#i just tend to get like a handful of ones that are just really really painful :(

[calebrity]

ataxia

sylus x fem reader

⤷ sylus wants kids, sweetie. lots of kids.

kind of a part 2 to this piece, but it can still serve as a lil standalone as well ♡ DAD SYLUS DAD SYLUS DAD SYLUS

cw ▻ nsfw, dubcon, breeding, pregnancy mentions, daddy kink, im a strong believer in sylus wanting a big family, whipped sylus, characters depicted are 18+, stockholm syndrome, yandere/obsessive tendencies, ~2.5k words

notes ▻ eeee they fr live in my head rent free </3 anyways take this crumb while i work on like other fics. daddy sylus is actually KILLING me like always on the noggin 😵‍💫

𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔, 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔, + 𝒓𝒆𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅 ♡

There’s a certain peace you feel, curled up on the leather couch, in watching your husband sit on his knees as the little ones crawl around the carpet, playing with them no different than a toddler would.

Not exactly a pleasant peace, by any means, but a simple, sort of resigned one. Your muscles seem to lose the tension, shoulders always piked high, ready for attack- or some other (meta)physical blow- slumping into rounded blades. You sigh.

Perhaps it’s the knowing that whatever bad thing that could’ve come- already has. Now, you’re experiencing the sloping aftereffects of it.

And this—

Sylus, with a beaming grin, letting out an almost breathless laugh as he scoops up one of the boys and twirls him overhead, the other kept by a protective hand at his side so he won’t bump on the corner of the coffee table—

Is just the fallout.

Ruby-red eyes flit over (and they always do sooner than later, like you’re a beacon in the middle of a dark sea) and crinkle at the edges. You’ve told him before that you don’t like when he throws the babies up in the sky like that, that if they were to suddenly fall, they can’t take flight like Mephisto. He must remember, because he lets out a little, woeful noise and carefully lowers him.

The smile remains, though, kilowatt and wide, a little starry-gazed like he’s inviting you to slip off the sofa and join him on the fluffy rug with your children.

The fatigue natural to post-pregnancy has already claimed you tonight, though. Truth be told, you’d have hesitated even if it didn’t. It’s fine, tending to your children on your own; his long absences leave you with massive windows of alone time with the little ones, and you actually enjoy it (save for the huge toll it takes on your energy, of course, but Luke and Kieran lend a hand where it counts- where they’re allowed).

That sentiment changes a bit, though, when your husband does get home. With his presence comes the cold reminder of how things really are, how you’re still an unwilling counterpart in all this- frilly gowns and jewels and the private chef he hires for fancy dinners (because he has the money for it) be damned.

You want to go home. That wish, hollow as it is, still stands.

…Even if it’s started staggering, in these last few months.

He’s always been more than content with just the two of you, but in the last several weeks, you compare Sylus’s emotional state to a suitcase packed too full, joy spilling out the sides. Evidently, he doesn’t try to close the zipper; he lets it happen with gladness, with his hands open and lifted, but you’re not sure he entirely knows what to do with himself. With these significant developments that are just as new to him (possibly even more, as much as that flummoxes you) as they are to you.

It’s as weird as it is endearing to see what having two children (twin boys, funnily enough) will do to your husband. But if there’s one thing you learned about Onychinus’s illustrious leader in the past couple years of your marriage—

It’s that he does not settle for less.

And when he draws closer, both little ones secured in his lap- dozing off because it’s already thirty minutes past their bedtime- and lifts your hand to place a chaste kiss there, rubbing your knuckles dotingly…

You can tell there’s something more he’s craving.

✿

“A girl,” he moans.

Sometimes- after you’ve just put down the boys for four consecutive nights in a row before collapsing in bed, your lover hardly having the opportunity to show his affections, all but guilted into letting you catch up on your sleep- it’s almost easy to forget how Sylus feels, your brain willing it away. How good he fucks you.

If you’re being more general- how good he takes care of you.

“Give me a girl this time, sweetie, just-“ a gasp, “one more.”

And vaguely, in the haze of sweat and burning hands, his thick, long cock plunging in and out of you deeply- slowly- your juices and his pre slicking between you, sticky as molasses, you wonder to yourself if he’s even convinced of that himself.

Just having one more, you mean.

The twins were unexpected: that right there is an understatement. You were hardly prepared for one rascal- all the countless evenings he spent buttering you up, so attentive, and then cumming into you with whispered vows to knock you up be damned— but when the xray revealed not one misshapen, little form in your womb, but two?

It was a bombshell.

Sylus, beside you (on the leather couch downstairs with your personal doctor he paid God knows how unreasonable a sum to show), had squeezed your hand in his and tried to mask half of his joy. The priority was in comforting you, helping you to realize that this was a good thing- a beautiful thing- that your life was not officially over and- hey, don’t worry, hasn’t he taken good care of you thus far? Surely, adding a couple little ones into the equation wouldn’t suddenly make it impossible.

You’re both very capable people, honey. Even more so together, with him. (Well, he assures you as much, anyway.)

Whether or not he could take care of you was never exactly the worry, though. The worry was that you’d be under his hand forever— and a baby? (two, you strictly correct. Two babies) You could kiss the last hope you had of ever weaseling out from his grip, or luxurious manor, goodbye.

He must know it, buried deep in the back of his head underneath the genuine layers of desire to simply start a family with you, his beloved girl, and flesh out more of a solid, burgeoning life; the silent promise underlying the pregnancy tests and inpromptu housecalls of your poor, overworked doctor.

That a family ties you to him forever.

A tether that’s damn near impossible to cut yourself loose from, even if you stood a punching chance at it to begin with. Glues you together in a way that even marriage doesn’t quite scratch the surface of. Your bond is perpetuated by blood, now. Flesh and bone. Your DNA, warped with his to create—

Monstrosities—

No, a harsh voice in the corner of your skull surprisingly snips back. They’re not monstrosities, far from it. All previous qualms nudged aside (and you had a lot, to be clear; hours spent sobbing and pushing helplessly at his chest as Sylus crooned and wrapped you in his arms proves that), doubts surrounding parenting and your own self preservation- your children are beautiful, that’s true. Healthy. Perfect.

If you’re being honest with yourself, and choose the high road here (the high road means willfully forgetting how involuntary this whole arrangement was in the first place)- they’re positively adorable. With his white hair spiking on their heads but your eyes and lips- and a shared penchant to land themselves into trouble, places they shouldn’t be before either of you stoops over to lift them out. Albeit, you’ll admit that their noses are still up for debate; it’s hard to pinpoint the resemblance when their faces are endearingly round, too chubby to really tell in this stage, but you secretly hope they’ll take after you in that regard.

You… don’t know how you’ll continue to operate if staring at your children is like staring at a mirror image of their father.

But… I mean, they’re fucking innocent in all this—

Your precious boys aren’t like their father. They… won’t be. You’ll make absolute sure of it.

“One more,” he chants, sucking in a long, thin breath through perfect teeth. And damn it all he feels good. So good. Maybe he had more than just one selfish, substratal reason for populating your otherwise fairly quiet home. Because you’re more obedient lately, wanting for it, almost… It gets him riled up in ways he could not begin to articulate. Hesitant still (sometimes he has this awful, basal fear that it’ll never go away, your trepidation towards him)- but sugar-sweet when you lie on the silken bed and present yourself with bashful cheeks that tell Sylus you hate yourself for it but have no real control in the moment.

You moan so prettily for him when he pries your thighs apart and presses them either side of your head, fashioning you like a butterfly, to slide in and out of you with ease. Melodic. Maybe he’s tone deaf to all songs save for you because he knows you, knows you like the back of his hand, pitch and lilt; he could pick out the voice of you in a crowd full of whooping people, he thinks.

Again, you blame your excitement on what he’s done to you. The twins’ pregnancy, the fluctuating hormones that have you bouncing between hysterical sobs and yanking your wide-eyed husband into impulsive, suffocating kisses before his fingers quickly settle around your middle. All the gentle erosion that he’s guided you through across the span of almost two years has left you worn and vulnerable.

But you suppose if something were to ever encourage a deeper bond- strengthen it- what else would it be than to take a man’s seed inside your womb and gift him with a bunch of unruly but cute kids? That’d gnaw away at just about anybody’s inhibitions, even if it grudges you to admit that. It lessens what remnant you held onto of this idea of ‘autonomy’, makes you fully lean onto him.

Sylus takes that news much, much better than you.

It’s… got to be more than physical between you now, you think distantly as he bullies his cockhead against your smooth walls, stroking a spongey spot in the bulwarks of you that makes your head go kaput. Like something spiritual, perhaps. He’s joined his soul with yours and that’s why you’ve been so obedient lately, so needy, clinging onto him and making his back your own personal scratching post as he plays at the idea of impregnating you again.

Oh, fuck, he’s such a bastard you hate him you hate him you—

You suppose your baby girl, inevitable to come somewhere down the line- whether that means during the next pregnancy or the third- won’t be like him, either.

She’ll be a sweetheart, and soft. Perhaps she’ll inherit her daddy’s crimson eyes or his smooth, sharp tongue, his inclination for success, but she’ll carry her mother’s heart with her. She will be kind.

Until someone like her daddy comes along. Flips her world on its head.

(And you know that having Sylus as her daddy would be the simple fact that staves off all potential men intending to prey on her, but still, the thought remains, niggling and bitter.)

“Take daddy’s cock, sweetie,” he goads, breath shot right from his lungs as he traps you beneath him- not that you’ve much the will to resist anymore- and moans over you. “You’ll take what he has to offer, won’t you? Your pretty belly will take all of it in?”

Tears prickle at your eyes when his flit down to your tummy, pupils swelling wildly as his jaw sets tight. He hisses through clenched teeth, cock giving a hot pulse accordingly.

It’s not difficult to imagine the bump there, the mound that’s not yet formed over a for now slim belly and wrinkled skin (stretch marks that you loathe but he worships on most nights, with your heels over his shoulder and his tongue lapping greedily at your pussy, palms kneading the flesh with reverence). It’s hardly been six months since you had the twins (a home birth, he’d insisted, because it was safer that way, more sterile, less stressful for you), but Sylus finds himself pining for your body to adapt to his seed again, for your breasts to plump and your stomach to round, your skin to glow.

(Your hands to reach for him because your emotions have been sat on one long rollercoaster ride and you can’t help whatever the fuck is going on inside you.)

“Sylus—“ You mewl, panting as he knocks his forehead to yours- with a whit more force than you think he’d meant, but he’s a little dazed right now, and your pussy feels so good, so don’t hold it against him, kitten- and grunts back. “Yes?” He breathes, and you liken the sound to a gust of wind, powerful and shaking.

“I- I don’t know,” you all but wail, desperately trying to tamp down your sounds of pleasure before they can escape. You’re failing.

Your reticence is for a number of reasons. First of all, your boys are just down the hall, swaddled in their respective cradles under their rotating airplane fixtures and sleeping soundly. You don’t have any intentions of changing that- especially for something as stupid and pathetic as essentially whoring yourself out to their father (and you’re not a whore, but you can’t help but feel like one when you start to bask in the attention he gives you- your hormones post-pregnancy compelling you to do all sorts of wild things).

And secondly, Luke and Kieran don’t renown you as stubborn for no reason, or your husband, lovingly, as a drama queen— and there’s a defiant part of you that does not want to see the satisfaction on his face when you start to crumble under his ministrations and open your mouth about it.

But all that, for Sylus, is a wonderful work in progress.

And if we’re to be crystal, for as much as the N109 Zone’s number one magnate prioritizes the end goal, he thoroughly enjoys the process.

“You don’t know what, Sweetie?” He whispers. It’s all he can manage right now, you’re squeezing him so tight. In that moment, the fog parts, and he knows with a hundred percent certainty that you do not want him to leave. Yes, your cunt is saying as much, and he rewards it with a carefully angled thrust right against your g-spot, but your face tells no different a story.

You’re beautiful. Perfection embodied. Makes him lose his breath a little.

“I-If I want a girl,” You heave. “If I want one at all.”

