#i genuinely have very much like been pushed to the edge this week

[sailoryooons]

I am going to say something that has really been bothering me that not everyone may agree with, which is totally okay, everyone is entirely valid to disagree with me: There is a fast fashion problem in fandom, specifically fanfiction.

Disclaimer: This conversation is not about broadly writing the same tropes, genres, and ideas. I am not talking about people writing fics with similar themes or the same name. I am specifically talking about people writing fics that are very obviously heavily influenced by other fics. This is not me talking about: I wrote __ character as enemies to lovers vampires and so did this person so they stole. Please do not trivialize this conversation with instances that are very obviously not what I'm talking about.

As someone who exists in the fanfiction space, I want to express what I have seen specifically in this space in my own experience, my mutuals experiences, and random experiences I have seen on my dash.

Recently, it seems like there is a reoccurring theme of writers (often new writers) taking "inspiration" from fanfics that they love and value and essentially creating their own version of that story to the point it is bordering on plagiarism. I say bordering on plagiarism because while people may not be copying line for line or entire scenes in order, you can tell that it is a re-arranged duplicate of another story.

I am not talking about writing similar tropes and dynamics. No one owns a trope or a dynamic. I am specifically talking about people taking the plots, scenes, concept and core of fanfics and recreating it and changing some plot elements or placing it in a different alternate universe and calling it their own, when at the heart of that fanfic, it is taken from someone else's creation.

This to me, reads like people who read a work, fall in love with it, but think 'this is easy to do, I can do this myself' and they end up making a replica of a fic that you can tell is a replica of another fic, despite adding some changes. Nine times out of ten, these inspired fics lack the obvious thought and heart the original writer put into it.

Which, begs the question: How is this different than fanfic writers taking inspiration from media (i.e. published books, movies, music, shows)? Because fanfiction is meant to replicate a specific something from published media. It is not meant to duplicate an already established fanfiction contribution.

I know that the nuance between that line is very ambiguous and it brings up the discourse on 'should there be fanfiction of fanfiction' - to which my response is it is, generally, pretty obvious what the difference between being inspired by a fic and copying a fic are.

In the last few months, I have lost count of how many times I or mutuals have a) discovered someone has been writing a story based off of their fic 2) have been asked to use an already written work to make their own or 3) already have started writing works modeled after an already written work and in hindsight asked the author if they could keep doing so (this third instance almost always happens after someone accuses them of stealing another work).

This feels like the fast fashion industry. Someone finds a story that is popular (whatever that means to the individual), takes all of the elements they think makes the story works, rearranges it, posts it as their own and and says they were 'inspired' (if they credit the original story at all).

This is why so many works that readers are coming across feel like they are the same thing. It is the same A + B + C = D over and over and over again, because people are outright just taking what they think works from other stories and using it.

Again - I am not talking about people who come across a trope, AU, genre or dynamic they like and add something similar to their story. I am talking about the people who are very intentionally and obviously writing the same exact fic with their own 'twist' (whatever that means).

Why is this a problem (beyond the fact that it's essentially roundabout plagiarism)? You're taking the heart, soul, and creativity someone poured into something and posting it on your own and robbing it of the originality, the essence, and the intention behind it. You cannot replicate a writer's feelings and obvious emotions that they have poured into the original work, and it shows. And it is gutting to the original authors who are finding remixes of their work across the fanfiction space.

Please consider whether or not you are inspired by a story or if you are redoing it in your own image. If you find yourself worried enough about your story that you feel like you have to publicly credit someone to avoid scrutiny, perhaps the question needs to be asked of whether you're just redoing what someone else already wrote.

Please do not confuse inspiration and recreation. 9 out of 10 authors will love that they inspired you to write, but would not love to find that you wrote a fic inspired by them that is a rearranged or hollowed-out version of the fic they wrote.

The fanfic space wants and needs more writers, but it does not need people unwilling to create their own art, instead taking bits and pieces from others and calling it a success.

Also adding: This problem also directly contributes to 'smaller' writers or more niche (often queer and bipoc) stories not getting the hype, readership, or recognition they deserve. On more than one occasion I've seen stories that had explicitly queer or bipoc characters taken and turned into heteronormative or white-presenting stories.

Note: This 1000% goes for actual visual art as well, including gifs etc. in fandom but I'm not well-versed there and thus, did not include it.

[pochapal]

in the Horrors bonanza year that has been 2024 nobody expected the oldest and dearest Horrors of all (covid horrors) to make a third act comeback

[redr0sewrites]

Sick!Hazbin Hotel x Reader Hcs

i love reverse comfort sm. im also currently being brutally murdered by allergies but i prefer comforting others so here we are

🥀 Cw: fluff, crack, teensy bit of angst with comfort

🥀 Pairing(s): Lucifer x reader, Alastor x reader, Vox x reader, Adam x reader

Lucifer:

sick? him? please, the king of hell doesn't get sick!

thats what he claims anyways

lucifer brushes nearly everything off as just plain allergies, he could literally have a 103 fever and be shaking on the floor and would still be pouting and saying he's fine

the thing about him tho is that he's easy to take care of- after a little coaxing lucifer just sighs and nods glumly before pretty much submitting himself to your care

once he's admitted hes sick tho, he wants you around him 24/7

lucifer wants cuddles, hugs, kisses, he just gets so clingy when he's feeling under the weather

THIS MAN LITERALLY BURNS UP WHEN HE'S SICK ITS ALWAYS THE LITTLE ONES WITH THE HIGHEST RAGING FEVERS THAT LAST FOR DAYS like he'll be sweating and shivering and crying he gets hit HARD when he's sick and it happens so suddenly too- like one day he's fine and then the next he looks like he's one small wind away from collapsing

he lowkey feels bad about asking for things when he's sick so he'll say something offhand like "yk im in the mood for soup" and hopes you get the message

ABSOLUTELY THE TYPE TO GET FEVER DREAMS AND START RAMBLING WHEN HES SICK

like he'll wake up from a nap and still be half asleep and he just starts genuinely rambling about literally the most obscure things

lucifer definitely gets nightmares even when he isn't sick, but when hes feeling like shit and is so delirious he can't tell reality from fiction? be prepared for him to wake up crying and shaking, he just gets so so scared :(

lucifer feels bad about you taking care of him and wants to help, but will lowkey end up pushing himself too hard. PLEASE reassure him and tell him it's alright he'll literally melt

once its all over, lucifer will genuinely trust you more after you saw him in such a vulnerable state and is much more likely to come to you instead of hiding how he's feeling in the future

Alastor:

alastor? weak? lmao no

he would literally rather die than admit he's sick like he would literally just keep pushing on

alastor is one of those people that has an iron immune system like he VERY rarely gets sick but when he does its like torture

to even be alastor's partner you'd have to know him for a long time and you'd probably be able to read him pretty well (at least compared to other people), yet even you sometimes miss his sickness in the earlier stages

alastors biggest tell tale sign of being sick? exhaustion. he very rarely sleeps on the regular, but when he's sick that all catches up to him

he also gets more irritable and a little less composed, he'd be more prone to getting angry and would lash out if anyone asked if he was ok

alastors ears would also be turned back slightly, like most animals do when they're being aggressive, but its pretty much only obvious to people who know him closely

alastor never wants to be vulnerable or weak but you notice that his eyelids keep drifting of their own accord, and how irritable he's been, and it clicks to you that he's obviously not feeling well

approach him about it in private, while alastor does trust you he still doesn't want others to knowm

no matter how much you try he will not lay down, take medicine, or do anything (at least at first)

alastor genuinely thinks that he can just push through on his own and lowkey thinks you're worrying too much

however after two weeks of pure suffering and exhaustion, combined with no sleep and your irritation at his lack of will to take care of himself, alastor finally breaks

he'd prob come to your room at like 4 in the morning and just curl up on the edge of the bed, shivering a little but staying quiet

you wake up to him fast asleep, his ears twitching every once and a while as he rests peacefully near you

get a cool towel and lay it on his forehead to break the fever, and he'll just keep sleeping

he probably wouldn't wake up for at least a few hours, months of lost sleep are catching up to him at this point, giving you the opportunity to make him some soup and medicine

alastor will stir a little when you get out of bed but wont wake up, but once he does wake up he wants you to come back

when he's sick he wants you to be nearby, alastor isn't the touchiest person and being sick makes him feel gross, so he wouldn't want to be touched but would want you arround just to know you're there

this is probably the first step in him being more open to vulnerability around you, and while it may have been a bit of an irritating process to get him back to his usual healthy status, it's definitely worth it as he begins to trust you more

Vox:

lowkey a man child (affectionate)

vox is one of those guys who will take care of himself when he's sick, but he'll complain about it every step of the way

i think he's pretty responsible when he's sick, he'll take the day off and relax but won't do much other than that

he likes when you pamper him though, and a part of him lowkey enjoys being sick because he just gets to have your full attention all of the time (as if he doesn't already💀)

vox would be irritated about showing weakness and not being in control, but he wouldn't be irritated at you

if an employee was being too nosy about his wellbeing? yea he's pissed but if you're the one taking care of him, he'll just sigh and let you do what you want

VOX IS ONE OF THOSE PEOPLE WHOS LITERALLY ALWAYS COLD AND ITS AMPLIFIED WHEN HES SICK

he becomes like a literal ice cube he's SHIVERING and everything

vox has the cutest sneezes too, he glitches out and denies how cute his sneezes are but they really are adorable

vox takes like 2 baths per day when he's sick he hates feeling unclean, and def wants you to join him in the bath (just to relax, get your mind out of the gutter)

vox would be a little pissed about missing work, i think he's a bit of a workaholic and might try to work in bed or sneak some paperwork behind your back

it doesn't work though because he just ends up passing out anyway

vox is big on sleeping when he's sick he's definitely the type to just sleep it off and thats that

like he CRASHES in bed and just does not get up for hours

he sleeps like the dead too, his screen is blank and he barely moves in his sleep

like lucifer, he has fever dreams but they lean more on the weird side rather than the sad side

its funny but instead of talking more when sick, vox actually talks much less. he starts getting super quiet and a lot more needy for your attention

vox is more than happy to return to work and be back on his feet, but will send you a little thank you gift and pamper you in return for taking care of him

Adam:

manchild x2 (also affectionate)

adam DREADS getting sick like he genuinely hates it so much, he sees it as one of his own flaws and it makes him lowkey disgusted at himself

he whines like a baby over a common cold, its almost sad how the slightest sickness will make him act like he's on his death bed

adam whines and complains whenever you aren't around him, he wants cuddles and kisses and is 10x more clingy when he's sick

he has little to no appetite when he's actually sick but gets a huge appetite right after

like you'll have to force him to eat at least a piece of toast per day while he's actually feverish but once he's in recovery he's literally FAMISHED and will ask for so much food

he barely eats or drinks while hes sick it just feels icky to him

i also think he's the type to not want to move like he just collapses on his bed and barely moves an inch (unless you force him)

adam exaggerates when he's barely sick and then underplays it when he's genuinely really sick its lowkey so confusing

like he could have pneuomonia and be half dead and say he's fine but he could have the most common cold and complain foreverrr

he doesn't think you're genuine when you say you want to help him and take care of him, he thinks its just a joke since nobody has ever really taken care of him before

like sure he's been told what to do and bossed around and treated him like a foolish child, but no one has ever sat with him while he's sick and held his hand yk?

while he can be irritable and annoying while he's sick, he apologizes afterwards

its one of the few times he ever apologizes but he genuinely feels bad about lashing out

adam isn't used to being below someone when it comes to status or health and relaxing and letting someone else take care of him is kind of foreign for him, but you both work it out over time

while he isn't the easiest to take care of, he genuinely appreciates that you want to help him and wants to return the favor someday

I WILL MAKE A PT 2 OF THIS WITH MORE FEM CHARACTERS OR WITH HELLUVA BOSS CHARACTERS BUT I DIDNT WANT TO CROWD UP THIS POST TOO MUCH!!!!! ALSO SORRY FOR ANY SPELLING MISTAKES I WROTE THIS WHILE HALF ASLEEP ♥️ HOPE YALL ENJOYED THIS TEEHEE

[capslocked]

KINKVEMBER DAY: 1

[prompt: against a wall window]

male reader x huh yunjin

5k words

You're not entirely sure where the jacket to your suit has gone.

You know you should know; it’s a rental and you need to return it in a week. But Yunjin told you to take it off, and since then, things have been... a little hazy.

More concerning - or it would be, had Yunjin not also lost some part of her attire - is what her thumbs are hooked into. Like she's peeling out the silhouette to her skin-tight, backless dress - the way she can't keep from leaning against the elevator wall. Your lips have the taste of her red lipstick all over, and her body melts with every little flick of the tip of her tongue against yours, puddles that much further when she feels your fingers curling into the folds of that skin-tight black material.

The motion to push the fabric up and over the rise of her hips is a purposeful kind of thing.

For the past hour, her skirt kept brushing over the fabric of your pants while you went from shaking hands to kissing hands to her placing yours on the hem of her dress, in the quiet space of a balcony the hotel staff had clearly marked as off-limits. A kiss behind the shell of her ear, a suggestion, a shiver.

Now, things are happening in a sort of reverse: from slow and curious, to needing more and wanting less, and suddenly, neither of you want to wait - until her thighs are spread wide apart, with your free hand slid over her smooth thigh, fingers skirting the edges of her lace, cupped over her heat - right, there. The throbbing.

"Do you have any idea what you're doing to me," is what she's asking.

"Something awful," you reply, but there's only a gasp out of her throat to prove your point. No words.

Just the look: desire clouding over the expression. The not-so-subtle display of want, need. Tongue pressing to lips and tugging along the corner. A moan, two, quieted behind the knuckle she can't quite help putting in her mouth.

You consider shoving her panties down the curve of her thighs and spinning her around - leaving her arms to brace the railing and keeping the dress around her waist while you fuck. Quick, rough.

The mental image is too nice to let it go.

You consider how much she might genuinely prefer to that to whatever she'd had in mind when she suggested you really ought see the view of the city from her room - oh, the skyline, it's gorgeous, she offered, lips tugged into a perfectly practiced little quirk that said: the view of me, on all fours, face down into a mattress as my ass swallows down your cock - I can't wait to have you.

You can feel the thought concrete itself to the base of your skull when you roll the flat of your finger over her clit and start sliding up and down between the lips of her pussy - finding her a little wet already, dripping onto the fabric in the most obvious way. When the elevator stops a few floors shy, you try to play it off by squeezing at her rib cage and tugging the fabric back in place, hiding the tell-tale lines between the fabric, just as Yunjin starts that gentle laugh from the very base of her spine. A real beautiful timbre in its sound.

But things get more muddled, admittedly, when the doors ding and the group on the other side piles through.

There's an exchange of glances, where they're asking if this is allowed, is there enough room, can they make room. One of them, in a dizzyingly plunging, strapless blue number that has you pressing your palm into the small of Yunjin's back just a little more than you have been up to that point, considers, carefully.

"Yunjin," she says, fingers brushing through the fringe of a smart-chic bob, prim cut of jet-black hair.

