#god has left you for your filthy choices

[sumi-sprite]

@prinx-quail When he says no pickle, he means NO PICKLE!!!!!

Can't get good cafeteria service during a breach, it seems (all the more cuddle time with smokin' hot tatted up host)

Fiddling around with my artsyle and I lowkey love this version..

[zarnzarn]

TW: jumping on the manwhore au but aftermath, discussion of S/A, read carefully.

Three weeks pass.

Odysseus is carried through them with ecstasy and joy, reuniting and grieving and laughing and rearranging.

But then everything settles down, and-

It was him who'd ordered it. Ordered owls to be carved into every free inch of Ithaka, coveted shipments of the secretive birds for his personal menagerie, sold trinkets in the market. Made no secret of who favoured them, when he had half the houses painted blue.

But now every step he takes in his own home haunts him.

He cannot so much as look to the side before feeling the urge to flinch away, shame growing inside of him until it chokes him up. Cannot look at any owls. Cannot look at any of his men.

("Well, if our captain can't think his way out of it, at least now we know talking filthy works just as well!" One of the men chortles, unaware of how Odysseus' blood had run cold, standing with his hand raised to knock.)

("This day, you've lost it all, consider this as my goodbye-")

("Come on, she's a beautiful, powerful lady! How bad could it really have been, Captain?")

("Captain?" Eurylochus whispers, as Odysseus wipes the blood off his mouth and reaches for his cloak. The ships are silent, even though the roar of the waves has left. Eyes stare at him from all directions, wide and-

Pitying? Horrified? Odysseus can't really tell.

"Full speed ahead," He says, voice ruined, and keeps his chin high as he hobbles back to his room.)

(When the sirens come, all he sees is Penelope. It is nice, at least, to know that he can discard the intrusive thoughts creeping in about natural reactions and forced pleasures.)

("Please- please don't do this, don't make me choose, I'll do anything-")

("Leave me the fuck alone, both of you. If Penelope does not take me back after all of this, it's her choice. But I have to get all of us off this island and it's better me than you.")

"Ody- Your Majesty!" Odysseus reaches into his robes, pulls out the whittling tool and the wood, busies himself as he walks. It's one of the younger men, the ones who'd barely been boys when they left. "Listen, we were wondering if- if you'd come join us at the festival! The- all of the men, really, we've been- heh- missing you since we now have to share you with the rest of the kingdom. We could- we could sing together? Like we used to?"

Athena's prayers.

"You go ahead," Odysseus murmurs, eyes on the carving. "Next time."

"But you didn't come for the last one either!"

"I have-" He hears his own sharp tone, stops and swallows to soften it. He was terrible to all of them, he knows, those last few days aboard the ship, rude and sharp and brutal like all the other royals, where he never was before. "I have work to do. Have a good day. I've heard the new hound stock is coming in today, you should see if you want a pet."

He ignores whatever is said in response, walking on. He wonders, darkly, what they think of him. Do they still think he enjoyed it? That it was a privilege to be had by gods?

("He won't speak to us!" One of them hiss that night, when the lad comes back sniffling and downcast, like all the others. They'd grown up with Odysseus, almost like younger brothers, and all of the younger ones were taking the sudden frigid silence hard. They all were. Somewhere they had lost their friend, left him behind without noticing, until only their king returned. "He cannot possibly think we think less of him for sacrificing so much, for- the gods are impossible to hold up against, he can't think we blame him for-"

"We don't know what he thinks," Polites says, pulling his head out of his hands and wrapping his arms around himself. "He doesn't even look at us."

The men around the fire are all silent.

"He has to know, right?" Someone whispers. "He has to.")

"What did happen on the trip back?" Penelope says, voice quiet, sitting next to him. He jolts. When did he reach their bedroom? "Something did. You have barely touched me since that first day."

Odysseus opens his mouth, but for the first time, he has nothing to say. What can he? She had known, the first second he had turned his eyes from her in shame, and yanked him back in anyway with eyes blazing like a lion, growling that she didn't care what he had to do to come back, as long as he had.

Odysseus doesn't feel like he has.

Penelope carefully takes the whittling knife away from him, as well as the spear he'd carved. "And you have not prayed, after your return."

(He had tried. Had walked right upto the temple steps when everyone was asleep, and then turned around and thrown up in a bush.)

"Have you heard the story of the high priestess Medusa?" He murmurs, staring at the wall. Watches the shadows dancing across. "Athena used to tell me about her. One of her favourite devotees. I never understood why she cursed her, when it was not her fault."

Penelope puts a hand on his shoulder. Both of them are shaking. She has seen the scars, the ones that glow beautiful and bright, left behind by each god who touched him.

"A gorgon, snake-woman, capable of turning anyone she looked upon to stone, gods and humans alike. No eyes upon her, ever again."

The breeze blows in.

"At the time, I thought it to be a curse." He whispers. Remembers the story of the way she had screamed in the temple bower for Athena's help, insane, at the feeling he knows now is violation of self and celibacy both; Athena's chosen, ripped away from one of their ways of worship by force. "Now I know it was a blessing."

"But-" Penelope swallows. "Perseus-"

"Was a mercy." He looks at the ground. "She was pregnant. She did not wish to be. Athena granted her so."

"The shield is to honor her," Penelope murmurs. "Not a trophy."

He hums.

"I-" Penelope starts, voice thick. "I remember when you asked. When we first got married. If I was fine with not being joined with you in bed often, as long as I was satisfied. Was it-?"

"Only her priestesses can have true celibacy, her devotees less, me lesser. I had a crown to continue, so Athena accepted a more lenient vow, when I became her student." He stares out at the sea, the sky. "But I had vowed. I had sworn." A half-sob escapes him, some delayed noise of grief. It feels far away now, and the scars have all healed, but he cannot move past the violation, the stares, the whispers. The shame of betrayal. "I had an oath, Penelope."

"It was not your fault," Penelope whispers, taking his hand like he will shatter like glass. "Poseidon seems to target all of Athena's people. If anything-"

"We fought," He says, turning his head to press his face to her shoulder, shuddering as he confesses it. Abandoned by his own god. "She left. Maybe this is her punishment, all the eyes, all the time. Paranoid that another Olympian will jump out of the shadows, do it again."

"Or," Penelope says after a long pause. "She does not know. Only one way to truly find out."

Odysseus considers.

"Could you," He swallows, throat clicking. "Could you get me- the things from my shrine?"

-

He does not expect her to actually arrive.

He shakes in front of her, for the first time, feeling small and foolish and broken. Wishes he could go back to being twelve, do it all over correctly. "Lady Athena," He says, as formally as he can. "I beg your forgiveness. Please- please, is there anything I can do to-"

"About time," She interrupts, bored. "Finally willing to concede that I was right?"

Odysseus feels bile rise in his throat. "Yes, goddess. I was- stupid, to ever consider otherwise."

Penelope's hand is clenched tight in his robes, kneeling with him.

"Good," Athena says, pleased. "A war well won, all things considered. Our glory will go down in the history books." A pause. "Why are you on the floor?"

"What?" He chokes out.

"You've never kneeled to me once, even when I've taken you out at the ankles, you impudent brat," She snorts. Odysseus feels his pounding heart freeze in his chest at the- fondness in her voice. Fondness. She is not furious with him, not unforgiving. "What, do you want something else-"

She knocks him on the head, flicking him on the forehead playfully- then freezes as he looks up at her. Goes completely still, and he knows she can see what they did to him.

Penelope's hand reaches out to steady him.

"Only your forgiveness, goddess," His voice breaks. "Only that."

-

After, Penelope holds him, crying silently herself as she wipes at his cheeks. Athena sits with her head in her hands, helmet removed, anger finally under control but completely silent. Just sits there at the edge of their bed, bent over, face buried in her own palms.

Finally, she straightens, inhaling. Turns to look at him. "You may not be alive to see it," She tells him, quiet and furious. "But this is their last transgression, I swear to you. I will find a way to get revenge. They will die."

"I do not-"

"They will die. And no vows have been broken." She hesitates, hand hovering over his ankle. Odysseus crumbles, nodding desperately, and nearly passes out at the relief of the familiar touch, sharp and cleansing, godly and unlike the chaos of all the others. "You need not apologise to me about that."

He sniffs, turning his face into Penelope's shoulder. It feels freeing, some latent relief that Athena finally sees him, understands, forgives. She is not the terrifying goddess so far removed, cold and cruel, that he was starting to think she truly might be; bowed over in grief and horror for him, like a friend- he just wishes this was not the reason why.

Her eyes are gold at the edges. Crying. Nauseated almost, at the fact that- her uncle. Her father.

"Would you-" Odysseus wheezes. His heart hurts still, for their fight, for what happened after, for how hard he knows she will take it. "Can you-"

"Anything, champion," She says softly, strained. Gives him a half-smile. "My friend."

"The wings-" He whispers, feeling stupid, but-

"Slow," Penelope murmurs, reaching out to steady Athena as she climbs in close. Her voice is wrecked. She does not say anything more.

Owl wings fold around him, not white or blue or pink, patterned and brown like the mud; home. Home.

"No one will see you," Athena murmurs, and her voice is wretched, but caring. "No one can see you. Peace."

"Peace," Odysseus repeats, and leans into them both, letting the darkness shroud around them like an embrace. Peace.

Home.

[banj0possum]

Alistair x (platonically) Teen Reader

In the fic he is like oh my god a bride, he walks in and instead of an adult..or a bride-

They find a teen, who literally threw a pebble at him, an angsty teen💀

I’m very happy to read ur fics and usually pair them with teen/child mc because I find it funny because they expect the love of their life

and teen mc standing there :🧍‍♂️

anyways sorry for the long request, luv ur writing, and ur art :D

Yandere! Evil King x Teen! GN! Reader

CW: platonic relationship, Alistair is a bit of a DILF so do with it as you will, Dads are hot you guys!! READER IS A MINOR.

👑 Who is this sassy lost child?

👑 His minions kidnapped you while you were on a carriage ride back to your kingdom.

👑 He was hoping for like a princess or something to marry and take over the kingdom with or whatever so like...what tf he gonna do with you???

👑 Clearly you were too young to be in a situation like this, but theres no way he's giving you back without a reward, so yes he still holds you for ransom.

👑 "Child, I am Alistair, King of-ACk!"

👑 Did...did you throw a pillow at him?!

👑 "How dare yo- AHK! Stop it!" another one..

👑 You refuse to listen to anything he says, you just wanted to go home

👑 You two had a bit of rivalry for a bit. He hated you and you hated him.

👑 He promised not to show any affection or care towards you since in his eyes, your actions didn't deserve it. How can someone be so rude to a king !?

👑 But he starts to notice you don't eat much. He never sees you in the dining hall and has only seen quick moments of you nibbling on some bread or pastries the servants gave you.

👑 He scoffed, so irresponsible! You must eat a proper meal right this second or you'll starve!

👑 You're surprised to see a meal prepared for you during your routine trip to get a snack from the pantry with a note on the plate.

👑 "Next time, ask for a proper meal. I don't want your parents to think I've been starving you. -Alistair P.S. go to bed early."

👑 Huh...

👑 Alistair smiled from the doorway of the dining hall, watching you eat up with a smile on your face. You might have been too scared of him to ask for food so you've been sneaking snacks while he wasn't looking.

👑 Of course he wasn't doing it because he cared about you, he just didn't want royalty like you to resort to such pathetic means to eat!

👑 Why are you still sad? Perhaps he should get you some things to keep your attention..

👑 He asks (threateningly may I add) about your hobbies or interests.

👑 The next morning your cell (which has been upgraded to a lovely room in the castle because he didn't want you to be filthy and gross in a dungeon) was filled with anything he could find that he thought you'd enjoy.

👑 Don't think he wants you to be happy! He's just tired of seeing you sulk everywhere!

👑 He denies everything, but you swear you could see a tiny smile on his face when you hugged him happily.

👑 You start being a little more open to him, showing him anything you've made or done with pride and he'd receive it gratefully, but he won't show it of course.

👑 "I made you this friendship bracelet!"

👑 "I've seen better jewelry."

👑 "Oh I'll take it back then I guess.."

👑 "No, it's mine now, back off."

👑 Drawings and the like that he said would be thrown out as soon as you left would be seen framed in his room

👑 It would be a..waste of good canvas..

👑 And of course he buys a few books of your choice for you to read, he'd be damned if your brain turns to mush.

👑 Bro bro he'd be the type to let you swing around while holding onto his bicep.

👑 If you ever have any problems, or come to him in a bad mood, he'd have no idea how to help other than to sit down and listen to your troubles.

👑 He's not the most physical when it comes to affection, but you bet your ass he's gonna do everything he can to cheer you up.

👑 At this point he's rewriting his demands for the ransom. Either your kingdom lets him sign some adoption papers or he's starting a war.

[thriftedtchotchkes]

the way we fight

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: you and joel love taking your frustrations out on each other—in more ways than one

warnings: 18+ MDNI, language, drug use, canon-typical violence, slight spoilers for minor tlou 2 cutscene, jackson era, enemies to lovers, undefined age gap, sloooow buildup, smut, grinding, rough oral (male & female receiving)

word count: 6.7k

a/n: no idea how this got so long, but here we are! generally my fics are based on song lyrics, so this one goes out to my girl ari and social house. this honestly took a while to wrap my brain around and idk how the end got so filthy but alas, i really hope y'all enjoy! as always, thoughts and feedback are always appreciated 💕

It’s always an argument with him. He’s just so stubborn. Actually, Joel Miller might be the most stubborn man you’ve ever met. There’s never any room for disagreement or discussion with him—it’s his way or the highway. Half the time, you don’t even know what you’re fighting about, hurling callous, empty words at each other as if they don’t hurt. Immensely.

Maybe you really do genuinely hate each other. Or maybe it’s just for the fun of it.

It’s been like this for as long as you’ve known him, which, in hindsight, hasn’t even been that long. Probably a year? Year and a half? In all that time, you’ve never managed to crack his tough exterior and, as far as you know, no one else has, either.

The only things anyone knows for sure are that he’s Tommy Miller’s older brother and he’s got a daughter named Ellie. He hasn’t made a lot of friends here and it’s not hard to see why. He’s mean in a surly old man kind of way and rarely has anything nice to say to anyone—if he says anything at all.

Yet, somehow you still find yourself spending the majority of your time with him. It’s not something you do by choice. It’s a forced proximity thing.

You can’t tell if Tommy schedules you for patrols together because you’re the only one who hasn’t kicked up a stink about it or if he just thinks it’s funny to watch you both squirm. Most of the town thinks it’s hilarious, so you can only guess it’s the latter.

During your first few outings together, Joel wouldn’t talk to you unless it was absolutely necessary, and, even then, all you’d get was a grunt or some grumbled instructions. The silence got old pretty quickly. It wasn’t until you made your first mistake out in the field that he finally started communicating. Maybe a little louder than you’d hoped.

Now, Joel will pick a fight anywhere, usually over the dumbest shit. But his bark is worse than his bite—most of the time, at least.

On his worst days, his anger is explosive and it seems like he takes it out exclusively on you. It’s honestly a little ridiculous that you haven’t just asked Tommy to take you off his patrols already, but there’s a part of you that’ll never admit you actually kind of like your dynamic.

Not a lot happens in Jackson—it’s well-protected and even the community drama gets a little stale. Joel might be a dick, but he keeps things interesting, keeps you on your toes.

And it’s hard to ignore the fire in his eyes that makes you think he likes it just as much as you do.

It’s fucking freezing out and you haven’t even left for patrol yet before Joel’s muttering something condescending under his breath. Surprise, surprise—he’s in a bad mood and about to make it your problem. You throw him an unimpressed look over your shoulder, the best you can muster this early in the morning, and continue to saddle your horse.

“You wanna say that a little louder, Miller?”

He looks tired and annoyed and, god, you haven’t been awake nearly long enough for this shit. Today’s going to be trying enough as it is. You were assigned one of the longer routes and the clouds are already dark with the promise of rain or worse.

There are a few other patrol groups nearby gearing up to leave and their preparations suddenly slow, eyes darting between the two of you as if they can sense the impending argument. You barely notice their loitering, the small crowd inching forward to not-so-subtly eavesdrop.

“No, really, I’d love to hear to hear what you have to say,” you taunt him, hands settling on your hips. “Y’know, it’s really not like you to keep things to yourself. You sure you’re feeling alright today, old man?”

“Feelin’ just fine, sweetheart,” he grits through his teeth, rolling his eyes. “Just hurry your ass up so we can get this over and done with. I’m not tryin’ to spend any more time with ya than I have to.”

You quirk an eyebrow. Sweetheart? That’s a new one. It sounded sarcastic as hell and a little patronizing but, still, that’s not something Joel’s ever called you before. Useless and annoying, sure, but never sweetheart.

Your stomach swoops, but you force yourself to ignore it; that’s not even remotely something you want to analyze today.

“Uh, yeah…whatever,” you eye him strangely, and he abruptly looks away, shifting his focus back to checking his saddlebags. It’s like he’s purposefully avoiding your gaze, and it’s weird. He’s acting so fucking weird today.

Sparing him one last glance, you throw a leg over your horse and start toward the gate at a slow trot. You don’t bother waiting for him to catch up.

“What’s our first checkpoint?” you call over your shoulder, but he’s somehow already right behind you, his horse falling in line with yours.

“You should already know that,” Joel sighs, brow furrowed in what you can only assume is irritation. Oh, here it comes—the inevitable lecture. He does this every single time you're on patrol, whether you’ve done something wrong or not. You must’ve really pissed him off if you’re hearing it this early.

Except—he’s not berating you. Instead, he pulls a map out of his backpack. “Alright, look,” he says, leaning in closer so you can see. “This is us right here, and—,” his index finger traces a route from Jackson, winding along a road that passes through a small neighborhood, and lands on your first stop, located a few side streets off a main road, “—we should end up here in about an hour if the weather holds up.”

Nodding, you look up at him. You hadn't realized how close his face had gotten to yours, and your lips part around an involuntary gasp. His eyes drop to your mouth for a second too long before he pulls away, folding up his map and tucking it back into his pack.

You try to convince yourself that you imagined it, that Joel Miller would never intentionally look at your lips like he wants to kiss you, but you can still feel his warm breath on your skin and it’s affecting you more than you want to admit.

This is…not at all like your normal dynamic and it’s throwing you off. Joel hasn’t raised his voice once today and, at most, he’s only made a few snide remarks that weren’t nearly as bad as they usually are.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” you breathe out, creating a tiny puff of condensation in the air. “It doesn’t even feel like it's cold enough to snow, anyway. The worst we’ll probably get is some rain and we’ve ridden in way worse than that.”

All you get in response is a low grunt, and then he’s lifting the reins, leading his horse in the direction of your first checkpoint. You sigh. Guess you’re back to square one. You never thought you’d miss your spats, and can’t help but wonder what the hell happened to make him change his behavior so radically.

“Seriously, though, are you okay? You’re, like, really quiet today,” you prod, and his whole body tenses. He turns to you, expression angry, and it sends a shiver down your spine. There he is.