Something like dejection passes across his handsome visage then, or maybe it’s uncertainty that weakens the tight knotch in his brow as he inwardly struggles- between his approaching climax and the single mind he’s got to stuff you full of his release- for an appropriate answer. He doesn’t want to anger you. Doesn’t want to make you hate him, no, especially not when you’re finally starting to dip your toes in his waters after all his painstaking efforts to make you comfortable. Oh, God knows Sylus would kick himself for that.

…But this will be good for you. Having another, he means. It’ll be good for the both of you and if you’d just let him show you—

He’s painted the perfect demonstration of that quite well with the boys, hasn’t he? In this past handful of months, you’ve never looked happier and you’re positively glowing and all Sylus has ever wanted was to see your pretty face light with that dazzling, little smile. The twins he’s given you, unbidden as they initially were through your lens, make you so, so happy.

This will be so, so good.

Perfect.

If you’d just give in.

Oh, you’re so maddening sometimes but he adores you, every part and piece. He stoops over so his damp lips brush the lobe of your ear, the perspiration dotting his temple wetting your flushed cheeks. He croons, “You do. You do want it. I’ll show you, kitten, just how bad you need it. The twins need a sister, don’t you think? They won’t know anything other than playing rough, if not.”

Your fingertips squeeze into the lean planes of muscle of his back. He’s burning up, near feverish what with the heat sweltering between your sandwhiched bodies, but he gives a shiver in response like he’s enduring temperatures below freezing.

Panic, beneath the misty veneer of pleasure that makes your face go slack- and the subtle, inexplicable flash of something that almost convinces you Sylus is right, that you do want it- slips into the forefront of your muddled brain. Reaches a hand through the dirt and revives itself, reminding, no, no, you don’t want this, you don’t want him, you don’t want—

You let out a delicious gasp as he spears into you, the flesh of your thighs dimpling as he presses down the undersides of them. Firm, but gentle. It’s true, you’ve become considerably more flexible since meeting him- since having to accommodate him- but he’ll never give you anything more than you can take.

You’d never admit it, but there’s almost a little bit of comfort in knowing that.

“I-I’ll make sure they know how to play nice,” you force out, taking your lower lip in your mouth and suckling as the telltale rush of your climax draws nigh, hardening in your belly as it builds. “I’ll make sure they know how to be gentle, Sy!” Foreign to your own ears. Your voice is horrid as you belatedly register it, all sniveling and gasping- downright pathetic as you cling onto him for dear life and he ruts into you like a dog in heat.

You’re grasping at straws now, you know, but for as feeble as your excuses are, you hope they hit their mark. That they’ll get him to reconsider-

“But sweetie,” he breathes tenderly, “you’re already making sure I’m gentle,” he reminds in a pleasant voice, edged with the remnants of a self control that unravels at a steady pace. “How will you juggle between the three of us? Hm?”

His cockhead, fat and precise, catches on that spot in you that makes you go positively crazy and your eyes flutter back. You let out a strange, choked sound that he marvels at before he capitalizes on the reaction completely, buffetting away at the final walls you’d erected against him tonight.

All are near crumbled.

“I’ll find a way,” you nearly squeak- high-pitched and unconvincing because his mind’s already made- before he’s lolling your jaw back towards him and smashing his lips to yours in a decadent kiss, silencing your protests- for as weak as they are.

It’s close to visceral, the contact, wet lips melding hungrily with yours, trading groans and mewls as he effectively pistons his hips into you and paints colorful stars across the black span of your eyelids. In a word- invasive. Torpefying, all your limbs unfurling and slipping away from him in favor of curling into the sheets as your release approaches at whirlwind speeds, blunt fingernails clinging onto you so tight there’ll be bruises formed tomorrow- as well as an apologetic, rueful sigh on Sylus’s end, because he swears to God he’s trying to hold back—

Fucking mind-numbing.

And isn’t that just what you need? A quiet conscience? A shot of morphine fed through a needle straight into the veins, an emotional kind of tranquilizer or- or something to moderate the snarled mess your heart’s become all because of him—

It seems he’s cognizant then, pupils dilated madly as he finally blinks, of the hands that clench too tight- withdrawing them immediately from your thighs (regrettably, they remain cleaved open in a willing offer for him, shaking and red with his prints) to loop your wrists either side of your head. Holding your hands. Ever the romantic. You almost laugh, seconds off from that white-hot tidal wave of pleasure, at the irony of it all. Onychinus’s formidable, takes-no-bullshit leader, fucking you with all the grace of a big clumsy dog but all the love of one too— loyal and determined, bleeding heart on his sleeve.

He’s still kissing you, sucking on your tongue filthily, and all you can think of is waking the boys sleeping soundly next door how exquisite it feels, his thick member dragging in and out of your walls like it’s his right. Sylus certainly believes as much.

He’s ruined you too good for anyone else; you’re starting to believe it, too.

“There you go, kitten!” He gasps. “Let go. Just- fuck- let go for daddy. Such a good, good girl. Such a good mommy, you are. Our- oh, fuck, that’s it, that’s it, perfect- Our little girl will be so, so lucky to have you.”

When he comes, you do, too.

[illou-sainte]

Jealous? Nah.

pairings: colonel!caleb x nurse!reader

cw: unprotected sex, overstimulation, crying, missionary, jealous!caleb, possession, cosplay, inappropriate use of medical equipment, dom!caleb, rough and nasty sex

You knew damn well how bad Caleb's jealousy was. How and why? It's just that even with a simple glimpse and look into his eyes, you can see the way his pupils dilate whenever you attend to and do check-ups on the workers of the fleet.

It's cute, they say---but it's Caleb. Caleb and jealousy in the same sentence is bad. Really bad.

He knows you're only doing your job as a nurse---but his jealousy is something he couldn't handle. He hates the way those scum colonels and officers look at you with eyes filled with lust and hunger while you're doing your job.

He couldn't shake the thoughts of letting other men touch you and hear your sweet voice, which is exclusively for him. He knows how to handle it sometimes---but there was a certain time when he couldn't.

It was just one regular working day when you tended and did check-ups on the officers' appointments. The officer was surprised to see the Colonel in the same room as them with the nurse. But they didn't dare bring it up---who knows what would've happened if they did?

What hit Caleb's last nerve was when you did a check-up on the officer, placing the chest piece against his chest as you moved it around, trying to find the heartbeat.

"It seems like your beating is unsteady than usual, Sir" You said to him, focused on hearing his heartbeat, while Caleb, on the other hand, was fuming with jealousy. He glared at the officer, who was shamelessly staring at you face-to-face, a smug look on his face. His fists clenched tightly over his lap as he struggled to remain calm at the scene unfolding before him.

As you continued monitoring the heartbeat, you were startled when the officer placed a hand over yours that was holding the piece against his chest and held it.

"Really, Miss? It's probably because of you" He flirted, lips forming a sly smirk---making your eyes widened as you were quick to back away from him. The officer lets out a low chuckle as he shook his head in amusement seeing you jerk your body away.

You sweatdrop and you moved your head where Caleb is sitting at, arm over the desk as he rests his cheek against the palm of his hand---a visible vein on his forehead and....smiling? Oh.

Oh. you're in trouble, big trouble.

Your moans and whines filled the infirmary while Caleb was fucking you balls deep over the hospital bed. His hand reached for his hat and placed it over your head---tilting to the side because of how fast his hips is moving against yours. The buttons of your uniform taken out earlier when he ripped it in one go. Your plushed tits covered with his saliva as it bounces every thrust he gaves your poor aching pussy.

You were in full haziness---intoxicated on how good his fat cock is filling you up to the brim. Tears stream drown your face as he fucks you in missionary---legs wrapped around his waist while he pounds into you relentlessly.

"C-Caleb! Too much--!!!" You cried out, gripping his arms as you try to push him away---but due to his physic you couldn't. He lets out a shaky chuckle and grips your thighs tightly making you squirm in response.

"Hah- w-what...am I not one of your patients that you give your so called special treatment?" He asked, voice low and husky as his eyes focused on your fucked up flustered face. You whined as you shook your head in response. Encouraged by your moans, he increases the force of his thrusts, the headboard of the bed banging against the wall with each thrust.

Oh god, you'd just wished that no one in the fleet was walking in front of the infirmary. Otherwise, you will never know what will happen to your job if someone caught you two. He groans deeply, the thought of getting caught adding to his arousal.

"Tell me..." The Colonel's eyes darken with primal lust, and he begins to fuck you with wild abandon. His hips slamming continuously, driving his cock deep into your throbbing pussy with each thrust. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes through the room, mixed with your moans and his grunts.

"Ngh- cat got...your tongue...huh?" He muttered, smirk forming his lips. And you can only respond with your soft cries while he fucks you good. His pace quickens, his fat cock slamming into your pussy over and over, the wet sounds of your fucking echoing.

"F-fuck, you're so hot..."

Feeling the stickiness of your sweat and his mixed over your hot bodies---Caleb can't help but adore your fucked up face. It's a proof that with a whip of his fat cock inside your pussy can make your mind circuit. A crying and blabbering mess you are, it's cute he says in his mind. He smirked, amused by your overwhelmed expression as he fills your tight pussy completely.

"...shit... can't even stand a single minute of seeing you in a room with other officers.." His hands roam over your curves possessively as he nuzzles between your tits, his hot breath warming your skin. He can feel how tightly you're wrapped around him, his fat cock stretching your tiny hole. You can't even count how many times he made you cum already---the wetness of the covers under you, proves many times.

The scene that happened earlier keeps on playing inside Caleb's mind over and over again. It irritates him. But for you, you can't help but feel so aroused seeing him so rough and possessive he is with you. Making your throbbing pussy tightened around his fat cock inside of you---earning a soft grunt from him.

You watch his hand reached for the stethoscope that is hanging over your neck and grabbed it. His hand gripping your waist tightly while the other one brings the stethoscope to him, putting the ear piece to both of his ears as the stethoscope hangs. He then grabs the chest piece and brings it to your plushed tits---moving it around, using the saliva as a lubricant to make it slippery to move with, making you squirm in response at the coldness of the metal.

He lets out a chuckle as he moved the piece around your tits and keeps on hitting your perked nipples---making you whimper when he rubs circles around it with the piece.

"I'll be your nurse then.." He said, continuing to slam his fat cock inside your puffy pussy while he keeps on moving the piece around your chest---finding your heartbeat and to tease you.

You let out soft grunts because you were sure he's definitely pushing your buttons and abusing his control over you. Once he finally detected your beatings---he lets out a sly smirk and stopped moving the piece. Leaning close to you and pressing his body against your plushed tits as his hot breath hits your skin making you bit your lip.

"Oops, it seems like your beating is unsteady, Miss" He mimicked your words earlier, making your eyes widened.

"It's probably because of me, right?"

A dick for a day keeps the nurse away!

masterlist

[petersparkerrs]

back where we started

୨ৎ ୨ৎ ୨ৎ

- pairing: dark!joel x fem!reader

- summary: joel is a horrible partner post-outbreak. he yells. isn't too nice. fucks.

- warnings: dark!!! dubcon, slapping, choking, hair tugging, unprotected piv (don't do this guys!), smut smut smut smut, degrading, yelling, no established relationship, rough sex, crying, unsafe sex, angry sex, joel has crazy anger issues, blood, huggeee nasty age gap (legal, though! your choice for age), public / outdoor sex, size kink, joel's got a massive dick lols, power imbalance, submission, no aftercare, squirting, dirty talk, thigh riding if you squint, manhandling, joel is just incredibly mean. total asshole.

- word count: 4.5k

- author’s note: feining for mr joel miller recently so i wrote this... my first joel fic!! its gross yall. have your fun though!

—————————————୨ৎ

Partnering up with Joel Miller wasn’t ideal. He’s always looking at you like you’re some problem he doesn’t know how to solve – like you’re just cargo he’s exhausted of having to drag along. 

You don’t want to admit it, but he’s honestly an asshole. A real fucking dick, a mean bastard. To everyone else you meet, you’re a well loved, sweet girl. To Joel, though, you’re a burden. He’s a miserable person, and hanging around him only came with the positive that he knew how to hunt, how to keep you decently safe. But, hey, it’s better to be stuck with a brute of a man than to be infected. Right?