Yunjin shifts her weight onto the other heel. "Chaewon."

"By the looks of it," she says, and the way she looks you over has all the judgmental verve of an older sister, a real cold stare. "You've got a I'll-be-staying-in-tonight kind of vibe."

A deeper laugh now, rolling out across the backs of her teeth. "If it's all the same to you," is what you hear from her, "it'll be an early night for me."

“Don’t make it a habit,” she tells Yunjin.

“We’re just going to go enjoy the view.”

“Yeah.” Chaewon gives you one final, disapproving expression. “I bet he will.”

The elevator isn't totally silent, not for the subtle hum and whir of machinery. But everything is a lot closer now. Especially your thoughts, the way Yunjin pulls herself closer against you by a hand on the back of your dress shirt - her fingernails mapping the ridge of your spine, finding your hip bone, thumb curving back and forth against the curve of it.

The four girls at the corner are just making chatter in their corner of the lift. They've got a reservation - in name, anyway. If things were as simple as getting from the hotel to the elevator and beyond, no need for the next forty floors to pass at a snail's pace.

In fact, the four have this sort of tense, concentrated way to them that suggests otherwise - like maybe they came all this way and made that sort of promise to have the whole night end the way some things ought: alone.

"Don't stop on account of us," one of them says after a while.

Which is enough to set off this glare into the furl of Yunjin’s brows. Not her friend's intention. But they laugh it off.

When the doors scuttle open, finally, the two of you stumble out, feet not catching up to the rest of you before Yunjin has her fingers around your wrist and drags you out. Her heels - red-bottomed and not entirely flat but definitely a lot less heel-ey than others (she’s tall, she says, it makes her self-conscious), are clacking quick across marble tile until she arrives at the door of her room, pulls her keycard out of her clutch and leans shoulder-first into the door after the click and whir of entry.

She takes a step backward.

The door locks at your back when it's kicked into its frame.

The first thing you notice is her dress: pooled on the floor around the arches of her heels, cast off like a cloak or some overcoat - to be tossed aside once the sun goes down.

"Make a habit out of this, huh?" you ask in an effort to keep yourself busy - gawking's never been a good look on anyone, even with your natural gifts, the glint in your smile, all your charm - but the curves of her body are stunning, curves that start where her thighs begin, wrap around her hips, cut in at her waist, bloom from the perfectly-small-breasts that now are showing their dusky pink nipples, firm and on full display.

All of Yunjin, like this, beneath pale moonlight pouring diffuse through the fish-bowl-glass of her hotel room, is nothing short of an invitation.

A good look, is what you're about to say if you don't come up with anything else.

"You do this kind of thing often?"

"What's that," Yunjin says over the sharp line of a grin.

"What I mean to say is: I hadn't pegged you for the," and you gesture, rather elegantly, with the flop of your wrist, "lure-some-poor-sap-away-from-a-party-and-take-advantage kind of type," before managing something like a genuine laugh. "Not to knock that lifestyle or anything."

"There's not a thing in the world you know about me," is what she offers. Which is, unsurprisingly, totally true, and slightly unfair.

Yunjin is walking toward you while you consider it.

Drifting when she comes around. It's that close. You can smell the warmth of her skin, a whiff of that vanilla, an infuriating softness - the room is dark, but the moon is bright and the city is glowing, reflecting its light and the various hues from neon signs below, outside, until Yunjin stops, standing right in front of you, just, waiting.

Then, the steady rise of an eyebrow that, for a second, feels like a challenge.

“So," you kiss into her lips, and that's the first. "Let me know you."

The second is when her hands slip up and over the back of your neck and you can't keep from reaching for her sides, pulling her closer. Her hips and ass and those fucking gorgeous, full, legs that can't decide which direction to take - until she's pressed, warm, soft, and perfect against your body, and she's sighing this sigh, heavy, a moan.

The third time, she's licking into your mouth, tongue rolling in and around the taste of your own.

"Too many clothes," she murmurs, and you can feel the pull at your half-undone bowtie, the collar to your dress shirt. She's working the buttons off their slots with deft, clever fingers.

"That's what happens when I'm trying to look sharp."

"Sharp, and hot."

"Is it working?"

Her eyes are as dark as the hair framing the smile that plays at the edge of her mouth. "I'm taking your clothes off, aren't I?"

"Mm," you reply, a smirk of your own. Pressed right into her jaw, her neck, the column of her throat, where she tastes sweet and salty. Like the sea and the night. Before you can even ask, with your fingers teasing the elastic of her underwear, I'm guessing you want me to do the same.

Yunjin makes a sound like, mm-hm.

The hotel room is quite standard, which is to say, nice. But, for what it is, it's not too fancy. There's a large, king-size bed with the crispest sheets you've ever felt. A little kitchenette. Some counter space and a fridge. A TV hanging opposite the bed, with an armchair and a love-seat positioned to face the screen.

"Do you want me to tell you what to do?" Yunjin asks, and her voice is low. Almost a husk, a whisper.

"What did you have in mind?" you say to her, and there's a hand on the nape of your neck, a fist of soft, slender fingers wrapping the length of your cock.

"You're going to fuck me until I'm cumming on your cock. You'll get me on my knees, first, though."

"That's the plan?"

"Unless you have another." Yunjin grins, a smile so full and bright and genuine. You don't know anything beyond her name and the perfectly sculpted curve of her ass. She could be anyone, an actress, a singer, a model. A girl-next-door. A friend of a friend.

She could be yours.

And in a way, when she's on her knees, her mouth hot and tight around the shape of your cock, those fucking lips pressed into the base of it, sliding easy with the spit she leaves on your shaft, that's exactly what you tell her.

"Yunjin," is all you're saying, a sigh, a hiss. You're helping her get your pants off the ends of your feet while your cock is lathered and bathed in her spit, feeling her slender fingers pull up and down your shaft. "That feels so fucking good, baby. Just like that." It's fast, sloppy, she's taking you in and out of her hot mouth like it's the most natural thing in the world. A slurp, a cough, and she's completely unfettered, sucking down and swallowing another breath - not to mention all that about her tongue. A swirl over the head of your cock and you show how much you like it, letting her read the bite into your lip, inventorying every little wince through your brow.

But see - you have your fingers in her hair, holding the strands away from her face. Away from where Yunjin's eyes are breathtaking and glittering, blinking back up under upturned brows, looking up at you from where she's taking you into the hot wet of her mouth, inch-by-inch. And the part of you, this cruel, twisting sensation, would hate for her to think anything of your hands - how they're at the top of her head, cradled behind, and easing her forward, the head of your cock teasing the roof of her mouth.

The back of her mouth.

The back of her throat.

Fuck, her eyes go wide. She's good. She takes it.

And just from the pretty look she keeps on her face, Yunjin loves it. Loves to be pushed, loves to have her hands running along the ridge of your thigh until her fingers are prying the very bottom, the underside, your balls. Like this, with her kneeling down between your legs, the flexing muscle of her upper arms to her palms squeezed tight on either cheek of your ass, where the heat starts to stir deep - to pull. Bring the full length of you to the back of her throat.

The choked sound from deep in her chest should surprise you.

And for the shortest moment, you're holding still and forcing her head, your hands keeping her perfectly put: just there, right there. Exactly like that - where she could look like the perfect mess and feel a twitch right between those lips that keep asking so kindly, go ahead, fuck a load of cum down my throat, baby, use these lips - the soft swell of these lips until you're cumming for me.

Or something else along those lines.

The thought of it crosses your mind: cum spilling from the corner of her mouth as she tries to take everything you have. The flutter in her throat wringing it all down. The mess that all would make. Not that she isn’t already a perfect sight.

You tug on her hair again.

Yunjin's eyes sparkle.

Her eyelashes go a little droopy, hazy. Dark.

And she starts humming across this wistful note of a sigh as her lips start slipping over your shaft - dragging in that slow, agonizing, blissful way over everywhere sensitive and aching. Taking her time, while one hand goes up and strokes what her mouth can't touch, while you pull her head, those perfect strands, just a touch further down, because if she can't quite deep-throat you then Yunjin can give a goddamn masterful impression.

Her cheeks hollow, and the suction - god.

You could cum right in between the pretty little pout of her lips, over the flat of her tongue. Right down her throat.

But in a turn of events neither of you anticipate, you don't do it; you are, much like anyone else, not without limits. Which is probably how you end up lifting Yunjin back up by the underside of her elbows, asking, "that feels a little one-sided, no?"

It's only fair to pull a smirk, kiss, all the best tricks - all for the best parts of her, full, curving, down from her neck, shoulders, her arms, the palms of her hands, every part of her: that perfect shade of peach, pink. From there, everything else falls away. The slow way Yunjin sneaks away with the kind of saunter you'd expect, hips swaying all the way up, sashaying out this inviting side-to-side before you realize it's working -

And you're asking, "Yunjin?" then telling, "I want you up against that window."

The sun's long set - but it'll come up soon enough, over the edges of skyscraper-blocks and shining up out from the base, until everything is bright and gleaming.

"Which window?" she teases.

So you swat at her ass. A not-so-delicate slap. "I don't care so long as I fuck you into it."

"And if someone sees?" she laughs out, still intent on teasing you, and the small edge in her voice is some combination of excitement and worry.

"Then we better give them something worth seeing."

Yunjin's palms land flush to the glass, fingers spread out - wide, wanting, willing - where the blue, yellow glow of city lights shines in over the curves of her profile, the slope of her cheek, the bright pools her irises turn under the warmth. She's the only thing worth seeing, and there's nothing that could possibly stop you from needing, wanting more, right now.

There's no other explanation. No other reason, really, to explain how you're desperate: to fill her, bury yourself inside her - to where you're promising, coming up behind her and guiding her over - so you can spread those creamy thighs apart, push her shoulders up against the cold surface of the window. Where she'll catch a view of her reflection staring back at her: beautiful, exposed, and hers.

"I'm going to fuck you now," is exactly what she's been begging you to say, is why she ends up feeling, with the deep, twisting need building somewhere, how you'll work your cock so deep into her wanting cunt that the only thing that makes her legs go weak - wobbling, really - is the promise of cock rubbing so close and teasing the slick folds between her legs. Until she's a little more demanding, needy - and fuck, where is all the foreplay you'd promised earlier? That perfect, thick cock of yours is missing. She knows what all this really needs.

"Yeah? You need me here?" and she gets this whine, a little pathetic, but in the cutest way.

Yunjin turns her eyes to you, over her shoulder, just the faintest bit of a sneer. 

Because she needs it, right now - rough, quick, good. 

A gasp catches in her throat when you drag your cockhead through her wet heat, once, twice, and the slide of it against her clit becomes the only thing that matters in the entire goddamn world. 

"Inside," her teeth are clamping hard on her lip now, holding it from trembling as she tries to put words together, "Put," is where she loses focus and you're sucking, and kissing, and biting at her shoulder, "put, fuck. Please, put your, put - that cock of yours in my-" You slip into her hot-soaking-wet cunt, and after you've clenched a fist and brought a palm to the center of the window, so that you could open up your body around her a little easier, her muscles squeeze and grip and milk the first few strokes so tight. So-fucking-good.

There's not even a word for it, how she fit like a glove around the first thrust, but if the expression on your face says anything, it's everything Yunjin wanted and more: the shape, the angle, how you're pressing your fingers so hard into the impossible geometry of her waist, the round of her ass - oh, she’ll be a mess of red marks, shapes and lines, reminders of how good you fucked her - these long deep strokes in and out of her creaming pussy - evidence left where the heat inside her builds and pools.

And god, Yunjin is so, so easy to fuck: you can pound into her as rough and steady and fast as she'd begged - there with your other hand, pulling hard, hard, at the loose, dark locks of her hair. Where it has Yunjin gasping, moaning, the whole nine. She has to look to find her balance - and meets the two silhouettes framed inside the reflection on the window. Two shapes, lost in the blurred shadow and outline of lights outside the hotel window, behind which the whole city and its crowds might have stopped the way they'd started, with the rest of you caught between these strange moments:

First, the mindfulness. The purpose and meaning in movement, sensation. In being alive and young, hot, gorgeous and dumb as you can afford to be be.

Yunjin's murmuring, "right there, I want you," or telling, or begging, "don't, you have no idea, I, no-" until your body presses flush up against hers, hips rocking into her perfect figure - taking you like she was built for it, and everything feels so much tighter now, so much closer. Her palms and cheek against the glass, her knees are all shaking and ready to fold at any moment. "So deep, fuck. Fuck me right there, just like that."

Then as you suppose, the unbridled lust on display: Yunjin's turned to this kind of abandon - she's swearing out loud, saying things that have no name and very little form until you've dragged the roughness of your fingers all over her body and found she needs a palmprint on her inner thighs, her ass. That she's whimpering with every deeper plunge until, finally, she gets what she's after - and the words are falling out of her mouth. All it does is mean nothing now - whatever you've been waiting to hear, the pleas to fuck her harder, the cocksleeve talk, or any other request or order.

It's a small miracle, really, considering how she'd gotten you throbbing and aching with just the press of her lips and the dangerous little curl of her tongue - the tight heat all in the back of her throat - but Yunjin cums first.

Loudly. 

Messily, too, as she rides out the feeling - tightness gathering right into her core. But her head, it's in the clouds and a little far away, the skyline bathing her skin in shades of glittering silver and gold. And god, the heat of her tight, twitching, soaked pussy - pulsing around the thrusting curve of your cock: the sublime kind of place, spot, rhythm.

How her arms give out and she's pressed, flushed, back to chest with you, right there. Her words are soft. Wholly unimaginative: yes and fuck, yes and oh, she wants you, loves how well you fuck. The murmur comes from that gorgeous body of hers, the exact shape of everything that feels good to feel. The jut of her hips and her legs are longer than her height suggests they'd be, flawless from the ankle and foot to her thigh to where your arm wraps around the base of her ribs, hugging her from the back.

It's a perfect fit.

And not in the glass-slipper kind of way that means there is such a thing as a soulmate, no.

"Cum in me," she breathes, and then - all over. That's it. The moment your fingers are splayed back out over the pane of window, she can't hold her gaze steady. Those tears prick up at the corner, where they get caught. Where her voice is too high and pitchy - begging, a whining noise and some syllable. Something inaudible that has pressing these hot, open-mouthed kisses right into the pretty rise-and-falls of her spine. The sloppy-wet sound from your cock slipping back in, and back again, until you're just left fucking these little ragged breathes out of her chest.

The space between her lips and the glass, the white-ghosting breaths of air out between those plump little pouts that have shaped and molded themselves into some version of words, a few half-finished pleads: “kiss, hold, fill, fuck, just," and, "my body, love-

"Your fucking pussy, Yunjin, holy shit, it's - fucking - so, god," you all but growl out.

Pounding into the tight clench of her cunt.

The bed in the other room might be the better choice, the sheets and pillows for more support than the hard wall she's propped against. But the glass, to see the view and take her up against it: it feels nice, cool and comfortable, even when your motion makes it fogged and sticky with condensation. She had, when your first thrust pushed inside the molten heat of her pussy, reached around the corner - fingertips splaying wide apart, up, along the foggy pane, watching the shadow of her palms turn blurry and indistinguishable against the soft glow of neon beyond.