“Didn’t I already fuckin’ tell you I’m fine? What, you suddenly lose the ability to hear or somethin’?” He shakes his head in annoyance, and you’re glad he’s not looking at you anymore because you can’t suppress the grin that spreads across your face.

“This girl, I swear,” you hear him mutter as he trots away.

You don’t say anything to each other for the rest of the ride to the checkpoint. The crumbling attorney's office is basically the same as you remember from the last time you were here. It’s old, obviously, and musty, but it’s stocked with random provisions, like food and ammo, so patrol crews can replenish their supplies before heading out to their next destination.

There’s also a killer view of Jackson from one of the windows, and you get distracted looking out at the lights and mountains in the distance. It’s starting to flurry, so you drop your backpack on the floor and stick both hands out to catch some of the snowflakes in your palms. So much for rain.

“You dilly dallyin’ again? Just sign the logbook already so we can move the fuck on,” Joel’s voice startles you out of your reverie. Huffing, you turn away from the window, looking for the pen that’s supposed to be next to the notebook, but it’s nowhere to be found.

“You know what, asshole, you could’ve just as easily signed the damn thing yourself. You were there too, or are you getting forgetful in your old age?” you shoot back as you hunch down, getting on your hands and knees to search under the desk. You hear him scoff behind you.

You spot the pen towards the back, because of course it rolled that far, and bend down so you can reach out a little farther. Your fingers brush one end and then you’ve got it, sitting back up with your prize in hand. Looking over your shoulder, you just barely catch Joel’s eyes darting away from where you were a moment ago, basically puppy-posing on the floor. That’s…suspicious.

“The fuck? Were you just staring at my ass?” you ask incredulously. There’s no goddamn way. He snorts, arms crossed with an uncharacteristic smirk on his face, and you raise an eyebrow at him.

“You wish, sweetheart,” he says condescendingly, and there it is again. That fucking word. So, he’s calling you pet names and staring at your ass now? There’s something seriously off about him today and you want to know what his deal is.

“You wanna tell me why you keep calling me that? You’ve been acting weird as fuck all day and it’s giving me whiplash,” you glower at him, taking a seat at the edge of the desk and forgetting all about the logbook. He shrugs.

“Dunno what you’re talkin’ about,” he says simply, and you squint at him.

“Seriously, Joel? You've called me sweetheart twice today and now you’re checking me out,” you hop off the desk and walk over to where he’s leaning against the wall. “If I didn’t know any better…,” you glance down at his lips, moving closer, “I’d say you were flirting with me."

Well, that made him angry. "Fuck you,” he growls in your face, and his lips are soft where they accidentally graze your cupid's bow. He’s trembling now, fists clenched at his sides, and you think he’s about to push you away when he grabs you by the hips and shoves you against the wall. Your head lolls back and you laugh cruelly.

“Yeah, Joel,” you roll your hips into his and he grits his teeth, tightening his grip. “I think that’s exactly what you wanna do.”

But before you can go any further, there’s a crash just outside the door accompanied by a familiar sound that turns your blood to ice.

It’s unmistakable. The clicking, guttural and stuttered, is followed by a high-pitched shriek that echoes throughout the small space, and you both freeze. You look up at Joel, terrified, and he raises a finger to his lips, eyes telling you to be quiet or else.

There’s no way either of you can unholster your guns—and reload, in your case—without alerting it to your position. Joel reaches for the hunting knife strapped to his thigh, and you move to do the same, only to realize it isn't there.

Fuck, it has to be somewhere. Probably in one of the dozen random holsters you have attached to you right now.

Frantic, you pat at your sides and legs—anywhere it could be—as your panicked intakes of breath gradually increase in volume. A hand slaps over your mouth, and suddenly Joel is crushing your body against the wall, halting your movements.

"Quit," he whispers harshly, lips brushing the shell of your ear, and you nod quickly.

The creature abruptly changes course, jerking toward the open window, and that’s when you notice something familiar by its feet. It's—fuck, it's your backpack. And your knife is gleaming from where it sits, nestled in one of the side pockets.

Stupid, that was so stupid. If, by some miracle, this thing doesn't kill you, there’s no doubt Joel will once he realizes your mistake. His hand drops from your mouth and he glances back over his shoulder at the clicker, gripping his knife a little tighter.

He looks resolute, and it dawns on you that he’s about to make a move. It takes everything you’ve got not to grab onto his coat and pull him back to you as he slowly shifts away, but then something else stops him in his tracks.

Another screech rings out from the other side of the room, and now you know you’re fucked. There’s only one option left now. Either you run, or you get torn apart. He reaches down to take your hand in his, warring emotions of anger and fear in his eyes as he looks into yours, and squeezes; it’s now or never.

The path to the doorway you came through is somehow miraculously clear, and Joel takes off at a sprint, dragging you with him but, to his horror, you decide to do yet another stupid thing.

For reasons you can’t explain, you find yourself ripping your hand out of his, swerving to snatch your backpack from where it lies just a few feet from the clicker.

Joel is yelling, or at least you think he is, and you vaguely feel his blunt nails scratch the back of your hand as he reaches out to stop you, but he can’t. You’re moving on autopilot, can barely register your body moving at all, until your fingertips skim the strap of your pack and the clicker is shrieking in your face.

You don’t think you’ve ever been this close to one before, even dead, and it’s worse than you could’ve ever imagined. The world freezes for a moment and you freeze with it, unable to move or look away from the fungus erupting from its skull, teeth gnashing inches away from your throat.

And then you feel warmth—warm, strong arms wrap around your waist and tug harder and harder until you’re back out in the cold. Joel spots his horse a short distance away, likely spooked by the commotion, but you can’t see much farther than that. What was a gentle flurry less than a half hour ago has become a violent blizzard, and you’re both getting pelted by ice that burns as it scrapes across your skin.

There’s one horse—just Joel’s horse—but there’s no time to think about the fate of your own before his hands are on your hips, lifting you up and into the saddle, and he’s climbing on in front of you.

He urges his horse forward and you’re off without so much as a glance behind you, galloping away from danger and down a street that you realize you actually recognize.

“Joel,” you squeeze his waist and he ignores you. He’s shaking and it’s definitely not just from the cold. You can feel the anger radiating off of him in waves and it’s warranted. You fucked up big time. “Joel, turn right,” you say a little louder, and he’s still not listening. “Turn right! There’s a library up ahead, you have to turn now!”

He growls, and you think he’s purposely going to miss the turn until he’s yanking the reins to the right, nearly throwing you both off the horse.

“You better know what the fuck you’re doin’,” he all but shouts back, and you wrap your arms around his waist a little tighter.

“It’s safe!” you yell, struggling to speak loud enough for him to hear you over the wind. “Ellie’s been there before, loads of times, and she says it’s safe. “

And that’s all it takes to convince him.

The library’s completely boarded up and, with the wind howling against your backs, it takes more than a few hard tugs to yank enough of them off to get inside the lobby with Joel’s horse.

He hands you the reins before moving into the next room, crouching along the rows of aging books and knocked-over bookcases, and you peek in, watching him anxiously. Cracked bricks litter the ground, and he steps over a few as he crouches into place behind a broken book cart.

He picks one up and then shoots you a look, eyebrows lifting pointedly, and you realize he wants you to get back into the lobby, out of sight. You duck behind the wall, placing a soothing hand on his horse right as you hear the sound of the brick shattering against the ground, and wait. A few agonizing seconds pass before you hear him throw one more a little farther out, just to be sure.

When nothing startles or jumps out, Joel whistles and you know that’s your cue to come out from your hiding spot. Normally, that would piss you off immensely, him whistling for you like you’re a fucking animal, but you can’t find it in yourself to care right now.

You’re exhausted now that the adrenaline’s wearing off, and the only thing you want to do is curl up into one of the torn-up chairs in the corner and pass out until morning. But that’s not what Joel has in mind.

“Y’think you’re off the hook for the shit you pulled earlier?”

You sigh, head tipping back and thumping against the bookcase behind you. “Do we have to do this right now? Joel, I’m tired and hungry, and fucking cold, and I really don’t have the energy.”

“Seriously? Sure looked like ya had the energy when you were runnin’ straight into that clicker’s mouth,” he scowls, reaching down to grab something next to the book cart and throwing it at your feet. “Thought ya might want this back since you apparently decided it was worth more than your life.”

You inhale sharply through your nose, eyebrows pinching together. Joel…he—

It's your backpack.

You were so sure it got left behind when he saved you from that clicker and yet, there it is. You lean over to pick it up, but Joel kicks it out of reach before you get the chance. He looks livid and now, you realize, you’re about to get that lecture you dodged earlier tenfold.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Me? I'm not the one having an identity crisis! You’ve been nothing but distracting all damn day,” you scoff bitterly. “None of this would've happened if you hadn't had a complete personality makeover overnight.”

You can’t believe he…is he serious? There’s no way you’re taking the fall for this, not all of it. Yeah, you fucked up with the backpack, but Joel isn't entirely blameless, either. If you hadn’t been fighting again, you would’ve just signed the stupid logbook and moved on like you were supposed to.

"Yeah, alright, sweetheart. It's my fault you almost got us both killed. Maybe you’re forgettin’ I saved your goddamn life back there, somethin' I wouldn't have had to do if you hadn't gone and done something so fuckin’ stupid."

Sweetheart.

"Stop calling me that! I…fuck, Joel, I just don't get you. I get it—I know I fucked up, but…,” your voice cracks and you can feel your lower lip wobbling, but you can’t let yourself cry. That would only prove to Joel what he already knows—you’re weak. “I’m sorry, okay? What more do you want from me?”

He chuckles mirthlessly. “You really wanna know what I want from ya?” He crowds your space, leaning in slightly. His head tilts like he's going to kiss you, and your breath hitches. “I want ya to get your shit together and stop makin’ unnecessary mistakes,” he says cruelly instead.

Your jaw drops.

"No, you know what? Fuck this,” you seethe. “When we get back to Jackson, I’m telling Tommy to never put me on your patrols again. I can’t do this anymore.”

“Think I give a shit about that? Go ahead, you’d be doin’ me a favor!” he yells at your back as you storm away, and you flip him off over your shoulder. Behind you, he sighs heavily, sounding as worn out and frustrated as you feel.

What a load of bullshit. You don't deserve to be treated like this. There's a stark difference between the inconsequential arguments you normally have and whatever the hell that was.

And the worst part? It hurts so much more than you expected it to. Leave it to you to get attached to the asshole whose personal mission it is to make you miserable. This whole thing was fun while it lasted, but you meant what you said. You and Joel, it’s over.

You exhale wetly, tears still threatening to fall as you leave him behind in what the yellowing signs tell you is the romance section. Well, isn’t that ironic.

You quickly realize navigating the library in the dark is more difficult than you anticipated, even with your flashlight. Not even ten steps away from where you started, you trip over something protruding from the ground and almost land flat on your face.

Joel comes running over as you let out a frustrated noise and push yourself up onto your knees. His knife is at the ready like he was expecting danger but, no, it’s just you humiliating yourself even further. He lets out a relieved sigh, holstering his knife, but then just stands there glaring down at you.

“I’m fine, by the way,” you wave a hand from the ground. He shakes his head, reaching down to help you up, and his hand feels so nice in yours—big, strong, and calloused.

You curse yourself for still thinking about him like that, like anything at all, but you can't help it. And when his hand drops yours, it feels distinctly cold and empty.

Shaking it off, you aim your flashlight at the offending spot on the floor. “What is that, anyway?” you ask Joel as he crouches down to brush away some of the dirt and debris.

“A handle,” he mumbles, pulling out his knife again and digging it into a crack in the floor, tracing around what looks like…a door?

“Is that a trapdoor?” You lean over his shoulder to get a better look. He looks back at you and nods, looking a little less angry and a lot more concerned. “Well, should we check it out?”

Instead of answering you, he wrenches the door open and shines his flashlight into the opening. There’s a ladder leading down and you can hear something rumbling below that sounds like a generator.

“Stay here,” he eyes you sternly as he begins his descent down the ladder.

“Uh, yeah, that’s not happening,” you scoff, following him. The ladder’s longer than you expected, and once your feet touch the ground, you reach out to run your hands along the wall, searching for a light switch.

A few moments later, your fingers come across something vaguely switch-like and you flip it, a warm glow filling the room, emanating from about a dozen heat lamps hanging from the ceiling. Your eyes adjust and—

“No fucking way.”

Joel is silent beside you, and you glance over, his expression just as stunned as yours is. You step closer. “Is that…?”

“Weed,” he breathes out.

You didn’t mean to get this high. Really, you didn’t. But you're in a fucking grow room hidden beneath a library in some tiny, backwater town, and you almost just died. So really, what reason was there not to?

The blizzard’s still going strong outside and, at the very least, it’s nice and warm down here. There's also the added bonus of something fun to do while you wait it out.

…Yeahhh, so you might’ve found a mason jar full of already rolled joints between some couch cushions, literally just sitting there for the taking. What were you supposed to do? Not smoke them?

But what surprises you even more than the pot itself is that Joel is smoking it, too.

It’s cute how he coughs after every drag, eyes watering as you pass a joint back and forth. The air is thick with smoke and a strange tension that neither of you can really describe, but you’re not fighting anymore. Not yet, at least.

The couch you're sitting on is cozy and less tattered than the chairs upstairs, so you settle there for the night, sitting closer than you ever willingly have before. Enough time has passed that you’re beginning to realize neither of you plans on moving, either. That you’re actually enjoying each other’s company.

The warmth of him seeps pleasantly through your clothes, and he feels so solid and real against you. Unconsciously, you melt into his side, your fuzzy brain chemicals urging you to feel more, more of him, and he tenses only for a moment before lifting an arm to rest behind you on the back of the couch.

It's strange how readily he's accepting your touch now. With each drag, you feel a little braver and press more of your body into his, draping your legs across his lap and nesting your head in the crook of his neck. He goes boneless when you mouth damply at the skin just below his jaw, his throat rumbling under your lips as he lets out a ragged breath.

You’ve both loosened up so much since earlier. It’s an easy, comfortable sort of peace you’ve found down here, even after the horrors you experienced earlier in the day. Part of you wishes it could always be like this with Joel but, then again, that just wouldn’t be you and Joel.

Your relationship thrives on the way you fight, almost like you can’t exist together without the promise of battle. So, when the high wears off and the world feels less lazy and more dire, you’ll both remember with sharp clarity that you hate each other. The memories will fade away and the war will continue. That’s just how it is.

It’s a little sad when you think about it, but for at least a little while longer, you’ll still have this version of you and Joel. You’ll enjoy the way he feels pressed up against your body; the way he feels pliant and suggestible under your lips.

And you’ll ask the question that’s been eating away at you all day because right now, you’re positive your lips can convince him to do anything.

“Tell me why you keep calling me sweetheart,” you murmur against his skin. He freezes, clearly not expecting you to bring it up again. You lift the blunt to his lips and encourage him to inhale to calm his nerves. The smoke plumes from his nose like a dragon as he exhales, and you're enraptured by the way it swirls through the air before dissipating. He braces a hand on your thigh before responding.

"Well, I…uh—," he mumbles, his cheeks turning a deep shade of burgundy, and you can’t resist reaching out to stroke the heated skin with your fingertips. He breathes shakily as he continues, "I—had a dream about ya last night, and…you, uh—you were…"

He cuts himself off, and your mind goes fuzzy for a moment as you let that little bit of information sink in. So, Joel was dreaming about you last night…and now, he’s treating you so much differently. Calling you pet names, eyeing you up, touching you. It all makes sense—but now you need him to tell you everything.

"What was I doing in your dream, Joel?"

He meets your gaze, looking flustered and a little ashamed, and it's a far cry from the man who was yelling at you not even an hour or two ago.

"You, uh," he clears his throat, still hesitating. You bite your bottom lip in anticipation, sucking it wetly into your mouth, and his eyes darken. He lifts a thumb to your mouth, tugging your lip down just slightly, and you can see the moment his apprehension disappears. "You were on your knees for me," he murmurs. "Doin' such a good job, too, workin' that pretty mouth of yours."

You inhale sharply and his thumb drops, but his eyes never leave your lips. Gingerly, you pluck the joint still burning between his fingers and take one last deep drag before flicking the rest to the side and crashing your lips onto his.

God, they feel exactly like you thought they would, soft and a little chapped from the cold, but so fucking eager against yours. You hold his face in your hands, rubbing your thumbs along the roughness of his beard, and he groans as you exhale into his mouth, tasting the smoke on your tongue.

Sighing, you lean back slowly, heavy-lidded eyes roving over his face to take in his kiss-swollen lips and that beautiful burgundy flush. He's so pretty, and you can’t help but run your fingers through his thick, graying hair as he pants heavily below you.

You need to feel more of him, all of him, so you climb into his lap, straddling his hips and grinding down against where he's already straining in his pants. He grips you tighter in response, working you steadily across his hardening cock.

"Keep going,” you moan breathily. You're already so wet, and heat blooms in your belly every time your clit grazes the seam of his jeans. It's a foggy, hazy pleasure, what you feel when he speaks, and you're addicted to it. “Keep telling me about your dream—a-about my mouth…I wanna hear more.“

You feel rather than hear him growl low in his throat as he ducks his head down to your neck, sucking and biting bruises into your skin.

“Your mouth…so fuckin’ wet—s-soft and tight around my cock,” he sucks hard under your jaw, and you gasp. “Takin’ me all the way down, like I always knew you could.”

Your breath hitches, eyes rolling back. The thought of him dreaming about his cock down your throat makes your cunt pulse, and now you're positive you're soaking through his pants.

You bet he thinks about it when you're on patrol together, too—that when you're fighting like you've both got something to prove, he's thinking about shutting you up with his cock. Fucking your mouth to show you that what he says goes.

"M-more, Joel…ngh, fuck, I need more," you reach down to shove his shirt up so you can feel him, his stomach flexing and unflexing under your palms. He starts to buck into your clothed pussy faster, like he's fucking you through the fabric, and you whine pathetically as he tugs hard on your hair, yanking your head to the side.

"S’alright, n-needy girl, 'm gonna tell you exactly how I was fuckin' that sweet mouth of yours last night…h-how you were—," he groans raggedly in your ear, voice cracking, and you swear you can feel his heartbeat racing between your legs. "…c-chokin' and gaggin' around my cock while I was cummin' down your throat…"

He keeps giving you what you asked for, tells you all the filthy shit he wants to do to your mouth, and his hips start to stutter like he's bringing himself closer to orgasm with his own words. It would make a lot of sense—Joel's always loved the sound of his own voice, especially when it's directed at you.

But you can’t hear much of anything anymore aside from the sound of your own stuttered moaning, suddenly so, so close to hurtling over the edge with him. You’re sliding so easily over his cock now and you brace your hands on his shoulders as your thighs start to quake around his waist. He digs his fingers into the plush curve of your ass, pulling you down harder, but you squeeze his shoulders roughly to get his attention.

“Y-you—Joel, you can’t cum,” you whine into his neck, and he all but snarls in response. “No…no, no, no. Want you t-to fuck my mouth—you have to cum in my mouth—”

He abruptly yanks you off his lap, shoving you back onto the couch and wrenching your jeans and underwear down in two hard tugs.