For whatever reason, the frustration has been building worse than usual for the past few days. You move like you’re on eggshells, do anything to not upset him, stay quiet when you’re asked and obey his every order. But it’s Joel fucking Miller. Nothing is ever enough with him. 

You’re young, but that's not a valid excuse for Joel. He expects as much out of you as he would another man his size and seniority, which is totally unfair of a girl your age.

So every little mistake ticks him off. Really riles him up. His temper is really fired up today for whatever reason, and you’re trying your best to not exacerbate it. 

—————————————୨ৎ

Joel should know now your most common flaws – he does pay attention, but that mind of his was too preoccupied with his fresh plan to head east to remember just how forgetful you tend to be. 

You remember twenty minutes after you leave. Everything is packed up, rifle on Joel’s thick shoulder, sleeping bags taken from Bill and Frank’s now deserted house strapped to your backs. Everything but one thing. And arguably, the most important thing for the new change of route. 

“Can y’get me out the map, girl?”

Girl. He always insists on calling you that. Rather derogatory, like he doesn’t wanna address you by a human name. Just girl.

At the question, your steps stutter. A little patch of dirt kicked up from your shoe hits the back of Joel’s calf, earning a soft grunt. “You fuckin’ deaf now? I said gimme the damn map.”

He knows what your silence means, and in that moment he's about to lose his goddamn mind. His feet stop bluntly, his large, brooding frame turning to face you. 

Your pace slows soon after him, halting to a nervous stop while your gaze flickers from its usual spot on the ground up into his dark eyes. A warning look.

“Better not tell me you lost the fuckin’ thing.” 

No words come out of your mouth, let alone even pop into your head; all you can seem to do is stare up at him like a mindless idiot, his height towering over yours when he takes a small step closer.

Again, your steps follow, this time backward. You stumble back half a foot, a twig cracking under the shift of your weight. Out of nervous habit, your left hand reaches for the right wrist, gently stroking the skin to keep yourself somewhat calm.

“Joel, I didn’t–”

His movements match your own, his large, calloused hands lurching forward to rip your hand off your wrist. It gets replaced with his own grip, but much tighter. Aggressive. Taut. Outraged. 

“Y’didn’t what? Didn’t think for once how t’not be a goddamned idiot?” He snarls, his untamed fingernails digging into the skin for a moment and leaving tiny crescents into the first layer. “Why d’you always gotta be like this, girl? Fuckin’ stupid…”

He trails off, removing his tight grip on your forearm, but not without hostility. He lets go but ends it with a good yank. Not hard enough to pop it out of place, but hard enough to get a quiet whimper out of your shy throat.

You never know what to say when he gets like this. Whether to defend yourself, whether to stay shut up and take the tirade. But you sure know well enough not to fight back – that’s how to get your arm pulled out of the socket.

“I–I swear, Joel. I had it, I don’t know where it went.”

He never takes your stupid excuses. They’re useless, he’ll never believe you. He knows that you know you forgot it at the last spot you camped out. And this time, the excuse was a pathetic mumble, your eyes glued at your wrist and the mark he left when he gripped it. Even more to make your pitiful case unconvincing. 

“Yeah, the hell you do. Quit lyin’, you know damn well where that map is.” He scoffs, brushing past you with a shove to the shoulder, his larger figure knocking you a few inches with a soft oof. “Back in the woods where you left it, ain’t it?”

Of course, you can’t plead your case anymore. You give in, nodding in submission and trudging after him once he turns around, back in the direction where you surely left the damn map. 

“...Yeah.” You murmur, rubbing a dry hand across the bottom half of your face, against your snotty nose. Not because you’d been crying, this is nothing from Joel yet. Just because the month has been terribly cold and sleeping outside every night isn’t doing you well. “At our last camp. M’sorry.”

“Always fuckin’ sorry. Sorry for almost gettin’ yourself killed, sorry for forgetting somethin’ again and again. M’sick of your shit.” He grunts, readjusting the rifle strapped over his shoulder. 

When you first met him, words like that got to you, as much as you hate to admit it. But now, everything seems to fade together. He’s just Joel. That’s how he is. And you’ve gotta live with it and try your best to not piss him off. 

To your luck, he shuts up and stops berating you – at least until you’re close to the previous camp spot. Just silence, interrupted only by the awkward shuffling of your steps behind him, desperately trying to keep up with his longer strides and stay quiet to not worsen his anger.

But when you get close enough and he has to start looking for the damned map, his mumbling and annoyance boils over once again, infiltrating the somewhat comfortable silence that your ears just got used to.

“Map was the only fuckin’ thing getting us around… no goddamn compass.” Joel mutters under his breath. Not at you, for once, but just a natural spilling of his frustration. He’s always gotta be mumbling about something, even in his sleep. “Slow me down enough as is. Gotta lose everythin’, too.”

You joined aimlessly behind him, searching around the patchy grass, anywhere for the map that was stressing him out so terribly. 

Minutes go by. He’s getting angrier by the minute, his hands flexing while he crouches down and searches. Mad, but still pretty tame for a pissed-off Joel Miller. 

That is, until he glances up and actually gets a look at you for the first time in an hour. He normally avoids any eye contact, avoids even peeking over at you. At that damn little frame… so much younger, sweeter. He seemingly hates having you around because you always tick him off, but what he hates more is the temptation that comes with having a pretty little girl by his side at all times.

He finally lets his eyes fall on you. But this time, he can’t even get his usual peek at your lips or neck, because something else catches his eye. A familiar shred of paper – just the fucking corner – poking out the zipper of your backpack. 

He genuinely slaps himself in the face, eyes turning dark and fists curling up in pure rage at the sight.

“Are you fucking kidding me.”

He growls. Not a question, but a threat. His eyes are black at this point, breath speeding up while he takes another step toward you. Not cautious like he’ll sometimes let himself be, but warring. 

You’re confused for a bit, as you hadn’t seen the map in your own bag. Or even thought to look before you turned around and walked a half hour back, a complete waste of your time. “Oh…”

He starts again, his voice much lower than usual. Dangerous.

“You wanna tell me…” Joel breathes, stepping towards you even more until he’s got you backed against a tree. Bark pushing your shirt and jacket up, scraping at the bare skin of your lower back. “Why the hell we just wasted an hour of our time, when the map was practically right in your fuckin’ hand!”

As he curses, your heart drops. You don’t have time to react before his hands are up, flying at you. You flinch, thinking they’re coming to hurt you, but they’re reaching into your backpack. 

And sure enough, there it is. The map you spent so much valuable time fussing over. Right on your damn back. 

‘I didn’t know, Joel. Didn’t think to check.” You whimper and choke out from the back of your throat, weak and apologetic. Again, he’s not one for excuses and apologies. He’s on you before you can even think, hand forcing the map in your face.

His palm hits your mouth when he shoves the paper, a direct blow to your jaw. Your lip comes in forced contact with your bottom row of teeth, tearing the skin and swelling instantly. The only thing that can escape your mouth now is a pained whimper, which agitates the furious man on top of you worse. 

“Fuckin’ idiot. Wastin’ my damn time like always. Do you ever think?” He scoffs and backs up, maybe half an inch. 

When he notices your slightly busted lip, it brings him a sense of triumph. You ticked him off and now you’re gonna pay for it. And you sure enough feel guilty enough to not stop him, so he’s got you trapped now.

You’re frozen in place against the tree, refusing to move or utter out even the smallest of another noise. Suddenly, Joel’s mind is more occupied by the girl under his grip, shaking like a damn leaf with a bleeding and busted lip. 

“Asked you a question, little shit.” He grunts and lets his hand venture up to your jaw, pushing it around like a toy before settling with a tight grip, squeezing your cheeks and watching how the blood oozes from your lip at the pressure. “Said, do you ever fuckin’ think?”

Sure, he’s yelled at you plenty, disciplined you, maybe put his hands on you out of frustration a couple of times before. But it never feels like this. His hands usually let up after they land on you, but now he’s squeezing at your face and looking into your hazy eyes as if this is a challenge.

“Mm.” You whine, throat bobbing while you adjust to the feeling of his huge hand gripping your face. “N-no.” 

Your voice is only the softest of a mutter. 

“Speak up, girl. Didn’t hear ya’.” He rolls his eyes, giving your face a nice knead and jerking it to the side to jolt you up more. 

A shuddering breath leaves your mouth, head jerking to the right at the flick of his wrist. He holds it against the tree, your ponytail getting caught on the rough edge of the bark, the lumber scraping your ear.

“No. Don’t–don’t ever think enough. M’sorry. Wasn’t… wasn’t thinkin’.”

You sigh, head lifting up while you feel the familiar sensation of your throat tightening up, eyes starting to burn. But you keep it in. 

Joel hums, jerking your head again and shoving it harder onto the hard bark. “Damn right. Don’t think. A fuckin’ burden on me.”

He’s not doing it because he’s mad anymore. Hell, he’s already forgotten about the stupid map that caused all of this. He’s doing it to get a rise out of you.

And you know that’s all he wants.

His gaze is different, his tone similar to but not matching the genuine anger you hear from him most of the time. There's a hint of more challenge in it, maybe even passion. The hand on your jaw only confirms that.

“Shoulda’ left you behind when I got the chance.” He mutters, knowing that threatening to leave you really gets under your skin. Honestly, he’s all that you have, and you’d be dead without him. So that always seems to hurt a little more than some name calling. 

You don’t react, gulping and keeping still at his arduous words. Getting no reaction from you riles him up worse, his free hand coming down to strike at the wood above your head. You flinch, and a tear unpromptedly rolls down your cheek. You don’t feel it until Joel curses, laughing in disbelief and moving his hand from your jaw down to your throat.

He squeezes. Not tight, not yet. A groan escapes his throat, low and almost pained. And before you know it, he’s got his body pressed against yours, rubbing you uncomfortably into the rotting tree. 

“Such a fuckin’ mess.” He grunts, one hand around your throat to cut off any words and the other moving to your chin to move your gaze up to him. “Cryin’ like a baby when you were the one that lost the map.” 

Your pulse jumps when he degrades you, and he swears he sees something else in your eyes this time. Not the usual fear, but something that looks like arousal. 

It sparks something in him, and he wants to see it again. His hand tightens on your neck, earning a pained gasp from your pretty throat. Your eyes lock, and he watches your head tilt back against the tree, your eyes fluttering slightly.

He can’t take much more. A tiny whimper comes out of you when his knee presses against your thigh. 

That’s it. That’s fucking it.

Joel growls. Low. Frustrated. He gives up on the choking, instead gripping the back of your head and taking hold of your messy ponytail. He tugs, tilting your head more, his big aquiline nose moving down to bump under your ear and rub along the cold curve of your jaw. 

“Fuck’s wrong with you?” He whispers, his unkempt scruff that he calls a beard brushing up against you, scratching deep into the skin he just had a hand wrapped around. “Feel you gettin’ turned on. Fuckin’ slut, getting all worked up when I’m angry with you.”

You can’t do anything but take his advances and cry softly, feeling the cotton of your panties dampening each time his gruff voice comes out against your ear, his harsh breath biting at your neck. 

“Don’t got time for th’shit.” He mutters, but you hear his resolve dropping. He’s getting less and less frustrated over you wasting time, but more frustrated over the fact that he’s got his knee between your legs and he can feel the heat seeping through the fabrics, even in the biting cold weather. “Don’t got time for you makin’ me… makin’ me–ngh.”

His words stop, replaced by a low grunt into your ear the second your body even twitches against his. The grip on your ponytail tightens, tugging backward and earning a needy whine from you.

As much as he wants to keep degrading you, making you feel worthless under him, he’s feeling pretty pathetic himself. And he never gets like this with women.

His nose bumps your ear one more time before he can’t take it – his lips crash into yours. It’s not friendly. It’s not intimate. It’s fucking rude.

He intrudes, letting go of your hair and grabbing your body instead to push you against the damn tree harder. Mouths battle, and he wins, nipping hard and tasting the metallic blood from where he busted your lip earlier. Yum. 