"I'm cumming," you tell her, "I'm cumming - fuck," before shoving her body even further into the glass. Fucking her hard - just short of bending her to the point of where she might break.

That last stroke or two goes a little wild; all that coiled and pressurized want and need, boiling over the moment you fuck your cum deep into her trembling body. This time, your sounds aren't just the thoughtless hum and groan from the depth of your lungs, but some collection of dirty words, grunts. Nasty things. A whole host of obscenities: like how it's for the sake of claiming, leaving something of yourself behind. How you're pulling the smooth, curve of her hips into your body to push as much of yourself inside the gripping warmth of her. How your hot cum is starting to spill from her pink, perfect, hole - all for the better because when you take your thumb and swirl and trace and smear all along her slippery-wet slick, she gets like this: squirming in these lazy, needy little wriggles against your touch.

It takes the two of you sometime longer to move. Not long, but, you know, a little while.

When it is that Yunjin comes back to herself, you feel the smile as the ghost over your arm.

The kind of thing to ask, though you're too fucked to pay attention, are questions about life: where do you go to school, how long will you stay? All of that. There's a quiet moment where your mind plays back, vaguely, a little more intensely, the realization - and regret of it, the waste - of fucking a stranger for a night.

And in a real short moment:

"That was - really good," she says, still not recovered quite enough to walk.

Yunjin sounds all that same: a stranger. Not familiar. That's, like, your last chance or whatever. Before this becomes a one-off.

("Stay for a while?" is what she doesn't manage to ever ask.)

"Have to leave early tomorrow." And she looks at you, shoulders dipping at the ends. She says things like: "my work," and "we have an international flight. Customs is a bitch."

"Oh," is what you say to all that, looking her body over again, drinking down all the small details of her. The ones you'll lose forever after tonight. All of them, you know.

All because that's how it had to be, from the start.

"For sure."

Yunjin's hands are twisting at the end of her hair, stroking and brushing through the silky, black strands. Just for something to do: maybe, optimistically to keep herself occupied with some semblance of a thought that has nothing at all to do with how she can't seem to shake this sudden, cresting wave of frustration - how there's an urgent throb from deep within, pushing into her skin like a force.

You swallow. Try to smile. "It was fun."

-

The hotel's checkout desk is staffed by a cheerful looking man, almost fresh out of high-school. Too cheerful a smile, perhaps, and maybe a little too bright for the time of day. You'd been busy pacing the lobby, trying not to stare at your phone for the third or fourth time since stepping out of the elevator. Your feet have scuffed the ground under the coffee table, around the floral couches - almost tripping over the boutiques lined in the middle of this path. Likely you'd have considered them if you weren't focused elsewhere.

Thinking about how you'd put off any discussion about piecing back together your rental suit.

"Did you have a good stay, sir?" the concierge asks, reaching out across his desk to pick up a card. He's placing a machine in front of him.

Your face warms ever-so-slightly. "Wonderful."

"That's what we like to hear. Just swipe your key here."

The machine's screen flashes and there's another cheerful beep, indicating everything was processed.

"Could you get me my receipt?"

"Absolutely. One second."

And the printer whirs to life: spitting out line-after-line of printed data. Until there are twelve characters of nonsense and garbage, including but not limited to the link to a questionnaire and an explanation for all the boxes marked 'x'. It also indicates your total costs (minimal, really) and lists a detailed breakdown of services: breakfast, in-room bar, laundry, towels - all the necessities.

"There, would you like- wait. Sir? Someone asked me to hand this to you," and after reaching under the desk, "looks like a suit jacket of sorts."

"Oh."

He raises an eyebrow. "From the event, I'm assuming."

It's hard to tell what it's about. But as you wrap your fingers into the cloth of the fabric, tug at it a bit, there's a note that slips and falls to the floor.

You sort of frown, skeptical. Fumble with the note. And the note says this:

In your absence, I helped myself to your jacket, your wallet, an extra serving of breakfast, as well as a large iced-coffee. Promise you I'll get the next one. Call me: (xxx)-xxx-xxxx.

Affectionately, your (girl)friend for an evening,

Huh Yunjin

[ahqkas]

could you please do how bruce would admit his feelings ? tysm i appreciate your writing so much !! :)

♯ MADE OF FLESH AND BONES ( bruce wayne ! )

— gn!reader, bruce is bad at feelings, fluff

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

BRUCE WAYNE isn’t someone who wears his heart on his sleeve. years of training, loss, and responsibility have molded him into a man who values control above all else. to be in control means to rule and to admit he has feelings for you is no small thing—it’s an intrusion to his carefully maintained barriers, a decision he didn’t make lightly. he weighed every possibility, every outcome, because for bruce, love isn’t a fleeting emotion that will pass like the summer breeze; it’s a commitment, a risk he doesn’t take unless he’s one hundred percent certain.

admitting his feelings to himself was the first, and perhaps most challenging, step. for weeks, maybe even months, bruce tried to ignore the way his heart beat faster when you entered the room or the warmth that spread through his veins when you laughed. he convinced himself it was just a feeling of admiration or gratitude for your kindness. but the feelings grew, unrelenting, until they were impossible to ignore. the realization came quietly, in a rare moment of peace; you offered him a genuine smile that felt like sunlight breaking through gotham’s ever-present gloom, and batman felt his high walls of defense crumble at the single sight

that’s when it hit him: he cared for you in a way that terrified him. you were not just someone he enjoyed being around—you’d became someone he couldn’t imagine his life without.

once he acknowledged his feelings, the war inside his mind began. he questioned whether he had the right to bring you into his world, a world full of danger, secrecy, and darkness. he’s haunted by the losses he’d endured, and the thought of you becoming another person he might fail to protect kept him up at night. he told himself it was better to keep his distance, to let you go for your own safety & good. but no matter how hard he tried to pull away, he was drawn back to you, like a moth to a flame

alfred, the butler for the wayne family, noticed the change in his master almost immediately. the older man’s knowing gaze lingered on bruce whenever you were around, a bittersweet smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “you can’t protect yourself from every risk, master wayne,” alfred examined one evening, his tone gentle yet full of wisdom. “some things are worth taking a leap of faith for.”

the fateful night of his confession didn’t come easily. bruce had spent countless nights pacing in the batcave, the words he wanted to say circling in his mind but never forming fully. it took a catalyst to finally push him to act—seeing you with someone else, laughing in a way that felt too intimate, too close. the jealousy caught him off guard, a sharp reminder of how deeply he felt for you

it became impossible for him to hold back. his emotions, usually so carefully contained, spilled over like a dam breaking under the weight of a flood.

you were standing in the grand parlor of wayne manor, the crackling fireplace the only source of light as snow drifted softly outside the tall windows. it was quiet, the kind of stillness that felt almost like a prayer. bruce stood a few feet away, his hands shoved into the pockets of his tailored slacks, his gaze fixed on the fire as though it held answers to questions he’d been wrestling with.

“i’ve been meaning to talk to you,” he said finally, his voice low and steady, though there was an edge of something raw beneath it.

you turned to him, brows furrowing at his tone. “is everything okay?”

he nodded, but his lips pressed into a thin line before he spoke again. “no. not really.” his hands left his pockets, fingers flexing at his sides as if he was bracing himself for a fight. “i’m not very good at this,” he admitted, sharp gaze briefly flicking to yours before returning to the fire.

the vulnerability in his voice took you off guard, and you stepped a little closer, searching his expression for answers. for anything. “good at what?”

“talking about how i feel.” he exhaled sharply, his jaw tightening for a moment as he tried to find the right words. “i’ve spent most of my life . . . closing myself off. building walls to keep people out. it’s easier that way. safer.”

he paused for a moment, his blue eyes finally meeting yours, and the intensity there sent a shiver down your the valley of your spine. “but you . . . you’ve made it impossible to keep those walls up.”

your breath hitched at the back of your throat, and you’re not sure if it was from the weight of his words or the way he was looking at you—as though you were the only person in the world. his world.

“i’ve tried to fight it,” continuing, his voice dropped to a near whisper. “tried to convince myself that it’s better this way. that you deserve someone who can give you the life you want without dragging you into the darkness that comes with mine.” he took a step closer, his movements slow and deliberate, as if he was afraid of scaring you off whether it was by his words or actions. “but no matter how hard i try, i can’t stop thinking about you. about the way you make everything feel . . . lighter. like there’s still hope.”

his confession hung in the air, heavy and charged, as he looked at you with an almost pleading expression. “i care about you. more than i should. more than i ever thought i could.”

bruce hesitated, his hand lifting slightly before falling back to his side, his uncertainty so unlike the confident man you’d came to know. “i don’t expect anything from you. i just . . . i needed you to know.”

[joelsmochi]

honeypie - joel miller

summary: part 2 to honey (can be read as a standalone, doesn’t have much to do with the original plot!) warnings: not proofread, 18+, slight angst?, age gap (everyone is legal!!!!!), bickering/arguing, double date trope womp womp, degradation, dubcon, creampie, joel is a smidge misogynistic insecure and possessive wc: 2.6k a/n: this is mainly just some self indulgent yet rushed storytelling (so sorry, i wrote it in an hour because i was bored at work lol)! i wanna write a part 3 and actually include the beekeeping a little more but i have nooo idea how i’m gonna do it but we WILL get there one day babes!!! until then, enjoy this fluffy angsty sex 😽!!!💓

series masterlist | main masterlist

-

“If you guys are gonna bang when I’m in the house the least you could do is be quiet!” You heard Sarah shout from the other side of Joel’s bedroom door after banging on it.

Joel grimaced, his body tensing beneath you but you were almost oblivious to the complaints of your best friend. Almost.

You didn’t let up on your movements or noises whatsoever and as much as Joel loved those sweet little moans spewing from you as you humped against him, he loved his privacy much more especially when it came to his daughter.

You shook your head profusely when he attempted to get you to stop, insisting on how you were almost there.

“Soclosesoclosesoclose—just w-wait, I’m cu—fuck. Ahh, fuck, I’m cumming. Oh yes! Yesyesyesyesyes! Ohh—oh, my God—“

Joel covered your mouth with a clammy hand, feeling torn from his mixed feelings of lust and embarrassment.

Going downstairs didn’t help him feel any better either, especially when Sarah began berating you both, not that he blamed her for it.

“Call it payback for all the times I let you and your boyfriend have sex in my bed,” you retorted.

“In your bed?!” Joel mumbled to himself.

“Yeah yeah, could have at least waited until I was gone,” Sarah muttered.

“Sorry, Sar,” you hummed, “your dad is just really hot.”

She scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Come on, man.”

“I didn’t even know you were home,” Joel complained. “You’ve been with Jared or whatever his name is all week.”

Sarah’s squinted her eyes, annoyed by the lack of care from her father. “Alex. His name is Alex dad—see, I hate this!”

“Oh, by the way, Sarah,” you said, pattering behind the kitchen counter, “wouldn’t use the open jar of honey if I were you.”

“UGH! EW! Fucking ew!”

♡

“Other than the obvious,” Sarah mumbled, “how’s my dad taking care of you?”

You wore a bright smile and looked away from your reflection momentarily. Joel was… Joel. Rough around the edges but he was a genuine person, confident in the external reality but a little insecure. Not unbearably insecure though, just enough to make you know he was trying his best.

He wasn’t the most romantic but you figured it was just from him being out of the game for so long and you knew you could train him to be more romantic if it was needed.

He didn’t push you aside or make attempts to subtly suggest you needed to leave after sex either; he’d pout real big and give you those gorgeous puppy dog eyes until you held him. He loved making you laugh.

But it definitely still felt like just sex rather than a relationship. You weren’t particularly complaining, but you weren’t bragging about it either.

“Good,” you answered.

Sarah could tell from your tone how honest it was. Good meant great, happy, damn near perfect.

“Good. I’m glad,” she said. “I was worried he’d be like one of those incels that get real creepy and pervy after thirty-five.”

“No, no, he’s great,” you reiterated. “He’s very funny. Smart. He asks me to tan in my bikini while he’s working on the hive or the yard.”

You watched from the corner of your makeup coated eye how tightly she grimaced.

“Images. In head. Don’t want them there,” she dramatized.

“I have to hear every last detail about you and Al up to where he’s shoving your cervix into your stomach. You can deal with a little sexiness from us,” you said.

“It’s just so weird,” she whined.

“Do you want me to stop seeing him?” You asked.

You had slowly began to worry about how this would affect your best friend over time, you knew it was a weird situation. You had no issue cutting Joel off if it meant Sarah got to be happy. There were other men in the world, there weren’t other Sarah’s.

“No, God! No. It’s just not as simple as I was expecting. You know?” She explained kindly.

“Totally! I’d be weirded out if you were hooking up with my dad while I was across the hall. I’m not blaming you there, or anywhere for that matter. Just know you come first.”

“Well, yeah, who else is going to wax your back hair and not judge you for it?” She teased.

You rolled your eyes at her.

“Lots of men with weird fetishes.”

♡

“Can’t believe I agreed to this,” Joel huffed.

He adjusted the waistband of his jeans making his shoulder briefly flare. You let your mind wander while Joel complained about the double date you had arranged with Sarah and Alex. You were currently waiting in the parking lot for them to arrive.

“It’ll be fun. You’ll get to meet Alex and see he is a respectable man and you and I get to pretend we’re a couple for a few hours.”

“Pretend?” Joel questioned. “W-what do you mean pretend? Are we not together?”

“Uh, no?” You said.

Joel didn’t appreciate your amused reaction and questioned you a little more.

“You never asked me to be your girlfriend— you haven’t even taken me on a date,” you explained. “Did you really think that conversation wasn’t necessary?”

“So if we’re not together then what is this?”

You sucked your teeth before simply saying, “Sex.”

Once the four of you were inside Sarah and her boyfriend felt the tension between the two of you.

You watched Joel punch in all of your names into the keypad before pressing ‘start game’.

“So Alex, what do you do for work?” Joel asked.

“Oh, well right now I’m working at a café downtown, but I’m majoring in political science to become a lawyer.”

“A lawyer?” Joel sounded impressed.

“Lawyers are great at communicating,” you antagonized. “They know what questions are… Important to ask.”

Joel rolled his eyes and motioned between you and the bowling balls. “Just go. Good God.”

“Dad, what did you do?” Sarah asked.

“Why do you assume it’s my fault?” He defended.

“Girl, what did he do?” She asked you.

Shrugging, you said, “I don’t know. Since Joel thinks he’s so great at communicating, maybe he should answer. I’m gonna go bowl.”

“Hope you gutter!” Joel shouted after you walked away. “She told me I needed to ask her to be my girlfriend.”

“You thought she was your girlfriend?!” Sarah said with wide eyes.

“Well… Yeah? Do I really need to verbally ask her that?”

“That’s why I got a strike, bitch,” you said while slapping the back of Joel’s head.

