “What year did you think it was?”

    “No. No, that- that’s not true.” Jack was sweating, looking frantically from the window back to Ezra, taking in her bright-pink hair and the pristine tile of the bathroom. “When I went to sleep… it’s not 1899 anymore, is it?”

    “Jesus fucking Christ,” Ezra exclaimed. “1899?!” 

    Jack opened his mouth, most likely to express some more disbelief, but a crash interrupted him. A voice yelled a string of curses from somewhere else in the apartment, and Ezra sighed. “Is that one of your friends from the ‘olden days’?” She asked sarcastically, and Jack nodded.

    “Probably,” he replied, as the cursing continued. “I have a feeling that’s Spot.”

    “Who’s that?”

    Jack chuckled. “You ever met a raccoon on steroids?”

    Inhaling, Ezra went to check out the source of the noise, her mind swirling with everything that had just happened. Is this some sort of time-travel crap? From 1899? Bullshit.

   Feeling for her phone in her pocket, Ezra ignored Jack’s gasp of curiosity as she opened her messages app. She pressed on her best friend Jasper’s contact, and quickly shot him a text.

    Me: J, you’ve gotta come over. Ur not gonna believe this. 

[wishfxljikan]

me: alright new fnaf game don’t get attached don’t get attached don’t get attached don’t go to the community

me, about 8 hours later: fuck

me, 12 hours after that: god damnit I’m attached.

I can’t escape the himbo bear and the sassy child, the gay gator, trans rights roxanne and Trash eating bi bird

anyways h/cs with hopefully no spoilers without understanding of the timeline cuz it’s been a good 7 years since I decided to think about the lore and all I know is “haha dead kids” from fnaf2

personal h/cs - I don’t like the trend of dead childrens possess animatronics so what if they were their own sentience entities instead, meaning everyone below is of my own base of this h/c so brrrrr - None of these guys go off batteries / power, they’re all self-powered and self sustainable, their own wills and needs/wants

ROXANNE - trans, fight me and die if you disagree - Listens to more Rock music than Monty ever has in his lifetime - actually really wants to see what Actual cars can do and not the toy ones in the Pizza Plex - “Monty is such a fucking dumbass don’t listen to him” (instantly listens in on him) - Playfully jabs @ Monty and Freddy - Always tries to be just as flashy and out there to impress the others but they’re fine with just how she is. - hardcore inferiority complex, the others know of this and help them through it when possible. - Listens to Eurobeat / Eurodance in secret. - Sits at the racing game arcade machines in free time. - Lesbian

MONTGOMERY - Gay I C O N - Is the only one who knows Rox’s likes for Eurobeat / Eurodance - Not the smartest but has good intentions i.e giving the sassy child a gun to fend themselves with - Yeah good luck finding out where he gets those weapons - actively swears off stage - Unironically has memorized all of Alfred’s Eggman Lines - The swear jar exists only for Monty and the occasion Roxanne / Chica - Actually prefers J-Rock and Chill Electronic stuff over Rock/Punk Rock/etc... - Is the only one that plays the Dance Dance Revolution Arcade Machine out of the four - Super competitive, like, REALLY competitive. He likes watching the competition. - Sadly the easiest to manipulate, anger issues are something he’s been working on but there’s a blindspot that easily allows him to be controlled :( - Rhythm Game nerd - Yeah he’s FC’ed Soulless 4 Unnerfed, what about it?

FREDDY - Dad. - Not that dad, filthy animal, Family-Dad - A himbo, we all know this by now, huh? - These three are his best friends, and if anything bad were to happen to them he’d shut down emotionally. - Secretly yearns to escape from the Fazbear Company with his friends, he and chica have been there the longest and they want out - Has kept himself sane through all of this hell over the years. Doesn’t know how, but he’s completely mellowed out. - Secretly in love with Montgomery - Scans Monty just to call him “yep, gay” every day. - They never get tired of it. - He lowkey acts as Monty’s therapist and honestly some nights they all have just personal singing sessions, let it all out, guys. - Prefers to listen to Jazz / Pop Rock / J-Rock / Electronic Swing, taking notes from everyone’s interests - He’s slowly learning how to draw from the kids... - Bleed-in memories from the past, was that him, or was it someone else as him? Doesn’t know. - Also Bisexual

CHICA - Has been alongside Freddy since the beginning, also shares that bleed-in memory effect, very confusing - Punk Rock, Rock, Speedmetal, Trance, Jazz--the most unpredictable music genre one of all of them. - Was the one who showed Guitar Hero to Monty. - Bisexual - You realize no one here is straight, right? - The main one there with Coming Out parties - “ GET THIS HET OFF OF ME, FREDDY.” - Get them something that isn’t trash...pls--the FINEST metals and stuff like come on-- - “I miss my wife, Freddy, I’ll be back---” - Also joins Monty on the memorizing the snapcube lines - Genuinely enjoys everything Roxanne does and says

THEY. ADOPT. THE. CHILD.

that’s it, that’s the post.

edit -- oooo secret link, wonder where this goes

[quirklessidiot]

Title: filthy rich [3/3]  Pairing: millionaire!sakusa kiyoomi x y/n [filthy capitalist au] Genre: mystery, major angst ahead, thriller, mafia!au-ish

Synopsis: Just run, Y/N. Don’t look back.

Warnings: dark and yandere themes, toxic relationships, mentions of violence, shady business, class differences, mentions of rape, smoll breeding kink, unwanted pregnancy, mentions of abortion, and sakusa being a manipulative bastard 

Notes: 

Im disappering again for a week or two so as a parting gift, here ya go, im starting a bokuto fanfic soon and posting the reboot of notice me soon too hnnng thanks for the wait guys uwu

A sorta realistic take on a yandere is harder than it looks kssjdn omg anyways here yall go the long awaited last chapter of filthy rich. I’m not sure if I should put like a one shot sequel but so far im marking this series completed. Thanks for sticking by!

previous || series masterlist || blood son [sequel;one shot]

You run your hands through your hair and shut your eyes tight, the quietness and stillness of your shared apartment was something to bask on before you put on a fake mask of happiness. It had been exactly two months since you found out about the birth control switch and the medaide agenda. 

In the span of those two months, you had grown more observant towards your boyfriend’s actions and you knew that it wouldn’t be anytime soon until he actually notices that you were onto him. 