“Joel.” You whimper, finally. It’s music to his ears, but he can’t show that. He has to be tough, not show that he’s into this. Not into the young girl he’s supposed to be training.

Joel grumbles, bringing a hand up to mindlessly slap at the side of your face at the sound of your whimper. 

“Shut up.”

And you do.

You’d do anything he told you right now. The feeling of him slapping you, biting your lips, pressing his thick knee between your thighs has got you absolutely pathetic. It’s fucking disgusting, you know that. To be so grossly into the fifty-six year old man that’s been taking care of you, the one that relentlessly bullies you and makes you feel like a worthless burden.

But you like it. You’d be anything for him, even if it meant being a worthless, pathetic burden. 

Joel’s got control. Obviously. His hand that slapped you runs over the heated skin in the same spot, almost to soothe it. What a gentleman. His lips slow on yours for a moment, latching onto the neck he had his hand around earlier instead.

In the deep woods, the only sounds heard are the birds above and his angry gasps against your skin, breathing like a madman. The softer sounds are interrupted by one of his belt clinking, being unbuckled mindlessly. And then the rustle of fabric. And then the unfamiliar sound of denim against Joel’s rough skin.

He’s straining against his boxers. Hard. Harder than he thinks he may ever have, but you don’t know that. You can tell he’s big through the fabric. It’s a thought that’s crossed your mind maybe once or twice, but you would never have expected for it to be pressed against your thigh, dangerous amounts of precum slowly leaking through the thin fabric of his briefs. 

You distract yourself while he gets busy attacking your neck and working your pants off – you don’t wanna believe it. Joel Miller is about to fuck you. He slapped you, choked you, degraded you, sure. That’s believable. But now he’s going to fuck you with that giant cock of his. 

As if it helps you not give in too much, you look everywhere to try and distract yourself. Down. His boxers read CALVIN KLEIN at the top. Up. The top button of his flannel came undone. He’s got a lot of chest hair. Behind him. There’s a bird watching him gnaw at your neck and tear your pants off, watching his bulging cock rub against your covered thigh. 

And the map is on the ground behind him.

“Fuck you lookin’ at?” He finally interrupts your private session of ‘I spy,’ breathing heavy against your skin and cupping your clothed cunt through your panties. “Look at me.”

You look up, gaze locking with his again. His eyes are equally as dark, but not with anger anymore. Desire. 

He’s gripping extra hard, hands splayed across your waist – almost big enough to wrap around, to grip you real good. Joel’s eyes travel all down your body in ways he’s only ever dreamed of, your pants torn down and now discarded on the forest floor. 

“Gonna fuck the stupidity right outchya’, yeah?” He chuckles, hoisting your body up to keep you settled between him and the tree. “‘N I want you lookin’ at me while I do it, kay’, girl? Eyes up. C’mon now.”

You can do nothing but oblige. Your eyes dart up, staying on him, even when he pulls his cock out that you so badly want to get a look at. The sound of him stroking himself, little grunts escaping his throat mindlessly, is so fucking tempting. 

But you listen, eyes staying on him, hoping to get some kind of praise from him for the first time in your life. Or maybe you want to keep getting debased. Maybe both. You seem to like the shame of it. 

“Gonna fuck you s’good you never forget anythin’ again. M’still pissed about that map, y’hear me?” He grunts, lifting you effortlessly to move his cock up into place. He’s so strong, and you’re so little. He can manhandle you however he wants, use you for his pleasure. And maybe you want that. 

From your mouth slips an obedient hum, your head shaking in a little nod so he knows you’re listening. You swear you see the corner of his mouth quirk up in a smirk, but he replaces it within half a second with a grumble to maintain the tough guy look. 

His cock meets your slick after he pulls your panties to the side, not bothering to take them off. You’re not worth the time. Not after wasting that time with the map debacle. 

The pulsing head of it drags along your slit, collecting a bit of you on the tip, making a filthy mix with his precum. It’s been a minute since any intimacy for Joel, but he can’t let you know anything. Can’t show any kind of vulnerability. He keeps it in, biting his lip and grunting to avoid any embarrassing soft noises.

“Ain’t stoppin’ if you can’t take it, by th’way.” He grumbles into your ear, his tip just barely edging into your soaked cunt. You whimper, and he squeezes your waist in warning. If he didn’t have to be holding you up, he’d have hit you again. 

But, the soft noises you let out make him want more. You seem to let them out when you’re scared – or maybe it's out of arousal. Only from when he totally degrades you. He doesn’t care, he just wants to fuck you senseless.

“Could break ya’ if I wanted. Little… tight fuckin’ pussy.” He groans, head hitting the tree next to yours when his cock finally slides in. It was a fight to get in, your tight walls not stretched enough for his fat dick to fit due to your lack of experience. “Take ya’ how I fuckin’ want.’

If this was any other man, you’d cry and beg for him to stop. But Joel. It’s Joel. Joel fucking Miller. 

It hurts, but his threatening words seem to egg you on. They prod you to take it, try harder to take the thick cock that’s splitting your body right in half.

He doesn’t start slow like some guys. Joel doesn’t start slow. Ever. Joel Miller fucks, and he fucks how he wants. This isn’t about you, this is about him getting his worth back after you wasted all his damn time. 

His hips slam into you at an alarming pace, no time for you to stretch out and adjust to the movement. He’s already hitting deep enough to where, if your shirt was off, you could see the print all the way in your stomach. But no. Your shirt is on. Joel Miller doesn’t care enough to worry about a shirt, that’s foolish. He just wants pussy – no, needs it. He’s a man with priorities. 

You’re screaming, pain and pleasure. Usually he’d tell a woman to ‘shut the fuck’ up for being too loud, but you’re in the middle of the woods. Nobody around, except for the same fucking bird that’s continuing to watch you get destroyed and ripped open by a fifty-six year old. Great.

“God, baby. You’re fuckin’ helpless.” He grunts into your neck, resolve slowly slipping more. His noises get worse, louder. He doesn’t care enough anymore to pretend like this is some chore. 

He’s fucking you and he means it. 

Joel’s hips stutter after a few minutes, just in time with your own. Synced up perfectly. His rhythm is getting out of pace while you feel the pull deep in your core you haven’t felt in so long – white hot pooling in your stomach. You clench around him.

He can’t speak anymore, just like how you haven’t been able to for minutes now. All he can manage out are little grumbles into your hair, squeezing your body while he struggles with words. Getting pathetic himself.

“Fuckin’-- mm. Baby. Baby. Gon’cum soon.” 

At least he warns you. 

You could tell, anyway. The stuttering of his hips, the way he’s only hitting nice and deep now. But you’re in worse, you can’t warn him because your mouth is hung open entirely, spilling out the most pitiful string of moans that doesn’t seem to ever end. 

Without warning, you clench again. He groans, but gets louder when he feels you spill. Burst. All over his aching cock. 

“Shit, shit. You – you squirtin’?” Joel grumbles out, body spasming at the feeling of your liquids all coming out at once. Your legs are shaking, and he feels his own limbs join in. It was too much for him. 

He cums. Hard. Maybe harder than he ever has before, but you don’t have to find that bit out. 

The moment melts into a disgusting mess of simultaneous moans, whimpers, even from Joel. Despite the cold weather that was almost making you sick earlier, you feel hot. Sweaty. Both of  you.

Joel’s head comes to rest atop yours, stroking the back of your ponytail that he’d been tugging at the whole time. And for a moment – just a short moment – you thought he’d maybe take care of you after. Like a real man. 

But no. Apparently, you don’t know Joel well enough by now. He’s his own kind of man.

Once his breathing returns – somewhat – he’s back to ole’ Joel Miller. Grunts, huffs and drops you down by the tree. Tucks his spent cock back in. Before you know it, before you can speak, his pants and belt are back in place and his rifle is strapped back on his shoulder.

Your eyes shut, back scraped up from the rough tree he fucked you relentlessly against. Taking a shuddering breath, you rest for a moment, thinking that if he didn't give you any aftercare he’d at least let you have a moment to breathe. 

But again, no.

“Fuck you doin’?” 

Your single moment of silence is rudely interrupted by his southern drawl, entirely back to normal as if he didn’t have the most intense sex of his life only two minutes ago. As if forgetting it ever happened. 

And the map is back in his hand. And he looks so normal compared to you. And it makes you want to cry for whatever reason. 

There’s nothing else to do but hold back a pained whine from the soreness already building in your body, the blood you feel dripping on your back from the tree, and the metal taste of blood where he hit your lip. The slap on your cheek. The handprint on your throat. Fuck.

“C’mon, little shit. Gotta hurry. Now you wasted an hour of my time.”

[kisakis-boyfriend]

CONGRATS ON 3000!!!!!!!!!!!! Here’s to the next 77000:3

Can I please have wriothesley with the whole alphabet!!!!!???? I love him so much and your writing is literally so good I need more subby wriothesley in my life:(

Author's Note: asdfghjkl that would be so many people!! O_____O''' But thank you! I think we could all use more subby Wriothesley tbh. I wasn't able to finish this on the first day of his banner rerun, but I am posting it during his rerun. All Wriothesley wanters will be Wriothesley havers!!! 🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

For our 3000 follower celebration!

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

A master when it comes to aftercare, Wriothesley will allow you to smother him with affection a little bit, but he's also going to do the same to you.

He's the kind of person who really shows how much he cares about your well-being — believing that doms deserve the tenderness of aftercare just as much as the subs who get wrecked.

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

I think Wriothesley would be rather proud of his chest. He keeps himself fit — you kind of have to if you want to run an underwater prison — and his chest shows that off nicely. And obviously he knows that he has the juiciest, finest ass in all of Teyvat.

Of yours, oddly enough, he finds himself admiring your waist a lot. When he's watching you fuck him, he does end up staring at your waist and hips 😚

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically)

His cum is more liquidy than thick, and he usually doesn't shoot it very far. His cum tends to run down his shaft or gather on his stomach/whatever surface is under him.

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

Wriothesley has a reoccurring fantasy where you kidnap him from his office and whisk him away somewhere, tie him up, stuff all of his holes with toys and vibrators, and then leave him for a few days until his brain turns to mush.

Of course, this isn't practical since his job requires his presence at all times, but a man can dream, right? 💔

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

Very experienced as a dom/top, but he really didn't have experience as a sub/bottom until he met you. Most of the people Wriothesley had hooked up with wanted him to top, so he did. It was a rare find indeed to meet someone who lusted after him in a different way.

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

Bent over things. Bonus points if you bend him over something in his office. 😌

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

I think he can be a little goofy, and you'll probably hear him nervously giggle quite a bit, but otherwise Wriothesley is somewhere in between.

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

Listen, it should be no secret that I like body hair, and I will spread my propaganda whenever possible– Wriothesley trims his pubic hair maybe once a month, just because it gets pretty thick and unruly. Otherwise, he allows his natural beauty to flourish~

(Also, Wriothesley has gorgeous dark chest hair. It looks beyond sexy when he's sweaty after an intense workout 🥵)

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

Wriothesley is incredibly romantic during sex, and he would hope that you're the same. You can see how much he loves you by the look in his eyes. Subtle intimate actions also tell you how much he adores you and cherishes you — such as; grasping your arms and hands when you speed up, pounding him even faster.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Wriothesley definitely jerks off every other day. His job is not an easy one, and he can't ask you to constantly visit him to relieve the tension every waking second. So, he takes care of it when he has a spare moment.

Normally, he'll stick to fucking his fist to satisfy himself, but if he really needs that extra push, Wriothesley will insert a finger or two into himself, even though it's never as good as your cock.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Breeding, bondage, some roleplay, exhibitionism, cock worship, body worship, and leashing/puppy play.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

His office for sure. Wriothesley will also sneak away to have sex just about anywhere in the Fortress of Meropide… it's a little concerning 😅

I can also see him having a thing for fucking out on the wild. On one of his rare visits up to the surface world, he'll plan a nice picnic date with you somewhere far away from populated areas, and you two will have rough sex after a romantic lunch~

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

Pet names are a great way to subtly turn him on, especially if you use them sparingly but at just the right moments. Whispering in Wriothesley's ears will also do the trick, or getting close enough for him to feel your breath on his skin.