You barely have time to let out a squeal before he buries his face in your cunt, honing in on your clit and sucking wetly. He flattens his tongue, circling once, twice, three times, and then you’re cumming with a loud exhale, gushing as you grind into his face.

Your pussy’s still pulsing, locking down around nothing, as you tug him off of you by his hair.

“Joel—jeans..o-off…now.” You help him push them down just enough to free his cock, and then your mouth is on him, sucking him down to the hilt.

His hips buck off the couch of their own accord and he groans pathetically as you gag around him. He’s petting your head and saying something raggedly above you, likely apologizing for hurting you, but it’s drowned out by the blood rushing in your ears.

Instead of pulling off to reassure him that you very much want him to keep gagging you, you guide his hands to bury themselves in your hair and squeeze his thigh, praying he gets the hint. His fingers tense against your scalp as he holds you in place and, yeah, he absolutely gets it.

Your head feels like it’s disconnecting from the rest of your body as he starts fucking into your mouth the way he was probably dreaming about last night. He’s just so fucking big, and you feel a weird sort of pride bloom in your chest at being able to take him like this.

Tears are streaming down your face from the effort and you’re drooling all over his lap but, fuck, if he wants to do this every time you patrol together, you’ll let him. You take back everything you said before—if Tommy ever takes you off Joel’s patrols, you’ll kill him.

His fingers start to tug harder, painfully at your hair and you can hear him moaning something above you, his words slurred and desperate.

“S-so fuckin’ good, sweetheart, you’re…ngh—fuckin’ perfect,” he grits through his teeth, breath hitching as you wrap your lips tighter around him, flattening your tongue along the underside of his length. “‘m gonna cum…fuck, fuck—need you t-to swallow it all, sweetheart… know you can do it…so goddamn good.”

Humming and swallowing around him, you reach up to cup his balls and he erupts, pumping thick cum into your mouth and down your throat. Deep groans are punched out of his chest with every spurt and you can feel his cock pulsing against your tongue.

There’s so much of it. You try your best to do what he asked, to be good and swallow everything, but it’s starting to leak out the corners of your mouth and down his cock. Slurping up as much as you can, you pull off with an audible pop and lick off the rest of the salty, white streaks remaining on his skin.

When your watery eyes finally meet his, he’s looking at you like maybe he really has been dreaming this whole time. He’s still a little dazed, from both the weed and the intense orgasm, and he reaches out to cradle your face in his hands almost as if to prove to himself that you’re real. It’s a surprisingly tender gesture that kind of makes your heart ache.

Your lips quirk up as you lean into his touch, aching to prolong the moment, and he leans forward to press a sweet kiss to them, mouth coaxing yours open to taste himself on your tongue. You whine softly as his tongue runs along your bottom lip, and then he pulls back, hauling you into his arms to lie back on the couch.

Those heat lamps feel unbearable now. You're both hot and sweating, chests heaving from exertion, but you still refuse to separate from each other. Your brain’s feeling a lot less foggy, so you’re probably coming down from your high, which means Joel is, too. The realization sends a pang of worry through your chest like you expect him to suddenly come to and push you away, but he doesn’t.

Instead, he pulls your back to his chest, positioning your bodies more comfortably before murmuring fondly in your ear, "You’re somethin’ else, y’know that?”

You breathe out a sigh of relief. Maybe you’ll get to keep this after all—and without sacrificing everything that makes you and Joel, well…you and Joel. You twist around to shoot him an unimpressed look, but the burgeoning grin on your face betrays you.

“What, you’re just figuring that out? Took you long enough.”

He scoffs. “Listen, sweetheart—“ But you gasp, cutting him off before he can finish his sentence. No, way. How are you just putting two and two together now?

“Wait…oh my god, wait—is this why you keep calling me sweetheart? Because it's what you called me when I was blowing you in your sex dream?” You’re grinning so hard it hurts. How the fuck didn't you notice that earlier?

There was plenty of time to work it out when you were all but fucking on the couch for the past hour. But then…he didn’t actually start calling you sweetheart until he was cumming, and the realization makes your cunt throb. You file that information away for now, but make a mental note to come back to it later—hopefully back in Jackson with Joel.

…who’s still mumbling irritatedly into your shoulder. You tilt your head back to press your lips under his jaw, and you're quickly learning that kissing that particular spot turns him to jelly.

“You can keep calling me sweetheart,” you start, thinking over your next words carefully. “But I’ve got conditions.”

“Oh, she’s got demands now,” you can hear the dramatic eye roll in his voice. You suck a bruise into his skin to stop the back sass and it works spectacularly.

“Oh, shut up. It benefits you too, asshole,” you glare up at him before continuing. “I want your dick in my mouth every time we patrol from now on. And next time, you have to fuck me.”

His fingers dig into your sides, and you’re pretty sure you just felt his cock twitch against your ass.

“…Y-yeah, I, uh. I can do that,” he stutters, suddenly demure, and it dawns on you how much you like seeing all these different sides of Joel. He’s been mean and angry, shy and tender, and so fucking sexy all in the span of a single day. It's not something you ever would've expected from him.

You used to think he was just some grumpy old man and that his one personality trait was being an obnoxious jerk, but tonight you were proven very, very wrong.

You pull his arms tighter around you, let yourself get lost in the steady thrum of his heartbeat against your back, and hum contently. You’ll have to thank Ellie and her weed-grower friend later.

“Y’know, I almost thought you were gonna say no more fighting,” he says after a few seconds of silence. You look up at him incredulously, and he chuckles.

“Nah, where’s the fun in that?”

thanks so much for reading! 🥰

[julesthequirky]

The Choice: Chapter Eleven

All my work is purely aimed at those 18+ so minors kindly, DNI.

Summary: You find three of your favourite characters in your home. It shouldn’t be possible, but there they are. In the flesh. How the hell did they get there? And surely there’s a way to get them back? But as you get close to each one, the thought of sending them back proves difficult to comprehend.

Characters/Pairings: Fem!Reader x Ben (Soldier Boy)

Warnings: Smut, p in v, doggy style, dirty talk, language, finger sucking, smidge of praise kink, hair pulling, spanking, ass play, typical Soldier Boy behaviour.

W/C: 1,826

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard, sweetcheeks, and I won’t stop. Not until your pussy pops.”

His words whipped around inside your mind, turning you on to no end. Without warning, the walls of your vagina clamped down. You shuddered, unable to stop it.

He had you now. And he would get what he wanted.

You pushed up on your hands, but a hard shove on your back had you faceplanting the mattress.

“I didn’t say you could kneel. Fucking stay there until I say so.”

Yes, sir.

Oh God. Your pussy clenched at nothing, your hands fisting the bedsheets, desperate to control the need raging through you. He dropped his hand from your jaw, body retreating off the mattress. Large hands gripped the band of your lounge pants. With one tug, he had them over your ass, along with your panties. He whipped them right off, and you heard two sets of material pooling on the floor the next moment.

Ben nestled above you again, bed dipping as he retook his position over you. His bare hands gripped your thighs, and he pushed your ass up.

Cool air met your heated core. It could not render the burning intensity of your arousal as your bare pussy was presented before him.

A thick, hot pole brushed against your inner thigh, causing you to jerk. A dark chuckle escaped from Ben’s throat.

“Suck on these.”

He pushed two fingers past your lips. And you did what he asked of you. You sucked the thick digits, swiping them occasionally with your tongue. A deep groan rumbled from Ben.

“Fuck, baby. Would you suck me off as prettily as you suck my fingers? I can imagine your hot little mouth wrapped around my cock.”

Your cunt twitched. Did his filthy mouth turn you on? Yes, it did. Mark had never said anything like that to you. He had never bothered trying.

Ben pulled his fingers free, and the next moment, they were sliding deep into your pussy. You moaned, duvet soaking up the sound. Mark hadn’t made you moan like that. Ever.

Your snug muscles clenched around him.

“Fuck me. You’re tighter than a nun. Jesus, it really has been a while for you.”

You whimpered, white-knuckling the sheets as he stroked. You shuddered through each stroke, cunt pulsing around him. His fingers curled, stroking against a soft pad of tissue. You jerked forward, pussy fluttering as pleasure whipped through you.

Your body trembled. Fire churned in your belly, flaming to your core. Heat lashed, swamping down, as intensity built, tightening in your gut. He had you whimpering through each stroke, pussy fluttering around his fingers.

“Looks like you’re gunna blow.” He chuckled.

Then you did. You exploded, gushing around Ben’s fingers. You cried out his name into the sheets, riding the waves as he stroked you through them.

“Didn’t clock you for a squirter.”

He was observing as you trembled in the aftermath, catching your breath.

His fingers retreated, only to grip your thighs, pulling them apart, leaving a wet, sticky mark on one. Thumbs traced your parted lips. You shook, whining and jerking from his touch. You were much too sensitive.

Your ass stung as a harsh slap landed on your left ass cheek.

“Don’t be a baby.”

He rubbed the hot crest of his cock between your parted lips, using your wetness as a lube. Then he pressed the head to your snug pussy entrance.

“Open that pretty little pussy for me.”

Ben nudged forward. Your cunt gripped him, muscles enveloping him, stretching tender tissue for him. He was so fucking wide. Wider than Mark. You shuddered again as pleasure-pain tore through you. Your heartbeat thundered in your ears. You could tell he was heavy and thick from the crown alone.

His hand fisted your hair, and pinpricks of pain rained over your skull as he yanked your head up.

“You’ve got a greedy little cunt.”

You whimpered. What could you say to that? Thank you?

Ben’s cock suddenly surged forward, punching through nerve endings, only stopping to a natural rest once his balls smacked against your ass.

You cried out, your muscles clamped, sucking and squeezing as they desperately tried to adapt to his size.

Ben was larger in all ways than anyone you’d ever been with.

He groaned.

“Fucking perfect.”

You weren’t ready, but he didn’t care. His thrusts were powerful, smacking into you with full force, taking the breath from your lungs. The metallic bed frame creaked and banged against the wall with each of Ben’s hard drives. Heat swamped your belly. His strokes were like a constant strike of a match.

You’d never come like this. Never penetratively.

They were hard, brutal pumps. His cock forged forward, bottoming out each and every time.

You moaned loudly, unable to control it, unable to keep it in. You didn’t mind the pain along your scalp, the iron grip he had on your ass cheek, and you even liked the rugged, guttural grunts Ben gave with each thrust. It had your pussy slicking, allowing for his cock to surge forward with even more ease. The sloppy sounds coming from your cunt filled the room, mingled along with sweat and the scent of sex.

This was what it was like to be dicked senseless.

Your college girlfriends had gushed about it. You could never join in; sometimes, it had you green with envy. At times, you resented them. And Mark. Especially Mark. Mark hadn’t cared for your pleasure, only his.

Your cunt clamped down hard. Ben growled. You knew what was about to happen. Heat lashed down your body.

Teeth nipped at your shoulder. Then you were hauled up, his fist still gripping your hair. Your back arched, and with the change of angle, your cunt squeezed, gripping him, as you moaned out. You were more than close. Anything could and would send you over the edge.

“Squirt your pretty little pussy all over my cock. Come on, doll.”

His hand travelled up from your plump ass cheek, fingertips skimming over your moist skin, rudely pushing your bra to cup a plentiful breast. He squeezed and tweaked a nipple.

Intense pleasure shattered through your system, racing across your skin. The strength of your orgasm had you screaming his name, had your eyes rolling to the back of your head, and whiting out.

“Don’t you dare pass out on me, now, girly.”

You came to, a palm slapping your cheek. Your eyelids fluttered open, and a slight whine escaped your lips as you felt Ben’s cock stroking lazily inside your oversensitive pussy.

“On your elbows.” He commanded, and you did as he asked.

He smacked your thighs with the back of his hand, pushing them further apart.

“Good girl.”

A different type of pleasure rolled through you. You liked it when he praised you. A sense of satisfaction came over you, and you fought the smile on your lips. Which disappeared as soon as Ben pressed a wet thumb into your puckered starfish.

You whined, bucking. You didn’t like that. The harsh sting of a slap settled on your ass cheek.

“Don’t be a baby. You’re gettin’ my fingers in your ass.”

Ben refixed one fist in your hair and fucked you slowly as his fingers teased your asshole. He squeezed your globes, occasionally alternating as he slid fingers over your hole.

You whined. The angle of his cock had you chasing a second orgasm faster. His playing sent tingles spreading across your ass, settling into your cunt. Your clit throbbed, wanting that release, but you couldn’t have it. Not yet.

Ben pumped faster, managing to slide a finger into your rectum. The penetration of his finger alone made his cock feel tighter in your pussy. He’d taken up all the remaining space.

Ben stroked until you were a shaky mess, on the brink of another orgasm. You clutched the sheets, desperate for it. Ben added another finger in your ass. That familiar pleasure-pain whipped around like a swirling vortex.

“Please, Ben.” You begged.

You wanted to cum. Oh, my God, it was right there, right on the cusp.

Ben slammed back into you, striking that final match and fucking you into oblivion. You cried out, gushing everywhere.

Ben’s thrusts began to stutter. Both hands gripping your hips, grunting with each effort. He roared out as thick, hot ropes of cum lashed your inner walls. He didn’t stop until he had sunk every last drop within you.

You collapsed onto the mattress when he finally released you. You hoped Ben didn’t want another round. You didn’t think you could go again.

Drowsiness settled quickly, and you couldn’t fight as it took over.

*

It was dark when you awoke. The curtains were closed, and everything was quiet except for Ben’s snoring. You were in bed. Ben must have placed you there after passing out. The urge to pee pressed on your bladder. You didn’t want to get out of bed. It was so warm. But needs must.

You slipped out of bed, being careful not to wake Ben. He had left you in your bra and t-shirt, though he hadn’t adjusted your bra back to cover your exposed breast. From the din, you saw the outline of your panties and lounge pants, along with his sweats.

As your eyes adjusted, you spotted your pyjamas from the end of the bed. They were tangled up in the sheets on Ben’s side.

Just great.

You silently headed to the end of the bed and carefully detangled your pyjamas. Ben stirred. You froze. But he snored loudly and rolled over. Relief akin to the incredible orgasm you’d experienced earlier washed through you.

Thank fuck.

You snuck out of your room, picking up your panties along the way, opting out of using the en-suite for fear of waking Ben up. You walk along the hallway, hoping not to get caught by Dean or Beau. You had no idea what the time was.

You made it to the bathroom with no issues. Sitting on the john, relieving yourself, you peered down. Ben’s seed had dried on your thigh. You hadn’t even thought about protection. It hadn’t even occurred to you or Ben in the heat of the moment. You were an adult. It should have.

Idiot.

You could get pregnant.

Shit.

He was a Supe. You were a human. Becca and Ryan came to mind.

Oh God.

What had you done?

You held your head in your hands. Your brain scrambled to remember where you were in your cycle and how long ago it had been since your last period. You’d never been good with remembering. Except the week prior, as your tits would ache like fuck. That’s when you knew you were near.

What if he did? Would you keep it?

Would you? You had no doubt that in your mind, you would. Though with your luck, it probably wouldn’t take.

Tags: @yvonneeeee, @curlycarley, @angelbabyyy99, @sassy-pelican, @eretsupremacy89, @fanfic-n-tabulous, @deans-spinster-witch, @k-slla, @afro-hispwriter, @tiredstrangerr, @zemosdarling228, @justjensenandhisalteregos, @ladysparkles78, @nescavaneck, @winharry, @stellasfictionalworld, @mishkatelwarriorgoddess, @freefallthoughts, @realityshifter111

[deviouz]

. . . jason todd and villain!reader !!

jason todd who opts to neutralize villain!reader himself rather than turning you in to the authorities because each time he does, you slip through the cracks of a crumbling justice system just to wreck havoc on the city the next night.

“you just don’t know how to stop, do you? can’t learn a lesson? fine. i’ll just have to teach you myself.”

jason todd who decides to back villain!reader to a corner, all of her gadgets and fancy tech smashed to hell in the dingy room of an abandoned building. he looks bigger than you’d imagine at this close of proximity, head tipped down to no doubt glare you down from behind that stoic, vermillion mask of his.

it’s pointless to even try fighting back. the red hood wasn’t someone you wanted to have up close and personal — and, unfortunately for you, he was close enough for the faint smell of his cologne to flood your senses.

“you’ve left me with no choice, really. it’s almost like you wanted to get caught by me. again. god, do you even sleep?”

jason todd who forces your front to the wall, face uncomfortably pressed into the aged brick wall. he has your arms twisted behind his back, wrists caught in one of his hands, while his knee slots between your leather-clad thighs. the smirk he wore was almost audible. the sound of your curses and empty-threats began to echo throughout the room, but that all came to a sudden halt when a rough hand grabbed at your hips and began to force you back and forth against his thigh. those venom-laced words transformed to quiet, breathy moans and feather-light gasps.

if you had your knife, you would have plunged it in him the second the faux coos started.

“that’s it. if you wanted my attention, all you had to do was ask.”

jason todd who makes you work for a sweet release. why would he let gotham’s newest villainess off so easily, especially after the hell you’ve been putting him through? no, you have to work for it. he’ll deny release after release, whispering a plethora of filthy, degrading words into your ear until you finally give in.

“fuck, you’re soaked. dripping cunt’s got my suit all dirty,” jason almost laughs at the pitiful moan that rips through your chest, “we can do this all night, sweetheart.”

and when you finally give in, sobbing and hiccup because you just can’t take another denial in fear of losing your mind, he’ll allow you to use his thigh however you see fit. of course, all of that mindless grinding and high pitched moans of pure ecstasy are sure to be made fun of. you’re that desperate to get off on your supposed enemy’s thigh? really?

jason todd who grins when you slump to the ground, thighs pressed tightly together as you pant, body quivering. you’re an absolute mess, and he’s finally got you right where he wants you. pliant and obedient.

“c’mon, you don’t seriously think that’s all i had planned, right?”

[hugsandharrystyles]

Are you wet right now? Pt. 2

Well... Here we are again.

Warnings: This is just really filthy and kinky, and a bit vulgar, so if you're not into like really dirty stuff, I suggest not reading. (I try not to give away the plot with the warnings, so this is my warning.)

Word Count: 6,000+

Tension. Burning tension.

It's been two whole days since you and Harry confronted each other's feelings, and the heat between you two is enough to kill. Your parents have left you both alone to do whatever you want while they do whatever they want, so you've been stuck with Harry glued to your hip for the last forty-eight hours.

He likes to think he's sly about it too.

The way he doesn't even bother 'sneaking' touches but full on putting his hands on you when it's not appropriate. You wish you could complain, but you physically can't.

He guards you like your precious cargo and won't let anyone so much as glimpse at you.

Through all of this, he still hasn't broke into the tension first, and neither have you.

"Where are you going?" You hear Harry's voice from behind you.

"It's an hour before the sunset, so I figured I'd go down to the private beach," You explain, ignoring his burning eyes on your body.

"Um, can I come too?" He asks, just in his swimming trunks. He comes behind you to lightly tread his fingers against the fabric of your bathing suit.

"Not like I have a choice, huh? You'll come anyway," You laugh and bat his hand away.