Sarah and Alex awkwardly stood up so that he could pretend to teach Sarah how to bowl properly. But the bickering between you and Joel didn’t end there.

“I thought it was obvious,” Joel told you. “I have you over all the time. We fuck. We laugh. Did I really need to ask?”

“So what would have happened if I pissed you off and you were to say ‘it’s not like you’re my girlfriend’?”

“I do not sound like that!” Joel scoffed. “And I would never do that to you, you know that. I just kinda figured you were mine, you know?”

You squinted at his unearned possession over you, feigning offense and scoffing obnoxiously.

“Yours? I’m not your property, Joel. You don’t get to claim me.”

“Oh yeah? And what are you goin’ to do about it? Fuck some other loser?”

You grinned, and immediately he regretted his words.

“That’s exactly what I’ll do,” you whispered.

Alex and Sarah sat back down and you asked if they wanted anything to eat or drink before walking away to go to the bar.

“Hi, what can I get for ya?” The boy at the counter asked.

“How old are you?”

“Nineteen, why?”

“You see the older man on lane twelve?”

He looked and then nodded.

“Well, I wanna make jealous so if you could just smile and pretend to flirt with me I’ll give you ten bucks,” you explained with a sly smirk.

“Fifteen,” he negotiated.

“Ugh, fine. Can I get two lemonades, a beer, and a water please?”

“That’s not coming out of my tip, is it?” He questioned whilst punching the order into his screen.

“It will if you don’t start looking at my boobs,” you said through your faux smile.

You leaned onto the counter and gave the employee a clear view of your cleavage, which he seemed to appreciate very much.

But Joel wasn’t only focused on the teenage boy behind the counter, he noticed the numerous men gawking at your short shorts that showed off too much of your ass with you bent over the counter the way you were.

“Dad,” Sarah’s voice brought him back to reality. “Your turn.”

By the time Joel managed to spare you had returned with everyone’s drinks and Joel didn’t give you the satisfying reaction of jealousy like you’d hoped.

Wondering if you went too far, you drank a bit of Joel’s beer to imprint a lip gloss stain for Joel to taste in between sips. Something you noticed he loved to do over the past few weeks whenever he made you coffee or tea. You never finished your drinks and Joel always lined his mouth up with your lip print to taste you every chance he got.

And as you gave him the cheap plastic cup that held his beer, you watched as he habitually sipped right where your lips had been. Occasionally licking the rim of the cup before taking his next swig.

A couple of games later, you and Sarah managed to team up against the boys and kick their asses each and every frame. They sulked while you two gloated from the ending of the final game all the way back to the cars.

“Okay, okay. We get it, girls rule, boys lose,” Alex said.

“It’s boys drool,” Sarah corrected before turning to hug her father who placed a kiss on her forehead. “Night, dad. I’m gonna stay at Alex’s.”

“Okay, babygirl. Call me tomorrow.”

“Oh, and word of advice,” Sarah whispered after you got into Joel’s car. “Girls like what boys consider pointless communication. Take her out a few times, make her feel special, and ask her to be your girlfriend. She really likes you, she’s just making you earn it.”

Joel softly smiled and nodded. “Mmkay. Thanks.”

Once he got in the car he didn’t acknowledge you in the least bit, finally free to punish you for letting those men get a free show.

“Not a word?” You nudged his arm as he drove. “You could ask me now.”

He snickered, the most noise he’s made in the last ten minutes.

“You don’t get to just fucking claim me, Joel!”

Joel sped up before pulling into a rest area.

“Come’ere,” he hoarsely demanded.

He unclipped his seatbelt and began undoing his belt and jeans.

“Don’t get all fuckin’ shy on me now, girl. Come on.”

You hesitated but unbuckled your seatbelt and climbed into his lap; he moved his seat all the way back and pushed his jeans low enough for his cock to spring up and slap his belly.

Instinctively you reached for it, but he removed your hand from his hardening length and held your wrists tightly behind your back with one hand. Using his other hand to grab your face by your cheeks he forced you to look into his cold eyes.

“Do you not want to be with me?” His voice strained as he asked that, a hint of hurt glaring in his dark eyes.

“Of course I want to be with you,” you answered.

“I don’t play games,” he said, gripping your wrists even tighter. “Don’t fucking—“ A soft smack landed upon your cheek. “Don’t fucking do what you did tonight ever again. Get on your knees.”

He slightly shoved you back as he loosened his grip on your hands and face; you submissively sank to the rough carpeted floor of the car and he wasted no time pulling your hair into a makeshift ponytail and shoving his fat dick into your wet mouth.

He tasted so fucking good, the mix of his clean flesh and salty precum like honey dripping onto your tongue. Your eyes rolled back and you moaned along his shaft as you eagerly bobbed your already hazy head up and down.

Joel’s hips rolled up in pleasure, gurgling out helpless moans as your nose rubbed the wiry hairs along the base of his shaft. Despite the aching and soreness, you loved having your throat full of Joel.

You took initiative and pushed against his hand, nonverbally telling him to make you suffer, and he shamelessly did so.

He couldn’t tell if the slick that was coating his balls was your spit or tears and he didn’t give a fuck. If you were going to show some loser teenager your tits and some loser bachelors your ass the least you could give him was some fucking remorse, right?

Joel felt powerful, in charge in ways he never experienced before. Your flooded eyes looked into his and saw how contorted his face was, so even if he was the one telling you what to do you knew you had him wrapped around your finger.

“Give me that fuckin’ throat, baby,” he moaned. “Oh, fuck! That throat is so fucking tight—mnh. God…damn baby. Feels so fucking good.”

He smacked your wet cheeks as encouragement before slowly pulling you off of his dick; you coughed at the gust of oxygen that flooded your lungs, giggling as he smacked his fat tip against your puffy mouth.

“Look at you, baby,” he whispered. “So pretty when my cock shuts that smart fuckin’ mouth a’yours up.”

“You love my fucking mouth,” you smugly said as you climbed into his lap.

“I do, but I think you forget what it’s supposed to be used for,” he whispered.

“You can stuff my mouth all you want, I’m still gonna give you a reason to use it.”

An eyebrow of his cocked up and a grin spread across his face at your confidence.

“Take your pants off,” he instructed seductively. His rough hands ran up your arms and back while you did what he said. “There you go,” he moaned when you slid down on his wet cock. “You’re such a good fucking slut for me, honey.”

“Just—just ask me, and I’ll s-say yes!” You shakily moaned as you relentlessly bounced on his dick.

Joel gripped your neck and began fucking into you from below, pushing deeper than he needed to, definitely bruising your cervix.

“You know you belong to me. All that fucking shit about claiming you and how I don’t own you, fuck was that?”

“Joe—elll, ugh!” You screamed into his chest, not sure if you were cumming or if your cunt was just overwhelmed with sensitivity. “Just ask, just ask baby I promise I’ll be good I’ll never misbehave again.”

He popped your ass and chuckled cruelly when you flinched and moaned. “Be my girlfriend, babydoll. Hmm? I want you to be my girl. You’re already my slut. Will you be my girl, babydoll?”

Your eyes gawked up at him and you couldn’t suppress the smile that tugged against your lips.

“Yes! Yes, yes, baby! Oh fuck, oh fuck!”

“Say it,” he begged. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours I’m yours I’m yours I’m yours Joel! Fuckfuckyes I’m yours! I belong to you! I fucking belong to you!”

Joel felt the familiar deep stretch in the peak of his belly at your cries. He listened to you submit to him, let him claim you as his, ultimately marking his territory as he began to cum inside of your warm cunt.

“Thaaaat’s my good girl,” Joel growled as he fucked the last of his spend into you.

“Fuck,” you exhaled, climbing off of him. “You’re such an ass.”

He chuckled at this, the softness in his laughter coaxing a giggle from you.

“You love me,” he mumbled.

“Mmm, not quite,” you said as confidently as your tired body would allow.

“Oh, honeypie… You’ll get there soon enough.”

[moon3verland]

The Final Lap L.HS

·˚ ◌༘₊· ͟͞꒰➳Lee Heeseung x Fem!Reader GENRE! Tooth-rotting Fluff!! Very light angst ✎SYNOPSIS! In the underground scene of illegal motorcycle racing, (Name) and Heeseung have always had an exciting but unclear relationship. During Heeseung's riskiest race to date, feelings intensify, resulting in a moment that changes their connection for good.〘WC: 2.7k〙 『 ↳✧･ﾟ Warnings ; Illegal Activities ↳˳;; ❝ ʙᴏᴏᴋꜱʜᴇʟꜰᵕ̈೫

The air was thick with the scent of gasoline and adrenaline, the hum of motorcycle engines filling the alleyway. (Name) stood at the edge of the crowd, watching as Heeseung leaned against his bike, a confident grin on his face. He looked like he belonged there—cool, collected, his dark eyes scanning the crowd until they landed on her. His grin softened, and he pushed off the bike, making his way over to her with a casual swagger. More Undercut

“Hey,” he greeted, his voice low and smooth. “Didn’t think you’d make it tonight.”

“I told you I’d be here,” she replied, trying to keep her tone light despite the rapid beating of her heart. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Heeseung’s grin widened, and he reached out, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. “Glad to hear it. I like having you around, you know.”

A blush crept up her cheeks, and she looked away, trying to hide her smile. “Yeah, well, someone’s got to make sure you don’t do anything stupid.”

He laughed, a deep, genuine sound that sent a shiver down her spine. “You know me too well.”

She smiled, but there was an underlying tension in her chest. She had been coming to these races for weeks now, watching Heeseung push himself to the limit, flirting with danger at every turn. She knew how much he loved it—the thrill, the speed, the competition—but it scared her. She couldn’t help but worry every time he got on that bike, her heart in her throat until he crossed the finish line.

“I do know you,” she replied softly, her eyes meeting his. “And that’s what scares me.”

Heeseung’s smile faltered, and he took a step closer, his expression turning serious. “Hey, I’m careful,” he said, his voice gentle. “I promise.”

“I know,” she whispered, her fingers twisting together nervously. “But it doesn’t make it any easier.”

Heeseung reached out, taking her hands in his, his thumb rubbing soothing circles over her knuckles. “I don’t want you to worry about me,” he murmured. “I want you to trust me. Can you do that?” She hesitated for a moment, her eyes searching his. "I’ll try," she finally said, her voice barely audible over the noise of the crowd. Her words were sincere, but her heart was still heavy with uncertainty. She wanted to trust him, to believe that he would always come out of these races unscathed, but the fear lingered.

“Good,” Heeseung replied, his grip tightening on her hands as if to reassure her. “Because I’ve got something planned for us after the race. Something special.”

She raised an eyebrow, curiosity flickering in her eyes. “Special? Are you going to give me a hint, or do I have to wait?”

His grin returned, the playful spark she was so familiar with lighting up his features. “You’ll just have to be patient,” he teased, leaning in closer, his breath warm against her ear. “But I promise, you’re going to love it.”

Before she could respond, the sound of engines revving louder filled the air. The announcer’s voice boomed through the speakers, calling the racers to the starting line. Heeseung released her hands, his expression shifting back to the serious, determined look he wore whenever he was about to race. He turned to walk away, but stopped, glancing back at her one more time.

“Just stay right there,” he said, nodding towards the spot where she stood. “I want to see you as soon as I cross that finish line.”

(Name) nodded, biting her lower lip to keep from smiling too wide. “I’m not going anywhere,” she assured him.

Heeseung winked at her, then turned and jogged towards his bike, slipping his helmet on as he went. He mounted the bike with the ease of someone who had done it a thousand times before, his body settling into a familiar rhythm as he revved the engine a few times, testing it. The sound was deafening, the crowd around them cheering and shouting, but all (Name) could focus on was the figure of Heeseung on that bike, his silhouette backlit by the streetlights.

Her heart thudded heavily in her chest, anxiety twisting in her stomach as the countdown began. She held her breath, her eyes locked on him, silently praying that everything would be alright.

The flag dropped, and the bikes shot forward like bullets from a gun. Heeseung was quick off the line, immediately taking an aggressive stance as he maneuvered around the other racers. His movements were fluid and precise, each turn calculated, each acceleration deliberate. He made it look easy, but (Name) knew just how much focus and skill it took to handle a bike like that at those speeds.

As they rounded the first corner, Heeseung was already pulling ahead, his bike weaving in and out of the competitors with an almost dangerous grace. She felt her breath catch in her throat, her eyes wide as she watched him navigate the tight turns and sharp curves of the makeshift track. The other racers were close behind, but he kept his lead, pushing harder, faster.

But then, out of nowhere, one of the other racers—a newcomer she hadn’t seen before, riding a sleek black motorcycle—cut sharply across the track, trying to overtake Heeseung. Her heart jumped into her throat as she watched the two bikes come dangerously close to colliding, her hands instinctively reaching up to cover her mouth.

Heeseung didn’t flinch. He swerved expertly to avoid the collision, but the move cost him some of his speed. The black bike took the lead, and for a moment, (Name) felt a wave of fear wash over her. She could see the determination in Heeseung’s posture, the way he leaned forward, urging his bike to go faster. He wasn’t going to let this newcomer beat him.

With a surge of speed, Heeseung closed the gap, his bike roaring as he accelerated. The two racers were neck and neck, the crowd screaming and cheering as they tore down the final stretch. (Name)’s heart was in her throat, her hands trembling with nerves. She knew how much this race meant to Heeseung—how much he needed this win.

In a daring move, Heeseung leaned into the final turn, cutting sharply to the inside. The newcomer tried to block him, but Heeseung was quicker, slipping past with inches to spare. The crowd went wild, and (Name) felt a surge of pride and relief. He was almost there—just a few more seconds, and he would cross the finish line.

But then, something happened.

A loud bang echoed through the air, and Heeseung’s bike wobbled. (Name) felt her heart stop, her breath catching in her throat as she saw the back tire blow out. Heeseung fought to keep control, his muscles straining, his face a mask of concentration. Time seemed to slow down, each second stretching into eternity as he struggled to steady the bike.

For a terrifying moment, it looked like he was going to crash. The bike swerved wildly, skidding on the asphalt. (Name) could hear the gasps and shouts from the crowd, could feel the panic rising in her chest. She wanted to scream, to run out onto the track and stop him, but she was frozen, her eyes locked on Heeseung.

But somehow, against all odds, he managed to regain control. Heeseung leaned hard to the right, guiding the bike back on course. He was losing speed fast, the other racers zooming past him, but he didn’t give up. With a final burst of effort, he pushed the bike forward, crossing the finish line seconds behind the newcomer.

The crowd erupted into a mix of cheers and gasps, and (Name) felt a wave of relief so intense it left her dizzy. She pushed through the crowd, rushing towards him as he brought the bike to a halt, his chest heaving with exertion. He pulled off his helmet, and for a moment, he just sat there, his face pale, his breath coming in sharp gasps.

“Heeseung!” she called out, her voice breaking with emotion as she reached him. “Are you okay?”

He looked up, his eyes meeting hers, and he managed a small, tired smile. “Yeah,” he panted, nodding. “I’m fine… just a little shaken up.”