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

Honestly? The thought of being the dom again has become a turn off.

You opened his mind to the world of bottoming, submitting, and giving control to someone else, and Wriothesley has no intentions of going back to the opposite. Maybe he could see himself being a submissive service top, but never a dom again.

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

He's fine with either, but Wriothesley has come to enjoy giving you head much more than he ever thought he would 😋

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

It's entirely dependent on his mood, how his day went, what's going on at work, etc. Sometimes, rough sex is great to de-stress, other times, slow and sensual is what your darling needs.

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

Not the biggest fan actually. An occasional quickie isn't a problem, especially if that's all you two can manage with your schedules, but you shouldn't make it a habit.

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

I'd say Wriothesley is a frequent risk-taker. Mostly when it comes to where you have sex though. Trying new positions is also fun for him.

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

My god… stamina for days! Wriothesley can go multiple rounds every time you have sex, and he always hopes you can manage at least 2. He can handle long rounds as well.

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

He has a few that you gave him as presents, and he definitely uses them if he's desperate enough. Usually though, Wriothesley won't use toys unless you're together.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Teasing words are the most common occurrence — Wrio is a little too smooth for his own good. He definitely teases you when it comes to showing off his body too. He's the kind of guy who will undo another button on his shirt to see how you'll react, bend over to purposefully present his perfect round butt, and strike a provocative pose when he's half-naked after a workout. Whatever he can do to make your eyes glaze over with lust, Wriothesley will try out.

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

He's not super loud, but he's not exactly silent either. You'll hear lots of deep grunts, panting, breathier sounds in general. The loudest noises you can pry from Wriothesley are sharp cries of pleasure when he cums after being particularly pent up.

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

Wriothesley is too strong for his own good, and he's broken several pieces of furniture before due to his strength. Sometimes he just grips the edge of a desk too tight and it crumbles. He's also ripped many sets of bedsheets before 😔

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

A solid 6 inches. He is cut, unfortunately, but his dick is still rather pretty. It's not quite as veiny as you might expect it to be too.

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

Pretty damn high, and can you blame him? He literally lives at his workplace, spending his life underground—underwater—and rarely gets more than an hour to himself at a time. Although, even without taking all of that into account, I think he'd still have a naturally high libido. He's just built that way.

Z = ZZZ (How quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He's not one to fall asleep immediately, not unless the sex happens in the middle of the night or something. He's a little more relaxed, yes, but he can stay awake just fine afterwards.

[five-rivers]

Last week you asked about Phandom tropes people would like to see you write, so I figured I'd send an ask.

I would love to see your take on Danny as a dad. Since you tend to write Danny as an eternal child, I think it would be interesting to see your version of him as an adult with a career and family, while still dealing with ghosts.

A college!Danny fic would be fun too if dad!Danny isn't your thing.

"Daddy."

"Nmmhhnh?" said Danny.

"Daddy." Something patted insistently against his cheek.

"Wha-- Wha's wrong, sweetie?" mumbled Danny, opening his eyes enough to see the colorful blur of Phoebe's pajamas.

"Daddy," said Phoebe, very seriously, her eyes reflecting light like silver coins, "I fthrew up."

"Oh no," said Danny, coming more awake. "Do you have a fever? Do you feel sick?" He levered himself up so he could reach out to touch her forehead. Her temperature seemed alright...

She batted his hand away, making a face. "No."

Well, that was good, at least. "Do you need a shower? Clean up? Toothbrush?"

"No," said Phoebe more forcefully. She hugged her teddy bear to her chest and glared at him the way she always did when he failed to guess what she wanted to say.

Which left... "Where did you throw up?" It was probably her bed. She had a sensitive stomach, so she did have a plastic liner under her fitted sheet. It made it easier to clean up, but she still couldn't sleep there if it was full of vomit.

"Baftroom," said Phoebe.

"Toilet? Sink? bathtub? Flo--"

"Toilet," said Phoebe. Ah, she'd definitely gotten that tone from her mother.

Holy ghosts, she was so cute.

"That's good then," said Danny, sitting up. He should probably check, of course, and get himself a little more awake to make sure that Phoebe was just having sensitive stomach troubles, and wasn't really sick. And make sure she brushed her teeth, because she definitely did need to do that if she threw up. "Let's go flush."

"It moved," said Phoebe.

"What?" asked Danny.

"It moved," repeated Phoebe.

There was a crash from the vicinity of the kitchen.

"Aw, man," said Danny. He looked at the clock. It was two twenty-four. "Phoebe, am I going to have to fight a vomit monster that was born in the toilet? In the kitchen?"

Phoebe patted Danny's knee with one hand. "Fight? Fwoom? Pleeeeeeeease?"

There was another crash. Danny cringed. So much for being a full adult who was able to take care of a three year old by himself for one night without wrecking the house.

"Daddy?" Phoebe patted his leg again. "Fwoom fwoom? Ghost?"

"Yup," said Danny, scooping her up. "We're going to go fight a ghost."

"Eeeee!" squealed Phoebe in excitement. She waved her teddy bear around, and it hit Danny squarely in the face. "Fwoom fwoom!"

"Fwoom fwoom," agreed Danny. He went ghost, and the rings sweeping over him did indeed make a soft fwoom sound.

Phoebe shrieked and giggled. She couldn't transform on her own yet - something that everyone was glad of - but she had her own ghost form: long hair that always covered her face, eerie, glowing white eyes, and a full set of adult teeth in a mouth that could open much too wide.

She was, by any standards but especially Danny's, extremely cute.

Danny checked to make sure he was holding her securely, then powered up an ectoblast. "Let's show that vomit monster what's what, huh?"

"Whatswah!"

[facets-and-rainbows]

Blue Exorcist Character Guidebook 2: Mephisto

Info on Mephisto from the new guidebook! Each character has a profile followed by relevant questions from fans, and then there's an interview section later where Kazue Katoh gives commentary on each major character and each manga arc. I have more guidebook than time, so I'm skipping the parts that are just like...summarizing who he is and stuff. So this will mostly be fan questions and Katoh's commentary

Biographical info

Gender: Male Age: (°w°) Rank/Titles: Director of True Cross Academy and head of the exorcism cram school, Honorary Knight for the Knights of the True Cross, King of Time Anniversary [T/N Katoh gives demons these in lieu of a birthday]: August 28 Blood type: ( ʹ - ʼ ) Height: 195 cm (184 cm without the "horn") Weight: 74 kg Skills and interests: movies, manga, anime, games, music, toys, miscellaneous subcultures

Fan Q&A

How do members of the Knights of the True Cross usually find out that Mephisto is a demon king?

I think some people might find out from books, the internet, etc even before they become exorcists. They do publish demon field guides that you can find at regular libraries, and Mephisto seems like the type to mention it in online interviews. Rin was the only one who didn't know.

How long has he had his current body?

About 200 years.

Which media from Assiah has had the greatest impact on him?

I imagine he would have been shocked the first time he saw a cinematograph.

Mephisto really likes all sorts of entertainment; has he ever tried making something himself?

Demons in general (not just Mephisto) tend to be bad at creative pursuits, though there are exceptions. Mephisto has a certain respect for human creativity.

Why is he so fond of Beelzebub?

Beelzebub just kind of struck a chord with him. Meanwhile, Beelzebub also likes being spoiled by Mephisto.

Which other demon kings get along with Mephisto the best?

In order: 1. Beelzebub 2. Amaimon 3. Egyn 4. Astaroth 5. Iblis 6. Lucifer [T/N it took me like an entire minute to work out that Azazel is the one missing from this list. Presumably because he's a rock]

Has Mephisto ever altered the past?

He sure does say a lot of things that imply that! [T/N: Katoh. Katoh. Katoh.]

How rich is Mephisto exactly?

He's actually one of the world's top businessmen and investors. His total assets are probably over one trillion yen [T/N: Jesus f*ck][T/N: that's about US$6.7 billion]

Author interview

Mephisto is a character who can solve just about anything; does that make him hard to write? Honestly, he's super easy to deploy. Mephisto has the plot in the palm of his hand and can fix stuff behind the scenes; he's the one pulling the strings. For adaptations and spinoffs, I just say "if you need to fill in a plot hole, make it Mephisto's fault" (laughs). But I do think it's dangerous to overdo it.

He even took on a sort of narrator role in chapter 44, didn't he? Around Volume 10, I was trying to treat each chapter like its own self-contained oneshot. Mephisto didn't even feel out of place as an omniscient narrator for one chapter, and for me that really drove home what a convenient character he is. Though I'm always wondering when and how to show Mephisto's own serious motives and inner thoughts, since he does fall into that eternal comic narrator role.

He can suddenly turn terrifying just when you were thinking he was comical. Hidden depths. Fundamentally he's on the humans' side, and he's often in charge of comic relief, but I do want to show his demonic side too. Same with the familiars; I want to portray the demons as something humans are afraid of.

[h0neybane]

MAGIKEY (TWST AU) BY @quartztwst !!

im going to PASS AWAAAAYYYYY IM SOSO TIRED. BUT ITS DONE. but anyway, more on evelyn...

Evelyn [Magikey User "Luna Luceat"]

“Hurry up, I'm gonna pass out."

Evelyn is an 18 year old girl and has been a magical girl for 4 years, since she was 14. In her magical girl form, she comes off as mysterious and aloof... but she's really just thinking about going home. She has occasionally breached the top 10 of Magical popularity rankings, but she mostly tries to keep to herself, vanishing immediately after her work is done. Oftentimes, she finished things so quick that the public is unaware.

A quiet, sleepy girl who is jaded from her years as a magical girl.

Status:

Mental/Emotional Strength: ★★★★☆ (She's hard to crack since she's used to her job, but her constant exhaustion can become a vulnerability if left untreated for too long.)

Physical Strength: ★★★☆☆ (She's moderately strong as her staff is fairly hefty, and she does swing with it sometimes.)

Stamina: ★★☆☆☆ (This girl is tired as FUCK LMFAO. She uses her little floating platform to move because she doesn't want to actually run.)

Strategy: ★★★★★ (Evelyn is very calculated with her moves as her goal is to get the job done as fast as possible to go home and SLEEP.)

Strengths: Evelyn is very experienced and keeps a close eye on all of her teammates, making sure they can operate effectively. She is especially strong during the nighttime in a full moon.

Weaknesses: Evelyn is constantly exhausted because she only works during the nighttime as that is when her powers are most effective. A daytime attack would leave her extremely vulnerable.

Evelyn lives with her little brother in their childhood home. Their parents are usually overseas on business trips, so they don't see them in person very often. Evelyn's brother is aware that she works during the night time, but doesn't know that she's a magical girl.

Evelyn grew up very sheltered, being homeschooled by tutors hired by her parents. She was very lonely and she didn't really speak to her brother. She accumulated a massive amount of hobbies to pass time, one of those being gazing at the moon on her balcony, wishing for something to change.

Her wish was granted the night of her 14th birthday, with her magikey falling into her hands after gazing at the moon for the nth time. She eagerly and naively accepted, thinking that this was everything she hoped for.

Unfortunately, she soon came to realize that the nature of her abilities forced her to be sleep deprived if she wanted to do anything much outside of being a magical girl. After her second year of being a magical girl, her enthusiasm fully died, and now she just tries to get by until she can go home. (she still really likes her outfit though, LOL)

After a shift as a magical girl, Evelyn will usually rush inside a convience store, grab snacks, pay and bolt home. She hates staying for overtime even by 5 minutes... though, she's willing to grab some stuff for her brother if he asks for it.

Evelyn is technically enrolled in theMagikey Training School, but she rarely shows up to classes. If she does, she's usually sleeping in them, though she doesn't mind a chance to show off once in a while. The instructors tend to leave her alone whenever this happens, as they're aware of how hard she works.