"Well, I thought it'd be polite to ask," He jokes and grabs your beach bag for you.

"That's a first," You comment and go to take your bag from him, but he moves it out of your reach.

"I got it, babe," He says and presses a wet kiss to your cheek. You sigh, frustrated, as he walks towards the door.

"Wow, there's like no one out here," You say in awe as you and Harry find your spots in the sand. You both smooth it out to lay your big towel down.

"It is a private beach, genius," He remarks, and you glare at him.

"Thanks, dipshit, but it's a private beach for us and other narcissistic people who can't go to the normal beach," You explain and lay down on your stomach on the towel to watch the sunset slowly start to meet the horizon where the ocean lays. You feel Harry lay his head in the middle of your back. "Hey! Get your big head off of me," You complain and roll over on your back. Harry now rests his chin on your stomach, right where your bikini bottoms start. His hands rub all over your thighs.

"I can show you real big head," He says, a mischievous grin on his face as he bites the fabric of your bikini. Heat is spread between your thighs, and you pray that he doesn't feel it.

"That has to be the worst thing you've ever said," You laugh and shove at his head, making the bikini bottoms snap against your skin as they're released from his mouth.

You moan.

God, you moan.

You can feel your face heat, and Harry's staring at you with wide eyes.

"Did you just-"

"Shut up," You cut him off.

"But-"

"Let's just watch the sunset," You plead, and he nods his head, suddenly quiet. You both move around, so you're sitting up with your arms propped behind you to watch the waves.

After a minute of silence, you look over at Harry who has his eyes closed. His cheeks are pink from sunburn and what looks like bashful blush. His abs are shining with light sweat, and you want nothing more than to lick him clean.

That's when, when you look a little further down, you see what he's concentrating so hard on in his mind- why his eyes are shut so tight.

He's hard.

He's large and plump in his trunks, and you can tell. You almost want to say something, but you don't want to embarrass him. You both feel the tension, the wanting.

To hell with it.

His legs are spread enough for you to quietly get between them, so you do. Your hands come in contact with thighs first, and his eyes are bulging out of his head. You're slipping your hands under the fabric to feel at his soft thighs.

"Oh, God. What are you-" He's breathless and out of words. It's easy to see what you do to him.

"I'm done with the games, Harry. I might've given in first, but I'm winning, so I'm going to do whatever I want to you right here on this beach, m'kay?" You ask, though you don't really care for a response. You're already leaning you're body weight on him to press him down onto the towel, so you can start your descent at his pretty face. His eyes are wide and begging.

"Yes- yeah- do what you want," He pleads, his hands fidgeting in the air.

"I will, sweet boy." You straddle him and take his hands in yours, playing with his much larger ones. You clasp your hands together and smile. "You'll be good for me, won't you? Let me hear all your pretty sounds. Know you're loud because you never stop whining, huh?" You ask, leaning down over him to talk against his lips, pinning his hands lightly above his head with your hands still together.

"I'll give you everything," He promises and puckers his lips to quickly press a kiss against your lips. You lean away before he could do it again, causing him to pout. You release his hands and run yours all over him. You press and feel against his abs before running your fingers up his warm body and tangling your fingers in his hair.

"Beautiful, beautiful," You whisper and kiss all over his face. He sighs before letting out a small, angelic laugh. You lightly flick your tongue over his lips, almost as if caressing him. His head is thrown back, and he seems to be succumbed to a state of euphoria.

"Kiss me," He whispers, opening his mouth to flick your tongue with his. For once, you listen to him and press your mouth onto his. It's wet and messy, but neither of you would have it any other way. His hands caress the soft skin of your body and find your hips to press you into his crotch. He bites down on your bottom lip and sucks it into his mouth. You can already feel how sore your lips are becoming, and it excites you. You pull him away from you by his hair, and he huffs in desperation. You start to kiss down his neck, finding his pulse point and sucking a harsh hickey into the skin there. His moans only spur you on. As your mouth is preoccupied with his neck, your hands slide down to his pecks, and you tweak his nipples in between your fingers. "Oh, fuck. No one's ever done that," He laughs but is broken by a moan.

"Want me to stop?" You mumble against his neck.

"No, please no," He whimpers. You smirk and kiss down towards his chest, now flicking your tongue against his nipple and biting down gently on it. His hips involuntarily buck into yours as he tries to find some relief for his groin.

"Impatient?" You giggle and press kisses down his abs, letting your tongue lick up the light layer of sweat that's secreted against his abs.

"Baby- fuck, you're dirty," He breathes. "Best I've ever had."

"You haven't even had me yet," You laugh and sit up to stare at him. Your hands press and skim all over his tummy.

"Already know. You do what you want instead of the same ol' boring shit. And, it's you, so," He blushes.

'Those girls not treating you right, hon?" You ask, faking sympathy and sinking your fingers into his love handles, something you've always wanted to do.

"They're so fuckin' vanilla. They rush into it and just want me to fuck em'," He pouts.

"Oh, you poor baby," You laugh.

"I'm serious! I'm not even hard when they want me to stick it in. What does a guy have to do to get some foreplay around here?"

"Okay, I'm leaving," You joke, but he plants his hands on your hips and squeezes.

"Let's get back to it, yeah?" He changes the subject. You nod your head with a grin and sneak your hand into his shorts. "Oh!" He gasps in shock when you wrap your hand around him and take him out of his shorts to where you can just see his length.

"Oh, you're a big boy," You say, already feeling yourself start to drool. Of course his cock is huge, and of course it's beautiful. "So pretty, wow," You sigh and weigh it in your hand, loving the heaviness.

"Stop it," He says, flustered. "Y/N, we shouldn't do this here," He whimpers, even though his body betrays him and bucks into your hand.

"No? Who's going to stop me? I don't see anyone, baby," You egg him on. "You keep lookout, okay?" You say and immediately bend down to take him into your mouth.

"Oh, fuck," Harry moans. He had totally forgot about the possibility of people seeing the two of you, but he couldn't find a bone in his body that cared enough with the way you were sucking on him. His hands found your hair and guided you down on him gently. He tried his hardest to keep his noises at bay, but he's already noisy in bed, and it's you that sucking his dick, so he's hopeless. His moans are loud and hot- needy and whiny.

"You gotta keep that pretty voice of yours down unless you want everyone to know what we're doing over here," You say, jerking him off as you catch your breath. His dick twitches in your hand. "Oh, you would like that, huh? Let everyone know who Harry Styles really belongs to," You say slyly and press a kiss to his tip.

"You have to stop talking," He whines, hips stuttering as he tries to make your hand go faster.

"No, I think you do," You correct him and with your free hand, shove two fingers into his mouth. He gags for a moment before moaning around your fingers, sucking on them like a good boy. "There you go, sweet boy," You encourage him and flex your fingers against his tongue. You jerk him off quicker and move your fingers from his mouth, instead letting your hand rest lightly around his neck as you put your mouth back on him.

"Baby," He whines, almost sounding like a cry. Your hand caresses the side of his neck lovingly, working him through the pleasure. "Fuck- suck on my balls, please," He cries. Never has he asked for that during sex, but he has a feeling you're super into the naughty side of things. You immediately obey his command, despite you being the one in charge. You suck one of his heavy balls into your mouth and fondle the other one, using your free hand to jerk him off rapidly. "Y/N- I'm gonna fucking cum," He cries, his hips stuttering. "I want to cum on your t-tits," He begs.

"Yeah?" You ask, your voice raspy. He nods his head quickly. You quickly sit up and undo your bathing suit top without hesitation. You throw it to the side before leaning down and holding his big dick between your boobs. "Fuck my titties, baby," You encourage him, and he moans before sitting up and fucking his hips up. You help him by squeezing your breasts around him and moving up and down quickly. You stick your tongue out to lick his tip whenever you can catch it.

"I'm cumming," He groans loudly and starts shaking. He's stopped moving but you're still moving your boobs up and down over him. His cum is painting your breasts, and it's safe to say you've never seen anything so hot. Harry is utterly beautiful when he cums- unlike anything you've ever seen before.

"Fuck, look at you," You giggle as he starts to come back down to Earth. His dick is still twitching, and you remove your boobs from him before leaning down and kitten-licking at his dick to clean him up. He's whimpering in overstimulation as you, as gently as you can, tuck him back into his swim trunks. You're on the verge of saying something until you're suddenly being pulled up to sit on his lap, and there's a warm tongue lapping at your breasts and chest where his cum is. "Oh, good boy. Cleaning up your mess," You praise and run your fingers through his hair as he licks you up, clearly drunk on you with his eyes closed and lazy mouth.

"Fuck, thank you, baby," He whispers before kissing the skin between your breasts. He reaches to the side to retrieve your bikini top, and he helps you put it back on. "Let me eat your pussy," He begs, looking up at you with puppy dog eyes.

You laugh before answering him. "Not here, baby. It's getting dark," You answer while leaning your head in the crook of his neck. He rubs your back soothingly and nods his head against your own.

"Are you wet right now?"

"Of course I am, but think of how much better this would be in a bed," You offer.

"You sure? Positive you're soaking your bikini bottoms right now," He says and gives your butt a light tap. You blush and shake your head, beginning to stand up.

"Let's get back to the hotel, and we can do whatever. Does that sound good?" You ask, and he nods his head quickly.

"I swear, the walk back up from the beach is always the worst," Harry complains as you walk through the hotel doors.

"It also probably doesn't help that I just sucked your cock until your legs started shaking too," You say bluntly, and Harry chokes on his own spit.

"You-"

"Y/N! Harry!" Harry's cut off by his own mother's voice. Yours and Harry's eyes are wide as you come face to face with Anne and your mom.

"We've been looking all over for the two of you!" Your mother exclaims.

"Eh, sorry, mom. We just went down to the beach to watch the sunset," You explain, leaving out the details.

"Well, I just overheard from a few tipsy teenagers that there's a party up on the roof lounge, where the pool is. Doesn't that sound fun?" Your mom asks, and you internally smash your face into a wall. Your wetness is starting to collect in your bottoms, and it's getting uncomfortable.

"Harry?" You say, not even look at him. You shove his shoulder when he doesn't say anything.

"What- Oh! Yes, yes. That sounds great," Harry smiles, and now you internally smash his face into a wall.

"What?" You ask and finally meet his eyes.

"I-"

"Great! It will be good for you two to talk to people your ages. Also, Anne and I will be using your room for girl's night until you get back, so don't come back!"

"Wait-"

"Bye!" Your mom and Anne yell in unison and head up to presumably, your room. Your glare is set on Harry.

"I'm going to kill you."

"I didn't even process what she said until after I had spoke! Sorry if I'm a little distracted!" He pouts sassily.

"You promised you'd help me, and now we have to go to a stupid pool party with stupid people and pretend to have a stupid good time!" You complain and stomp away from him, towards the elevator.

"I'm sorry!" He apologizes and grips your wrist.

"I'm horny!" You whine back, getting a disgusted look by an elderly couple who descend from the elevator. You and Harry walk in, tapping on the roof button.

The doors are barely closed when, suddenly, Harry full-on drops to his knees, pulls your bikini bottoms to the side, spreads your legs, and presses his face into your crotch.

"Oh my God!" You exclaim and try to gain your balance. His face is properly shoved into your pussy, and he's moaning as if you're the best thing he's ever tasted. His head shakes back and forth, and he shoves his tongue into your sopping hole. You watch nervously as the elevator floors continue to rise until it's finally coming to a stop. The ding sounds and Harry quickly gets up, wiping his face, and steps out of the elevator. Your mouth is ajar, and your legs are slightly shaking. He doesn't even look back, just holds his hand out to you. You shyly take his in yours, and he walks the two of you out onto the roof.

You're quite spaced out from his scene, and it makes it hard for you to comprehend anything happening around you. You're snapped out of it when Harry presses a kiss to your temple, making you blush harshly.

"Sorry," You mumble with an embarrassed laugh.

"I'm about to drop to my fucking knees and eat your sweet pussy right here in front of all these people," He whispers into your ear. You mask your gasp with a cough.

"Shut the fuck up," You whisper back.

"Harry?" You hear an annoying voice call from behind you. You and Harry both turn around to find the girl who Harry had taken to your room with looking between the two of you with a glare.

"Oh, uh- hey..." Harry says quietly. You roll your eyes and start to walk away, but you feel Harry's arm wrap around your stomach. His large hand splays against your stomach and holds you to him.

"It's Sydney," The girl says blankly, clearly annoyed. "I thought you two weren't dating."

"We aren't," You clarify because Harry hadn't made it official yet by asking the big question.

"No?" Harry asks, pulling you tighter against him. "I just shoved my face in your pussy, and we're not dating?" He whispers in your ear, and you elbow his ribcage. "Not yet, then," Harry finally answers the gawking girl.

"Well, just so you know, he called me some other girl's name while we were together. You're not as special as you think," The girl, who's name you've already forgotten, bites.

"Yeah? Who'd he say?" You ask, pushing your ass roughly against Harry's crotch.

"I don't know. Y/N or something like that," She says, harboring significant sass.

You laugh. You bust out laughing in the girl's face, and it takes Harry basically dragging you away to settle down.

"Funny is it?" He asks, irritation clear in his voice.

"Oh, it's hilarious! Poor baby was dreaming of me," You fake pout at him and pet his head.

"Let's get in the pool," He quickly changes the subject. Harry pulls you to the pool, never letting his hands leave your body. You both step into the expansive pool and are delighted by the water's temperature. "Over here," Harry tells you, and you both swim to the pool's waterfall. There's a couple people in the pool, but nothing like how crowded you thought it was going to be.

"Harry, I can't touch over here," You complain. He looks at you for a moment before reaching down and circling his hands around your thighs to lift you around his waist. You circle your legs around him and run your fingers in his hair. He presses a chaste kiss to your jaw. "You know, you still haven't asked me."

"Asked you what, baby?" He asks.

"To be yours," You clarify.

"You know your mine just as much as you know I'm yours," He expresses and goes to kiss you, but you dodge him. He grunts in response.

"I know, but I want you to ask," You laugh.

"Yeah? You want me to ask you to be mine forever? To be my girlfriend?" He asks, kissing your throat.

"Yes," You breathe shallowly.

(I recommend turning on "I want you" by The Beatles at this point)

"Please, baby. Will you be my girlfriend?" He practically begs. You nod your head, giving him your best doe eyes.

"You my boyfriend now?" You basically purr, lightly ghosting your lips over his cheek.

"Yes, yes," He whimpers. He suddenly twirls you around so your back is pressed against his front. "Hold you breath," He says in your ear, and before you could question him, you're suddenly under water, and Harry is taking you through the waterfall to the hidden side. You can't even get a word out or wipe your eyes of water before you feel fingers slipping into your bikini bottoms and pressing against your clit.

"Harry!" You whisper-yell. He doesn't say anything in return, just slides two of his fingers into you without warning. You quickly wipe your eyes and hold onto him by the back of his neck. "Harry, people are on the other side of the waterfall. A-Anyone could swim back here and s-see," You pussy clenches at the thought, and you're barely able to form a coherent sentence as his fingers pound into you.

"Didn't care about that at the beach," He bites back, suddenly kissing you roughly.

"There weren't-" Kiss. "People-" Kiss. "At the-" Kiss. "Beach," You finally get out while his lips are still nailing yours. He bites your bottom lip, and you whine.

"Turn around," He says quickly, and you do. His fingers sadly leave you, and you turn in his hold, rubbing your crotch against his. You feel movement behind you, and you're about to question him, but you're suddenly halted when you feel the thick tip of his dick push past your entrance.

"Oh!" You moan, and Harry quickly cups his hand around your mouth. His cock is so big and fat that it's taking everything in you to not scream. He's pushing in slowly to make you feel all of him. Your hand reaches back to push at his hip, but he just groans in your ear. Once it's finally all the way in, and his pelvis is pressed against your ass, he unclasps his hand from your mouth. "What are you doing?!" Is the first thing you say, though you grind your hips back against him.

"M' sorry," He whines and bites down on your shoulder. "I'm gonna cum- Oh, God," He whimpers.

"You better fucking hold it," You bite, and you feel his arms encircle around your stomach and squeeze you tight to him.

"It's s-so tight and warm. Y/N- fuck," He cries.

"Hold it," You demand and squeeze his hip. "You're the one that stuck it in," You say.

"Couldn't wait. M' sorry."

"Just fuck me, yeah? I want my boyfriend to fuck me in a pool filled with people," You beg, and he nods into your shoulder. He pulls out almost to the tip before, as harshly as he can with the water in the way, snaps his hips into you.

As he starts to consistently thrust, one of his hands reaches down and rubs your clit to give you more pleasure.

"I'm not going to last long, baby," He whines.

"Me neither, it's okay," You reassure him and twist your neck back to kiss him. He moans, and his hips continue to thrust into you. "Stretching me out so good- fuck," You cry against his lips.

"Best pussy I've ever had- Oh, God," He groans. "I need you to cum for me," He begs.

"It's okay, baby- just cum," You assure him.

"No," He whines, but you can tell he's close. His hips suddenly stop, and his hand is roughly rubbing at your pussy. The pain mixed with pleasure drags you so much closer to your own orgasm, and you can't help but squirm in his hold. Once he feels as though you're close enough, his hips start again, though his hand never stops. "Cum, sweetheart. I'm gonna cum," He whimpers. You nod your head and smash your lips against his so neither of you make a sound.

The orgasm that hits you seems to never stop, and the same for Harry. His hips are stuttering against yours, and you have to drag his fingers away from your clit to get some relief.

"Baby, breathe," You whisper in his ear, and you feel his breathing start to calm back down.

"Oh my God," He laughs.

"Harry?" You ask.

"Yeah?" He replies.

"How do we get out of here?"

[farfromstrange]

Sub Space | Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Masterlist

Requested by @taliaxxb !

Summary: After a particularly rough session with Matt, you slip into a different headspace.

Warnings: SMUT 18+ MINORS DNI, multiple orgasms, rough sex, degradation, subspace, sub drop, overstimulation, aftercare

Word Count: 1.9k

A/n: Thank you so much for your request, my love, and I hope you like this! Since you left me the choice, I chose reader to go into subspace, but I did mention Matt going through it too in the past. Once again, my tag list goes for requested fics now too.

Sex with Matt often varies. There are times he’s gentle, savoring every second and swallowing every single one of your moans with fiery kisses that leave your mind reeling. His thrusts are hard and slow then, always making sure you can feel him everywhere, but he doesn’t push past what both of you need. 

Sometimes, you make love. You hold hands and you get lost in each other’s eyes – as much as that is possible. 

But then there are times he tears your clothes right off and pounds into you like a madman, or he asks you to do the same to him. He takes control because he needs it, or he craves for you to be in control because he can’t keep up with the thoughts in his head anymore; sometimes, he needs an escape, and sometimes, you do, and then there are times that you both desperately need a break and it’s less sensual than it is wild fucking that almost breaks the bed and wakes the neighbors in the middle of the night. 

Your sex life never grows boring, and you value his attention to detail which never leaves you dissatisfied. He makes sure you enjoy yourself, and he does it perfectly. You often ask yourself if he’s real, but then you get to touch him and you’re reminded that he chose you and you chose him and that’s all that matters because you’re more than real to each other. 