You let out a shaky breath as you recollected some weird things you’ve seem to have noticed, how his brows would furrow when he’d receive a call indicating that something was up and it was serious or how you visited your ex-boss one time a week or so ago along with Kenjiro since you wanted to see how he was doing.

“...Well, he just didn’t come home and sold the place. Apparently he was in a rush to move or something because of family matters so I didn’t exactly see him.” the neighbor gossiped to you two.

“Y/N?”

You jump on your spot as you hear that dreadfully familiar voice.

“Hey,” You greet, walking up to him, you decide to do your usual hug but stop when you notice a small red stain on his necktie, the tie is dark blue and although it wasn’t obvious from afar, it definitely was up close. Your brows are furrowed together, this time in pure curiosity, “Did you get hurt? It’s unlike you to get messy.”

You notice the quick shift of attitude in his eyes, you were seemingly getting good at observing his emotions these days and it looked like he panicked for a second there.

Odd.

“A friend of mine had gotten hurt a while ago, you remember Atsumu Miya?”

A vivid image of a blonde man crossed your mind, he was another conglomerate friend of your boyfriend, another person to be weary of to add to the list, “Oh, is he alright?” you asked, trying to keep it casual as you untie his tie for him as usual.

“Yes. He’s awfully clumsy. You don’t need to worry.”

“Oh…” You mumbled, “by the way, I visited my ex-chief.”

“Ex-chief?”

“Mhm.” you hummed, “You know, my boss from before? Me and a few co-workers decided to visit him since he was a really good boss. Turns out he just left without telling anyone, poor man.”

“Sounds unpleasant. Did you know why he quit?”

“No.” You shrugged as you take the tie out and place it on the side, “He suddenly just quit his job and moved, neighbors said it was also because of family matters. It’s kinda weird because as far as we knew, he didn’t have a family.”

“Would you like me to look into it?”

You almost stiffen when he slithers his arms on your waist but you didn’t want to give away any suspicion, “No. I don’t want to pry. Hopefully he’s enjoying his retirement.” You sighed, turning towards him with a tight smile, “Now what would you like for dinner? I was thinking Mediterranean? I need to lose some weight since I’ve been feeling bloated for a while.”

He leans in for a soft kiss on your temple, “Mediterranean would be fine. Would you like anything else? We could order more.” he hummed, his lips slowly started to dangerously hover on top of yours.

“No, it’s fine.” You give him a quick peck and wiggle your way out of his arms, your stomach doesn’t feel well these days. Whenever you were near Sakusa you had the urge to throw up your innards despite having an empty stomach.

You don’t notice the dangerous gaze on your behind as you pick up the phone for your take-out.

Sakusa hasn’t felt you in a long time and it’s driving him insane, he wants to feel your heat, your body, and everything in between. He wants to fill you up and see you pregnant with his children. He wants everyone in the world to know you were his and his only.

Yet he can’t do that.

You’ve ignored his affections these past few weeks and it had been driving him insane to the point where he had to ask one of his men to put an eye on you to see if you had been cheating on him or seeing someone else.

Yet you hadn’t.

Your routine was the same old one and Sakusa is digging his nails deeply into his skin in his office one day with his tie uncharacteristically untied. Miya Atsumu sits across him, taking a sip from his flask, “Ya look like shit.” the blonde points out.

“Fuck off, Miya.”

“Heard from your cousin that you’re not getting laid by your girl these days.”

“You better be thankful that you’ve got men behind you or I’d be shooting your fucking brains out for saying that.” Sakusa spats, his dark gaze pointedly looking at the blonde across him.

“You should just find someone else then and not yer prude of a-”

“Keep telling me ideas like that and maybe I might just shoot you and chop your body up until it looks fuckin’ unrecognizable.”

Atsumu raises his hands up, signaling that he was giving up, “Gee, omi-omi. I was just giving my advise. It’s so easy to drop her.”

“I don’t want to drop what’s mine.”

“You’ve got issues.” He chuckles, “Haven’t you been switching out her pills and fucking her raw for the last couple of months? I bet yer ass you got her pregnant on that before but ya just don’t know it. Getting her pregnant would definitely secure her spot in her life. Woman’s nuthin’ without ya.”

“She’s...she’s not showing…”

“When was the last time ya two went at it?”

“Two months ago.”

“Ya poor boy.” Atsumu sighs, shaking his head, “Ya sure you don’t want to take a break from being a loyal boyfriend for one night? i bet Y/N wouldn’t notice.”

“And no one would notice if you fucking disappeared. I’ll make sure of it, now get out.”

You may not have been the sharpest tool on the shed but you know that someone’s been tailing you these past few days, you’re not stupid. You could only come to the conclusion that it was Sakusa who was doing such things but you couldn’t get why.

Something just didn’t make sense. It felt like you were missing an important piece in the puzzle, med-aide and the switch of your pills and now a hidden tail?

You furrow your brows together in deep thought  as you sat down next to a teenage boy on his phone, you decided to take the bus today to the grocery store, surprisingly the one tailing you wasn’t around today.

Your eyes slowly shift towards the boy’s phone, it seemed like he was playing a video game.

An otome game, to be exact.

You felt your lips twitch up, you remembered those games a lot growing up. The graphics seem to have massively improved now by the looks of it, “...That looks interesting.” You tell the teenage boy who turns to you in surprise.

“Oh, thanks.” the blonde replied quietly.

“Is that a new otome game?”

“Kind of.” He blinks, his gaze returning back to the screen,  “It’s sort of a remake of the yandere simulator from back then.”

You feel your shoulders tense up.

“A yandere?”

“Yeah.” The blonde nods, “The girl’s awfully creepy in the game, she stalks him, does things to get him. The player has to catch her in the act and evade her at the same time.”

“Oh…” You blink, “I-uh, this is weird… but what’s a yandere again?’

“It’s someone obsessively in love with you. They’ll do anything to have you stay by them.” He says, pushing on a button but suddenly the screen turns red and you feel shivers run down your spine as you hear him curse and the words ‘you’re caught’ appear on the screen.

“W-what happened to your character?”

“He died. Nothing much.” he mumbles, “If the Yandere knows they can’t have you, they’ll kill you.”

You immediately went pale as soon as you heard that. Maybe, just maybe you were being paranoid. He wouldn’t go to that extent, would he?