She does try to be nice towards her juniors though. She fetches them treats once in a while.

uncharted lore territory!! i didnt watch madoka magica or anything so idk if this fits in at all so im warning in advance lol. this is adjacent to evelyn's ACTUAL lore within the original canon twst, which is why it's here. i will make a separate post explaining further later on

Evelyn has a secret. One that isn't her being a magical girl. She has not told crowley, nor any of her magical colleagues, and she does not intend to— at least not for now. However, this secret does leave her susceptible to... negative feelings.

tag list!

@taruruchi @honeyedpearcrushh @boopshoops @scint1llat3

@h2llish @viperbunnies @buttholesparkles @oya-oya-okay @cheerleaderman

@qsoap @angelwishess @jadelover69 @skriblee-ksk @lychee-face

[casscainmainly]

Okay gonna analyse some common Duke beliefs just for quick and easy reference. Some of these are up to interpretation (as indicated), but these are some common things I see that aren't quite accurate to Duke as a character.

Claim: Duke started We Are Robin

True or false: False. Alfred started We Are Robin, and the entire core cast of We Are Robin was already there before Duke.

Claim: We Are Robin is a gang

True or false: kind of tricky? They're technically a gang in the most general sense of the word, but 'gang' has racial implications that I think people gloss over (We Are Robin is primarily composed of kids of colour). Movement is a much better term, and We Are Robin doesn't self-identify as a gang to my knowledge.

Claim: Duke led We Are Robin

True or false: tricky. While Robin War has him as the leader, for the majority of Duke's time in We Are Robin he does not give orders or act like a leader at all. We Are Robin generally doesn't have a leader. Duke certainly has leadership abilities, but WAR is not the best showcase of them. Up to personal interpretation though.

Claim: Duke is a Wayne

True or false: False. Duke is not adopted.

Claim: Duke is intimidated/scared of any Batfamily member

True or false: FALSE!!! There is unfortunately some horrible comic writing, but for the VAST MAJORITY of Duke's appearances he is not scared of any Batfam member. He's certainly not afraid of Damian, Jason, or Cass.

Claim: Duke can emit light

True or false: probably?? His powers are constantly in flux and he develops new abilities all the time, so who knows. But he is much more likely to use light to turn invisible/manipulate his perception of light than attack with them (for which he can use his shadow powers). Up to personal interpretation/fun headcanons.

Claim: Duke jumped out of a cop car

True or false: True, but it's a Tom King comic and he's written horribly in it. If you want another example of him not being the 'sane one', I recommend using the time he got shot by a bullet and thought about how baller it was.

Claim: Duke is new to the Batfamily and doesn't know their dynamics

True or false: Please stop 😭 It's been like a decade since his introduction there's no need to make him the clueless newbie. Also he's a fiercely intelligent detective who makes references to Jason's daddy issues, there's no way he's still in the dark about most of their relationships.

Claim: Duke tends to obey Bruce's orders

True or false: FALSE. Duke sneaks out even during his training days, and for the most part operates independently. He generally has a grudge against authority of all kinds.

Claim: Duke is very sunshine-y, bright, and optimistic

True or false: False. I get where this one is coming from (sunshine boy is cute I love it), but while his powers are light-based, his personality is not. He's pragmatic, rude, skeptical, and often disillusioned. He is an optimist in the sense that he believes in community and change, but he's nowhere near a bright, bubbly kid.

Claim: He's the normal one AND/OR he's just as crazy as the other bats

True or false: Both of these are somewhat false. Duke is not the normal/sane one, he's literally a vigilante how would that make sense. But he also thinks of himself as more normal than the others (at least at one point). Duke discourse should move on from this debate, both these statements obscure what makes Duke unique and interesting.

Claim: Duke designed his Signal outfit

True or false: False. This isn't really a belief I just see people assuming he designed it, he didn't though, Bruce gave it to him. There's no indication he had a hand in the design. Bruce actually gave him TWO designs, I think Bruce just loves giving him outfits tbh.

Claim: Duke's parents are still under the Joker toxin

True or false: Technically false. His mom was healed in Urban Legends #19, but Duke's sporadic appearances mean this was never really followed up on. I have no clue what happened to Doug. Up to DC to SAY SOMETHING ABOUT THIS!!!

Claim: Anything to do with his portrayal in WFA

True or false: False. Literally everything. (The only, and I do mean only, thing to take from WFA is his interactions with Damian)

Okay that's all, I hope that was helpful to anyone out there!!! There are tons of things here that are my interpretation only of course, the best way to get to know Duke is to read his comics. We Are Robin and DC Rise of the Power Company is waiting for you <3333.

[solshii]

notes to follow up from my last post<333

After YQY’s transformation into an alicorn, he was taught how to use his magic and flight by mostly his shizun, Qiong Ding peers and fellow head disciples.

LQG was the pegasus who helped him with his flight skills the most, though SQH was better at helping him grasp the basics of flight

Something about the basics already being second nature to LQG so he finds it difficult to convey the concept, while SQH is normally a weak flier who often gets winglocked (like Fluttershy) so he knows many ways to make the basics make sense .iykwim

I actually chose that weak flier who gets winglocked trait for SQH because I felt like it would make the Moshang Maigu Ridge scene cooler + it fits the flighty persona he has I guess ahah

Zui Xian head disciple is also a pegasus but was barred from teaching YQY because they weren’t gonna “teach the future sect leader to fly like a drunk”

YQY does give that ribbon to SJ as his first gift 🙂‍↕️ And if SJ noticed that it’s the same shade as his own magic then he didn’t say anything

Honestly I can’t figure out how to draw unicorn magic in a way that I like so for now it’ll just be represented via sparkles

Fun design detail ponies usually have one colour for their magic but YQY has two because I love that guy

Yes Bingqiu do tend to hook their horns together whenever they nuzzle<33 It’s like their pony equivalent of hand holding and/or hugging lol

More of an ‘on the whim idea w/o a solid reason’ I had while I was designing YQY, but the star shaped mark on his chest is more like a scar than his natural coat pattern. That’s why in the little ‘flashback’ Yue Qi doesn’t have it

The potential reason that I bullshitted at the time was because he was turned into an alicorn earlier than he should’ve been as his shizun’s attempt to stabilise his qi in the Caves or some kinda reason to that degree 💀💀💀 on top of the whole soul-bonding thing with Xuan Su too

Yk how in Twilight’s alicornification a weird blob thingamabob came out of her chest

Yeah idk bro was really going through it

Sorry YQY

It would be pretty sick cutie mark symbolism though cause I did imagine YQY getting his cutie mark in the Lingxi Caves and if you read my last note dump then you’d have read I had plans of using broken chains in its design

I clearly hate this man but it’s just a tentative idea rn

Behind SJ’s cracked horn (TW: Abuse (read: Qiu Jianluo)) I imagine receiving abuse as a foal often resulted in strong magic surges from him (kinda like qi deviations but for unicorn magic) and out of fear QJL would inflict pain to his horn or use some kind of blocker to stop and permanently damage his magic

I entertained the idea of his horn being fully broken off in the first place but Wu Yanzi probably saw a use in his unicorn magic, so he could’ve restored his horn as best he can using backwater cultivation and magic methods lol

Bingge does snap off his horn on top of his limbs in PIDW tho

So yeah while he’s still able to use his magic he can’t control it with the same proficiency as he used to

I think the horn guards he wears, atop of hiding the scars/cracks, are probably made with engraved arrays that help to stabilise his unicorn magic

And the horn guards are probably like a status and wealth symbol too in the same way nail guards are, so it does feel a bit gaudy for SQQ to walk around with it all of the time as if he’s flaunting it

[kyanitedragon]

Nuances:

How Long They've Known Each Other:

Kaneki and Hide met in Grade School, but an exact year was never given. I tend to jump around a lot depending on what works best for the fic, but I think I prefer to make it their second year of Grade School, making them around 6-7 when they met. Thus, approximately 16 years as of the final arc.

Kaneki met Touka in November of 2011, only knowing her for 2 months roughly before Aogiri kidnapped him and he left her. They only truly reunited again in December of 2015, and the series ends in April 2016. So as a whole, 4 years and 6 months. But if you mean direct contact, then only... 6 months wow.

Ages: I'm filling this out as of the final arc (late April), so Kaneki just turned 23 (Dec), Touka has yet to turn 22 (July), and Hide has yet to turn 24 (June)

Love Languages: Hide is absolutely a physically affectionate person. Kaneki I think would be acts of service, honestly born from his trauma and feeling like a burden so he needs to do things in return. And he also gifted Touka that rabbit keychain and then I wrote a fic of him doing the same for Hide. I can see him being the kind of person to see his loved ones in random items and buying things here and there for them. And Touka I think would be quality time but like,,, in a cat way? She likes to quietly hang out and join her loved ones, or even a sort of parallel play of being nearby, not really some big quality time event like snuggling.

How It Happens:

I like to hc that Hide had a crush on Kaneki as a kid, and it's always lasted. And in canon he was actually the first one to find Touka cute, even before Kaneki. // Touka we know fell in love with Kaneki after he said he'd be sad if she died. And I think she'd end up with Hide by seeing how close he and Kaneki are and figuring "why not!" // In canon it's not exactly clear how or why Kaneki fell in love with Touka (beyond her being a cute girl and a close friend) but I think it was really just something that happened slow and natural. I also jump back and forth between him being unaware of his crush on Hide, and/or knowing with absolute certainty that he wants to spend his life with his best friend beside him (in a QPR way, if only he knew the term).

Jealousy: I can't see any of them as especially jealous people? I think they'd simply have the average amount, and even then it would come more from a place of insecurity of themselves than active jealousy.

Attention: Hide is good with anything, anywhere and anytime. // Kaneki is a romantic but he likes his privacy, and it takes him a long time to build up the nerve to initiate anything. // Touka doesn't see the point in purposely displaying affection in public. And she's not that much of a touchy person in general.

Arguing: Touka is quick to snap but also quick to forgive once she cools off. // Kaneki is pretty hit or miss, whether he'll be level-headed or stubborn during an argument. // Hide's a bit stubborn but more so he's afraid of confrontation and especially losing people, so he'll back down the moment things seem like they're getting out of hand.

Protectiveness: Kaneki and Hide are both incredibly overprotective. Kaneki is pretty obvious about it. Hide keeps it quiet and works in secret. Whereas Touka has confidence that her loved ones can take care of themselves.

Spooning: There's two ways to answer this. As a trio, I think Hide would hold Kaneki who holds Touka so that he's in the middle. Kaneki needs to be held and feel loved and wanted, so that's their usual, although they all switch. When it comes to preferences, as said, Kaneki likes to be held. I think Touka would prefer to hold but doesn't mind being held. And Hide is pretty neutral and just goes on whatever the other person needs - he just likes touch, he doesn't really care what role or position.

Clothes Sharing: There's not too much of a height difference between them, so I think they would regularly share clothes. The only issue is their vastly different fashion senses, but anything that falls into the middleground of their tastes absolutely gets thrown around on who wears it.

Bugs: Hide's a bleeding heart. Kaneki's had the worst experiences with centipedes and yet seemed to hold respect and/or like of them. And Touka likes bugs. Yeah none of them are killing bugs - they're all relocating them outside.

Introvert vs Extrovert: Kaneki is an introvert. Hide's an ambivert — one who seems like an extrovert but he's actually more introverted. And Touka I think is a "true" ambivert right in the middle.

Didn't Know They Were Dating VS Always Thought They Were Dating: This one is very fun to me. In canon Kaneki sprung that marriage onto Touka, and I always got vibes that she was going for more of a FWB deal. And I ship post-canon Hidetouken in the sense that they both pull Hide into their marriage and Hide has no idea that's their intent for the longest time. And so, surprisingly, Kaneki ends up being the one aware (for once).

Plans VS Improvises: Kaneki is a pretty organized and strict by-the-book kind of person. Touka is too stubborn to commit to any plan. And Hide bounces around, sometimes his ADHD makes him plan out everything and sometimes it Does Not Work.