Tonight is one of those nights where he’s come home after patrol, his suit cleaner than usual, and that tells you his night has been rather quiet – it frustrates him often, and there is a lot of adrenaline left for him to let out. His body quivers with it. He needs to let go of all of his anger and he needs to do it fast, so you know that falling back asleep is not something you want to do. He needs you in all the ways he can get like an animal in the wild. And you are more than willing to give it to him. His heaving chest and the look in his eyes are enough to get you worked up, to say the least. 

Your hands are tied to each side of the headboard, the fabric of the rope burning against your wrists as you try for the millionth time to move out of them. Matt is pounding into your abused cunt, and his words are like sweet poison in your ear. One second, you are his good girl, and the next you are a “filthy slut who’s only good to have her holes filled.” And he’s dragged four orgasms out of you already, your body and your mind feel like they’re floating in a space far away. 

Your velvety walls hug him so perfectly, but you’re tired and his cock brushes against your G-spot at an agonizing speed. You clench around him, your fifth orgasm of the night not far away. His hand collides with your ass cheek as he tells you to hold it. God, you try, but it’s so hard with the way he’s handling you. His hands are everywhere now, one around your throat while the other is still grabbing at your red ass cheeks, and the coil in your stomach multiplies to the point you can only cry. With every rigorous thrust, your clit bumps against the pillow under your pelvis. The ropes leave their indentations, but no matter how much you beg, he won’t let you go. His weight keeps the rest of you tied down, so now you can’t even move your legs anymore. It’s all so good yet so bad, and it hurts. You can’t hold it anymore, you’re sure you’re going to die soon, but then he pulls at your hair and his voice sounds nothing like the sweet Matt he can be when he growls, “Don’t fucking cum!” It’s a threat. 

You shiver. “Please,” you beg, but your voice betrays you. 

“Aw, listen to yourself. You’re so cockdrunk already. That’s pathetic. Your pussy is mine, do you understand?” He tugs harder at your hair, the pain mingling with the pleasure. “I said, do you understand?”

“Yes!” you cry out. “God, yes! But I can’t–”

“Yes, you can. Be a good girl for me or I won’t let you cum at all.”

At this point, you’re not sure if that wouldn’t be a good thing. 

He keeps pounding into you, and his thrusts grow even harder. You can only lay there and take what he gives you and hope he doesn’t punish you too much if you do happen to disappoint him. 

“You’re so close, aren’t you?” Matt takes a whiff of your skin. You smell like sex, sweat, and despair. 

You nod weakly. 

“Can’t even take my cock like a good little slut?”

You’re not sure when it happens, but at some point, your brain shuts off and you find yourself in a weird middle space where the dream and the reality of the situation blur, and the pleasure overshadows your ability to think with heavy fog. 

You drop, and you can’t find your way back out. 

Minutes start to feel like hours. Your body spasms with the orgasm that ripples through you. It sets your nerve endings on fire. The silk sheets burn against your skin, but you can’t move. Matt’s cum feels sticky as it trickles out of you, his body heavy on yours. You feel suffocated. 

He calls your name, but you can’t answer. 

He’s quick to pull out and untie your wrists, his once so-dark features now riddled with concern. 

You zone out. 

“Sweetheart,” he tries to coax you out of it by rolling you onto your back. “Hey, look at me.”

Your chest deflates. 

“C’mon.”

Wherever your mind is stuck, you can only hear him, but you can’t answer. You’re paralyzed to the point you even forget how to breathe.

He feels the heat radiating off of you and how the oxygen gets stuck in your throat. His hand hovers above your chest. You’re panting. “Baby, breathe,” Matt urges you. 

How do you breathe again?

“Listen to my voice. You’re okay. It’s over. You did so well…”

On any other day, the praise would have gone straight to your head, but right now you’re shaking, quivering and you can’t breathe, and that makes it impossible for his words to take their usual effect.

“In and out,” he says. 

You try to focus on his voice this time.

In and out and in and out. 

The pulse between your legs jumps. Your clit is so sensitive, even the air on it hurts. You clench your legs, your face contorting in an expression of pain. But even the motion itself hurts. It hurts while at the same time, it sends shockwaves of a much higher caliber through your being. 

Eventually, your breathing evens out, his words guiding your lungs back to the point of functionality.

“There you go. Good girl,” he says. He reaches beside himself and grabs the water bottle you often keep there for your nightly thirst.

“Here, drink.” Matt guides it to your lips. “I need you to get some water into your body, sweetheart. Please. You’re dehydrated.”

He’s not wrong. You take a few hesitant sips, your throat thanking you in the process. 

“Can I touch you now?”

You don't know much, but this you know. You shake your head. 

He nods. He understands what it’s like to feel like you’re being tortured by even the softest brush of fingertips. The sex was rough and he went further than you usually do when he’s not fully himself, but you both agreed to this, and you didn’t want to use your safeword because you didn’t need it. This wasn’t his fault, it’s your brain that has slipped into a black hole and blurry oblivion, and that’s all hormonal, you know. 

“I’m gonna get a towel and clean you up now, okay?” he breaks the silence. 

You don’t trust your voice just yet, so you just nod. He reads your body language like an open book. 

As he comes back from the bathroom, he starts wiping you down with a warm towel, making sure not to touch your overly sensitive areas just yet. He’s careful, extremely gentle, and every once in a while he listens to your heartbeat as if to check if you’re still conscious. 

When it comes to treating the burns on your wrists, he uses the aloe you have often used in situations like these and starts applying it to the wounds. The guilt is written all over his face, but you don’t have it in yourself to comfort him. You couldn’t have even if you tried. 

You’re not sure for how long you just lie there, but it must have been a while. Matt finishes cleaning you up, wrapping you in the blanket, before returning to your side. His unfocused eyes are directed at you, and you can tell from the look on his face that he’s watching you in his own unique way.

This has happened before. Once, to be exact. You were trying out a particularly rough kind of breath play and the things he did to you released so much dopamine, you found yourself drained, and you disappeared on him. It’s been a while since then, maybe that’s why he looks so worried. 

He can’t deny that it hasn’t happened to him before either because it has, but with Matt, it is often overstimulation that puts him into sub-space, and it takes a lot more to coax him out of it because every time he slips, his body is on fire.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers as he strokes a strand of hair out of your face. 

You finally meet his eyes, and your breathing has returned to normal. You’re tired, and every muscle in your body aches, but you’re aware of your surroundings now. Your thoughts have sorted themselves out. 

“I was too rough tonight.”

“No,” you manage to say. 

“Yes,” Matt shakes his head, “I was.”

“I’m…okay.” It’s not a lie, you just feel… weird. 

His thumb strokes over your cheekbone. “Where did you just go?”

“I don’t know. Just… too much.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I am now.”

He takes your hand in his and you return the sentiment before curling into his side. It’s like you need him to breathe. Your demeanor changes and there is nothing you want more than to be close to him right now. There is a fine line between overstimulation and being needy, and now you just need to be held because it feels weird to be so empty and yet fulfilled at the same time. Your brain is fuzzy. You don’t know a lot, but you know you need him, and he would never hurt you. 

It’s a natural response, and Matt knows that too, deep down. 

He holds you close to him, pressing his lips to the crown of your head. “What do you need?” he asks. 

“Just hold me,” you whisper. “That’s all.”

“Okay…”

���And then a shower.”

“Okay,” he says. 

Your lips part as you get lost in his embrace. “I love you,” you say. 

“I love you too,” and Matt leans down to press another gentle kiss to your sweaty forehead. 

He’s here for you and he always will be, which is exactly why you feel safest in his arms. And when the same thing happens to him, you won’t hesitate to do the same for him. 

Matt Murdock Tag List: @acharliecoxedfan @gpenguin666 @lina-mar @mcugeekposts @itwasthereaminuteago @mattkinsella @norestfortheshelbywicked

[ctrldoll]

CHANCE! ☪︎ ִ ֶ֢࣪⋆

Tsukuyomi no Mikoto / F!Reader

It’s implied that [Name]’s the goddess of stars.

Genre: Fluff & Comedy! (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)

Synopsis: Susano'o has a demigod lover who was previously a HUMAN! Disgraceful, Disgraceful, DISGRACEFUL! - Tsukuyomi.

His wife finds it silly that he's disgusted by the prospect.

Ft: My wonderful friend’s persona, Sora! She's in a lovely relationship with Susano'o! ( They're two cute peas in a pod! She's so adorable! Oh My Days, I bet her hugs are wonderful! <3<3<3)

Cora (Sora)’s Tumblr link : @sorastar0

PEACE AND BLESSINGS TO YOU, MY LOVE! <3

“IDIOT idiotic idiot! How is he the god of the sea and storms?” Tsukuyomi roamed around the bedroom in a hissy fit as you read. The words would have jumbled in your brain if you weren't used to his angry tantrums, which didn't happen too often but left a mark on you in the centuries you spent together. 

Your sight went to the curved marble of your windows, which reflected the bright moon and stars in the blue sky of night. 

Amaterasu must have been pleased with the visit through the brighter glow of the moon, while Tsukuyomi’s disturbance aggravated the extra glow to the large stone, and your wonderful children in the sky shared your amusement, twinkling brightly alongside their companions.

“How dare he pursue a former human! They are such filthy beings! They grovel in the dirt below us, and he chose to love her? He could have done much better!” The rattling of his necklace brought you out of your read, to which you shook your head and then sighed.

“Are you going to be upset for much longer? Susano'o’s made his choice on who to be with. It’s nighttime. We should leave this for the next day.” Said you, then placed the book on the drawer beside you, mused.

“Why are you smiling? Does it amuse you that I’m upset?” Tsukuyomi looked at you, visibly upset and his hair in a slight mess from him clutching it. “It's a bit amusing to see you worked up.” You answered with a hum, patting the blanket beside you. “Get into bed, my love. It wouldn’t do you any good to stress.” 

“Ugh, we even brought ourselves out of our way to depart from Takamagahara just to visit him.” Your husband whined as he settled beside you, wrapping an arm around your waist as he nested his head on your shoulder. 

“I understand. Out of all the surprising things he's done in a while, this exceeds them.” You sighed. “At least she earned the title of demigod. It shows that she's remarkable.” 

“I don't care. It's disgraceful for a god to be considered one with man; much more be involved with one.” 

Tsukuyomi traced idle lines on the curves of the star marks trailed on your arms. “She noticed the birth of this star. A new one.” He whispered lovingly towards the particular mark, proud.

“Sora seems to have an adoration for them. She complimented my crafts when they stopped by my studio.” You said cheerfully. “She was eager throughout the visit, asking me questions about the stars and the process of forming them. She even noticed the Ronero star on the wall, which many don't pay attention to.” 

“You’re tolerating her because of the stars? She really has you fooled.” Tsukuyomi quizzed, rolling his eyes at your glare. You huffed. “Sora does not have me fooled. I just think it'd do Susano'o good to have someone who notices the intricate details.” 

“You’re supporting their relationship?” You were baffled at that. “No, I don’t find it appropriate to do so. He did introduce her to us today, my Love."

“However, I believe we should give Sora a chance. From my observation in Takamagahara, they both care for one another. The dinner we had today provided me with a raw perspective as well. Susano’o gazes at her with nothing but adoration.” You sighed, closing your eyes in fustration. “We’re not in a position to prevent them from being with one another. Maybe we’ll grow towards the idea later.” 

“Why did he have to make such foolish decisions?” Your husband groaned after a moment, lowering himself into the sheets as did you. “He’s Susano’o. There’s always something he’ll come up with.” You giggled. 

“Let’s give Sora a chance.”

“She is not gaining my approval any time soon.”

“We’ll see. I hope she uploads a video tomorrow. She’s pretty good at interviewing.”

The exasperated sigh your beloved let out to your back as he pulled you closer to him earned a chuckle.

Tsukuyomi’s such a silly hater! (⁠•⁠ө⁠•⁠)⁠♡

I’m really happy to have Sora in this as well! She's so adorable and I love her pairing with Susano'o!

SUSORA STAN MONDAY, TUESDAY WEDNESDAY, THURSDAY, FRIDAY, SATURDAY, SUNDAY; 7 DAYS A WEEK, 24/7 & EVEN IN THE MIDDLE OF NOWHARE! ♡⁠(⁠>⁠ ⁠ਊ⁠ ⁠<⁠)⁠♡

[fnvminorcharacterpoll]

FNV Minor Character Poll - WINNER-TAKE-ALL SUPERFINAL

Left: The Challenger, Trudy, proprietor of the Goodsprings Saloon. —"If you were able to get Ringo out of this mess, you'd have a decent reputation around Goodsprings. I'd even set you up with a discount."

Trudy's designated cheerleader is @sas-afras! trudy is, as the "town mom" of goodsprings, a representation of the people whose lives will most be affected by the state of the mojave by endgame. someone who just wants to live their life in peace, who has no stake in nor control over what happens to the dam, who no one in power wants to give a fuck about. she is the everywoman!! the proletariat worker!! MY MOM!!!!!!!! the fact that she can die so quickly in the first hour of the game as part of the couriers first "moral choice" (as simplistic as it may be) is a microcosm of that role, and its a shame she didnt get the development time she deserved. i love her and her hidden lesbian polycule. also, i will die on any hill if that hill is a woman. VOTE TRUDY!! Trudy was the twentieth seed in the tournament overall and a semi-finalist in the A-side bracket. She beat Ignacio Rivas, Francine & James Garrett, and Fantastic before being defeated by Keely in tournament semi-finals.

Right: The champion, Beatrix Russell, hired guard at the Old Mormon Fort and potential sex worker at the Atomic Wrangler. —"Longing makes the heart grow fonder, but I’ve always been a fan of hog-tying my lovers to make sure they can’t escape.“

Beatrix's designated cheerleader is @fnvminorcharacterpoll (@fallout-lou-begas)! That's right, it's me, your tournament organizer and the operator of this blog. In the interest of avoiding bias, I've refrained from using my platform this way to advocate for my own favorite picks during the tournament (r.i.p. ranger ghost), but now I have no such qualms. Why? Because the tournament is over. We have a winner! Beatrix Russell, a phenomenal and worthwhile character who's funny, rowdy, sexy, filthy, old, weird, rough, and immediately fascinating fights for her life to get the title belt, and now my opposing cheerleader refuses to recognize the results? The audacity! The shamelessness! The Fallout: New Vegas Minor Character Poll tournament blog would ordinarily not even entertain such audacious claims of illegitimacy, but if my opponent wants Trudy to step back into the ring so bad, then by God, she can step in the ring. We'll all go one last time. But Trudy's in over her head: Beatrix has won every bracket she's entered in a landslide. Meanwhile Trudy got knocked out by Keely, who Beatrix beat! See, Trudy, the numbers don't lie: and they spell disaster for you in the superfinals. Beatrix was the seventh seed in the tournament overall and the winner of the tournament overall. She beat Chomps Lewis, the Lonesome Drifter, Siri, Daisy Whitman, No-Bark Noonan, and Keely to become the grand champion.

[Bracket | Info & FAQs]

[y-rhywbeth2]

So glancing between the original games and the third - again - and thinking about the difference between the feral and Chosen bad endings and how I'm going to interpret them in my own canon. BG3 lore is irrelevant to me from now on I'm entering the phase where I'm assimilating my playthrough into my own Realms canon.

Also, Durge appears to be soulless. I am aware of the way the game treats Durge as though they have a soul, but BG3 makes strange choices where lore doesn't match up all the damn time. Astarion is clinically dead but the rest mechanics still need food. BG3 talks like Wyll is a devil, and they definitely don't have mortal souls. Dark Urge identity crises and complicated relationship with personhood, how I love thee.

Major BG2 spoilers, so I'll put that under a cut just in case anybody would like to play those games blind.

I noticed this a while back, but Durge's situation is reminiscent of a soulless Bhaalspawn. When their soul - the portion of them that is "them" and not entirely Bhaal - is removed they start displaying the same symptoms and slipping into what is basically the feral ending, judging by Imoen's behaviour:

"Who-who... who is that? Keep back... Keep back! [...] Who is Imoen? I don't know that name. I don't know that name! She's not here! [...] Get away from me! I'll... I'll kill you! I'll rip your eyes from your filthy faces! Do not tempt my wrath! Do not... I... she's not here. I do not know that... name. [...] I see... yes... I see... She's not here... Someone else will come..."

We have dizzy spells and risks of blackouts (otherwise known as Bhaal threatening to take over):

"Your step falters, your vision spins, and you feel something is very wrong. For an instant you are conscious of nothing but the rushing of your blood."

Bhaal literally just assuming direct control rather than flooding you with the urge to murder. Also pain caused by said attempt at taking control:

"A shock of pain passes through your body, and you feel you mind slipping away, forced aside by the darkness within." - "Your blood cools, and mind and body are reunited under your control. Your will had faltered, and the essence of Bhaal was there to take advantage. The void where your soul once was overflowed with murderous fury, the mark of a deity that no longer exists. The taint of Bhaal has affected you differently than Imoen, reacting with your strength of will. You will eventually lose yourself unless your stolen soul is restored. A fate, as they say, worse than death." - "The madness fades, and the essence retreats, but if this continues you will lose not only yourself , but also everything you hold dear. The uncertainty of your condition has obviously worried those you travel with. The quest is treacherous enough without having to worry about what you might do."

Most Bhaalspawn have mortal lineage and were left to develop their own identities until they hit adulthood and Bhaal decided it was time to start pushing them into killing each other as part of the resurrection plan. Their souls are explicitly divine in nature, but they had time and freedom to develop those souls. Each demigod is a potential fledgling god.

The soul and the conscious mind aren't the same thing, so personality and decision making can continue but the emotions and personhood are... not quite there, only the echoes of it. It's been compared to wearing a mask and acting out a part in a play, rather than actually living as that person.

Durge it seems was engineered from the very beginning so that they would never have that chance. Created directly from Bhaal, with no other parent (let alone a mortal one) to dilute him; Bhaal started forcing their hand to kill from a far younger age (before puberty) rather than waiting for them to reach adulthood. and Sceleritas was following them closely ensuring that people would be around to have "accidents", like Alfira.

But it's also notable that Bhaal doesn't just want a puppet, he needs a Bhaalspawn with the drive and power to be his avatar. He somehow needs Durge blindly loyal and lacking in independence but also in possession of "strength of will" to be worthy of/able to house and use his power.

It seems that Durge does not have a soul the way their siblings do, all they have to resist Bhaal with is their mind and sheer willpower. If they disappoint Bhaal then he will simply assume control - something he can do any time he likes. Over the course of BG3 they start developing something like their own soul - judging by the way Bhaal and Sceleritas are still in touch and seemingly testing them, I can only assume this is actually according to plan; Durge is supposed to cultivate a spark of their own divine soul over the journey (and also get tadpoled and help Bhaal take over the Netherbrain and thralls through them, as Sceleritas kind of mentions).

If they fail then Bhaal goes for the feral ending; they go into the "Imoen" category where they're not worthy of his attention and he just uses Durge as a puppet.