“How did your character escape the yandere in the game?” 

“Well, I haven’t finished the game yet but based on some anime’s and manga’s I've usually read. They either killed to get away or they moved so far away where they wouldn’t be seen so I think the creator might have the same ending.” The blonde said, he slowly looked to your side, “You’re looking awfully pale, ma’am. Are you alright?”

“Yeah, j-just remembered a horrible game I played back when I was your age.” You gulped in, “Nightmares, you know? The yandere tried to get my character pregnant and tried to get in her way of moving out of the country.”

“Sounds like a very realistic one.”  He mumbles, “What did your character do?”

“I wasn’t able to finish it.” you whispered, loud enough for him to only hear, “I couldn’t really find a way out.”

“The developers of the game must’ve made it hard for you. Maybe your character should’ve ran away,” he advised, “Or better yet, you should’ve killed him.”

“I-well, I don't think there were options like that.”

“Well if I were you and there was no option for killing, I’d run. Far, far away. Change my identity and all that.” he exits the game and stuffs the phone back in his pocket, you get a good look of his cat-like eyes and immediately feel a shiver on your spine with the next words he say, “I mean its a game but you wouldn’t wanna loose and get your character killed, right?”

“R-right.”

The teenage boy hops down without even saying goodbye and you have a scary realization that you can’t break it off like you originally had planned. You needed to run, run far as you can and get lost.

The words that the teenage boy says echoes in your head for the next few days, from that point on, realization dawns upon you that, nothing is certain now. You couldn’t trust anyone, you couldn’t let friends and family be involved in this. Sakusa Kiyoomi is a powerful man so you needed to be careful with how you were going to disappear.

You continue to act nonchalant and the same as you try to lay out your plan but you knew that you had only a week or so to complete this for it to successfully work.

Sakusa Kiyoomi wonders what he should do to save the relationship, he’s tried everything in the book that he could think of but you remained the same. Was this the end of the relationship? For real?

He could never stomach the idea of having you leave him.

It’s eerie that day, something felt different when he came home to an empty apartment. It looked the same yet something felt very, very different. Apparently the apartment guards said you were here since your car hadn’t left the driveway and they hadn’t seen you go out.

He checks out your side of the closet, your clothes remain there untouched and your toiletries were there too. He scans the fridge for your notes but nothing is stuck there. He suddenly feels like something cold was dumped on him.

It couldn’t be, right?

Right?

He runs to every room, checking every nook and cranny and when he finally reaches the last room which was the bathroom, nothing is there.

Everything was in its place except you.

Where were you?

Your bank account remains untouched, your wallet and phone was left in the apartment. It was as if you were returning home, the very least. Komori tells him to calm down, saying that they’re letting the best people find you around the city, they don’t rule out that someone might’ve had the audacity to touch you.

Whoever took you would be given hell to pay, that’s for sure. Was it the triad? Kkangpae’s? Or opposing yakuza’s? Oh, they’ll definitely have their heads on the platter if they tried to harm a single hair on your head.

Sakusa doesn’t even hesitate to notify the police about you already despite the memorandum that twenty-four hours is needed to consider a person missing, it's nothing a little money can fix.

“I hope we find her soon.” Your aunt sighed, “I’ve notified her parents about it. It’s definitely weird that she’d leave all her valuables behind.”

Hinata and Natsu sit there next to their mom, completely sad and worried, “I’ve hired the best people for it already, obaasan. We’ll find Y/N.” Sakusa replies yet his thoughts are in a complete frenzy now.

And find you they did.

No stone was left unturned. He made sure of it. Yet after a month of relentless searching. Nothing came up, it seemed like you had just vanished and Sakusa Kiyoomi had turned the whole underground world upside down for you but nothing came up.

Some say that you disappeared and ran away but that was immediately ruled out, no security cameras saw you in and out during that day and it would be impossible for you to just leave without security cameras on you. The guard had exclaimed that despite the blackout that day, the generators only took a few minutes to power up so they’d definitely catch you on camera in case you ever exited the building (along with the guards since they knew exactly what you looked liked) plus the clothes and such were still there, left untouched.

Some said you died, it was definitely impossible for you to just vanish without a single trace after all since everyone was looking for you.

Yet no one dared to say it in front of the boss, not if they valued their life.

The billionaire had dried out his connections to find you. What good was it to be the most powerful and richest man in the country if he couldn’t find you? Life had no meaning now, you were gone. It felt like a part of him was ceasing to function.

Sakusa Kiyoomi was a dead man walking now.

Unknown to the whole world, you’re in a small town with little to no signal. Your hair is chopped unevenly and your skin is darker from the repeated exposure under the sun, your life is simple and mundane now yet you’re happy.

For the first time in months, you actually felt free.

You shut your eyes tight, the events that transpired this past few months replayed  in your head. Your escape was definitely done as carefully as you can and you didn’t even know if you’d succeed since you weren’t a master in that sort of thing.

You recalled that it was a week before you ran away, a few days after you met that kid in the bus. Someone from the electric company had come to inform you that there was a scheduled black out in the city that day during the afternoon and you felt something bubble up in you. That was the day you’d put your plan into motion.

You knew that the longer you delayed your plan, the harder it would be to escape.

You had a few minutes to actually put your plan to work. The camera’s on the hallways would cease to function for a few minutes according to the guard downstairs as he did a protocol on the building (apparently the generators were quick). So that morning after Sakusa left, you placed only a few clothes and the stash of money you had been carefully hiding in a garbage bag and chopped your hair short in an uneven manner. Burning all the remaining hair on the fireplace and the black hair color that you use with it. The maid uniform that you stole on your floor and a fake name plate that you made was on and you were good to go.

The minute the black out started, you took the garbage bag and walked out. Taking the stairway used by the caretakers, you made sure to just look down and never directly up at the camera’s pretending to work.

When you finally made it out of your building. You let out a stiff sigh and put down the bag, it was only the beginning. If you thought the same way as Sakusa Kiyoomi, you could only imagine that you needed to be more careful from this point on.

You take the newly bought duffel bag that you strategically hid behind some boxes. Thankfully when you had placed it yesterday afternoon, it hadn’t been touched. 