(Name) felt tears pricking at her eyes, and she reached out, pulling him into a tight hug. “You scared me,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I thought… I thought you were going to crash.”

Heeseung hugged her back, his arms wrapping around her waist, holding her close. “I’m sorry,” he murmured against her hair. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m okay, I promise.”

She pulled back slightly, her hands framing his face, her eyes searching his. “Don’t do that again,” she said, her voice firm. “Don’t take risks like that.”

Heeseung’s smile softened, and he nodded. “I’ll try,” he promised. “For you, I’ll try.”

And in that moment, with the noise of the crowd fading into the background and the cool night air surrounding them, (Name) realized just how much he meant to her—how much she cared about him, how much she didn’t want to lose him. It wasn’t just a situationship anymore. Not for her.

Heeseung seemed to sense the shift in her emotions, his thumb brushing over her cheek as he gazed at her. “Come on,” he said softly, “let’s get out of here. I still have that surprise for you.”

She nodded, swallowing hard, trying to steady her racing heart. Heeseung took her hand, leading her away from the crowd, down a quieter side street. As they walked, the tension slowly began to dissipate, replaced by a growing sense of anticipation.

After a few minutes, they arrived at an old garage tucked away at the edge of town. Heeseung led her inside, flipping on the lights to reveal a motorcycle that looked almost brand new, its chrome shining under the fluorescent lights.

“This is it?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Heeseung nodded, a grin spreading across his face. “Yeah, but it’s not just any bike. This is ours. I’ve been working on it for weeks, fixing it up. I wanted to take you on a trip… just you and me. No races, no crowd. Just us.”

(Name) stared at the bike, her heart swelling with emotion. “You did all this… for me?”

Heeseung’s smile softened, and he stepped closer, taking her hands in his. “For us,” he corrected gently. “Because I want more than just this… more than just the races and the adrenaline. I want to be with you. Really be with you.”

Tears filled her eyes, and she nodded, a smile breaking across her face. “I’d like that,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

Heeseung leaned in, pressing his forehead against hers. “Then let’s get out of here,” he murmured, his lips brushing against hers in a soft, lingering kiss. “Let’s find out what’s waiting for us on the open road.” They climbed onto the bike, (Name) settling in behind Heeseung, her arms instinctively wrapping around his waist. The engine roared to life, vibrating beneath them as Heeseung gave the throttle a twist. She could feel his heartbeat steadying against her chest, could feel the tension in his shoulders relax as they pulled away from the garage and onto the open road.

The cool night air whipped around them, carrying away the last remnants of the adrenaline from the race. The city lights blurred as they sped down the empty streets, the wind rushing past them, their surroundings turning into a mix of dark shadows and flickering lights. The feeling was exhilarating, but different from the races—there was no pressure, no crowd watching, no danger lurking at every corner. It was just the two of them, the road, and the hum of the engine beneath them.

(Name) rested her cheek against his back, closing her eyes for a moment, letting the calm wash over her. She hadn’t realized how much she needed this—just being with him, away from the chaos of the races, where it felt like nothing else mattered. Heeseung’s hands were steady on the handlebars, his posture relaxed as he navigated the winding roads with ease. She could feel the tension in her chest easing with every mile they covered.

After a while, they left the city behind, the buildings thinning out as they headed towards the hills. The moon hung low in the sky, casting a soft, silvery glow over the landscape. Heeseung slowed down as they reached a narrow, tree-lined road, the air filled with the scent of pine and fresh earth.

He pulled over to the side, cutting the engine, and they came to a gentle stop at a small clearing overlooking the city below. The silence was almost deafening after the roar of the engine, and (Name) took a deep breath, filling her lungs with the crisp, cool air.

Heeseung turned to look at her, his eyes soft in the moonlight. “This is where I come when I need to clear my head,” he said quietly, gesturing to the view in front of them. “I thought… maybe you’d like it, too.”

She followed his gaze, her eyes widening as she took in the sight. The city sprawled out below them, a sea of twinkling lights stretching as far as the eye could see. It was beautiful, almost magical, and she felt her heart swell with emotion.

“It’s perfect,” she whispered, her voice barely louder than the breeze rustling through the leaves.

Heeseung smiled, his hand reaching out to take hers. “I wanted to share it with you,” he said, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. “To show you a piece of me that’s not just the racing, the speed… all that noise.”

She turned to look at him, her heart skipping a beat at the sincerity in his eyes. “Thank you,” she murmured, squeezing his hand. “For trusting me with this.”

Heeseung’s gaze softened, and he leaned in, his lips brushing against her forehead in a gentle, lingering kiss. “I trust you more than anyone,” he whispered against her skin. “And I want you to know that, no matter what… I’ll always come back to you.”

Tears pricked at her eyes, and she blinked them away, her smile bright and unrestrained. “I know,” she replied, her voice trembling slightly. “And I’ll always be here, waiting for you.”

Heeseung’s lips curled into a small smile, and he leaned back, pulling her into his arms. They sat there in silence for a long moment, just holding each other, the world around them fading into the background. For the first time in a long while, (Name) felt at peace.

Eventually, Heeseung pulled back slightly, his eyes searching hers. “So, about that trip,” he began, a playful grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Where do you want to go first?”

(Name) laughed, a light, airy sound that felt good in her chest. “Anywhere,” she replied, her smile growing wider. “As long as it’s with you.”

Heeseung chuckled, his hand lifting to cup her cheek. “Then let’s go find out,” he murmured, leaning in to capture her lips in a slow, tender kiss. She melted against him, her arms winding around his neck, her heart fluttering in her chest.

When they finally pulled away, breathless and smiling, Heeseung nodded towards the bike. “Ready?” he asked, his eyes twinkling with excitement.

(Name) nodded, her heart racing for an entirely different reason now. “Ready,” she confirmed, her voice filled with certainty.

Heeseung’s smile widened, and he started the bike once more, the engine purring to life. As they pulled away from the clearing and back onto the road, (Name) couldn’t help but feel that this was just the beginning—a new chapter, a new adventure, one filled with possibilities she hadn’t dared to imagine before.

The road stretched out ahead of them, endless and inviting, and for the first time, (Name) felt truly free. With her arms wrapped around Heeseung, her heart light and her spirit soaring, she knew that whatever came next, they would face it together.

And that was enough.

© ★ Moon , 2024— all rights reserved to me. Please do not copy or steal my work in any way. 

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[fxrmuladaydreams]

Here's a Lando nsfw for you

"I'll take care of you, an orgasm for every night we were apart" - when he comes back from the race....or the triple header (imagine)....

send me thoughts/blurb requests (sfw & nsfw) for lando weekend

notes: i genuinely don’t think anyone would survive that many orgasms after a triple header, but i do think that lando would definitely need to you two to fuck like rabbits when he gets home from one

warnings: !!CONTAINS SMUT, MINORS DNI!!, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v, slight cum play

His lips traveled along the slightly damp skin of your torso. He was grinning like a mad man at you as he crawled back up your body to kiss you. You could taste yourself on his tongue, understandably so seeing as he had just spent the better part of the last hour with his head between your thighs.

You were both disappointed when you told him you wouldn’t be able to join him for the race this last week. Lando looked forward to seeing you in his garage during the race week, cheering him on. But your job needed you to stay for the weekend, so you sent your pouty boyfriend away without you.

You still managed to watch his practices, his qualifying, and the race at work. You kept your phone tucked next to your computer playing the race while you worked. You longed to be with him when he crossed the line, scoring yet another podium finish.

When he came home he was all smiles and soft touches, keeping you locked to him in a hug, refusing to let you go anytime soon. You managed to slip away from him long enough to cook some dinner. The two of you ate while he told you about his weekend, about the media stuff he filmed, about getting to be on the podium again, and once again winning driver of the day.

“Well it’s not surprising. You’re my favorite driver.” You tell him as a soft blush covers his cheeks.

He softly pulls you towards the bedroom once you’ve finished your meals, telling you that he missed you, that he needed you.

You end up laying on the bed, with him on top of you, your lips locked in a passionate kiss. He rolls his hips against yours and smirks when he feels you tug on his hair.

“Don’t worry baby, I’ll take care of you. How about an orgasm for every night we were apart?”

You nod your head, and moan when he pushes his hips against yours again.

“Four then. My favorite number.”

And he had kept his word.

He gave you two with just his tongue, his arms holding your legs apart as he devoured you like you were his last meal. He moaned into your folds as you gave him your first release, the feeling sparking another to follow not far behind.

Then he gave you one with his fingers. He knew how much you loved his hands, they were strong, the veins occasionally more visible than usual. His fingers were thicker than yours, so when he pushed three into you, it was no surprise that you were thrashing on the bed, practically begging him to make you cum.

He licked his fingers clean after the third time, which led to now. He pulls his shirt over his head, then his pants and boxers down. He’s got a decent girth to him, even his three fingers might not have been enough to prepare you to take him.

He strokes himself a few times before leaning down to kiss you again.

“You think you’re ready?” He asks, even three orgasms in he wants to make sure you’re comfortable.

“I am.” You tell him.

He notches the head of his cock at your entrance, just barely brushing against your clit. He pushes himself into you slowly, allowing you time to adjust to his size and him to how much you’re clamping down around him.

He stills when he bottoms out, taking a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself down. The feeling of your bare walls around him, all soft and warm and wet, could very easily throw him over the edge before he really even got to fucking you.

“Move Lando.” You you whine, shifting your hips to get some movement.

He pulls himself back and forth, pushing himself deeper into you with every thrust. You wrap your legs around his waist pulling him closer. Your nails dig into the skin on his back, leaving long red trails where they’ve been.

It doesn’t take long for either of you to feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. Lando uses one of his hand to play with your clit while he fucks himself into you, determined to make you cum before he does.

He succeeds, but is quick to cum when you clamp down around him tightly, practically milking his release from him.

He pulls out of you with a groan, and watches as his cum starts dripping out of you. He swirls it around on his finger, then pushes it back inside you. You yelp, closing your legs.

“Don’t want to waste any of that.” He says.

He refuses to move for the rest of the night, not letting you get up either. He’s spent the whole weekend away from you, now he’s going to keep you in his arms for as long as he wants.

[elvisslut]

Affairs and tears❥

// warnings for entire series- strong language, affairs (obviously), broken marriages, mentions of tom Parker (ew), smut (Elvis trying to get into readers pants, fingering, oral (m! And f! Receiving), handjobs, angry sex, angsty sex, back clawing, Elvis’s dick will probably bleed at some point, mentions of him fucking Priscilla(..no comment),moaning and ect.), fighting, yelling, punching things (not the reader elvis is NOT abusive)//

watching him move on stage with such a passion, and messing with the crowd an the band. It all made your feelings deepen, especially when he gave you attention on stage or off stage either way it made your heart throb with desire and desperation in a way.

You and Charlie sat in the room that lead to the stage warming up your vocals for the concert that was about to start. A slam on the door notioned that the boys were here. Elvis came tackling sonny into the room once the door was opened the others following close behind.

You softly smiled looking over at Elvis from the edge of your paper that had the lyrics on it. You put your attention back to the paper as Charlie got up and went to Elvis involving himself in whatever the guys were doing.

Quickly reading over the paper to get what you need, setting the paper down and getting up making your way to the door and towards the stage. You walked up set the water bottles up for everyone and positioned the microphones the way they needed.

"What'd ya doin'?" A very familiar southern accent bellowed from the steps of the stage, you look over and smile at Elvis as he made his way up and towards you.

"I'm just getting everything set up" you say looking back at the microphone that you were fixing. "Ain't that a job for the people that set up the stage?" He asks chuckling, his arm brushed against yours, you didn't know he'd made his way over here already but it felt nice even if it wasn't a genuine touch from him you simply felt like it was something.

Anything from him was something, a simple breath or gaze your way would have you falling in the floor.

"I suppose so yeah..but i like to do it..gives me something to do" you answer with a soft laugh. He nods and leans over to fix one of the inspirations microphones his hand presses against your exposed waist for balance. Your breath halts and your body almost stops.

Sure he's hugged you before and gave you some friendly touches that was before you knew how you felt about him. How you felt..for a married man..as a married woman. "How's Priscilla? I haven't seen her in a few days." You ask pulling yourself away from his touch subconsciously as you thought about Priscilla and Oliver.

"Shes good, bit busy watching lisa. How's..uhm..your husband?" He asks looking back at you with a light smile on his lips. "Oliver.. he's good, spending some time in North Dakota with his family. He'll be back in a few weeks." You say looking down and messing with your ring, which didn't go unnoticed.

"Ya missin' him?" He asks a slight frown crossing his features. You nod hesitantly, you didn't miss him. That was the problem, your husband whom you've been married to for a little over 5 years. You didn't miss, not one bit. You actually preferred him to stay in North Dakota. He didn't talk to you much there and you could spend more time around Elvis. Most of that time was spent with Charlie who you got real close with.

"Yeah..i miss cilla' and lisa a whole lot too." He says in a comforting tone. "Yeah its hard being away for so long" you look up at his eyes your breath being pushed out of your lungs as you see how blue they are, and how close they are.

"Yeah" he agrees, his eyes scan over your face stopping at your lips for a moment before you look away your cheeks rosey.

"So..whats..what do you plan on doing after the show?" You ask nervously. You probably just missed your chance to kiss Elvis, but it was definitely for the best.

"Its 'bout time to so i best head back.. ill..talk to ya later y/n" he says before leaving back to the side of the stage. If there's anymore moments like that one. You know this will be hard, you know you won't be able to control yourself the next time it happens.

The only problem was, oliver and Priscilla..

[wasteofbandagesxx]

I wanna live

{Dazai x reader}

warning: toxic relationship, suicide, forced suicide, lack of communication, pressure, Dazai losing his sanity

"Dazai your not listening to me!"

"Shut the fuck up. I'm tired of listening to people telling me that there's hope in life, and things are gonna be ok."

The relationship has been complicated these past few weeks, almost a few months. You were dating one of the port mafia executives and of course, your dating the demon prodigy himself. Dazai Osamu, his charms never failed to amaze you, but it's his humor and personality that attracted you.

His sweet words pulled strings to your heart, you couldn't help but fall for the devilish man. He had a demons tongue, almost like the master of seducing woman. He was a womanizer after all, until he met you. Something about you just made him interested, wanting to know more about you. You weren't like any other woman he's ever dated. You were genuinely sweet, carefree, and resilient.

Now the relationship has gone down hill, after 3 years of dating, everything has changed. The death of friends and the constant missions be affecting their relationship. It didn't cause any fights, just less time together, but ever since Oda died, things completely changed. Dazai did nothing but drink his sorrows away and slightly take his anger out on you. You do your best to comfort him, let him know that he's not alone. On the top of the mafia base, you two were having a little date, until Dazai lost his shit. His day was bad, but he pretty much reached his breaking point. You tried talking to him, but he just pushes you away.