Mystra can't force mortals to become her Chosen, they must consent, so possibly that rule applies to Bhaal too? I don't know, but it explains why Bhaal needs them to accept. If they resist then they're clearly strong enough to be worthy but wilful enough that Bhaal decides the risk of that spark of a soul is too great a risk to him and his plans and tries to destroy it but fails because it's too late, and Jergal cuts this fledgling divine soul free.

If they accept becoming Chosen then they are agreeing to be imbued with a fragment of Bhaal's divine essence. Bhaal gets what he wants and merges it with another fragment of his divine essence, presumably setting the stage for him to become a full deity walking the face Toril through Durge's/his body. The fledgling spark of individual is lost in Bhaal when the two fuse; the threat of the resist ending isn't present, because that spark is gone, so if you defy him again he just takes over and we get the punishment ending.

[dewdrop-writes]

Blood of Ambition - Chapter 4: A Step Above, A Step Apart

Dio Brando x Reader (AFAB reader)

<<First || <<Previous || Next>>

Dear (Name),

—

I promised I would write, and I am a man of my word. Though London boasts its so-called charms, I find much more solace in the vast and spacious halls of the Joestar Manor. For all its grandeur, London is so very filthy and cramped. The grime of the city has clung to every cobblestone and sullied far too many people. I do wonder how we ever endured it. I must commend you for your fortitude in persevering. Still, I do hope you are on guard. You and I know all too well what the people of London can be like.

—

It pleases me greatly that you find time to answer my letters. While I do enjoy the liberties and luxuries of the manor, it can get incredibly dull and your words offer a reprieve from the monotony of it all. I have taken to preparing for the next chapter of my education.While I have no doubts regarding my inevitable admittance, I must ensure that I have a headstart on the others. After all, it is not in my nature to settle for mediocrity. I suggest you adopt a similar mindset.

—

Dio had grown restless upon his return to the countryside. There was no joy to be found in revisiting his childhood. He was ashamed of the circumstances of which he had been born into and all too eager to erase those chapters from memory. That life had been barren of joy and luxury. His father had been a cruel drunkard and his mother was far too naive for her own good. He had fought tooth and nail for survival. Every meal was uncertain, and the warmth of a flame to ward off the cool night was not guaranteed.

And yet…

He should have felt repulsed by the physical reminders of his past, should have wanted to distance from them as much as possible. But he couldn’t. Ever since seeing you at the bakery, you had haunted his thoughts. It was as though he was trapped in a nightmare from which he could neither escape or awake from. You were a painful reminder of all he had endured. 

But God, you were also a reminder of the few bright moments of his bleak life. Despite the filth and squalor you two had lived in, not a single moment of his current life could hold a candle to the reckless joy of carelessly weaving through crowds after a successful theft. 

You had seemed so wary around him when you last met. Fidgeting and nervous, your gaze flickering to and from. It was nothing like the carefree days of bygone times. He had attempted to coax out the person you had once been and he could see flickers of your resilient soul, yet you had remained guarded. He couldn’t deny doing the same. There was a vast gap between you two now and years of distance had only widened it. 

He should have simply had a meal with you and left it at that. However, he had been unable to stop the words from spilling from his lips – an offer to write. He left you little choice to choose your answer, knowing his insistence would hush your hesitance. The next few days had been a haze. He cared little about the doings of his adoptive brother, pausing his machinations momentarily. All he could think about was that damned bakery. 

You were no refined nobility. While you had certainly cleaned up, you were not of his world anymore. He had risen above you in rank. The establishment you called home now was passable, but flour coated your hands and apron. The skin of your hands was calloused from years of labour and poverty. 

He found himself studying his own hands on the ride home, searching for similarities. He had been scruffy when he had first arrived, albeit a little cleaned up. His fingers had been bony and his hands marred. Only under the direct, bright light of the sun, could he see the faintest little reminders of those times etched into his skin. 

It took no more than a few days of restless introspection before he caved to the impulse and penned his first letter. The act itself came easy but awaiting a response was a different ordeal entirely. He had prided himself for his patience, yet now, he found himself growing antsy.  Each day left him feeling on edge.

For a week, he fought to hide his anticipation, eyes flickering to the servants as they brought in the mail each morning. He loathed this newfound sentimentality within himself, so shamelessly tethered to the response of another. Finally, he was allowed relief when a letter was handed to him at breakfast one morning. 

No muscle in his face twitched to betray his thoughts outwardly. He simply excused himself to his study, delicately closing the door behind himself before tearing open the letter with a hunger he had not known in years. Your response was modest and brief, the lettering shaky and lacking the refined elegance of his own. 

But that mattered not. What mattered was that you had responded. For a fleeting moment, he allowed himself the luxury to feel joy at the fact.

And so, your correspondence began. At first, Dio had assumed his interest would wane soon enough. You lacked the refinement of noble education, nor were you particularly well-read or worldly. You had little to offer in terms of cultured discourse or debate. By all logic, he should have tired of you well before he sent out the third letter. 

However, inexplicably, he found himself drawn to the details of your life. Your humble anecdotes of little significance intrigued him in a manner he could not rationalise.

His own letters, of course, were well measured and careful. He had no interest in sharing the intricacies of his machinations or the darker corners of his ambition – much less in written correspondence. Instead, his words leaned towards the superficial and surface level, utilising a fine balance of charm and wit. He was skilled with his words and used just the right amount of flattery and persuasion to coax you to share more of yourself.

He wanted to know of your plans, how you spent the fleeting hours of your day and with whom. His curiosity surrounding you was illogical. There was no practical value to the information gained, and yet, he persisted. 

Perhaps it was the contrast of your worlds. Your life was so simple and quaint in comparison to the grand schemes of his own. Perhaps the easy and honest way of your life held an alluring charm to it, offering his mind a reprieve. Or perhaps it was something else entirely, something he was unwilling to entertain. Whatever the reason, he was soon penning a letter every week or two.

A year had flown by in what felt like the blink of an eye. Your days were consumed with ceaseless demanding work and nights, while quieter, brought the pressure of crafting responses to Dio. He had turned out to be a surprisingly persistent correspondent, despite his initial detached demeanour. 

You often feared that you were out of your depth. His words flowed elegantly across the page with dazzling vocabulary you could not even dream of emulating. Yet, despite the mundanity of your life, Dio seemed unwaveringly intrigued. His questions came with such insistence, paired with lovely words, that you couldn’t help but indulge him. You provided him with the meaningless details of your day-to-day life, often leaving you wondering if life in the countryside was truly so dull that the gossip of a baker’s assistant could hold so much appeal?

Of course, you didn’t mind. It was a comfort, being able to converse so easily with an old friend once more. The richness of the parchment and flourish of his cursive aside - there were moments where you felt as though you were children once more, giggling over the happenings of your days. 

Yet there were times where Dio’s words left you with a sense of unease. Dio’s insistence to be notified of every happening of your life, while flattering, felt a little invasive, at times. His tendency to show others his disdain and speak down to them, while always part of his personality, carried a sharper edge now with his elevated status. There was a subtle condescension in his tone, as though his raise in status was only the natural progression of things.

He seemed particularly fixated on your “lack of ambition”, as he called it – a jab that hurt a little more than you would have cared to admit. As if ambition were a luxury you could afford. You had clawed your way up from being a beggar and a thief, going from risking your freedom just to get by, to having a secure roof above your head and a steady income. That alone, felt like a triumph. To speak as though there was something lacking in your achievements was only further proof of the gap between your lives that no amount of letters could bridge.

You were tidying up the bakery as a lull in new customers rolled in. In these slower moments you preferred to busy yourself to make the hours slip by quicker. Your gaze swept over the selection of treats, taking in the stock. You would have to make note of which pastries sold better and which adjustments would need to be made for the coming days to meet the demand.

The sharp chime of the bell above the door startled you, cutting through the serene silence and drawing your gaze to the entrance. Turning on your heel, you froze in place as you came face-to-face with a familiar figure.

A mop of perfectly groomed golden hair catching the sun gracefully, accompanied by sharply tailored clothing. Your breath hitched. Dio.

 Your shock must have been evident as you scrambled to compose yourself under the weight of his steady gaze. A knowing, smug smile spread across his lips.

.

“Long time no see, (Name)m” he greeted, his voice richer and more mature than when you last met. It sent a shiver down your spine, making the rather spacious bakery seem like a cramped hallway around you. He commanded an air of elegance and superiority as he waltzed in, allowing the door to fall shut behind him with a thud that echoed through the building.

A breathless laugh stumbled past your lips as you took his visage in. He must have grown even taller and stronger in his absence. 

“I wasn’t aware you’d be in town,” you spoke softly, wiping your hands into your apron nervously. His last letter had only just arrived - you hadn’t even had time to craft a worthy response yet.

“It was a last-minute decision. My father had business in London.” His crimson gaze swept across you calculatingly. “I thought I’d pay a dear friend a visit while I’m in the area.”

Dear friend. The words hung in the air heavily, making your chest heave with a swirl of emotions. Despite the slight unease you still felt, you couldn’t fight the warmth spreading through you.

He sauntered over slowly, catlike in his movements. His steps barely made any noise as his feet moved ever so gracefully.

“What have you been up to?” Dio asked, his tone casual, but his piercing eyes anything but.

“The same as always, Dio. Busy with work, running errands and such,” you managed to stammer out, voice steady but your nerves betraying you as your body tensed. You resisted the urge to step back, to recreate the distance between the two of you.

He hummed thoughtfully in response, eyes drifting lazily across the pastries on display with thinly veiled disinterest. “How about we go for a walk about town? The weather’s nice.”

You scoffed, giving him a pointed, exasperated look. “I’m working right now, Dio” 

His brow twitched at your rejection, the only sign of displeasure on his otherwise composed face. “Is it just you here?”

“No, but Mrs.Haverford is-” 

Before you could finish, he turned away from you and bellowed towards the kitchen, “Mrs. Haverford!” 

His voice rang out, sharp and commanding, bouncing off walls of the bakery like a thunderclap. You shot him a horrified expression, only further stricken as his expression morphed into something undeniably mischievous. 

“Dio!” you hissed through clenched teeth.

“Oh, don’t look so scandalised, (Name). I’m only helping you secure a break.”

You wanted to reply with a sharp retort, but the words died on your tongue as you heard hurried footsteps shuffling into the room. Mrs. Haverford looked flustered, brows furrowed in annoyance as she took in the sight of you two.

“What’s all this shouting about?” she demanded, her gaze bouncing from you to Dio. You could see the flour clinging to her hands - she must have been busy with preparing something before Dio oh so rudely demanded her attention.

Dio faced with a polite smile, turning his charm up. “My apologies, Mrs. Haverford. I meant no offence. I was simply hoping to borrow my friend (Name) for the day.”

Mrs. Haverford’s gaze softened as she studied the handsome, undeniably wealthy man. Her eyes flickered to meet yours and the barest hint of a teasing smile tugged at her lips.

“I see…very well, then! The rest of the day will likely be just as slow.” She dragged her attention back to Dio. “But stay out of trouble. And try to be back before dark, (Name).”

Your jaw tightened as you shot a glare at Dio, who was already moving towards the door, head held up high from his victory. With a quiet farewell to Mrs. Haverford, you ran after him, finding yourself by his side on the street.

“You’re insufferable!” you hissed, although you could barely keep yourself from smiling.

“And yet, you’re here,” he replied, smirking as he offered you his arm with exaggerated flourish. You could only sigh, finally allowing the corners of your lips to raise as you took his arm.

Dio navigated the streets with an ease that seemed almost choreographed. Each step seemed purposeful and calculated as he weaved past crowds. His towering frame, accompanied by his impeccable clothing commanded attention, crowds parting for him as though recognizing an unspoken authority. It struck you as unfair - how effortlessly privilege carved out a space for itself in the world at the inconvenience of others.

You clung to his side, curiosity burning at the forefront of your mind. Where on earth could he be taking you? Studying his expression gave you no hints, a knowing smirk resting on his lips as he glanced your way.

Soon enough, the scenery around you began to shift. The modest and practical buildings of the middle class began to fade out, making way for elegant town-houses with wrought-iron fences. The streets widened and the atmosphere shifted, an unfamiliar quiet ruling the area.

It was impossible not to feel out of place. Your modest, practical clothing felt much too dirty and shameful with a backdrop of such finery. Dio, however, made no note of the shift, guiding you along without a care in the world. This was his world now, after all.

He led you through the streets with ease. Crowds seemed far more eager to part for someone as tall and well-dressed as him. You supposed such were the privileges of the upper class. It was hard to quench your curiosity as you travelled through the streets, wondering where on earth he could be taking you. The modest middle-class buildings were slowly disappearing, making way for much grander and nicer ones.

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” you finally asked, allowing your curiosity to take control. Dio sent you a wicked smirk as you rounded a corner. The buildings looked lavish - boutiques and specialty stores coming into view.

“Patience is a virtue, (Name).”

You huffed indignantly. “What kind of game is this?”

He hummed in thought, the smirk never leaving his lips. “It’s no game. We’re almost there.”

You finally came to a stop before a lovely pale building, its facade prim and inviting.  Stained glass adorned a few of the windows, catching the light in soft, colourful hues. From a brief glance inside, you caught sight of impeccably dressed patrons seated at elegant tables, their muted laughter and chatter barely audible from where you stood.

Your gaze snapped to Dio, panic rising in your chest. “What is this place?” you asked, your voice faltering despite your best effort to sound composed. The slight tremble seemed to amuse him, his smirk deepening.

“A tearoom,” he replied casually, already beginning his ascent up the stairs leading to the entrance.

Your stomach dropped. “We’re not going in there, are we?” you asked, dread creeping into your voice. You couldn’t help but glance down at your plain attire, your insecurities roaring to life. The shame of your appearance burned brighter against the backdrop of such opulence.

Dio paused mid-step, turning slightly to regard you with a raised brow. “Of course we are,” he said, as if your question were absurd. “Do you think I brought you all this way to simply loiter outside?”

Panic bloomed in your chest as you looked down at your attire, feeling so very out of place in comparison to the elegant building and the wealthy clientele. “No, I can’t! I’m not-”

“Don’t worry about it,” Dio reassured you, although his words did little to calm your nerves. “You’re with me. If I say you’re welcome, you’re welcome here.” His tone was commanding, leaving you little room to reject the idea as his arm looped around yours once more. As he led you up the short flight of stairs, you could feel your chest tighten with worry.

“You’ll enjoy it. Don’t worry about it.”

You could only heave a shaky breath as you leaned into him ever so slightly. It earned a faint smile from the blonde as he pushed the doors open.

The interior was even lovelier than the exterior. Ornate wallpaper lined the walls and the ceiling stretched much higher than any you’d seen before. The room was spacious and beautiful, with decor you’d never seen this close before. Your gaze swept across the others seated at their tables and you felt your heart drop. Despite Dio’s reassurances, you would undeniably get looks from them. You were ready to turn on your heel and rush out, but Dio’s hand caught yours.

“Relax.” He led you towards a more secluded table. “You look like you’re about to face the gallows.” You shot him a distressed look which he simply shrugged off with a chuckle and pulled out a chair for you, allowing you to take a seat. Once making sure you were sitting and not about to bolt, he sat down as well. 

“Why would you bring me here?” you hissed under your breath, glancing at the genteels seated at their tables. “To embarrass me?”

His brow twitched, offended by the notion.

“Nothing of the sort. I wanted you to get a taste of my life,” he spoke, tone surprisingly earnest. There was something darker in his gaze though, something calculating. 

“Why?” you asked cautiously, trying to make sense of his motives. He sent you a charming smile, not bothering to give you an answer as he waved over a waiter. You had no choice but to chew on your lip nervously as you felt the waiter’s brief, questioning gaze on you. It was easy to tune out Dio’s conversation with him as you bore holes into the table with your eyes, cheeks burning up from shame. Your blonde companion must have noticed, making the decision to order on your behalf. Only when the waiter turned to leave, could you finally breathe a sigh of relief.

This was going to be a difficult outing.

Despite the plethora of odd looks you had received, your overall experience had been rather…pleasant. Your companion had spared no expenses, allowing you to experience a wide variety of new flavours. He’d given you an odd look once or twice, something you could put no name to. While he was quick to conjure up a charming smile and keep up pleasant conversation, his unassuming facade slipped here and there. As was customary in your written exchange, he had not been too forthcoming about his own happenings. Of course, he had shared plenty of anecdotes, but there was a layer of superficiality over them. Something that was never there in your childhood.

Your arm rested lightly in the crook of Dio’s as you walked back towards the bakery at a leisurely pace. His eyes shifted to you with a sideways glance, studying your expression curiously. His gaze was intense, almost as though trying to peel back the layers of your thoughts.

“You seem to be burdened with something,” he finally spoke, breaking your train of thought, tone casual but not probing. Your eyes shot up to meet his, a sheepish smile creeping onto your face.

“Ah, sorry about that.”

“Did you not enjoy the tearoom?” he pressed, gaze unwavering.

You blinked, taken aback by the question. “No, that’s not it. It was lovely,” you assured him, but your voice faltered as you thought back to the scrutinising gazes of the wealthy clientele.

“But?”

A nervous chuckle escaped you. “Well, I felt like an intruder.”

Dios lips tightened, his only response a noncommittal hum. His gaze travelled to the horizon, the silence between you tense with unspoken words.

“Do you not feel worthy of the finer things in life?” he asked abruptly, his tone more serious now. You could only swallow nervously, feeling the weight of his calculating stare settle in your chest.

“Well…it’s not that.” You struggled to find the right words, unease creeping back into your mind. “But I’m not stupid. The others were clearly unamused with my presence. I don’t exactly fit the bill of that crowd.” 

Your words hung in the air. You find yourself wondering if he could understand.Once, you had both shared a similar life. But now? Now, he felt so far removed from that. Did he even remember those days?

Dio barked out a dry, humourless laugh.

“That should be of no concern to you,” he said dismissively. “When I first entered these spaces, I was met with the same disdain. Mr. Joestar was accommodating enough, but the others? They saw me as nothing more than a dirty orphan boy, despite the fine clothes I’d been given.” He paused, eyes narrowing as he recalled it. “I had to claw my way up to be seen as an equal. Even despite being a Lord’s ward, I was not spared their judgement..”

Your gaze softened as you looked at him, his steely expression betraying an old wound. You couldn’t help wondering how it had felt for him.

Had he been lonely? Afraid?

“In this world,” Dio continued, his voice hardening, “you can achieve anything you want. But you have to fight for it. Sometimes that means mastering their ridiculous games of etiquette. Other times, it requires more drastic measures.”

His eyes locked with yours, unyielding and commanding. “If you know you are worth something, you should never settle for less.” 

His tone had lost any edge of casual playfulness, gaining an undercurrent of something dark that made your stomach turn. You felt almost as though he was staring into the very depths of your soul. There was something dangerous about his conviction.

Before you could respond or delve deeper, the moment shattered as a familiar voice called out your name, startling you both.

“(Name)!” 

The familiar voice jolted you, and you looked up in surprise to see your regular, Charles, beaming at you. His hands were clasped around those of his two younger sisters, their faces lighting up at the sight of you. Your lips stretched out into a grin, instinctively slipping your arm away from Dio’s as you surged forward, feeling relief at the interruption.