You put on a pair of shorts and a baggy shirt with cheap shades and stuffed the maid uniform in the duffel bag along with your belongings in the garbage bag. You take the other route that led to the busy streets. It was easy to look like a tourist and seemingly blend in the crowd, from that point on, you only had one destination in mind.

When you were younger, you vividly remember an acquaintance telling you about this small town outside of Tokyo where her grandparents were from. It was only an hour away via plane and when you went down another few hours via bus yet if you took the bus route all in all, it would take a few days.

Since it was far, only a few busses actually went there and since you had to leave within the day, you decided to just take the bus nearest to that town and take another bus when you arrived there.

The plan smooth-sailed from that point on.

Except for one minor detail.

You open your eyes and look down at your now small bump. The monster who almost had you trapped left a parting gift, you grip your garden hoe tightly.

A big part of you wanted to kill it.

Yet every time you try to, you hesitate.

The moment you arrived here, you had to pretend to be a weary and poor widow. You just didn’t expect to be a weary and poor expecting widow. You let out an uncharted sigh at the thought, it was hard enough to be alone here with little to no money. 

This child had the demon’s blood in it.

Yes, you may have gone free from his cage but in truth with his seed growing in your stomach day by day, you started to feel quite the opposite.

taglist [thanks for your support ilyasm skkss im so sorry for updating late too :(]

@maraudusk ;; @iamnotobsessed  ;;  @ssuna ;; @weebartistinc ;; @aomineavenue ;; @tsukkismamagucci ;; @onlyshinji ;; @ichiraku-verse ;; @watevermelon ;; @victoriasee ;;  @caramelcandescence ;; @n-nara ;; @bloody-bella ;; @ricefarmerkita​ ;; @paripedia ;; @srhlsx ;; @craftyfawns ;; @kepchups ;; @soggycardboardd ;;  @vinnieluv ;; @dinablossom ;; @yourstruly-01 ;; @shinhiromi ;; @dinablossom ;; @kneecotinee ;;  @vicassa ;; @ahoeforshouto ;; @benimarus-main-mop​ ;; @atsunakaashi​ ;; @myaaa-xoxoxox​ ;;  @newfriendjen​​ ;; @usedcoupon​

@kn0xiousnight  

[can’t tag you guys uwu just make sure ur tags are open :<]

[swanimagines]

Hello love,

Could I please request the prompt “You make me feel free.” with (Heath Ledger) Joker?

Thank you so much!

Fandom: The Dark Knight Trilogy

A/N: I hope you didn't expect for something cute and fluffy because that doesn't really fit the character 😅 Saying just because your newer request for him indicates you want something fluffy... But I hope you like it!

Warnings: violence, mental health issues, a mention of obsessive behavior, hints of manipulating, the reader is a sociopath

Word count: 536

You would have never believed you’d fall in love with the Joker.

He had been in love with you for a longer period of time, at least if you could call it love. It was more like an obsession really, but he knew how to make you return the obsession, even if you were scared of him at first.

When he had succeeded in making you love him, he knew how to pull just the right strings, make your already wavering mental health falling to its doom for good. He taught you all about killing, to enjoy killing.

And now there you were, watching as a snitch was being ripped apart by your dogs, without the slightest amount of disgust, as the past you would have begged the Joker to not force you watch, that you’d never disobey him again if you only wouldn’t have to watch that. But now you were almost fascinated in seeing those dogs eating that filthy little snitch like they were any other animal.

“Ah - there’s my doll.” you heard The Joker say from the doorframe, and soon he was standing there beside you. “Didn’t think you’d be here.”

You didn’t answer to him, just staring at the scene of hungry dogs on their feast, and you could see J walking closer to you from your peripheral vision. Just a year ago, when Harvey Dent was still the “White Knight” and when Batman imprisoned J, the Joker had just barely gotten you under his spell before he was taken away - and your part was to ensure that everything would stay in order when J breaks out.

His goons had learned to fear you. Not as much as J, but they knew that you had learned from the best and you could potentially turn out to be extremely cruel and raw if the situation requires it. You had already cut a man’s hand off.

Remembering all this, you turned to your boss.

“I remember begging you that I wouldn’t have to watch things like this, but you just kept going, saying I have to. And you were right. Life is so much better when living without the rules. You make me feel free.” you smirked at him, wiping some of your makeup off from your eyelashes. 

“That’s my darling...” he muttered as he squished your cheeks together before turning away from the room with you, ready to cause more havoc and chaos. He was the agent of chaos, and you admired how he could get everyone in Gotham on their knees. He was so clever, outwitting Batman in every aspect. Batsy would learn that people wouldn’t be goody-two-shoes, everyone knew that chaos was the only way to achieve what was necessary.

And you would stand there with your Joker to the end of it, even if you died in the process. You didn’t fear death anymore after killing so many from The Joker’s command, and you were hopeful you’d eventually die from fighting and showing Gotham their true face, even if morons tried to shut you up. You’d show them, and you dying would just increase your legacy. People would see it, they would learn to see it, just like you did.

Tags: @randomfandomimagine​ @captainshazamerica​

[beneathstarryskies]

NSFW Alphabet: Remus Lupin

This wasn’t requested by anyone, I was just bored as hell so here we are. I hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. :) 

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Remus is absolutely the softest after having sex. You could almost say Remus loves the aftercare just as much as the sex itself. The intimacy of it, and how beautiful you look in the afterglow. 

If we’re being honest, he’s in awe of how wonderful making love to you is every single time. So, he likes to stay close to you afterwards. He’ll hold you close, and whisper quietly in your ear while playing with your hair. He tells terrible jokes because he loves to hear your laugh. 

When it’s close to the end of the moon cycle, he tends to get rather rough with you during sex. Often times he will praise you for being so good to him, and if he’s left marks on you he will soothe them. 

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He is pretty insecure, so truthfully he doesn’t have a favorite part of his body. If he has to choose something to like about himself, it would be his height. Although this is directly tied to how much you love his height. He enjoys the way your eyes widen and you look so sweet when he’s towering over you. He also loves it when you have to stand on your tiptoes to kiss him. 

“Every part of you is my favorite part,” is his default answer when you ask. However, deep down he’s partial towards your thighs. They simply offer such a plethora of delights: Kissing them, biting them, laying his head on them so you can play with his hair, burying his face between them, gripping them when you ride him. Thighs.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

Remus doesn’t like to make too much of a mess, which stems from his constant fear of being a burden. He prefers cumming inside of you, as it just feels much more intimate to him. He is also deeply appreciative when you swallow during oral. 