"Dazai, there's more to life than just suicide. You know I can't handle the negativity no matter how hard I try. You pressure it into me and it scares me! I constantly worry about you and check on you because I care about my boyfriend. My own boyfriend can't even acknowledge the fact that someone is there for him, that I'm there for him! Am I not enough for you to live?" You sobbed, pouring your heart out and all Dazai could do is stand there speechless.

"Y/n, Darling....there's nothing for me here. This place is s hell hole. It's not like I-"

"....Dazai?"

Dazai stood frozen, a crazy smile slowly formed onto his face before he even looks directly at you, as if he came up with an idea.

"Let's commit double suicide, for real this time." He said, the desperation in his voice was obvious. You got scared, as much as you wanted to run off you still wanted to try and support your boyfriend, even though Dazai will never listen or seek for your comfort in a time like this. "Dazai, I've told you this 100 times. I'm not doing it." The anger in your voice was very clear that you didn't want to have this conversation again. He's tried convincing you multiple times, even when your at your worst. Despite all that, you were never broken enough to take your own life. "Dazai, please-"

"Let's go to the afterlife together! We won't have to worry about anything. Belladonna, we can rest in piece and live the way we want in the afterlife!" He grabs you by the hand and pulls you close in excitement but you weren't having it. You quickly pulled away and shoved him back. "Your fucking insane."

"Only for you, and death!" Dazai laughs it off like a kid at a comedy show, he knew that wasn't right to say but he doesn't think before he says something.

"Dance with me Y/n! Let's dance our way into the afterlife, and rest in peace like forever lovers." He grabs your hand again and drags you to the edge of the roof, u tried hardening your foot on the ground but he kept dragging you until you both were on the very edge. The air blows against your face, you were too focused on trying to stay alive and Dazai couldn't care less as he admired the view of the city that he will no longer see. You screamed and yelled, trashed and tried to punch at him but it was no use, his strength was too much for you to overpower and there was nothing you can do. Nobody can hear your cries of help because you were too high in the air for them to hear. You didn't want this. "Ready my love?"

He slowly leans forward over the edge, and that's when you found the strength to save yourself.

"I wanna live!!"

You forced your strength against him with your back and made him tumble backwards, he hit his head on the hard concrete as he groaned in pain. You immediately got away from him and stood up with tears streaming down your face and your eyes showing fear. Dazai sits up and takes a good look at you, but he couldn't bring himself to say something as he spotted the tears running down your face. The fear in your eyes made him finally get the hit, he understood, you didn't want to die with him. He was too much in his delusional fantasies to be thinking about what you want, how you felt about all this. Regret written all over his face, you had to sit down when your legs were trembling so you wouldn't fall and hurt yourself. You were too busy processing what just happened while Dazai was processing his mistake. He couldn't force you, not when you don't want it. It's not love, it's forced . He felt bad, he looks at you again to apologize but couldn't find the words when he witnessed the fear in your eyes gotten worse. How could he mess up this badly?

"I wanna live."

[stars-and-inkpots]

Could you possibly write more soft Gale fics? He just deserves so much love and healing. I really liked how you wrote Reverence. Sorry I don’t have a more specific ask, I’m not very good when it comes to fic ideas.

Absolutely I can, I love writing for Gale so much, and he really does deserve the world. Thank you for the request and I hope you enjoy!

Late Night Book Club | Gale x Reader

No matter what you try, you just can't seem to sleep. Between nightmares and insomnia, you start to think you might never get a good night's rest again.

Gale seems to share the same issue.

While you might not be able to completely solve your problems, at least the two of you aren't alone in them anymore.

Pairing: Gale/Reader

Tags: Cuddling, Insomnia, Nightmares, Comfort, Fluff, First Kiss, Love Confessions (kinda)

Notes: choosing a name for this was the hardest part about writing it

Ao3 Link: Late Night Book Club

Word Count: 2,150

For whatever reason, you find yourself awake far later than everyone else. This shouldn’t be too much of a problem, if it wasn’t for the fact that this was the second night in a row where sleep eluded you to the point of exhaustion. The little amount of sleep you did manage to get was plagued with uncomfortable dreams that teetered on the edge of nightmares, making sure the rest was fitful. You knew you had to sleep; you couldn’t hope to lead the group if you were barely able to stand tomorrow. It’s frustrating. It isn’t like you aren’t trying to sleep either; you laid there for hours before finally giving up and leaving your tent to tend to the fire that has steadily burnt down to the last embers. It’s here where Gale finds you. 

The look on your face only adds to his concern at seeing you up so late. You don’t notice his approach, another thing that makes Gale think something must be wrong. 

“Is everything alright?” He asks softly, though the sudden noise still startles you. He watches you turn and immediately relax when you realise it’s only him. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry,” you apologise, but you aren’t exactly sure what you're apologising for. Perhaps it's for letting all of them down with your inability to sleep, knowing you’ll hold them back tomorrow. Then you notice that Gale looks just as tired. 

“Is there anything I can do?” He asks. 

You’re sure your exhaustion is evident enough, you can feel the weight under your eyes. A part of you hates feeling like you need to be taken care of. You don’t want to acknowledge that help would be both welcome and useful, but you know these feelings are simply a byproduct of the exhaustion that weighs on your shoulders. You can’t fault Gale for wanting to help. 

“No, it’s alright. You need your own rest.” The day had been tough on all of you. Gale, though talented when it came to magic, was pushed to his own limits today. 

“Very well. Would you at least allow me to sit with you for a few moments then?” Gale asks. 

You only nod, and Gale sits beside you on the ground. You’ve managed to get the fire going a little stronger again, and the warmth is appreciated by both of you. You’re suddenly aware of just how close you are, knees almost touching. You blame the warmth in your cheeks on the fire. 

“If there is something bothering you, I am more than happy to listen.” There is genuine care in his words. He is worried about you. As much as you don’t want to burden your companions with your troubles, he seems adamant that he wants to hear them. 

“I can’t sleep is all,” you admit. “It’s nothing serious. Just can’t sleep, and then when I do my dreams end up waking me up again.” It feels childish to say that your dreams are the primary culprit of your lack of sleep. You’ve been through so much in the past weeks, but it’s nightmares of all things that finally get to you. 

But Gale doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t tease you. Instead, he looks at you with only sympathy and understanding. He doesn’t pry any further, and you’re thankful. 

“What about you? Why are you still up? If you want to share, of course,” you’re quick to add. You don’t want him to feel like he has to tell you his own troubles just because you told him yours. 

“We have similar problems it seems,” is all Gale answers. You return his earlier kindness by not pressing him to elaborate either. 

The two of you sit there in comfortable silence again. 

“I understand if you wish to remain alone, but if you ever wish for company when you cannot sleep, you are always most welcome to visit me.” He says it so quietly, hesitantly, but not unsure. Knowing you don’t need to spend the nights awake alone, at least, is a comfort, and the thought of spending the time talking with Gale is pleasant; even if that time is simply spent sitting near to one another. 

You smile. “I might take you up on that offer.” 

Gale gives you a fond look. The golden light of the fire makes him look soft and at ease, though, maybe that’s only because he’s with you. 

“I think I’ll try to sleep again. Thank you for this, Gale.” You stand, and he does the same. 

“Anytime.” 

Sleep still doesn’t come easy when you return to your tent, but eventually you’re able to get, at least, a little bit of dreamless sleep before you’re awoken again. The gaps between sleep and consciousness are still more frequent than you want, but it’s better than nothing. 

---

The next day is rough. Gale doesn’t look like he had much luck with sleep either, and you’re almost thankful because he is more inclined to ask the group to slow down than you are. Maybe the others can tell that you’re also struggling, because no one complains when the steady pace is interrupted. 

Perhaps some god out there is looking out for you, because the day’s travel is mercifully uneventful. 

Setting up camp again is a chore. You do your best to help where you can, but you can barely stand as it is. 

“Get some rest, soldier. We’ve got it from here,” Karlach says to you, voice quiet. You know she’s trying to be nice, but it feels like pity and you hate it. You swallow your pride and thank her before returning to your tent. 

Even though your body aches and your head is starting to hurt, when you lay down, you only end up staring at the roof of the tent. You suddenly just aren’t tired. You know you’re tired, because your body feels tired, but at the same time you aren’t , and it’s only partly caused by fear of the dreams you know await you. It’s frustrating to no end. 

After another few minutes of laying there with your eyes closed, you finally give in. 

Only a few of the others are still awake, sitting and talking with each other around the fire. They don’t notice you skirting around the edge of camp towards Gale’s tent. It’s not that you feel like you need to keep this a secret, you just don’t think you have the energy to talk to anyone besides the wizard right now. 

“Gale? Can I come in?” You ask softly outside the tent. You know he’s awake; you can see shadows that dance across the walls. 

“Of course,” Gale answers. Before you can move to open the tent flap, he waves a hand and it opens for you. 

“What a gentleman,” you tease, but even you can hear how tired you sound. 

“Always for you,” he returns with a smile, but there’s a truth in his words that brings a warmth to your face. 

You finally notice how cosy his tent is. There are several books, all of them stacked in piles that must be organised in a way you can’t discern. The ground is covered in plush blankets and pillows. Fluttering around the top of the tent are small, almost iridescent orbs of light, some purple and others blue. They give enough light for Gale to read, but keep the tent dim enough to be pleasant. 

“Please, sit down, make yourself comfortable.” 

You sit beside him; closer than you were last night, leaning against his side slightly. You peer over at the book in his hands, surprised to find it isn’t some arcane tome. As far as you can tell, it’s just a normal adventure novel. 

“Don’t let me interrupt you, you can keep reading.” Even just sitting here beside him is enough of a comfort; the tension already starting to seep out of your shoulders. You don’t want to talk about anything yet, and you figure that Gale shares the same sentiment. 

“Do you want me to read to you?” Gale asks, and though you almost think he’s joking, you realise he really means it. 

“That would be nice.” 

And it is. You’ve always enjoyed listening to him talk; Gale has a lovely voice. He picks up where he left off when you got there. He wasn’t too far into the book yet, but he still pauses occasionally to explain something. Eventually you close your eyes, focused only on his voice, the details of his words getting blurry. 

“Can we lay down?” You mumble tiredly. 

“That’s a good idea,” Gale says with a smile, having already noticed the way your head has begun to dip forward as sleep begins to pull at you. 

It takes a bit of coordination, but eventually you’re both underneath the thick blanket that Gale pulls tighter around the two of you. You move closer to him, your head underneath his chin, and he wraps an arm around you. He’s warm, and you feel safer than you have in weeks. He starts reading again, fingers playing idly with your hair. Within another minute, your breathing has evened out and you’re fast asleep. 

Gale folds the corner of the page to mark where you two left off and closes the book before he sets it aside with the countless others. Eventually, he manages to fall asleep too. 

Both of you still wake up a few times in the middle of the night. You didn’t expect this to be some miracle cure for your sleep problems, but having Gale there holding you when you wake up makes getting back to sleep a little easier. The same can be said for Gale who wakes up several times, only to be calmed down once he feels your arms around him. The two of you are able to get a good rest, and when you wake up in the morning you don’t feel the same ache in your bones as you did the past few mornings. 

It becomes a sort of routine between you. In the evenings, after everyone leaves for their tents, you follow Gale to his or he follows you to yours. Then he reads to you, and sometimes you read to him, and you both let sleep find you in each other's arms. The nightmares are getting more bearable, and even on the worst nights when neither of you can sleep no matter how much you try, at least you’re there together. 

---

It’s been a week since you started this arrangement. The book is nearly finished. Gale had promised to let you pick out the next one. 

He brushes through your hair with one hand, the book held open in the other. You listen while he starts reading the last few pages. The hero who’s story you’ve been following through the novel culminates in one final battle against evil. It’s cliché, you think to yourself, and then smile because isn’t this exactly your own life now? And what hero story is complete without a lover to kiss them at the end, which is precisely what happens. Good prevails, and the hero gets their true love. 

Gale feels your smile against his neck and, for reasons he understands but doesn’t want to admit yet, feels a warmth flood his cheeks. 

“The End,” he announces, snapping the book closed with a flourish, earning a laugh from you. “What did you think?” 

“It was nice. It felt more like a romance novel at the end.” 

Gale hums in agreement. “Yes, but I think that's what I enjoyed most.” He puts the book down then returns to hugging you close to him. 

“I agree, it felt natural.” You hope Gale understands what you mean. 

He does. 

The two of you have been dancing around this for a while now, neither one of you ready to acknowledge it. But there’s something about tonight that feels different. 

You lean back to look at Gale’s face, bringing a hand up to guide a strand of greying brown hair behind his ear. Your hand lingers on his cheek, thumb brushing gently across his skin. He puts his own hand over yours, moving it to kiss your palm. It’s a careful gesture, tender and nervous all at the same time. 

When you move to kiss him, he meets you halfway. It’s a soft kiss; a testament to these nights you’ve spent together. When you part, you rest your forehead against his. The way he looks at you makes your heart swell: like you mean everything to him. 

He kisses you once more before you tuck your head into the crook of his neck. He holds you like he’s scared you’ll disappear, and you tighten your arms around him as if to answer: 'I could never.'

You both sleep the best you have in weeks, still there for each other each time you wake. 

[merakiui]

I love stepson!Floyd so much. Your ideas and headcanons are so good. 😭😭😭

Here's a headcanon about the other slippery eel, stepson!Jade, that I wanted to share with you: for the time that you've known him, Jade has drugged you 3 times.

The first time was because he genuinely wanted to get rid of you.

His dislike for you, though well-hidden, was just as strong as Floyd's. He wanted you gone. Instead of Floyd's violent tantrums and hateful words, however, he turned to quiet yet drastic measures: poisoning your quotidian beverage. A schemer from childhood, he even had the perfect timing. He committed the crime a few hours before your girl's night out, so it would seem as though someone at the party did it to you. His father would even scold you and tell you it's time you stopped partying; you have a family now, after all!

Jade offered kind wishes and gentle smiles the whole time you were on bedrest, but there was something about the way he looked down at you from beside your bed that genuinely terrified you. The look in his eye vanished just as quickly as it came, and you knew, and Jade knew that you knew, that he was the one behind your ailment.

It remained a silent secret between you. How could you accuse your husband's sweet, quiet child of such a heinous act? No one would believe it was him. Floyd? Maybe. Afterall, Floyd was the one who screamed at you and said he wished you would just die just two days ago. But Jade? No way. He'd never do something like that. It's Jade.

The second time was out of pure curiosity.

Between him and Floyd, Jade was the one to warm up to you first. Much sooner than his brother, in fact. During their fights, he was quick to remind Floyd that he spent more time with you, knew you better, loved you longer, loved you more.

He started calling you Mama shortly after the first dose of poison he fed you. The sole purpose of that was to give you a fright; he loved the way you twitched when he would ask, “Don't you think Papa is taking a while to get home, Mama?” He could see the gears turning inside of your head as you tried to read his words, as you tried to decipher their true meaning. He wondered how long it would take before you snapped and called him a creepy little bastard or something. You never did. In fact, you seemed to double down on your kindness towards him and Floyd. Perhaps it was the realization that you never would that made him interested in you, and with time, said interest could only develop into a twisted, ugly type of love.