“Charles! Running errands for your mother again?” you asked, tone bright as you tried to shake off the unease from your interrupted conversation.

“Yes,” he replied, nodding eagerly. A boyish grin swept across his features. “We’re just finishing up now. We stopped by the bakery for a treat and noticed you weren’t there. I didn’t realise you had the day off!”

A sheepish smile made its way onto your face, eyes flickering to Dio, who had remained a few steps behind. 

“Not exactly. An old friend invited me out for a bit,” you explained, feeling a slight warmth rise to your cheeks.

Charles’ gaze followed yours, eyes widening slightly as they landed on Dio. The contrast between your modesty and Dio’s radiating elegance was staggering. Sensing the boy’s curiosity, Dio finally stepped forward, his every move deliberate as he came to stand beside you, his height and demeanour commanding attention.

“I wasn’t aware you had friends in such…high places,” Charles remarked, his voice hesitant as his eyes flitted between the two of you.

“You are now,” Dio responded in your stead, voice smooth and tone measured. That being said, you couldn’t help but notice the way his shoulders tensed as he spoke, as though trying to make himself bigger and more imposing. 

The air grew heavy with an unspoken challenge as Charles met Dio’s unwavering gaze. The two men seemed to size each other up, and you felt caught in the middle of an invisible battle.

Clearing your throat, you broke the tension. “I should really be heading back to the bakery now. Would you accompany me, Dio?”

Dio’s sharp eyes snapped to yours, his expression softening into a polite smile as he offered you his arm once again. “Of course,” he said smoothly. “Let’s be on our way.”

As you resumed your walk, arm in arm with Dio, the lighthearted moment with Charles and his sisters quickly faded. You couldn’t ignore the sense of unease pooling in the pit of your stomach, a dread that seemed to hang in the air like a storm cloud ready to break.

[halfmoth-halfman]

may i interest you in some more fic recs????😉

the second half of my may fic rec list!! if you wanna see more more of my fic recs and favs, i have em all on my recs blog, here!! please note the navi page is still under construction!!

and of course, if you have any fic recs of your own, feel free to send em my way here or on my sideblog - i love finding new fics and writers!! 💜

may fic recs pt. 1

John Price

missed you - @thanksbutno98

✧ everything i wanted and more omg this is the treatment price deserves tbh. man deserves to relax and be pampered like a princess. such a cute fic that filled my need for fluff perfectly!!

bloodstained honesty || part two - @a-world-with0ut-dr34ms

✧ had me on the edge of my damn seat good lord. saw this line “Price?” and had to stop reading to do a lap around my living room, this fic had me stressing tf out but in the best way possible.

puppy love || five | six | seven | eight - @writeforfandoms

✧ price. puppies. perfection. am i sad to see this series come to an end? yes. but it was fantastic from start to finish and i know i will absolutely being coming back to read this again and again.

languish - @moriflos

✧ you ever read something once and then decide that once isn't enough and just spend an hour reading it over and over and over? that was me with this fic. idk how to describe the way you write, i was so drawn in, craving more. "But for now, he can only watch as his heart returns to him in ashes-" just uuuggghhh i love it.

rise and fall of tides - @queenquazar

✧ moon/moonlight is such a cute callsign, i was already hooked before i started reading. and when i got to the actual fic?? stunned. the entire dancing scene had me smiling and blushing, i love the way you write price and moon and their relationship

ode to a conversation stuck in your throat - @yeyinde

✧ i don't think there will ever come a day where i'm not left in absolute awe by one of lev's fics. everything is literal poetry and this is fic is no exception. i can't describe the way it makes me feel, like i've been given the christmas present i've been waiting all year for

sad girl - @guyfieriii

✧ new price fic from the writer who inspired me to start my mob!au???? say less. the way you write price is so just aslkdakljs the way you write in general is just alsdkjal. i literally do not have words for how much i love this

karma - @stormiwaves

✧ honeypot mission!!! we love to see it!!!! "The dress was karma, filthy karma that Price deserved." yes girl, get it!! jealous!price isn't something i see often, but i loved the way your wrote it here and that ending?? 👀🔥

untitled - @ghostaholics

✧ i👏🏼love👏🏼soulmate👏🏼au's👏🏼 and this has me going absolutely feral. the phantom pain for his injuries, the journal, the angst, the panic, that ending??? if there is ever a full version, please know that i will lose my mind, it will be an immediate fave just like this is.

choices and consequences - @ghostandsoap

✧ this one hurt real good. the talks about guilt, the choices you have to make, the job, all of it was done so well. this was so wonderful and heart-clenching, i loved every bit of it.

our remains - @halcyone-of-the-sea

✧ i just- i mean- what else is there to say but

handsome stranger || part 8 - @alittleposhtoad

✧ not only did this fic make me hungry for soup, it made me kick my feet and twirl my hair. so much fluff and right up my ally, i binged this series and loved every single bit of it.

fair game - @guyfieriii

✧ got me blushing and sweating like a sinner in church and staring at my phone like

turn me to ashes - @guyfieriii

✧ when you said angsty little piece, i was not expecting to have my heart ripped out be left with a gaping void in my chest. i know i love a good angst fic but god damn if that didn't reach into the pits of my soul and destroy any feeling of happiness i had when i started reading. 10/10

price headcanons - @soapskneebrace

✧ the perfect piece of softness to make me feel better after the absolute heartbreak of the previous fic. the characterization is 100% on point here, one of the best i've read and so so so sweet.

price holding his first-born child - @daisies-daydreams

✧ big tough military men holding and being weak over little babies is my jam. it's the fluff, the sweetness, the soft domesticity of it all. the way he reads the book to her, i'm so weak for this fic.

a drink from her cup - @lunarvicar

✧ that post that inspired this has lived rent free in my mind for so long, and i was ecstatic to see you write something for it. i'm so down bad for this man and for your writing and the way you write him.

gem amra kheli - @guyfieriii

✧ i don't think i've ever talked about how much i adore the way you write banter, the little back and forths and comments between price and reader. everything just feels so real, so grounded and i'm completely obsessed

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

cult of vagabonds || ch. 3 - banshee bluethroat | ch. 4 - finch's frenzy - @halcyone-of-the-sea

✧ i'm screaming. vomiting. scromiting profusely.

"I hate you."

"I know."

how dare you do this to me.

reveries of a lost lamb - @halcyone-of-the-sea

✧ what's it like to be able to be one of the best writers on earth? i seriously cannot comprehend the sheer amount of talent and ability you have at writing the most captivating and emotion evoking fics i've ever read.

A golden sunrise, tangled fingers; gentle lips.

“I think I love you.” 

i'm deceased.

aiaigasa (相合傘) - @captainpriceslover

✧ i read "Your part of London smelled like wet pennies that evening." and was instantly sold. the rest of the fic was so fantastic, the perfect dose of sweetness i needed, i love gaz and the way you write him so much!!

white flag - @writeforfandoms

✧ you cannot stress me out like this!! but also please continue to stress me out like this!! also the little nicknames for price and gaz had me laughing so hard, esp price.

it's over - @itsohh

✧ i really loved this, i don't think i've seen a lot of fics with gaz that really talk about what he's gone through and how missions affect him and this one does it incredibly well. serious, yet heartwarming, i adore it.

Multiple

dead disco || chapter 4 | chapter 5 | combat baby - @peachesofteal

✧ never before have a i read a series that has captured my attention so much that willingly skipped out on lunch to read it. i couldn't stop, i am in love with this fic, the writing, the characterization, everything about it. there isn't a single flaw to be found here.

how they wake you up in the mornings - @nia-writes

✧ this was so cute, and the addition of the different scenarios for how the characters would wake you made it all the more better. i was blushing, laughing, anxious, constantly giggling about FOAP. such a fun read!!

soulmate au - @itsohh

✧ i've said it once and i will say it again, i love soulmate!aus!! and god the angst in these just raked me over the coals. angst is something i love seeing in soulmate fics and this was so expertly done, my heart still hurts when i think about it

touching their cheek for the first time - @runicarbiter02

✧ absolute cuteness all around, like a cuteness overload. each one fit so well, but i'm gonna take a second to really talk about the love of my life, Roach, being included in this and how this has become an automatic fav just for that.

physical touch - @siilvan

✧ tbh i came to this for the gaz hcs but it was so good that i immediately read the rest and damn near screamed when i saw roach on there. so cute, and adorable, and absolutely perfect i loved every bit of this!!

kiss headcanons - @mangowafflesss

✧ such a cute idea that you did amazing on!! i love kisses and kiss fics and i think you absolutely nailed it here. honestly me and reader are the same because i too would just like to smooch the 141 boys all over.

getting into an accident and being hospitalised while the team is deployed - @daisies-daydreams

✧ slipping while getting out of the shower and needing to have your jaw hinged shut?? reader's just like me fr. this was very sweet, a lovely little dose of fluff with a sprinkle of angst

Simon "Ghost" Riley

silk series || silk ties - @uselsshuman

✧ i screamed. shrieked. went through a rollercoaster of emotions when this series updated. it was everything i wanted, more than everything i wanted, just so unbelievably beyond expectations!! and this:

“Stay with me for now then.”

stay with me forever wtf

no more || chapter 6 - hypnosis - @lethalchiralium

✧ we love a man who wants to apologize but man we gotta get ghost into therapy or st 😂seriously though, this was fun and the little back and forth about having a dad had me giggling

a bath - @blackssuunn

✧ i can't- i literally can't- this is too fluffy, too sweet, too perfect. i'm in awe of your writing "His eyes burn a little. Not a single drop of soap entered them." i'm speechless.

pomp - @bits-and-babs

✧ we stan anti-monarchy simon LOL so great and thos poor guards stuck at the doors. i went from blushing to cackling in like two seconds

tones - @blackssuunn

✧ soft lovely dovey simon is my favorite and you write him so incredibly well. the way this man is absolutely whipped for his partner, i adore it and i adore you for writing this

between dreams and sugar - @halcyone-of-the-sea

✧ i think i'm addicted to your angst, i keep happily going into these angst fics like i don't know i'm about to have my heart shredded into a million pieces. was there a happy ending here? yes. but it still hurt and i still loved it!!

feverish simon confesses to you - @angelltheninth

✧ this is such a cute trope that i don't read that much of, but i loved every bit of this! so much cuteness and let's be real, ghost is def the type of guy who would try and wait out an illness even if it was life-threatening 😂

footprints in the snow - @bittersw33t-lotus

✧ hello??? this was one of the sweetest things i've ever read??? i'm such a sucker for soft!simon esp when he's still a little shit and you've written that so perfectly

happiness series || you belong with me - @lethalchiralium

✧ i swear i'm totally normal about this series i'm not i totally don't immediately go feral every time it updates i do and i totally and definitely don't drop and ignore everything to reread the entire series with every new chapter i won't apologize

untitled - @lunarvicar

✧ the way you write simon and the way he shows love and how he cares has me so weak and how he teases is so aldkasjdkljk he's an asshole and i love him and i can never get enough of the way you write him

simon & rain little headcanons - @mvtthewmurdvck

✧ aaaahhhh simon and rain!!! i've missed these two and when i tell you i sprinted to read this!! i love the way your write their dynamic/relationship and just how real and fun it feels!! you're literally so good at writing ghost, i can't even deal with

sassy series || ch. 3 excerpt - @peachesofteal

✧ i have never wanted to read a full chapter so bad in my entire life. this excerpt is like a the most delicious little appetizers and i'm vibrating with excitement for the full meal!!

Valeria Garza

oh to be consumed by you - @sleepiexx

✧ i want to be consumed by valeria omg. i didn't even know vampire!val was something that i wanted-no, something that i needed-and this fic just came out of nowhere and hit me over the head in the best way possible.

[portgasmalia]

taking what's mine, rafe cameron second part to 'daddy's favourite' pairing: rafe cameron x female reader summary: after leaving him in the library without satisfaction, rafe takes revenge at the midsummers, but goes further than wanted. malia's notes: please, i can't with myself. currently writing so many parts for this one drabble i did because it got so many notes. send me to hell for having rafe 24/7 in my head... even during sex? lol I'm so proud of it, and I'm definitely making this a damn series, cause I'm obsessed lol.

azure material wrapped your body in an extra layer of protection. yet, the long slit on the left side of the bottom long gown ended in the middle of your thighs. revealing enough skin to gain the attention of a suited company who wouldn’t ruin the reputation of your family. after the cameron’s strutted in, heads held high and waving from left to right, you and your parents walked into the venue. a little midsummers ritual since the two most influential man had to be praised like gods.

eyes directed at the choice of outfits, the satin material of your mothers dress and rose’s lady liberty inspired head piece. people whispered to each-other, their grimaces hidden behind the glasses and the truthful opinions drowned by the alcoholic liquid. “you look beautiful, like fucking beautiful.” rafe appeared beside you, hands deeply in the pockets of his suit trousers. instead of feeling grateful for the loving compliment, you snorted.

receiving such nice words from rafe had a double meaning. While most girls with gosh about the appearance of the blonde, and almost backed him to drag them away to the bathroom, you had a better self control than the kooks around. the gazes of multiple, curious people already lingered on the two of you. being part of figure eight meant to either work off the ass to bring home a steady income or laying around in the sun, occupying themselves with talking trash and spreading rumors.

turning the head to face the male who didn’t move a step, your eyes raked over the well-dressed figure. engulfed in a certain light shade of baby blue, the fabric mirrored the cloudless sky on a sunny day. sadly for you, the color matched the ring around his pupils perfectly. simply said, rafe cameron looked extremely attractive in the suit, which rose probably picked out for him after thousands of protests.

bottom lip caught in the tight grasp of your teeth, you could not stop your eyes from taking him in. instead of releasing a sly comment about you being obsessed with him, rafe chuckled and took a step back to allow you a better, overall sight of his appearance. “shit, you really went all out for tonight.” it was a compliment wrapped in amusement that escaped your mouth.

for a moment, you forgot about the possessiveness rafe has shown in the past weeks. after the multiple meeting in the library, and the sharing of loving or rough touches, he almost called you, his. but it was far from what you wanted to be. nothing about the cameron’s seemed right, but you could not figure out the wrongs yet. still, after declining his offer of becoming his girlfriend, he started to up his game in trying to seduce you.

the ideas popped up in his head randomly, and tonight, after seeing how tightly the fabric of your dress wrapped around your curves, he would take it a step further. he had to after listening to the comments of the boys around him. filthy words about your body, your status and their fantasies while nobody knew that half of their dreams were already fulfilled by rafe.

while he disappeared when topper and kelce shouted his name repeatedly, you found your way towards the bar and ordered a strong drink. there was no chance that you would get through this awful event without at least a sip of alcohol. but after the third glass was drowned too quickly and the fourth already stood on the counter, a large hand appeared and grabbed the glass, you paid for.

“woah stop. i paid that, that’s mine.” you wildly gestured through the air with one hand, not glancing around the see the thief. the effort of turning quickly, and the sudden spinning, would cause dizziness. you wouldn’t want to embarrass yourself in front of the residents of figure eight.

a heavy-breathing chest pressed against your back, tightly and not leaving any space between. the hand on the counter retreated, lifting the glass to the dry lips and pouring a sip into the mouth to taste the liquid. “mhm.” a low hum of approval rumbled in his chest, the vibrations traveling straight down your spine.

the warm breath of the male fanned over your exposed neck as he lowered his head. “wouldn’t have taken you for a bourbon woman.” the voice got raspier through the amount of alcohol he drank throughout the evening, yet, it was the most familiar melody you’ve ever heard.

“surprises everywhere, rafe.” you leaned your head back, your loose curls scattering across the pale blue fabric of his suit jacket. this small contact between the two of you was enough to cause a drama if your father would see the interaction. fortunately, he was deeply in a conversation with ward cameron. probably, another business plan or attempting to create a bond between the influential families. hell, the connection already existed before they even found a solution for both their sakes.

“you know, it’s pretty unfair.” rafe muttered against your skin, his chewed-up lips pressing soft but quick kisses around your neck. little moments of affection, but still his teasing manners. “what do you mean?” you furrowed the brows, confusion twisting your gentle features.

“i’ve been standing over there, the entire time. having a good up-and-down talk with my mates when my eyes find you, again. standing at the bar, tapping your heel against the tiles, stretching and moving from left to right.” his words were barely a whispered confession as you felt the gentle touch of his fingers graze down your rips towards your waist.

“and?” the confusion clouded your mind, his explanations of unfairness made no sense to you. letting his hand wander, you wanted to prevent being seen by your father. but escaping rafe’s skilled fingers and precise touches happened to be more difficult. “you moved to the left, and stretched out your leg. the little slit on your lovely dress slipped slightly to the side and revealed those beautiful scarlet red, lace panties underneath.”

pupils grew as he continued to confess what he was able to witness from the other side of the room. as observant as he was, it gave him a clear advantage in most situations. mainly because no one else seemed to notice how much she exposed of her body without realizing it. attempting to pull down the fabric further and cover more of your thigh, rafe acted quicker and swatted your hand away. “don’t think about it, babygirl.”

the thin fabric between his rough fingertips, he hiked the dress further up until a little bit of cherry red lace was seen. “stop, what the hell?” you wiggled yourself out of his comforting hug, and immediately pulled the material down again. “we’re in fucking public, rafe. if my father sees us..”

“let him.” rafe shrugged, taking a step back and letting his hands disappear in the pockets of his suit pants again. “i don’t fucking care anymore.”

“god damn it, rafe. stop being foolish.” you snapped, snatching the bourbon glass out of his hand and stomping towards the house. most guests gathered in the gardens, enjoying heywards food and the last warmth of the sun before the midnight blue hid it.

pushing past the groups of people, you felt the need to sulk in loneliness for a moment. it wasn’t easy to deny rafe a love he desired so badly. after all, he needed one call to pick you up, spend time with you, share a midnight conversation or use his fingers to fuck out your brain. a simple thank you wasn’t enough for what he has done, but you didn’t trust him enough to engulf in a relationship.

too many lies. too much coke. enough problems.

your feet carried you to the dressing rooms down the corridor where the jackets of the guests were stuffed away in wardrobes. running the palm softly across your face, you felt the alcohol in your blood. leaning against the wall beside you, shivers spread across the exposed skin of your shoulder blades. the coldness of the stones a complete difference from the warmth of your figure.

“oh dear, you should take a seat.” rafe’s voice echoed through the empty corridor, ringing in your ears. “are you following me? really?”