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

While teaching at Hogwarts, he used to fantasize about you giving him head beneath his desk constantly. There’s no telling how many times he had to jack off between classes because that thought would creep into his mind.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Due to his condition, he’s not overly experienced. He’s always been rather afraid of losing control during sex.

 He does have an idea of what he’s doing mostly because Remus is such an avid learner, and so he’s done his fair share of research. 

Furthermore, if there is anything he doesn’t know he is eager for you to teach him. 

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

Remus likes for you to stradle his lap and ride him. The two of your chests pressed together so he can still kiss you easily, and he can feel your heart beat against his. 

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Before and after he is pretty humorous. He likes to see you blush and laugh. However, in the moment he is rather serious although not entirely on purpose. He just gets swept up in the moment, and he focuses so much on your pleasure.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Remus keeps himself well groomed. His pubic hair is just a bit darker than the hair everywhere else. It is rather soft and thin, so even if he doesn’t groom it’s not too much of a nuisance.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Remus is very intimate. He takes his time worshipping every inch of you. For him, sex is truly an escape from his reality. It’s a chance just to be with you and to show you how much you mean to him. 

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

He’s never really been one jack off too much, but he will most definitely do so to ease the tension. Often when he’s away from you for long periods, he will find himself fantasizing about you while pleasuring himself. 

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Remus is not too kinky. Although he does have a bit of a praise kink. He’s spent so long feeling like a burden to society. When you tell him how good he makes you feel or you voice how much you want him, he’s just absolutely weak for it. And he loves reciprocating.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Pretty much anywhere is his favorite place. He’s particularly fond of his own bed, due to the feeling of the two of you being in your own world. But he’s pretty much down to fuck you wherever you can find the privacy.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Knowing that you really want him is his biggest motivator. Remus has a huge capacity for love, but he didn’t genuinely believe anyone would be able to love him. The fact that you do love and accept him fully is a huge turn on for him. He loves being able to smell your arousal.

By nature, he does have a rather high libido. This only gets more intense as the full moon draws closer. Sometimes during the end of the cycle, it takes literally nothing to get him going. You can walk into a room, and the man is immediately seducing you. 

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He will not do anything that harms you. That’s an instant no from him. He also will not share you, and truthfully has a bit of a jealous streak. Sirius once flirted with you (before knowing about your relationship with Remus) and Remus absolutely lost it. 

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Giving and receiving are both equally wonderful as far as Remus is concerned. He’s quite skilled with that mouth of his, and he is of course eager to please. It usually takes very little time for him to have you a shivering mess beneath his mouth. 

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

He tends to be more slow and sensual. For Remus, it’s more about making it last than it is quickly reaching his climax. He loves making you climax multiple times until you’re almost overstimulated before allowing himself to cum. 

 Sometimes closer to the full moon he will become more rough, but it’s certainly not his default preference. It’s just as the animal side of him becomes more prominent, he tends to lose his self control. 

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

He’s much more keen on proper sex than he is quickies. It is something that he will do if you simply don’t have the time, or as stated before as it gets closer to the full moon his libido intensifies quite a bit. So, he is definitely down for quickies towards the full moon. 

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Remus is eager to please, so anything you’re interested in trying he will at least give a chance. As long as it doesn’t involve having to hurt or share you he’s willing to try pretty much anything. 

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

In the early days of your sexual relationship, Remus had a hard time controlling himself. It had truthfully been a long time since he’d been touched in any way, so often he would cum prematurely. He would get so embarrassed with himself, but your patience made him fall in love with you even more. That being said, he made up for it by being able to go for multiple rounds. As he gains more control over his orgasms, he’s able to make things last longer. 

He very much so prefers to go longer once or twice rather than multiple short rounds.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He’s doesn’t own anything, and he’s not interested in having anything used on himself. However, he is willing to use them on you if that’s your thing. Whatever it takes to make sex as pleasurable for you as possible, he will do. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He is a bit of a tease, especially since he has the advantage of smelling your arousal. Sometimes you’ll be so desperately trying to hide it from him (perhaps during on Order meeting) and he will give you a suggestive smirk. You know you’re done for when he gives you that look. He’ll be relentless in his random touches and whispering filthy things in your ear until you’re almost begging him to fuck you. 

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Remus is rather vocal. He tends to moan quite a bit, and he likes to shower you in compliments and praise. 

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

He likes it when you take care of him after his transformations. How gently you soothe his wounds, and how eager you are to be there for him. He makes it a point to make love to you the morning after the full moon just so he can relish in how soft and comforting you are to him. You often make it a point to kiss every scratch and bruise he gets. Part of him feels guilty for getting so turned on by it, but it just makes him feel so safe. 

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Remus is about average in girth, but is pretty long. About 10 inches is a safe estimate. 

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

He has a high sex drive, and finds himself yearning for you quite often. It’s pretty uncommon for the two of you to take long gaps unless life gets in the way too much. 

You’ve joked before that Remus would be happy to simply stay in bed and fuck between each full moon. (It’s true.) 

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He doesn’t usually fall asleep too quickly. Remus loves pillow talk, so he likes to stay up for a bit afterwards with you. He also loves watching you fall asleep. The way your eyelids droop is very cute to him, especially when you fight it. You’ll often snuggle up to him to hide how sleepy you are, and soon your soft whispers turn into to even breathing against his skin as you fall asleep. He likes watching the transition, and hearing you sleep so peacefully against him is what lulls him to sleep. 

[crazycat-88]

Male Naga Kasen x Female Reader (NSFW)

Here’s a story about a shy male naga and a female reader who’s scared of rejection. No connections to my other stories though it is set in a modern setting, in a world where humans know that monsters & cryptids exist.

Content: Brief mention of guns, blood & injury (not to reader). NSFW at the end.

Words: 4,214. Enjoy!

Everyone in the village would agree that you had the best garden around for miles. With its winding brick paths, wooden arches, stone benches, a pond full of koi fish and a wide variety of flowers and plants at every turn, it was a garden lovers paradise. It was also your pride and joy, you could and did spend many hours of your day in it, either tending to the plants or just sitting enjoying the sun and smells of the plants.