It was that interest and curiosity that made him wonder if you would be stupid enough to let him drug you again. He was not covert about his intentions in the slightest. He had been quietly following you around the house for about two weeks (especially when you were in the kitchen) before the day that he offered to cook for you and Floyd. He had so many "valid and logical" reasons. “Papa won't be coming home tonight, so it's just the three of us.” “You've been working hard all day; you should rest.” “Let me do something nice to make up for it.”

He settled on something simple: sandwiches. His and Floyd's were vastly different from yours, however. He sat and watched as you stared at the dish he had lovingly placed in front of you. Would this push you over the edge? Would you toss it out, yelling at him and calling him weird?

You ate it. You ate it, thanked him, and went straight to bed, knowing that your vision would blur and your dinner would come back up very soon.

Halfway through the night, Jade crawled into your bed to feed you medication and water, calling you stupidly cute and cutely stupid. In the years to come, Jade would realise that stupid wasn't the word that he wanted. Had he the sense that he has now, he would have settled on “intentionally foolish.” You knew what he was doing, and accepted it, not out of a silly fear of losing your husband, but because he was your creepy child, your family whom you chose to love and trust, just the way he is.

The third time was an event for which Jade has felt not a shred of remorse.

Jade is all grown up now. Jade loved you first, but it was Floyd whose love first diverted from acceptable, platonic, familial love. In fact, until their early twenties, Jade frequently teased Floyd about his little crush on you. Now though, as a grown man, he sees that Floyd was onto something. He now wishes that he had joined his brother in getting his hands on you.

The strangest thing about the visit is that Jade came alone. Floyd often comes without Jade, but you can't remember the last time Jade visited home without Floyd racing him to get through your door first. You don't worry yourself with what he did to shake his brother for the day.

You don't know that Jade has been there since this morning, quietly switching between rooms and moving in and out of the house. Or maybe you do, and choose to pretend that you don't when you open the front door and let your son all but crush you. He's huge, much larger than his father, and his strength matches his Floyd's.

Like you do with Floyd on an almost biweekly basis, you try to reason with Jade. For a brief moment, you think you've gotten through to him. He's always been so level-headed and logical. But then he offers to fetch you some of the soup you've had simmering on the stove for the past few hours. "It’s been cooking for a while, and you haven't had lunch yet, have you?" He watches you eat, and you know, and he knows that you know, but you eat anyway. The next thing you know, he's pretty much forcing you onto the couch, insisting that you, “get some rest, Mama, I'll tidy the house for you.”

As expected, you're soon sleepily calling out for Jade, your loyal, reliable, logical, level-headed Jade, who you've chosen to trust and love, just the way he is.

AAAAAA OMG THIS IS SO GOOD!!!!!! OTL the silent resignation and gradual acceptance that he's weird, but he's still your (step)son... falling into the motherly role because when you chose to marry Mr. Leech you were signing up to love his sons as well. Even if you're not related by blood, there's still this familial attachment you feel for them no matter how cruel they treated you when they were children. orz orz waaaa it's so yummy. Jade trying to kill you in the most cruelly calculated way ever. T_T and then going on to use the same method twice more, only it's not coming from a place of malice but now curiosity. Him wanting to see how far he can push you, and when it becomes clear that you're not going to budge because you care about him he uses this to his advantage.

Jade keeping you under the soothing thumb of drugs just so he can take care of you regardless of whether or not you want that. And you just let it happen because that's who he is. He's always been that strange, creepy child with his morbid interests and odd behaviors. You're just so used to it, and it doesn't truly bother you anymore. Maybe it never did. Between Floyd's capricious temperament and Jade's devilish scheming, there's no room for disapproval. That's just who the both of them are, and they're immensely stubborn. It's pointless to deny them of what they want when they'll inevitably get it sooner or later. You know this and so do they, but it doesn't stop you from trying.

And in your weak, loopy, drug-induced state, home alone with no one to call for but him, Jade has his mama all to himself. :)

[burnin0akleaves]

Here's the draw six fanarts meme I decided to participate in 4 years late

In true burnin0akleaves spirit I didn't ask anyone for requests and just went ahead with all of the characters that have been the most impactful/important to me, so there is a high chance you've seen me draw these guys before.

By the way, unlike the rest of the blorbos here Siyra is an original character and belongs to @nineteen-rats!

Close-ups and rambles under the cut because it's my blog

Ohh the Dark Urge. My latest obsession. I love his design so much, I'm a slut for white/red color schemes, but I feel like it's a double edged sword that takes you out of the horrors he's commiting at the same time?

Durge is supposed to be murder incarnate, someone that does every fucked up thing related to death imaginable; but when you see a giant lizard eating babies or humping corpses, it dulls the effect a bit since you automatically view it as an animalistic act. Dragonborns are obviously a fully sentient humanoid race in-universe; but when the violence you're seeing is already toeing the line between horrifying and hilarious, seeing a scalie doing it just pushes it over the line. I still think it works really well most of the time and I'm very glad that this is the default durge we get! It's just funny to me that when you choose to play as the giant lizard, the dark and disgusting horror story turns into the hilariously edgy bloodfest.

Reminding everyone again that Siyra belongs to @nineteen-rats! I love this man so so so much. I am the Siyra fandom. I am the number one Siyra fanartist. He did nothing wrong and I will defend his every decision. I also hope terrible horrors befall him and that his actions keep him awake for the rest of his life. Pookie bear xoxo

COMING IN WITH THE STEEL CHAIR IT'S WILL TREATY

He is on my mind, always. I don't talk about him as much but he's probably still the fictional character who had the most impact on me as a person.

PATROCLUS! PATROCLUS!!! SIR I'M YOUR NUMBER ONE FAN!!

I got into patrochilles and the Illiad in general thanks to "The Song of Achilles". It was one of the first queer books I got to have in real life and the prose captivated me instantly, I still have it on my shelf. After reading the Illiad itself however, I hate that book so much. I'm sorry it's genuinely beautiful and I get why people like it but I can never forgive that horrible Patroclus characterization after seeing what he was originally like. Achilles too for that matter.

Hades swooped me up into its arms like I was a sick baby bird and nursed me back to health with its portrayal of the two though and for that I am forever grateful. I can't wait for Hades 2, death to Chronos.

God Half-Life is such an important series for me. My dad would let me play through a few levels since I was a child, he grew up with the games, but I REALLY played through the entire series one summer shortly before dad moved out. He was there watching me play most of it and getting to enjoy someone actually translate the game's dialogue for him for the first time.

Gordon may not speak once but I like the hints of his personality we get throughout the games, most importantly from the way Alyx talks to/about him. I have my own characterization of him obviously but I do really think you can get a good understanding of the kind of man he is meant to be in-universe just by paying attention to his surroundings. Also another reason the games were so immersive for me is that I'm just as in love with Alyx as Gordon is. I must have let her get hit only once or twice the entire time just out of how protective I was over her. I'd topple the entire Combine empire just for her hand in marriage. I rewatched the ending of Half Life Alyx recently and cried.

I read the entirety of LOTR in one week in 11th grade, carrying that damn brick of a book everyday to school and back. I'm so glad I did honestly. Frodo and Sam are my important little guys and I find myself going back to them when I need something to calm me down in a way no other series except LOTR can. I've read most of Tolkien's work at this point, but nothing captivated me like those two little hobbits. Everytime I read a bad take about their relationship I sketch them making out.

People liked seeing my drawing process before so here's the original sketch and the little notes I wrote to myself trying to set the mood. I followed like half of them.

[devildom-moss]

Mephisto's performance

(Mephisto x gn!MC)

(NSFW) (angst) (NSFW tags: very slight dom!top!Mephisto and bottom!MC; "office" sex, semi-public/risky, no condom, creampie, hate-fucking, "use me" dynamic, consent - but with a lot of regret so maybe dubious?, slight degradation with backhanded praise, Mephisto calling MC a whore and a slut, so slutshaming, pain, slapping, fingering light bondage, half-clothed, no orgasm for MC sorry)

(other tags: religious undertones, one-sided enemies to ?who knows?, sad/bittersweet ending)

Word Count: +2,200

To say you admired Mephistopheles was an understatement; you were absolutely smitten. Granted, he had a reputation for being a pompous asshole whose presence left a bitter taste in Lucifer’s mouth – the same mouth that warned you about spending time with the likes of Mephisto and questioned your recent attention to “a demon whose attitude and pride might be excusable if it was offset by actual wit and usefulness.”

Clearly, Lucifer either hadn’t seen the version of Mephisto that you had – the small slips in his bitter façade – or he had, and Lucifer simply refused to acknowledge it. You didn’t care what anyone else said about Mephisto. He had watched over Luke when he fell asleep in common places multiple times. As much as he protested, when you really needed him, he offered his assistance in whatever form he could – especially when it would aid Diavolo. If nothing else, Lucifer should have remembered that Mephisto was right there with Diavolo and Barbatos, tending to him and his brothers on the day they fell. You knew better. Mephisto was sweet.

He was adorable. You remembered the precious smile he had on his face while staring up at the new blossoms forming on the trees one early morning. It wasn’t the only time you had caught his face softening, entranced by some natural beauty. Mephisto still blushed when you would pay him a genuine compliment, covering his mouth with a gloved hand.

Sweet. Adorable. And so, so sexy.

Lust and affection had motivated you to pay Mephisto a visit in the RAD Newspaper Club room – another attempt to get on his good side. This time, you brought gifts to appease the bitter old demon: hot coffee and sweets that you and Luke had baked yesterday. However, the second you walked through that door, Mephisto let out an annoyed sigh.

“Why are you bothering me?” he asked, sparing you a second glance – but not a third.

“I wanted to cheer you up,” you admitted, setting your offering on his desk. “Diavolo told me that he had seen you working nonstop in preparation for the upcoming event. I figured that might be why you’ve been frowning every time I’ve seen you all week. I brought you coffee and sweets that Luke and I made.”

Part of you had an inkling that Mephisto actually enjoyed your company more than he let on. Maybe you were just clinging to a deeply engraved hope that he wanted you. Maybe you read into signs of his kindness towards you. Perhaps wishful thinking turned a two-second glance – maybe even a judgmental glare – into a longing stare. You wanted to break through his defenses if he’d let you. Well, you had certainly broken something.

Your act of kindness pushed Mephisto over the edge, and he looked up from his work and raised his voice at you. “I have too much on my plate to keep drilling this into that thick, fucking skull of yours. I don’t like you, you won’t change my mind, and that pathetic hopeful look on your face infuriates me.”

You didn’t fully believe him – as desperate as that may sound. Perhaps it was selfish, but you didn’t want to leave him alone in that room.

Mephisto waited for you to turn around and walk away, but you didn’t budge. He sighed and got to his feet. “What? Why are you still here? Why are you bringing me things hours before any of your classes even start? What do you want?”

Most classes hadn’t started yet, but if you hadn’t arrived before everyone else, you wouldn’t have been able to see Mephisto alone. Barbatos had mentioned that Mephisto was an early riser in passing once, so you figured you would find him overworking himself that morning. As for what you wanted, you wished it was more obvious to him.

“I want you to love me,” you confessed. Mephisto circled his desk so he could sandwich you between himself and the desk, blocking your path to the exit.

“How do you want me to love you? With my boot on your neck? With my fingers buried inside of you? With my hips pressed against you? What do you want? How do you expect me to love you? I could ruin you, but love?”

You shuddered. Was this a rejection or an invitation? You forced the words, and they fell out in a clumsy mess. “I don’t expect it – you loving me. I just want it, but you could ruin me instead if you wanted.”

Mephisto’s eyes widened; he retreated slightly before narrowing his eyes. “What are you saying?”

“Use me – if you really can’t love me.” Shame burned in your cheeks, but you continued. You were determined to call his bluff. “Take out your anger and hatred on my body. Do whatever you want.”

Maybe he truly hated you. Maybe he would be disgusted by your offer. Maybe he would refuse because he did love you. Or maybe he would agree to use you – to ruin you – without a trace of affection. Even then, at least you would finally get to be with him for however long you could manage to be entertaining. The possibilities ran through your head, just quick enough to fill the brief moment before Mephisto responded.

“Turn around,” he demanded. His voice was cold. In truth, you hadn’t expected him to take you up on your offer. Your heart sank as you watched Mephisto remove his tie. A low, growling sigh left him when you remained immobile. He took your arm and forced you to turn. “You offered. So, do as you’re told.”

Your voice caught in your throat. Mephisto made quick work of knotting his tie around your wrists and up your forearms, binding them behind your back. Fear washed over your body as you felt Mephisto tug your pants and underwear down to your ankles. Was this really what you wanted?

Mephisto reached over you, pressing his chest firmly against your back as he did, and pulled a bottle of lube from his top desk drawer. You didn’t question why he had it there, but you did have a question for him: “Why are you using that on me?”

The answer was obvious, but you were begging for some kind of affection from him, wishing for the words “I don’t want to hurt you” to leave his lips with enough sweetness to sate you, but they didn’t come. Instead, Mephisto removed his glove; tugged on his tie, bringing you closer; and shoved his glove into your mouth to shut you up. You felt one cool, lubricated finger plunge into you – quickly followed by a second. You bit down on his glove as he began to stretch you out.

“To answer your question, I’d be in a world of trouble if anyone found out that I hurt you. Everyone seems to think that you’re so fucking precious. Besides,” Mephisto paused, using the last word to soften the spite in his voice before he continued, “you’ll feel better if I do this first.”

You couldn’t tell if he meant that you would feel better for him or if he wanted you to feel some kind of pleasure from this too, but you hoped. However, that hope wasn’t enough to ease the heavy aching in your chest. Even through the bits of pleasure you felt when Mephisto’s long fingers curled into your body, you knew that this wasn’t how you wanted it. That truth sat rancid in your gagged mouth – somehow more unsavory than anything. Even the realization that you would die (for good) one day was less distasteful than this.

It was almost a comfort when Mephisto pulled his fingers out. You heard his pants drop before he tugged you violently towards him. Your ass was flush against him. There was a filthy relief in knowing that he was hard. At least you had aroused him a bit, then, right? You wished you could have suppressed the dirty, joyous hope you felt. Maybe he wanted you just as badly.

Mephisto entered you slowly. It almost felt intimate: the way he ran his gloved hand through your hair before tugging at it, the way his lips found your neck before it was all teeth and marks, the way his hips rocked slowly into you before he stopped holding back. He almost made this feel like affection before the poison left his mouth between panting and groans. “Not so useless anymore, are you?”

How did he know exactly how to give you a gentle touch that left you hoping before he stripped it from you? He said he didn’t want anyone to know he hurt you, so of course he would figure out how to break your heart. At least that was a pain you could never show anyone. It would live in you – and he would be the only other person who knew that such a haunting beast was hiding inside.

You choked back tears as his thrusting picked up speed and intensity, forcing your thighs against his desk repeatedly with each buck of his hips. This was going to bruise. It was just enough to slosh some of the coffee out of the cup you had brought him earlier. A small puddle pooled towards the edge of the desk until it grazed your thigh, burning for a moment before all you could feel was a numb ache – a small punishment for your foolishness.