“just looking after what’s mine. can’t have any of the other lads touch you with their dirty fingers.” rafe shrugged again, simply stating the thoughts on his mind. once, you were out of sight, the blonde panicked and feared for your safety. not every young adult kook had a plan of being nice, and rafe knew it exactly. „i’m not yours.“

he chuckled, a deep and dark sound erupting from his chest. „that’s where you’re wrong babygirl. you’re mine, and mine only.“ strolling towards you, rafe found his spot in front of your slightly drunk figure, taking in the mesmerizing picture. he couldn’t count how many parties of his you visited, and how many times you declined the alcohol after having one drink. you never accepted substances, you‘ve always somehow been the good girl.

yet, you were about to get shit-faced, while the kooks around, laughed, and danced. rafe placed his hand above your head, mirroring the position from the library a week ago. it’s been a long seven days, without his touch or the indescribable compliments. while you waited for him and the revenge plans he plotted, he never came around until today.

leaning in closer, his warm breath fanned across the top of your nose. disparate kinds of whiskey lingered in the air, he probably had a couple of glasses with topper and kelce. at least the little white powder didn't stuck to the outsides of his nostrils like couple of times before, when he quickly wiped it off with the pad of his thumb. "so," he muttered, dipping his head lower to receive access to your collarbones and side of the throat. featherlight kisses blown against your smooth skin, the effects of his small, genuine gestures already created shivers along your spine. "i'm claiming what's mine."

hands traveled across her figure, carefully bunching up the expensive dress around her waist. he would hate to destroy the material that clung perfectly to your body, hugging your curves tightly. "rafe, what are you doing.." you questioned his actions, the sudden change in kisses and how his teeth dug into your soft flesh underneath.

"told you, claiming what's mine." fleshy fingers pushed the lacey fabric of your panties aside, the rough tips stroking carefully through the lips of your pussy. wetness pooled between your thighs, and rafe greeted the warmth with a smug smirk. "are you insane? anybody could walk in!" you protested, trying to wiggle out of his grip once more but this time, he used much more of his strength to keep you in place. this time, you would not run away from him and his intentions.

"ditching me in the middle of the midsummers? that's one thing. but leaving me with a fucking boner in the library, having to take care of myself after i pushed those beautiful, little whimpers out of you? that's another and I'm taking my reward for good work." without another second of hesitation, two fingers pressed against your entrance. slowly pushing inside, and stretching your walls in preparation. a satisfied moan slipped out of your mouth, followed by a deep groan from rafe.

the sounds you made, whimpers and moans, always made him mad crazy for you. even more, than he has been before. "rafe, stop. if my dad sees -"

"i don't give a fuck about what your dad sees, or what he thinks. you understand that, baby girl? if i have to, i'm going to show him who you truly belong to." the words were punctuated with the thrusts of his long fingers, pushed in deeply and curling to reach the little spot, he knew you loved. your lips were sealed shut, pressed together in a thin line and yet, the moans slipped through like your mouth was widely open. "looks like you've waited for me the entire night."

as quick as his fingers disappeared inside of your pussy and spread your wetness over your clit and lips, they were gone. swirled around, the side of the face pressed against the wall and the dress still bunched around the waist, you couldn't see entirely what he was doing. overstepping the boundaries you set or just wanting to pleasure you in a completely new position because the alcohol twisted his mind.

the scarlet red panties further pulled to the side, the string rested on your left ass cheek. the tip of his tongue darted out, licking over his chewed-up bottom lip at the sight. delicious in any kind of way. awaiting patiently his fingers to be pushed deep inside your pulsating walls again, the rustling of a belt being opened, and hitting the tiles on the floor caused a feeling of fear. “rafe, what do you think your doing?” you stammered together nervously, trying to push yourself off the wall to examine what kind of madness he intended to do. but rafe beat you to it. his weight pressed tightly against you, squeezing your body between the warmth radiating of his tall figure and the shuddering cold of the wall.

your question dissolved when his hard dick pressed against your exposed ass. the bead of pre cum smeared across your smooth skin when he leaned down once more. face nuzzled in your neck and the wild mess of hair, he chuckled. a deep sound, almost dark and filled with pure evilness. “oh my ducking god. rafe, stop it!” you fought against his grip, wiggling your body from left to right. an attempt to escape his plans, but it didn’t work at all.

“keep pressing your fucking ass against my dick. it will only convince me more that i should take what’s mine.” he muttered into the mess off your hair. a hand wandered down your body, across the curve of your back until rafe reached his destination. beads of pre cum spread across your ass, the small reminders glistened in the dim yellow light. a sight, he was utterly pleased about.

“rafe, no. please.” you whined, pleaded with him to stop the madness. everything you instructed him not to do, was about to be broken. a low growl rolled off the tongue when his long fingers wrapped around his painfully hard shaft. crouching down a little as he was towering above you the entire time, you felt his tip graze over your pussy, covering himself in the wetness pooled between your thighs. “just taking what’s mine. as i should have done long ago.”

you heard the chuckle, the devilish sound coming from rafe’s mouth as he pushed the tip in. manicured nails scratched at the wallpaper, your eyelids fluttered close at the sudden sensation. trapped in a haze, between pain and deep pleasure, a strangled moan escaped your mouth. rafe’s narrowed eyes watched how his shaft slowly disappeared in your pussy, welcomed by the warmth and the strong pulsating of your stretched out walls. a feeling, a situation, he thought about in any possible scenario. made out scenes, came up with ideas but the one right now, it was pure spontaneity.

“see, princess. your body ached for me.” his hand wandered across your ass, rough fingertips caressing over the smooth skin before finding a rest at your waist. in this moment, the very gentleness he treated you with vanished under the hooded gaze. your walls clenched around him, needing and wanting more as your body betrayed your mind. “don’t worry baby. i’ll fuck you good.”

underarm laid out across your ass, the left hand on the right waist, rafe slowly withdraw his hips. the reddened tip was the last part of him that stayed in your pussy, until he decided to thrust into you again. rough and deep, from the very first second. “holy shit, you’re so fucking tight, babe. am i your first?” rafe got lost in the feeling. your walls gripping him tightly, screaming for more, and the pleasure-twisted expression on your face. like his addiction started growing further.

teeth dragged along the smooth column of your neck, calloused palms pressed into the curves of your waist. “yes.” you forced yourself to not decline the question that lingered in the air. for any possible person, the answer seemed like a genuine statement, the truth unfolding while roughly examining half of your face. but rafe’s mind worked in another pace, and around the usual. he felt the hammering jolts of your pulse, the intensity of your thudding heart increase and the way, your walls attempted to keep him deeply inside.

“holy shit, rafe.” his name slipped out of your dried mouth like a perfectly sung melody, decorated with a little crack in the end. intrigued by the thought of being seen by a possibly influential kook, his harsh thrusts complimented the moments of an almost-bliss. the chance of being close was denied multiple times by you. “say my name. i wanna hear you scream it, princess.” rafe’s voice a rough mutter, coaxing out the words out of his dried mouth as he particularly focused on how perfectly he fit into your drenched pussy. it was close to a heaven-like moment, just like he predicated to his mates earlier.

the two males who stood at the staircase, waving away the people who tried to trespass while rafe busied himself with your body. a statement he made to topper and kelce before leaving abruptly to hunt after you. tonight, your games were certainly over. forcing you into the first time wouldn’t be a very gentle movement, but you would come around for more, beg and plead to feel rafe inside of you again. the exact days he aimed for.

the thrusts became relentless quickly, after testing the waters and your reactions, rafe certainly dropped the act of gentle and soft. calloused pads dug into the azure material, leaving marks through the thin fabric around your hip bones. the palm of your delicate hands smashed against the wall, frustrated about the situation and close to an orgasm washing over you. hidden in a bliss-filled haze, you still attempted to free yourself before being forced to carry rafe inside of you for the rest of the night.

but in every single step, you decided to take, the determined kook beat you to it. pushing off the wall, ended up in your back painfully arched, and your ass further in his direction. the large palm of his placed over the back of your hand, holding you against the wall and leaving no way to escape. "princess, enjoy it as long as it lasts. you will crave me after."

roughly, muttered promises, he had experience with. times, way before your father decided to move to the island, and create another successful business. they begged him, and the image of you, on your knees for him, pleading for release or at least a touch, it made rafe feral. possessive. greedy for more. "come on, princess. let yourself go a little."

the hand on your waist wandered over your back, and around your left hip to reach between your legs. wetness spread across your pussy, flooding down the insides of your thighs. pleased by what his rough tips felt, rafe chuckled. "so fucking hot." emphasizing his words with the hard press of his pads against your bundle of nerves, a loud gasp mixed with a needy moan escaped your mouth. a sound, you could not prevent any longer as your body completely betrayed your mind.

"good girl." he growled, starting to rub irregular circles over your clit while the pace and strength of the pounding stayed rough. by the way, his breaths became hasty, and with the almost inaudible groans that spilled out, he showed how close he was to painting your walls. "come on, princess. cum for me, squeeze my dick."

as the times before, words worked like a deadly spell on you. the unwanted tingling spread, his tip brushing against the soft spot regularly, and the moans were accompanied by filthy whimpers. you were embarrassed, completely disgraced by what was happening but the feeling was intensely good. walls clenched tightly around him, your orgasm washed over you before gaining a clear thought. rafe and his experience the only thing on your mind left.

"shit, rafe," escaped your mouth, nails scratched on the wallpaper. you spasmed from the intensity of the orgasm, head falling forward as his name was spoken like little, thankful prayers. the exhaustion and the sore feeling settled in rather quickly afterward, the aftermath of his roughness.

squeezed tightly by your pulsating walls, the way, your sweet voice praised him and repeated his name, triggered his orgasm. one, two, deep thrusts were enough, pushing his hips against your ass, the fingers which stroke over your pussy, pressed against the little bundle of nerves again. harshly but not strong enough to hurt you, as he painted your insides with white, hot spurts.

face placed in between your shoulder blades, rafe wanted to stay forever in this place. cuddled up with your body, feeling the warmth radiate from your figure after such an intensive experience. yet, he knew, he could not as the midsummers were still in full swing downstairs. slowly leaning back, he pulled out, and you winced at the loss of contact.

lacey pants hooked underneath one of his fleshy digits, he placed them back between your cheeks without cleaning the mess he made. "walking around the entire night, while I'm dripping down your legs." the male chuckled, crouching down to pick up the baby blue suit pants and pull them back up. closing his belt to keep them in place, his hooded gaze watched how you carefully pulled the expensive fabric of the gown down again, smoothing wrinkles with the delicate palms of your head.

you turned away from the smugness that covered his face, the mischief twisted in his features, and walked towards the staircase. the mess of strands placed over your left shoulder and collarbone, hiding the reminders in a mixture of blue and purple that rafe left along the side of your throat. one glance at them, and your father would instantly find the attacker, and find a reasonable argument to have them disowned by their family. "don't be like that, princess."

the sole of the polished, brown leather shoes boomed against the floor, the sounds coming closer with each step hurried after the leaving woman. "you've had fun to, i heard that."

amusement placed aside, you did not find a second to joke about what has happened. "yeah, great fun, stomping my rules of not being fucked by you, without actually being with you." you hissed over the shoulder, glancing forward instead of backward to the man who followed like a lost puppy.

"well, we can be, if you want." rafe shrugged his shoulders, it was precisely what he wanted after the past midnight meetings. the memories made in the library, or underneath the blanket of golden stars. "i tried to trust you entirely first. what's going on behind the curtains, rafe, that sarah runs away with a pogue, and denies her inheritance and family?"

you stopped the escape from his convincing warmth and turned around once you reached the staircase. one answer, you did not like, you have the greatest way to run away. arms crossed over your chest, rafe's thumb and pointer finger outstretched across his forehead, slowly massaging the temples on each side.

"nothing. she's just being a dumb, little girl. falling in love and shit."

"that's enough of an answer. thank you, i won't be a dumb, little girl then and fall for your tricks further." ashamed by what you have done for the man in front of you, the lies you told your parents about your whereabouts, and the multiple times, you covered for him. all for nothing, or maybe not?

[sweatertheman]

@pap03 this was SUPPOSED to be in a reblog of your explanation of noelle, following me reiterating that its correct to say noelle will justify any shitty behavior so long as someone she trusts says its okay, but the post got EATEN by the FUCKING SCHOOL WIFI and now I have to write it all again, so.

I don't know if you'll agree with me on this, but isn't there just something unfair about the way Noelle gets treated compared to Susie? I mean, Noelle gets pretty much everything handed to her. Everyone likes her and treats her well, and is willing to justify her actions and have everything she wants, because she's sad and having a hard time at home, but guess what! So is Susie!

Noelle may have a mean mom and sick dad, but she has a home, money, friends, a family, food, and Susie doesn't get any of that! Susie may not even have a place to sleep at night! And what does Susie get? She gets treated like dirt by everyone around her! She gets demonized by people over nothing, excluded from social activities, mocked behind her back.

Noelle has pretty much everything, success, safety, love, and she's still unhappy! She feels entitled to Susie's affection, feels like Kris owes her information on Susie because she was nice to them. She treats Susie like a possession. And what, Susie is supposed to accept that?! To accept whatever crumbs of respect Noelle can throw her? To be happy to recieve a lunchbox full of chalk?!

The utter gall of Noelle to give the homeless starving girl chalk to eat, when she has the money to buy her real food that she needs, just because Kris happened to say that she ate some chalk. Even if Susie likes eating chalk, its not like she has a choice! She's starving! I am 100% sure Susie would rather have some fucking rice and hot dogs than chalk, but noooo! Noelle gets to decide for her, because she's the starry-eyed blonde althetic rich girl, and Susie is the filthy, poor bully who Noelle gets to whisk away into romance.

This isn't to say Noelle doesn't have problems, but it sure is to say Noelle acts so entitled about them! She feels owed Kris' cooperation in her obsession because she was nice to them, she feels like Susie is hers and no one else's, because her dad told her it was okay. I don't even really blame her for this, because everyone has always treated her with nothing but respect and admiration.

But God, Susie deserves better! Susie has nothing at all, no food, no home, no family, no friends, not even the freedom to choose! Everyone treats her like she's scum, mocks her, everyone would absolutely bully her back if they weren't so scared of her. And despite all this, Susie doesn't get anything! She's expected by the people around her to simply put up with it to take this awful hand and bear it. When Susie lashes out at the world, it's treated as proof that she's terrible. And when the perfect angel that is Noelle deigns to give her some fucking office supplies to eat and gives her a compliment or two, she's expected to thank her and give her all her love and affection, expected to be hers now just because Noelle is sad and needs some comfort?!

Likewise, Noelle has a giant house, a loving father, a strict bitch of mother who does still seem to love her, money, success, food, the love and respect of all her peers, and she still wants to lash out! Life gave Noelle like, three hardships. Her dad is sick, her mother is mean, and her sister is missing. Despite that, she has a great life. But it's not enough for her! The slight fate made against her is something she can't move on from, she can't move on from the hole Dess left in her life. When Noelle gets upset or lashes out, people come to comfort her, they respect her anger, they disregard her cruelties. Noelle is given all the choice, all the freedom. The most you can say is that she has the social pressure of others on her not to excersize that freedom how she pleases. But what does Noelle want to do with that freedom? She wants to lash out over the one tragedy she can't move on from, or to lash out at the world for not giving her what she wanted. Her pain over the loss of her sister is valid, but she doesn't get to act like it means she deserves to do whatever she wants!

It's honestly insulting how Susie gets treated compared to Noelle. Noelle gets everything handed to her because everyone likes her and feels bad for her, and she's still unhappy despite that. Susie has nothing, and is constantly demonized, but isn't expected to want more, isn't allowed to have the freedom to do as she pleases.

Noelle's idolization of Susie makes me angry for this reason, because Noelle already has everything, but still wishes she had the power to lash out at the world, to be mean to people who only ever show her kindness, to get back at the world for hurting her and to tear back the things she lost. She has no respect or understanding for Susie's situation, and just romanticizes the idea of not having to follow anyone's rules, not having to be nice. Susie doesn't make aggressive shows of her freedom because she wants to, she does it because if she didn't, she would loose the few freedoms she had. If Susie didn't steal food and eat trash, she'd starve. If she didn't wear a tough front, she'd be mocked and bullied herself. Susie doesn't have a choice! She isn't allowed to be all touchy feely, isn't allowed to be sad about the wrongs done to her. The world chewed her up and spit her out and she has to fight tooth and nail to claw back everything they took from her!

I got a bit worked up there, but yeah. Susie deserves better. It isn't fair for Noelle to be woobified because she's sad about the couple things which went wrong for her, while being ungrateful for everything she has, while Susie is demonized for every action she takes no matter how mundane because she's weird and has dirty clothes and looks scary, and to be expected to be grateful for whatever spare change the world that fucked her over can be bothered to throw.

Please, let me know what you think, pap!

[ryuichirou]

Waves!

Its the OruVil/VilOrtho shipper again, back in your dms offering more of this consuming ship 🩵💜

So the new event Playful Land! I’m not sure if you’ve seen any or played it yet (sadly I’m not sure if you’re EN or JP sever), don’t worry I will keep this post entirely spoiler free for the sake of everyone here!

There has been a LOT of interaction between these two.

It’s got me thinking about the whole Pinocchio story it’s based around but also with some personal HCs about Vil and Ortho being very parallel to the story of the Tin Soldier and the Ballerina (mainly based off the outfits). It makes me wonder if twst is pushing Vil to be a ‘Blue Fairy’ type role to Ortho as well.

Sorry this isn’t the usual risqué HCs but what if Vil is the one capable of making Ortho more in touch with being human, that’s his gift to Ortho - giving him freedom and choice and support when Idia has hang ups with it all.

I honestly cannot get over how close these two are becoming, it feels like more than friendship at this point, they have a mutual respect and understanding that’s so adorable but Ortho’s also becoming more of a little shit.

Deviant HCs on the table, I feel like Vil’s doting behaviour and encouragement are making him a filthy enabler to Ortho’s little god complex and entitlement. As soon as he becomes that star and sees Vil looking up with heart eyes he’s never going to let that or Vil Schoenheit go.

Cue Ortho’s dangerously obsessive and possessive arc of his beautiful senpai. It would be awful if he saved damsel Vil’s life if anything bad should happen at Playful Land and Vil is left swooning…

Sorry for the late reply, Anon!

Just in case: we haven’t watched this event yet. We don’t play the game ourselves at all, just watch everything on yt and read the translations. So thank you for not spoiling anything, we really appreciate it!

That being said, we’ve seen that the event has a lot of OruVil interactions, and honestly this is super exciting. The Tin Soldier and the Ballerina!! Such cute potential visual themes for them! Also, Vil being a “Blue Fairy” for Ortho would make sense. They do have an interesting connection, and I think Vil has influenced Ortho more than it appears at the first glance. I mean, he is the one who taught Ortho about the whole “the possibility is not 0” thing, so we’ve seen him unintentionally enabling Ortho in the main story already. Vil inspires Ortho to both take action and do whatever he wants, and to reflect about who he really is as a person. This dynamic is definitely going to evolve, since Ortho became such a special boy for Vil.

I really really like the idea of Vil being a little bit too enabling with Ortho though lol I feel like every time we discuss these two I just end up talking about how much Vil spoils him. Ortho is definitely going to become the biggest little shit with the most horrible god complex in the world if his kind senpai keeps treating him like this lol But of course, Ortho also loves Vil very much, so seeing him being obsessive and dangerous to everyone other than Vil would be so fun~ Both in canon (can you imagine?) and in fanon.

I feel like I just repeated a lot of what you’ve said, but just to stress: I’m really happy you like these two and share your thoughts with us. They are awesome….