You couldn’t take all the credit for it though, it had been your grandparents before yours and they had designed and made it the garden it is today. You had inherited the house after their passing six months previously, but you were proud you had kept up with the maintenance of the garden ever since.

Now with winter coming, you had the painstaking task of moving all the smaller plants into the greenhouse and covering the rest at night to protect from frost. It was already freezing cold in the mornings and at night, and since you hated the cold, you were dreading the next few months. You wouldn’t be able to enjoy sitting out in the garden but you would make sure to keep your garden safe during the winter months.

One morning as you are kneeling by the pond, checking that the fish are doing well in the cold, you jump hearing the sound of a shotgun being fired. Head swinging wildly in the direction of next doors garden, you wonder what poor creature old man McGregor has in his sights this time. Shaking your head, you cautiously make your way to the boundary between your garden and his, cringing again when you see the poor state of it.

Mr. McGregor's sorry state of a garden was the bane of your existence. The grass was overgrown and had taken up the entirety of the garden. The stone paths and pond you remember seeing during your visits as a child long gone, Iost to the wilderness that had become McGregor's garden. When you’d first seen it you had wondered if the old man was just now incapable of tending to it and you had gone round there offering your assistance.

Unfortunately you had found Mr. McGregor to be as prickly as the cacti in your greenhouse and he had told you that the day he accepted your help would be the same day that hell freezes over, before telling you to get the hell off his property or he’d shoot you for trespassing. You hadn’t spoken to him since but you had seen him a few times out in his garden with his shotgun, shooting into the grass, yelling about foxes and rabbits not being welcome on his property.

You can hear him now, muttering something about snakes in the grass and you shake your head again with a sigh. The only snakes in these parts were completely harmless and all would be hibernating at this time of year. You’re pretty sure Mr. McGregor is insane and he was going to end up hurting somebody one day, or himself.  

‘‘Mr McGregor,’’ you call, flinching as he turns towards you with a scowl. ‘‘Is everything okay?’’

‘‘Mind your own business lassie,’’ he says, before turning back to glare at the grass.  

You watch for a moment, frowning and biting your lip to keep from saying anything else, before going back to tend to your garden. You keep one eye on McGregor while you do this and once he turns and goes back into the house, you make your way back over to the fence to peer into the long grass. Was the old man imagining things or was there really something in there. You didn’t know but you stood there waiting for any signs of life regardless.

Just as you turn away breathing a sigh of relief you swear you can hear something. Head swiveling back to look at the grass, you hold your breath listening for the sound again. Frowning when you hear a small whimper, you climb up the first rung of the fence and try to get a better look in the grass. When you hear it again, you frown in confusion. That doesn’t sound like any animal you’ve ever heard, in fact the whimpers sound human.

‘‘Hello,’’ you call tentatively. A couple of heartbeats pass before the noise comes again, this time accompanied by a rustle in the grass only five foot from your position. ‘‘Who’s there?’’ You ask warily. You can hear the tremor in your voice and you glance down at McGregor's house nervously thinking that his shotgun may come in handy right about now.

Looking back to the grass you jump in shock, falling back off the fence and landing on your ass with a thud when you see a pair of strangely human looking yellow eyes staring back at you. Scrambling to stand you see the eyes along with a pale forehead and a shock of black hair staring back at you.

‘‘W-who.. W-what... Why are you in the grass?’’ You stutter, your voice trembling far more than you would like.

‘‘Hiding.’’ A definitely male voice replies whispering.

‘‘Hiding from what?’’ You say frowning.

‘‘The old man,’’ he replies with a wary glance towards the house.

‘‘Why are you in there in the first place?’’

‘‘I was looking for food.’’

Food? Is he homeless you think startled. ‘‘Well you better get out of there before Mr. McGregor comes back,’’ you say warning him.

‘‘I…’’ he says, before ducking down out of sight. ‘‘I don’t want to ssscare you, I… I’m not exactly human.’’

Oh. Well that explains a few things. There aren’t many non-humans living in your village but there were a few, so you weren’t completely unused to being around such creatures. You wonder what type he is before telling him that it’s okay to come out and that you aren’t scared.

‘‘You’ll have to climb over the fence but be quick, we don’t want McGregor seeing you,’’ you say.

‘‘Okay. Okay I’m coming,’’ he says.

You see the long grass sway as he moves towards you and as he appears at the fence you gasp, automatically taking a step back when you see he’s a naga. Naga are never seen in the village, they tend to stick to the woods and away from humans. Though they do have a bad reputation for being aggressive towards humans when they do encounter them.

You watch him warily as he easily climbs the fence and as he settles down on his tail in your garden, tail coiling around himself, you have to admit he doesn’t seem very threatening. As he stands before you, wringing his hands together with a nervous smile on his face, you see that he looks more scared of you than you are of him.

He’s smaller than you imagined a naga would be, or perhaps he just seems that way because his tail is coiled. His eyes are indeed yellow and his black hair is long, reaching all the way down to his hips where his naked human torso meets his snake tail. The pale skin of his human half and the dark green of his snake half make a striking contrast, but his body is filthy with mud and his hair is tangled. He’s thin too, definitely underweight you think with a frown as you run your gaze over him. As you catch sight of streak of blood across the underbelly of his tail you gasp and take a step towards him, stopping when he jerks in fright.

‘‘You’re hurt,’’ you say, remembering his whimpers from before.

‘‘J-just a graze,’’ he replies, glancing down at his tail.

‘‘Still, you should come in to the house and let me clean it,’’ you say, worried it will get infected if left untreated.

‘‘Really? You would let me in your home?’’ He asks, with a look of surprise.

‘‘Is there a reason I shouldn’t,’’ you ask him warily, but still gesturing for him to follow you as you make your way down the path towards your house.

‘‘No but… Aren’t you ssscared of me,’’ he asks sounding confused as he follows quietly behind you.

‘‘Should I be?’’ You ask, glancing at him. You see his eyes widen and he shakes his head revealing pointy ears hiding behind his hair.

‘‘N-no of course not,’’ he says as you reach your back door. Then he sighs. ‘‘It’s just most humans are ssscared of my kind.’’

‘‘I admit I was... wary at first,’’ you say glancing at him as you enter the house, ‘‘but I know you should never judge a book by its cover. You just seem like you need my help more than anything.’’