Nicknames: I can't see any of them being big on pet names. Hide gets the closest bc I can see him using friendly casual nicknames. And I think Touka would also be the kind of girl to call her boyfriends "bro" or "dude" occasionally, especially when they do something stupid. And personally I've always been against the idea that Touka and Hide end up calling him "Ken". I feel like Kaneki doesn't like to be called that, given that literally no one close to him calls him in that the entire series run. Honestly, his partners calling him Ken has become a fanfic squick of mine bc of that. Anyway, I think they'd all just stick to their typical canon ways of referring to each other.

Sappy VS Casual: Kaneki's a romantic, Hide's romantic but in a casual way, and Touka is aro and rather romance-repulsed at times.

Open Book VS Hard To Read: Hide comes off as a total open book, but it's just a mask. In actuality, he's the most difficult to truly read. Touka tends to wear her emotions on her sleeve, usually negative ones. And Kaneki's in the middle, it really depends whether he feels it's "safe" to show them or masks them.

Pushover VS Stubborn: Hide is all masking and all bark, he's a pushover. Touka can and will bite. And Kaneki again depends on what he's reacting to. And he's steadily getting better at setting boundaries and not being a pushover.

Blind Trust VS Lack of Trust: I think Hide trusts easily, but its not blind, it's his intuition and thought processes making him confident enough to take that leap of faith. // Kaneki and Touka both have major trust issues, given all their trauma of being abandoned.

First To Confess: In canon Touka confessed to Kaneki. Unconventionally, but still. And I like the idea of her being the one to suggest and open up a poly relationship post-canon between Kaneki and Hide, starting as a V and soon into a full triangle.

First To Kiss: Touka kissed Kaneki first in canon. And when it comes to Hidekane? Well, given that Hide doesn't have lips anymore, I think any possible "kissing" would need to be heavily talked about and taken slow. But I like the idea of Kaneki asking him a soft and open, "Can I kiss you?" and they go from there.

Says "I Love You" First: Hide has the most spontaneity, so I want to say him, although Kaneki and Touka were married for longer before reuniting with him, so it might be one of them. And yet, I kinda like the idea of Hide saying it after they're all together as a throuple, and then Kaneki and Touka both have to pause like "Holy shit wait no one's actually Said That in all this time." They tend to say "i love you" through actions, so it's kinda jarring (in a good way) when it's suddenly said aloud.

Struggles To Say "I Love You": I think Touka would. She canonically seems to have trouble saying what she means when it comes to emotional matters (best seen in light novel Days), but also it's a pretty common thing for aros to struggle with this when they don't feel romantic attraction, so it seems fitting.

Spoils: I can see Hide being the kind of partner to do surprises and just random bursts of affection. And as i think acts of service and gift-giving would be one of Kaneki's love languages, he'd really like to indulge in his love and spoil his partners.

Popular: It outwardly appears to be Hide, but that's not actually true; the guy knows a lot of people but they're not deep connections. Kaneki, though... the guy basically has a harem.

Infodumps: Hide does often about all kinds of things. Kaneki infodumps about literature.

Driver: Kaneki; I think he's the most responsible and calm-headed person to do it. Plus he's the only one seen driving in canon. (As Haise, but still.)

Fighter: Kaneki and Touka equally so. And they're hypocrites about it and berate each other for it. Usually followed by a "Let me do it!!". Hide is more "the guy in the chair" and can't really fight beyond self defense.

"Excuse Me They Asked For No Pickles": Hide for sure. I imagine him doing this all the time when the ghouls get served coffee that's not truly black.

Hiding Feelings: They all do. Hide is the worst, a constant really good mask of sunshine. Kaneki's also really bad about it, but when it's at its worst you can really tell. Touka is a bit more conditional, she doesn't mind expressing emotions themselves, but whenever she feels vulnerable she is going to bottle that up and not let anyone know.

Flirting: Hide's a casual flirt, overemphasizing it to have fun and see how the other party reacts. Kaneki is shy but he's a real sappy romantic at times. Touka has fun and will occasionally flirt sexily and hit on her boys.

Flustered: Kaneki gets flustered the most. But I think Hide also wouldn't be able to handle genuine outright affection. Touka gets flustered, but more in a shocked and embarrassed and romance-repulsed sense.

Codependency: Kaneki and Hide are absolutely codependent with each other. Kaneki's also very codependent on Touka. Touka's an independent woman who doesn't need no man; she simply wants one (then two).

Clingy: Kaneki is absolutely clingy and needy and touch-starved. Hide is very physically affectionate and always has been.

Trust: This one is interesting because at any other point in canon they would be a 3/4 of "heavy trust but also insecurity of being left behind." But specifically after the Dragon Arc? Yeah no trust is absolutely maxed out. Hide going as far as he had for Kaneki, he's not leaving, and Kaneki is never leaving his side again. Touka dug Kaneki out of Dragon, clearly she chose him yet again, I think Kaneki's good for a long while. And Touka? Kaneki vowed that he would come back and he did. I think her worries are also soothed for a long while.

Closeness: Kaneki and Hide are extremely close, and Kaneki and Touka have also grown very close, being married for the past few months.

Steals Clothes From: All of them share clothes. Touka likes to steal Kaneki's clothes. Hide also likes to steal his clothes, but he also offers them to Kaneki and Touka. Kaneki likes to wear their clothes as well, but he still gets pushed to the left from the utter amount of the others taking his clothes. (Also there's this.)

Uses Nicknames: Kaneki and Hide both call her "Touka-chan." I've long-stolen the fanon of Hide calling him "neki", and my reason is, as said above, I think Kaneki dislikes his given name, but Hide wanted to give Kaneki a nickname because he himself likes to be called "Hide" over his full name, so he stated that Kaneki "had to" have a nickname and came up with that. I'd love to give Touka a nickname for Kaneki too, since calling your husband by his surname 24/7 is admittedly a bit odd, but I'm still thinking of what. And I got "Hide-kun" because that's what Touka calls him in the epilogue (although it got lost in translation).

Overprotective Of: Hide's overprotective of Kaneki, but he has confidence that Touka can handle herself. Kaneki is overprotective of both of them. And Touka isn't overprotective of either of them, she's pretty hands-off and has confidence that they can handle anything.

Gives Gifts: Kaneki, being his love language.

Physically Affectionate: Hide, being his love language.

Goes Shopping With: I think they all would. The shopping would be quite different, as they're all into different things, but I think all would be happy to spend simple domestic time in tagging along with the other(s).

Clingy: Hide, absolutely, all the time. Kaneki can be very clingy too, but it's a bit more conditional or situational.

Some ship templates I made because none had what I was looking for + there were no high quality 3 person poly ones someone please use em I didn't spend 2 hours doing them for nothing Other way of getting the files in case it isn't transparent on tumblr + non transparent ones

[yvesssssssss]

hui could u write something with shin natsuki heisuke and nagumo having a sweet and kind gf, like maybe so kind that ppl tend to take advantage of it

Too Kind for Your Own Good

(Shin, Natsuki, Heisuke, and Nagumo x Sweet! Kind! Reader)

Shin Asakura

Shin loved your kindness—how you always smiled, always forgave, always tried to see the best in people. But sometimes, it made his blood boil.

Like today.

You were helping a coworker move boxes at your part-time job, even though it clearly wasn’t your responsibility. Worse, the guy had been slacking off, dumping all the work on you while he scrolled through his phone.

Shin heard your inner thoughts, how you didn’t want to trouble him by asking for help, and that was it.

He marched up, snatched the box from your hands, and shoved it at the guy. “Hey. Do your own damn work.”

Your coworker stammered, “I-I was just—”

“Slacking off,” Shin deadpanned. “She’s not your maid.” His sharp eyes flicked to you. “And you—stop letting people use you like this.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he softened, sighing. “I get it, you want to help. But it’s not fair if they just take advantage of you.” His voice was firm, but his grip on your wrist was gentle as he led you away. “C’mon, let’s go get ice cream. No more free labor today.”

Natsuki Seba

Natsuki wasn’t the type to get openly jealous or aggressive. But when he saw a group of guys from JCC practically cornering you, asking you for favors because they knew you were too nice to say no, he felt something dark simmer under his usual carefree demeanor.

“Oh wow, she’s actually helping you with your homework? Thought you guys were smart,” Natsuki drawled, casually sliding into the seat next to you.

One of the guys scoffed. “She offered, dude.”

Natsuki rested his cheek on his palm, looking unimpressed. “Did she, though? Or did you guys just keep pushing until she felt bad saying no?”

You blinked in surprise, but before you could say anything, Natsuki gently took the notebook from your hands. “She’s not your personal tutor. Figure it out yourselves.”

The guys groaned and left, and you frowned. “Natsuki, I didn’t mind—”

He flicked your forehead. “Yeah, but I mind. You’re too sweet, and people take advantage of that.” His voice softened, and he reached for your hand. “You don’t have to help everyone just because you’re kind. Let me be the bad guy when you need one, okay?”

Heisuke

Heisuke had always admired your kindness. You never hesitated to help anyone, even strangers. But when he saw you paying for a “friend” who conveniently always “forgot” their wallet, he felt a little annoyed.

“Wow, again?” Heisuke muttered under his breath as you handed over your card.

Your friend laughed sheepishly. “She’s just super generous, right?”

Heisuke’s eyes narrowed. No, you just know she won’t say no.

Before you could speak, he casually slid an arm around your shoulders and grinned. “Baby, you know you don’t have to pay for people who never pay you back, right?”

You flushed. “I mean, it’s okay—”

Heisuke leaned closer, whispering, “But is it really okay, or are you just being too nice?”

That made you pause.

Your “friend” looked uncomfortable and quickly said, “Uh, actually, I’ll pay you back next time.”

Heisuke’s grip tightened protectively. “Yeah, you do that.” Then, turning to you, he smiled warmly. “C’mon, let’s get you a treat, on me this time.”

Nagumo Yoichi

Nagumo wasn’t the jealous type. He trusted you, and honestly, he found it entertaining to watch people try (and fail) to charm you. But what did piss him off? When people mistook your kindness for weakness.

Like the guy currently trying to weasel free drinks out of you.

“C’mon, sweetheart, just one round? You’re always so nice—”

Nagumo’s arm draped over your shoulders before the guy could finish. His ever-present grin was in place, but his eyes were sharp, assessing. “Oh? So my girl’s nice, huh?”

The guy laughed nervously. “Yeah, she’s, uh, really generous—”

“Generous?” Nagumo hummed. “Or just too polite to tell you to fuck off?”

You let out a quiet sigh. “Nagumo—”

He tapped his fingers against your shoulder. “Sweetheart, love of my life, you know I adore how kind you are.” His voice was light, teasing—until his gaze flicked back to the guy. “But that kindness? It ain’t free.”

The guy swallowed. “I-I was just joking, man.”

“Yeah? So am I.” Nagumo’s grin widened as he flipped a butterfly knife between his fingers, the sharp glint of the blade catching the light. “Crazy how jokes stop being funny when you’re on the other end of them, huh?”

The guy bolted, and you groaned. “Nagumo, did you have to scare him like that?”

Nagumo shrugged, tucking his knife away as he kissed your temple. “Course I did. You’re too damn sweet for your own good.” He smirked. “And if I have to be the scary boyfriend to keep people from taking advantage of you, well—" His voice dropped to a purr. “I do look good doing it, don’t I?”

[doctorgirlsblog]

Chicken Soup (MV x reader)

Note: a quick one-shot inspired by recent events and Influenza virus going around. Kinda lame, but I really don't give a F.

Max was just like every other man. Tough. Until he gets sick. With Influenza season on the run, he was bound to get his part of it, sooner or later. What you didn't expect, was him becoming an instant child as soon as his nose started running.

It didn't start off bad. You got it first, presumably at the work, not even making a big deal out of it, still going to work, coughing and sneezing the whole time, but managing just fine with some medicine. As Max refused to sleep in guest room until you got better, claiming he was strong enough not to get infected, you knew it was just a matter of time.

And you were right. Exactly five days later, as you two were laying down at the evening, watching some movie on Netflix, you felt him squirming around the sofa.

"Baby is everything okay?"