This time, you couldn’t hold back a groan. You had tried so hard to disguise any sign of pain or pleasure, but this was too much. Your muffled noise alerted Mephisto to the mess you had both made. It was a small one with no casualties. It hadn’t even reached any of his documents. The only thing left damaged was you, and yet Mephisto dragged you back by the tie around your arms, his cock still buried in you, with an angry, “fuck.”

Did he not want you to get hurt? No.

Mephisto tugged your hair up until you were standing upright – as upright as you could be when you were still impaled on him. He took his glove out of your mouth before he forcefully bent you over towards the edge of the desk. “Lick up the mess, whore.”

You did as he told you. The coffee was still hot, and it stung on your tongue, but you were distracted by a firm slap to your ass. When you managed to clean up the mess, Mephisto brought you upright again with a rough tug and shoved his glove back into your mouth.

“There’s a good little slut,” Mephisto chuckled before he continued to fuck you – even more violently than before. He called you good, at least.

You were choking back tears when he snaked his gloved hand tenderly around your neck. Mephisto used his index finger to guide your chin up. Staring at the ceiling, with your eyes to heaven, you felt that you owed something – someone – a prayer. You wanted to thank some god that Mephisto’s hand was there around your throat – as if the slight pressure was the only thing keeping the sobs and moans inside of you. No. It wasn’t a god that you were grateful to. It was Mephisto. Even as he used you for his amusement, your desire still burned. Your love blazed steadily. Through the pain and emptiness, you still adored him. How pathetic.

Even more pathetic was the contentment you felt as Mephisto sunk his teeth into your shoulder, muffling his moans as he came inside of you. He didn’t pleasure you enough for you to cum; you got the smallest taste of it, and somehow you were content.

Mephisto was quick to pull out of you and get his pants back up. You stood there, trying to reel yourself back into your body – too slowly for Mephisto’s liking. He tugged your pants and underwear back up for you. His glove slipped from your mouth and onto the floor as you attempted to protest with a feeble, “wait.”

His cum had already started to leak out, and the feeling of it sickened you – a shameful sickness. This felt awful and wrong and disgusting, but the most resentful part of you quietly wanted him to bend you back over his desk and fill you up all over again.

Mephisto pulled you in by his tie around your arms and leaned close to your ear. “Keep it in you. I want that sensation to stick with you all day and remind you how much I despise you. Now get out of my sight.”

You felt his tie slip from around your arms. Mephisto dragged you towards the door and shoved you out into the hallway. You heard the distinct sound of the door locking behind you.

Mephisto waited for your hesitant footsteps to fade away down the hall before he sunk his teeth into the back of his ungloved hand. Tears streamed down his face as he dropped to his knees on the floor. Had he finally given you a convincing performance – persuaded you to stay away from him?  

In that dim room on a dark Devildom morning, on his knees, Mephisto felt that he owed something – someone – a prayer. Unsure if he was even allowed – or who would hear it – he prayed that he had finally shown you what a monster he was. The cruel, wicked beast he housed had spit its parasitic DNA into you and waited to consume you. He was a demon, with his hands clasped so tightly together that they trembled, brought to his knees. His prayer – half-confession – found no purchase. It lived only inside of him, and even you would never know. It was a small, lenient punishment.

[erynaster]

I Don't Hate You

Summary: You and Wednesday attempt to patch things up after an argument. In a brief moment of transparency, feelings are brought into the open.

Word Count: 1,706

Warnings: Arguing

Pairing(s): Wednesday Addams x Male!Reader

A/N: Felt like having Wednesday display a more... soft side in this one. I hope you all enjoy!

"Wednesday's looking for you."

You look up from your evening porridge, where Enid hovers over you anxiously waiting for your response.

"Sorry?" You ask.

Enid takes a deep breath, exhaling nervously through her nose as she repeats her statement.

"Wednesday's looking for you." She repeats, eyeing you with a look of fright. "She... told me to tell you—well, if I saw you—that she wishes to speak with you. Alone."

You're genuinely puzzled.

"You're... sure? She actually said that?" You nearly chuckle in disbelief. Your girlfriend wasn't exactly the epitome of healthy communication.

"She did." Enid continues to look at you with a look that someone would give a person lying on their deathbed. "I've never seen her look more serious than how she was while ago. It seemed... important."

You take a moment to ponder her words. Wednesday would never ask to speak with you alone, unless it was something really grave or morbid that she had to have someone to share it with.

Or, maybe...

You can feel your heart dropping right to the pit of your stomach.

... Maybe she felt that things weren't working out between you two.

You sigh. Better to get it over with.

"Thanks, Enid. I'll go look for her now."

You stand up from your seat, grabbing your backpack from a nearby bench as you do. Before you can get far, however, Enid calls out your name.

"Y/N?"

You turn, facing a rather troubled-looking Enid. "Yeah?"

"What happened between you two?" She asks in hushed tones.

You sigh once more.

"We just had a little... misunderstanding, that's all." This, of course, was an understatement. You and Wednesday just had one of your worst fights in weeks. "I'll be fine, Enid."

This seems to terrify her even more.

"O-okay... just be careful, alright?"

"I will, thanks."

____________

Wednesday Addams stands by the edge of the balcony; feeling the cold, crisp air as it washes over her features. She's deep in thought, her mind replaying the exact same moment that's been on her mind since this morning.

"If you aren't going to be of any use to me, then I expect you to leave."

A curious feeling wells up within her. Guilt? She hardly knew the feeling. In all her years pushing down such trivial emotions, nothing quite made her insides squirm uncomfortably as the memory of your conversation did now.

In retrospect, perhaps she had been a bit too... harsh.

She sighs. Her words were only now coming back to haunt her.

"So that's all I am to you, huh? Some tool?" You had replied, clearly hurt.

"I did not say that. Do not make assumptions." She had chastised you, giving you a cold stare.

"Well what am I supposed to think, Wends? I can't be guessing all the time." You stated, shaking your head. "Sometimes, I wonder if you even do care."

"So you assume that I don't?" She had replied blandly.

"Well, you sure have a funny way of showing it." You huffed, turning towards the door.

There's silence.

"... Do you love me, Wednesday?" You had asked tentatively, doubt creeping in.

Wednesday's gaze had grown colder.

"Clearly, if you doubt me so much, then there is no point to this conversation." She turned, facing stubbornly away from you. "You may leave. Now."

The silence had been deafening.

"So you don't, then?" You had choked, tears forming in your eyes.

And at that precise moment, Wednesday's insides had squirmed with an incomprehensible desire, one that told her to express how she truly felt for you. However, she swallowed that primal urge as pride took over.

"Do not make me answer that question right now, Y/N. Please. Leave me be." Her tone was as cold as ice, which you took as your cue to leave that room at that very moment.

And that was that.

As the memory of your conversation draws to a close, Wednesday sighs. A sad, drawn-out sigh that was so unlike her.

She detested what you do to her. How you affected her this way. How you made her feel. Feelings were a trivial matter, she had decided from a young age.

But you?

You made her feel things that frustrated her, things that made her head spin and her heart pound. It was maddening.

She despised it. No, loathed it. She hated it so much that, during that one fateful day by the lake, she had accepted your advances of affection. She hated it so much that she had spent precious amounts of her time with you, talking and talking until she had realized that hours had gone by since you had started. Hours that she could've spent working on her novel.

She hated every bit of it.

She hated the way her heart hammered in her throat as she leaned in that night, just as you had done the same. The feeling of your lips tracing over hers...

She hated how it felt so right. So good.

Wednesday shivers.

But now? There was none of that. You hadn't talked all day, let alone spent any time together since your argument that morning. Wednesday hated how it felt, but not in the good kind of way.

For once, though she would never admit it...

She misses you.

What she wouldn't give to be able to stab herself at that very moment. The mere idea of "missing someone" was entirely foreign to her.

Until you.

A choking feeling wells up in her throat, one that she desperately tries to shove down. She would've succeeded, too, if it wasn't for the sound of a door opening up behind her.

"... Wednesday?"

She turns. There you stand, framed in the doorway, looking as though you're expecting the worst.

"I got your message from Enid. You wanted to talk?" You inquire timidly.

She nods, gesturing to the spot next to her.

You approach her cautiously, taking your place next to her by the balcony as the two of you gaze off into the distance.

The silence drags on for a good two minutes before Wednesday breaks the silence.

"I owe you an apology." She says simply.

You gaze at her in awe.

"It's okay." You blurt out, taken aback by her forwardness.

"No, it isn't." She shakes her head. She turns her cold gaze on you, and from what you can tell, this is taking a great deal of effort on her part just to be able to express herself this much. "Y/N, what I did was wrong. Rather, it's what I didn't do. You were a loving partner from the very beginning, and I failed to appreciate that."

You raise your eyebrows in surprise. This didn't sound like her at all.

"Wednesday, are you feeling okay...?"

She chooses to ignore this.

"Y/N..." She takes a deep breath, as though resigning herself to the worst. "You... You matter to me."

She looks pained.

Part of you is wildly unsettled by her behavior, while the other half of you finds it hard not to chuckle at her attempts to be expressive.

"... And?" You tease, pushing your luck a little bit more.

Wednesday gives you a cold stare.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry." You laugh nervously. "It's just, why are you telling me these things now?"

Silence falls between you two.

"You need to know, Y/N, that despite the way I... act around you, I... I do not despise you. Far from it, actually."

You can feel your heart pounding in your chest. Would she finally be able to say it...?

"Yes, Wends? What is it?"

"Y/N..." She gulps, the first sign of nervousness finally setting in. "You should know that...that I..."

You can feel her resolve crumbling.

"That you what, Wednesday?" You press, taking her hand in yours.

She opens her mouth to speak, but no words come out. For a moment, she seems to teeter on the verge of saying, 'that I love you', but instead...

"I..." She averts her gaze, staring resolutely at the ground. "... I don't hate you, Y/N."

You can feel yourself deflate.

"Oh." It takes a moment for you to recover, but you pat her hand consolingly. You knew that she had done her best.

"Well... I don't hate you too, Wednesday." You smile encouragingly.

She glances up at you, gazing at you with a mysterious look in her eyes. To your surprise, she begins to edge closer to you, her gaze never once faltering nor breaking.

"Wednesday, what are you doing?" You chuckle nervously.

No reply. She continues to lean in ever closer, without ever flinching or averting her stare. Her dark, abyssal eyes gaze deep into yours as the distance between your faces grows smaller and smaller by the second, and by now her face is a mere two inches away from your own.

You're suddenly aware of what was happening.

"W-Wait—" You whisper, but to no avail.

You never get to finish your sentence as her lips gently press against yours.

It feels so good.

And so... right.

The way her lips pucker up and part to welcome your own just feels... intoxicating. Surreal. But before you can even register the kiss more fully in your mind, she pulls away, giving you another one of her cold, sharp-edged stares.

"Tell anyone of what just happened, Y/N L/N, and I swear I will skin you alive."

You chuckle nervously.

"I swear, I won't. You have my word."

Without thinking, you throw both arms around your goth girlfriend. To your immense surprise and relief, she doesn't recoil or pull away from your touch. Instead, she does something that surprises you more than anything that had happened so far that evening.

She hugs you back.

Wednesday slips both arms around you, holding you close as you caress each other underneath the light of the full moon. A cool breeze blows through, causing Wednesday to shiver slightly in the evening air.

"I don't hate you, Y/N." She repeats for the second time that evening, her voice muffled as she buries her face in the crook of your neck.

You smile, giving her a gentle squeeze.

"I love you too, Wednesday."

Maybe things would work out between you two.

[newkatzkafe2023]

@lara-legomonkiekid

💜:Hey! Remember Your ChooChoo Charles Post 1 and 2?Can you do the Destined One Wukong and Black Myth Wukong in that? Please?

YES THE GENDERBEND PART 3 YOU ALL BEEN WAITING FOR!!!!!🤩🤩🤩🤩

(BMW Wukong) Wukong had been getting a lot of complaints from all her monkey subjects about a giant red spider on the other side of the mountain. Their was a spider who was creepy and loud and kept Scaring the baby monkeys, Wukong quickly grew annoyed and went to deal with the problem herself. She flew to the end of the Edge looking for this so-called spider, and boy was she shocked at first she thought they were overreacting, but then she saw the spider that was described to her. What genuinely creeps her out the most is that the spider just sat in the web smiling at her. Wukong paled slightly, but she wasn't deterred by the large spider. She worked for weeks to get rid of it, from using herbs like peppermint spiders hate to actually decluttering and cleaning FFM and splashing Vinegar, but nothing worked at all. Wukong was stumped on how to get rid of the giant red spider She even considered squishing it entirely, but something is telling her that wouldn't be the best idea. Except one day as she brainstorm a way to get rid of the spider, she heard a voice.

(???) CHARLES!!!!!!!!

Wukong froze the voice sounded like a male, and also who's Charles??? But what also surprised her was the spider moved from its web and went to where the voice was, Wukong followed and saw a male monkey glaring at the train

(???) There You are Charles I was looking everywhere for you😠

(Charles)😙😥

(???) Look I'm not mad, I was just worried.Come on let's go home😒😮‍💨

Before you can leave Wukong came up and demanded an explanation on to who you are and why was your pet was on her mountain

(M/N) the name is Y/n L/N and Charles is not a pet, he's my friend and he got lost from my forest a few weeks back And i've been looking all over for him, So would you be so kind as the move You're fat ass out of our way we need to get home😠

You then literally pushed Wukong, whose jaw was on the floor with a blush and slight nose bleed, a sexy monkey man just insulting her to her face without fear. All of a sudden, having charles around wouldn't be as such a bad idea, and charles thinks so too😉😉😉

(Destined one) She and Bajie were taking a short cut to the next village over but the destined one felt something off, as she kelp her gaurd up and made sure to protect Bajie.

(Fem Bajie) Careful child thier is something very...unnerving about this fog

They two women walked through the fog of the forest until their was a soft whistle and the destined one grabbed her, staff and looked to see something charging directly at the two women and her and Bajie got ready for the potential assault........Until it stopped

the fog revealed a large.......Red.......whistling spider as it stopped Directly in front of the two women and what what made them both pale was the fact that the spiderwas actively smiling at them. You think with all the scary and disgusting creatures and demons They would be a little more jaded to the situation, But the spider just freaked them out that much especially the destined one.

(???) Charles did you eat them yet?!

Bajie and the destined one saw a male monkey walking up to the two women looking a bit frustrated, Making the destined one blushed at you but Bajie.....

(Fem Bajie) THE HELL YOU MEAN EAT US??😠

(M/N) THE NAME IS Y/N L/N AND THIS IS MY SPIDER CHARLES WE PROTECT THIS FOREST AND YOUR TRESPASSING😡!!!!!

It wasn't long before an argument broke out between you and the short pig Lady meanwhile the destined one was blushing up a storm as she continued to stare at you, unfortunately CHARLES was paying attention And mischief is insured😉

FEEL FREE TO REBLOG🚂