‘‘Thank you,’’ he says smiling, before glancing around your kitchen in interest. ‘‘You’re very kind.’’

‘‘I try. Now, wait here while I go get the first aid kit.’’

You see him nodding absently as you leave to get it, but he seems more interested in the contents of your kitchen. Upon returning you find him investigating the contents of your fruit bowl, picking up the fruit, when he sees you he jumps guiltily before putting the orange he’s picked up back. You just smile at him and tip the contents of the first aid kit over the kitchen table, before getting a bowl of water.

‘‘Do you have a name?’’ You ask him, as you set about cleaning the wound.

‘‘Kasen,’’ he says, holding still and watching what you’re doing.

‘‘Where do you live?’’ You ask him curiously, as you rinse the cloth in the water. He hisses as you clean the wound, but you’re are relieved to see he was right about it just being a graze. You won’t even need to bandage it. You look up at him curiously when he doesn’t answer, only to see him looking out your window with a frown. ‘‘Kasen, you okay?’’

He nods, then looks at you. ‘‘I lived in the woods,’’ he sighs, before looking down. ‘‘But another Naga challenged me for the territory and I lost.’’

‘‘Oh. Is that why you were near the houses?’’

‘‘Yesss. I’ve been living on the edge of the woods looking for a new territory but food has been ssscarce now it’s winter.’’

‘‘Don’t nagas hibernate?’’ You ask him curiously, as you pack everything back in the first aid kit, leaving just an antiseptic wipe out.

‘‘We tend to stay in our nests as we don’t like the cold but no we don’t hibernate,’’ he explains shaking his head.

‘‘Oh. I didn’t know that,’’ you say sitting back thinking. ‘‘I still need to clean your wound with an antiseptic wipe but I think you should shower first.’’

‘‘Shower?’’ He asks frowning.

‘‘Yeah you know, to bathe.’’ You say explaining.

‘‘Oh,’’ he says, looking down at himself.

‘‘Come on,’’ you say smiling, leading him to your bathroom. Kasen looks confused and then startled when you turn the water on and you patiently turn it on and off for him to show him how it works. When he nods understanding, you go get him a towel for when he’s done.

‘‘Take your time. I’ll go make us some lunch,’’ you say leaving him to it.

Thinking that he must be cold in this weather with no clothes, you go search for an old jumper and with that accomplished, you head to the kitchen. As you potter around in the kitchen, you wonder what he would like to eat. He looks so starved he’d probably eat anything you think, but prepare a variety of things hoping he will at least like the food you give him. As you cook you come to the decision to ask Kasen to stay with you, at least for the winter. It may be idiotic to ask a naga you’ve only just met to live with you but you can’t throw him out into the cold with nowhere to go.

With the food ready on the table and no sign of Kasen, you are just about to check on him, when he suddenly appears at the kitchen door. As he stands there running his claws through his hair trying to detangle it and you have to stop your jaw from dropping. He’s gorgeous you think, with his long wet hair dripping down his lean chest and his now clean tail almost shining and catching the light as it twitches. When his long forked tongue flicks out to taste the air you give yourself a mental slap for thinking very inappropriate thoughts.

Getting up from where you’ve sat at the kitchen table, you grab the old jumper you found that once belonged to your grandfather and hand it to him. ‘‘Here, hopefully this will keep you warm,’’ you say smiling and hoping he doesn’t notice your blush.  He looks at the jumper for a moment before gently taking it from you with a soft thank you and puts it on. The jumper is far to big for him, your grandfather being bigger built but it will do for now.

‘‘Hold still while I wipe your wound and then you can join me and eat as much as you like,’’ you say.

His eyes flick to yours in surprise, meeting them briefly before he eyes the food. He holds still though as you run the wipe over the graze, only releasing a small hiss when it first touches the scales on his tail. When your done, he can’t get to the table fast enough, and you release a small chuckle while you bin the wipe and wash your hands.

As you eat, he asks about you and what you do. You tell him about your grandparents passing and about the garden, with all it’s different plants. Then you mention that you have a spare room and ask if he would like to stay with you for the winter. He looks at you in shock and asks if you're sure, but after some persuasion he agrees to spend the winter with you.

The winter months pass slowly but you enjoy them with Kasen there to keep you company. You spend the days getting to know each other better and you teach him card games that you play in the evenings. You still go out to the garden to care for the plants, but Kasen stays in the house really not liking the cold. You have to keep the heating on in the house otherwise Kasen gets sluggish and sleepy but it’s nice for you to return to after being out in the garden.

A couple of days before Christmas, you come to the realisation that you don’t ever want Kasen to leave. You’ve really come to like him, may even love him, in the time he’s been with you. It’s the little things he does, like making you a cup of something warm for when you return from the garden and how he lets you recline on his tail when you both sit reading by the fire.

The question is, should you do something about it. Kasen hasn’t let on if he feels anything for you, he’s still as shy as the day he came to live with you. He has however put weight on and looks much healthier. It’s all you can do not to jump him in the evenings when you cuddle into him by the fire. Unsure of his feelings however and not wanting to be rejected you put your thoughts and feelings aside and try to carry on as normal.

As winter turns into spring, Kasen starts to come out with you into the garden, to help. You’re on edge the entire time expecting him to tell you that he will be leaving any day now. For some reason you can’t bring yourself to tell him how you feel and that you want him to stay. Instead you start to withdraw, speaking to him less, preparing yourself for the day he leaves. So it doesn’t come as a surprise when he notices the change.

As you sit on the couch reading one evening, you can feel Kasens eyes on you as he lies curled up by the fire. You can practically feel the tension in the air and you can’t concentrate on your book at all. Getting up with the intention of heading to the kitchen to avoid his stare, you’re suddenly startled to find yourself pulled down to Kasens side as he uses his tail to bring you down to him.

‘‘Kasen. What are doing?’’ You ask shocked.

‘‘Trying to get your attention,’’ he says explaining.  ‘‘You have been ignoring me for daysss… Now tell me what isss wrong?’’

‘‘Nothings wrong. I’m fine,’’ you say frowning. Even to your ears you sound unconvincing and as you try to get up he coils his tail harder around your waist, refusing to let you up. ‘‘Kasen,’’ you say warningly.

‘‘You can get up once you’ve told me what’s the matter with you,’’ he says, sounding determined.

You’re actually surprised with how forceful he’s being, used to him being so shy. You didn’t think he had it in him but still you’re stubborn. ‘‘I told you it’s nothing.’’

‘‘And I don’t believe you,’’ he says hissing.

You look at him shocked before you burst into tears. You want to tell him you love him and want him to stay but you’re scared he’ll leave if you do, but if you don’t tell him he might leave anyway. It’s all too much and you cling to him as you cry. His arms go around your waist and he rocks you back and forth and you hear him muttering apologies.

‘‘I’m sorry,’’ you gasp, as you get your emotions under control.

‘‘No I’m sssorry, I didn’t mean to make you cry,’’ he says, stroking your hair back of your face. ‘‘I just wanted to know what’s wrong. You’ve been so distant the last few days,’’ he adds, looking dejected.

‘‘I… I don’t want you to leave,’’ you say lowly, looking down at your hands, not wanting to see the expression on his face.

‘‘Leave? Why would I leave?’’ He asks, frowning in confusion.

‘‘You only agreed to stay with me for the winter,’’ you say explaining.

‘‘Oh… That was months ago,’’ he says shaking his head. ‘‘I don’t want to leave you either.’’

‘‘You don’t?’’ You ask, looking at him with hope.

‘‘No,’’ he says smiling. ‘‘I love you,’’ he adds, before brushing his lips shyly across your own.

You kiss him back eagerly, before pulling back. ‘‘I love you too,’’ you say smiling widely.

Noticing the blush that’s overtaken his face, you giggle and kiss him again, running your tongue over his fangs. He pulls back with a gasp, before kissing his way down your neck and over your collarbone causing you to moan. His hands tighten on your back and he pulls back to look at you.

‘‘I want you,’’ he says, hissing lowly.

You nod, kissing his lips again. ‘‘I want you too,’’ you say as you run your hands over his scales where they meet his torso. He gasps, his tail tightening around you briefly.

‘‘Bedroom?’’ He asks.

‘‘No,’’ you say shaking your head. ‘‘Here by the fire.’’ You can’t believe he returns your feelings and desires and you’re unwilling to wait even one more minute to be with him.

Kasen smiles slowly before he guides you back to recline against his tail, where he proceeds to strip you off your clothes. You sit up to tug his jumper off over his head, then lay back again to admire his lean form. Seeing a slit at the top of his tail which looks swollen, you run your hand over it curiously and he gasps writhing before he takes your hand and places by your side.  

‘‘I want to explore you first my love,’’ he says, running his hands over your arms.

You’re content to lie back allowing him to explore for now, knowing you will soon get your turn and you moan as he leans over you to kiss over your chest and nipples. His long forked tongue flicks over one nipple before he takes it in his mouth and sucks, playing with your other breast with with one hand as his other holds you waist. You tangle your hands in his hair holding him to you and closing your eyes to enjoy his attention on your breasts.

Feeling his tail shift under you, you wonder what he’s doing until you feel his tail wrap around your waist, lifting you higher, which puts your slit level with his face. Your eyes pop open to see him staring and you shift self consciously.

‘‘Don’t stare,’’ you say, moving your hand to cover yourself but he quickly catches your wrist and prevents you from doing so.

‘‘I can't help it…’’ he says with his tongue flicking out. ‘‘You’re so beautiful.’’

Before you can respond to that he leans forward and flicks his tongue down your slit causing you to jerk and gasp. He runs his tongue over and over your clit before working it inside you, licking around and over your inner walls. You moan and writhe, struggling against his hold as he brings you close to coming with just a few strokes of his tongue.

Suddenly he twists his body to lay back on the rug on the floor and holds you above his head continuing to fuck you with his tongue. As one clawed hand digs into your thighs, he shifts the other to rub over your clit, pushing you over the edge and making you come with a squeal.

You would collapse if not for his tail, as it is you feel completely boneless as he lowers you to lie beside him, where you lay gasping for breath for what feels like forever. You come round as you feel him lay kisses over your belly, working his way up to your neck and then to your lips.

‘‘Still with me?’’ He asks.

‘‘Mmm just about,’’ you reply, opening your eyes to see him raised above you with a shy smile on his face.

Kissing him again, your trail your hands down his chest and pull away to gaze down his body. Your jaw drops open as you see he has two cocks where you expected to see just one. Looking up at him in shock, you are not surprised to see him flushing profusely, not meeting your gaze. With a sly smirk you run your fingertips over his upper cock, biting your lip to keep from chuckling as he gasps and jerks, his cocks hitting against your thigh.

You explore him eagerly, testing the weight and girth of both cocks in your hands. Both cocks are a light green colour which fades to a darker green at the base, just a shade lighter than his tail. The upper cock is thick, with ridges and a sharp tip. It curves upwards attractively, angled just right. While his lower cock is longer but thinner, with a wide flat tip.

Together they are far to thick for you to take both at once, at least not without some major prep and you wonder if he will mind, but as you listen to him moan and whimper as you grip him in your hands you figure at this point he probably won’t even notice. Pushing him to lie back on the floor you hover over him, rolling your hips so that the tips of both cocks rub against your slit.

‘‘Please... Oh please,’’ he begs with his eyes clenched shut.

‘‘Kasen..,’’ you say, lining up his upper cock against your opening and taking just the tip of it inside. ‘‘Kasen look at me.’’

You wait until he meets your eyes before lowering yourself all the way down his cock with a triumphant smile. Kasen throws his head back with a groan and clutches at your hips with his claws. He feels glorious inside, you can feel the ridges of his cock and his girth stretches your walls as you roll your hips up and down. The lower cock presses up against the cheeks of your ass as you slide over it and it occurs to you that you could take both cocks in different way.

You’ll have to remember that for next time you think as you realise that Kasen won’t last much longer. He ruts up into you hissing in pleasure as he increases the pace, using his tail to move you faster. Reaching down you rub your clit wanting to reach that peak again with him and as you clench your muscles around his cock he comes with a gasp of your name.

As you feel the heat of his come inside you and up your back from his other cocks release, it pushes you over the edge and your vision goes blurry as you cry out coming around his cock causing him to gasp and twitch inside you.

‘‘I love you,’’ he says with a rasping chuckle as you collapse on top of him.

‘‘Mmm I love you too,’’ you say, smiling lazily as he strokes the back of your neck.

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