He huffed, wincing slightly and you couldn't help but smile a little bit. "Yeah, just tired. Could you maybe give me some of that medicine you used? I just want to feel rested tomorrow, that's all." You pushed your hand on his forehead, feeling him up. "Baby, I think you're burning up a little."

And that was the moment Max Verstappen, 4-times World Champion, decided to become a child.

He layed down on the sofa, spreading his limbs everywhere as he sighed loudly.

"Wait here, I'll bring you something." You fetched a cold washcloth, putting it on his forehead, before putting medicine in his mouth. He shuttered slightly.

"Oh come on love, don't be a baby. It's not that cold."

"It's freezing." He whined softly, leaning into your touch even more.

"Do you want me to make you some lemonade? It will freshen you up." He nodded only, looking at you with wide eyes. You smiled again.

When you came back with lemonade, you found him snorring, his mouth slightly open.

You hated to wake him up, but you had to bring him to bed, or he'd get really sore on the couch.

You nudged him lightly, brushing his hair back from his forehead.

"Baby, come on. Let's get you to bed, then you can sleep." He murmured something incohorent, but you still managed to pull him up somehow, supporting his weight on you and bringing him to your bed. He dropped under the sheets instantly, his snores filling the silent space. You put a fresh cold washcloth on his forehead again, before snuggling into bed yourself.

You felt something nugging you in your sleep and as you woke up blinking in the dark, you saw Max's siluette sitting in the corner of the bed. You pulled yourself up.

"Baby? What's wrong?"

His voice was soft and almost whisper-like as he answered.

"I can't sleep. My throat hurts, and my head. I'm also cold."

"Oh love. Come here." So you opened your arms and he was there in an instant, snuggling against your neck, inhaling your scent. "I don't wanna be sick." He whined, making you smile once again.

You massaged his scalp softly and whispered: "I know love. It will get better, I promise."

He fell asleep again.

Next two days were pure agony, with Max calling your name the moment you left his new patient room, aka sofa, which he didn't leave unless he had to go to a toilette. Every time Max whined for a new blanket, or a different soup, you felt your patience wearing thin, but you fetched it anyway, knowing that soon, the tables would turn.

"But I want *your* chicken soup, the one with the little noodles inside."

"But I don't want to shower in cold water; it will make me sicker."

"Ican't eat that soup; I'm sleepy now. This cold makes me tired."

"You know, my mom never made me wear wet socks when I had a fever."

You promised to yourself, you will live this through. After all, only the women who gave birth knew the suffers of man with a cold right?

So you tended to his every wish and whine during the next couple days until he finally got better at Saturday, making you thank God in all possible languages.

Now, it was your turn to be whiny.

So you started with some basics, making him cook you your favourite meals, calling his name as soon as he went outside the room just to tell him you miss him and you became terribly clingy during night, where usually you two cuddled before sleep and then everyone slept on their own side, enjoying the space.

Max was getting hold of it, until you became whiny at Tuesday, telling him how you need to eat some strawberries.

"What, like now?" You were both currently laying in bed, already in your PJs. "You're not pregnant are you?"

You couldn't help but laugh. And you kept laughing as Max stared at you, confused. 'No, Max, I'm not pregnant. One child for now is more than enough for me.' You leaned over, kissing him on the nose. The playful glint in his eyes, which had been missing for days, returned. He scoffed, pulling away, but the petulant edge was gone, replaced with a familiar warmth. 'I'm not a baby,' he murmured. 'Sure thing, lover boy. You're more of a sex machine.' You couldn't help but tease, as he hadn't even tried anything since he got sick last week. As he cuddled into your side again, stealing a good part of your blanket, he murmured into your neck again. 'I'm totally your sex machine.'"

You smiled, a knowing glint in your eyes. "We'll see about that," you whispered, as you pulled him closer, the night promising to be much warmer than the past few spent in fever had been.

[wisteria-lodge]

Dobbie is just another word for brownie. But HP shifts the context around. Brownies get offended and leave if you give them clothes or money because they are NOT working for you, and resent the implication that they are. They're helping you out because - they like you, they felt like it, you got lucky today.

JKR made them slaves to make the plot of Book 2 work, but didn't want to make 'the house elf problem' a big plot point going forward, just like she needed Time-Turners to make the plot of Book 3 work, but didn't want to deal with that going forward. I would actually compare the house elf thing to the way the Dursleys' abuse is treated. It's *very* relevant to the plot in the early part of the series, but then Voldemort comes back and JKR wants to shift focus over to that. She wants to *keep* Harry with the Dursleys as a structural thing, but doesn't want to put a ton of emotional weight on Harry dealing with their pretty severe abuse. (Fanfiction tends to though, and I think that's really interesting.) One trick she likes is to just... make Harry not care about Dursleys, and barely think about the Dursleys, whenever he's in the Wizarding World. Like Harry gets angry at Dumbledore for a lot of reasons - leaving him with the Dursleys is not one of them. And if he doesn't care, why should you? Same with house elves. Here's an interesting segment:

Slughorn uncorked one of the bottles of wine he had brought. “I have had it all tested for poison,” he assured Harry, (...) “Had a house-elf taste every bottle after what happened to your poor friend Rupert.” Harry saw, in his mind’s eye, the expression on Hermione’s face if she ever heard about this abuse of house-elves, and decided never to mention it to her.

Like... that's honestly pretty bad, and Harry has no emotion or thoughts about it. It's just a kind of 'Yeah, Hermione would be pissed. Don't want to have to deal with that.' Very different from how up-in- arms Harry gets in Book 2 when he hears about Dobby's abuse at the hands of Malfoys... but then, he needed to be fired up about that in order to set up the finale of Book 2. To me, this segment almost feels like JKR herself talking: "Yes I know the house elf situation is bad, I just don't want to have deal with it right now, okay?" Harry then gets a emotional moment with Dobby in Book 7 because that is relevant for the plot, but there's no beat of freeing Kreacher or anything, Dobby is still the one odd elf. I wonder if she might have framed house elves a little differently in Book 2 if she had known it was going to be a thing.

(I admit I am a little interested in how the HBO show is planning to handle the house elves and the Dursleys. The movies just cut them almost completely. But if the Cursed Child wants to do a cycle-of-abuse-thing, and give the Dursleys more weight...)

i've seen 'house elves are based on brownies and folk spirits so you can't read chattel slavery into it' as a defense of the house elf situation but like. CoS and GoF were published in the twentieth century and I am sorry but assuming that brownies and folk spirits are the salient comparison there is irresponsible because chattel slavery will inevitably loom larger. like she may not have intended for chattel slavery to be read into it but she should have thought it would be.

and like when our literal first introduction to house elves has Dobby calling himself a slave calling himself the dregs of the wizarding world...like. that is a slave. that is a comparison the text is making. it fails to do anything remotely responsible with the metaphor but it makes the metaphor and you cannot excuse the failure by saying well she was talking about something more obscure, because how do you read these books without slavery as we know it looming in your mind? it's about context! a modern reader comes to it with the context of chattel slavery!

[plot-buni]

Play With Your Food

Relationships - Logan | Worst Wolverine (Deadpool Movies)/Wade Wilson

Tags - Predator/Prey, Feral Behavior, Feral Logan | Worst Wolverine (Deadpool Movies), Anal Fingering, Hand & Finger Kink, Rough Sex, Biting, Consensual Violence, Knotting, Bottom Wade Wilson, Soft Logan | Worst Wolverine (Deadpool Movies), Post-Coital Cuddling, Getting Together, Canon-Typical Violence, Post-Movie: Deadpool 3: Deadpool & Wolverine (2024), Fluff and Smut, Top Logan | Worst Wolverine (Deadpool Movies), No Beta, we die like johhny storm, Forest Sex, Choking, Wade Wilson Has an Adamantium Claw Kink (Marvel), Wade Wilson is a Tease, Logan | Worst Wolverine Has a Stabbing Wade Wilson Kink

Wordcount - 2,896

AO3

say thank you to @resident-idiot-simp for inspiring this through this post

Logan’s pacing around, raving on angrily about whatever Wade did to get him so riled up. The mercenary, whose sitting on the couch and laser-focused on the movements of Logan’s facial expressions, has honestly forgotten by now what exactly it is he did. He hasn’t listening one bit to Logan’s ranting, because god damn there is just something about a raging, yelling Wolverine that is just so incredibly sexy. And you can’t really blame Wade for being distracted by incredibly sexy.

“You look pissed off enough to hunt me for sport.”

He blurts it out, the usual for Wade Wilson, as what was supposed to be an inside thought quickly became an outside one. Bad Deadpool. And now that Wade thinks about it, maybe that’s why Logan was originally yelling at Wade today, which was honestly how most of their little lover’s spats tended to start.

But it shuts Logan up, a first for them, and now he was looking at Wade. His eyes are wide and hungry as he locked them onto the man. His mouth is hanging half-open in forming now forgotten words, and he swears he sees a bit of drool gathering at the corner of Logan’s lips.

Wade feels his breath hitch under that intense gaze, subconsciously biting at his lip. There’s a shiver that runs down his spine and his cheeks heating up as they turn red.

“Oh fuck, you’d actually enjoy that, wouldn’t you?” He smirks, leaning towards Logan, and he notices the way the other’s brow furrows as he seems to focus on Wade’s scarred neck. Oh to have those jaws wrapped around it, teeth digging in and tearing at flesh.

Logan tears his gaze away as he glances up and meets Wade’s eyes, visibly and audibly swallowing.

Wade lets out a small, excited gasp. “You would~!” He teases as he reaches for his phone. Logan’s opening his mouth to say something, but Wade beats him to it. “Alright, if you actually want to do this, go pack yourself a change of clothes an-” Logan is immediately off, and Wade can’t help but lightly giggle to himself. He searches the map on his phone to find a place they can go, then calls Dopinder as he stands up to go get packed himself.

---

“Ya sure you don’t wanna back out, bub?” Logan asks as the two men walk into the forest. He has his claws out, dragging them against the trees they pass by to leave a trail to follow back. Logan could probably get them back to the parking lot by his scent alone, but it was better safe than sorry.

“You know I wouldn’t have suggested this if I didn’t also want to do it.” Wade responds. He’s carrying both of their bags over one shoulder. “Alright, this should be far enough.” He says, turning to Logan for approval. When he nods, Wade sets their bags down by the base of the tree. “Make sure to remember this spot, honeybadger. Wouldn’t want to lose our stuff.”

Logan nods, looking around. And while Wade’s out of his sights, he runs off into the forest.

He can hear the big guy roaring out behind him, and it only fuels Wade more. The adrenaline, the thrill of being chased, of being prey. He runs as fast as he can manage without burning through his stamina, digging and pushing his feet into the ground.

You can only run so fast for so long however, and it isn’t much before Wade is slowing to a stop. He pants heavily, bending over and resting his hands on his legs. Just a moment to catch his breath, before he starts running again.

He paces himself a bit this time, hoping his head start put a good distance between him and Logan. Even if Wade could never come close to matching Logan’s animalistic tracking skills or the power and speed he has, he didn’t want this to be over too quickly.

And as expected, it isn’t long before Wade’s aware of Logan’s gaze locked onto him. He bets Logan can probably smell that he’s aware or some shit like that. And if he can’t, well the way he turns around, scanning between the trees for any sign of Logan, probably gives it away. He has no idea where he is. It’s so dark right now that

Then he spots movement in his peripheral. Logan pouncing towards him with a growl, and Wade has just enough time to turn around and be slammed back-first into the ground and have the oxygen forced out of his lungs. “Fuck!” Three sharp, metal claws easily tear through the flesh and muscle of his right shoulder.

Wade retaliates as quickly as he can with the switchblade he had strapped against his upper inner thigh, stabbing Logan in his side, and kicks his feet into his stomach while he’s caught off guard.

Logan’s pushed off of him, but not without taking Wade’s arm off.

Wade races to his feet, hurrying off away from Logan.

“I was worried you weren’t gonna make this fun!” He can hear Logan yell out, excitement in his voice. “Glad ya proved me wrong!” And Wade knows that he's got Logan real riled up.

He laughs a bit to himself, though regretting it instantly as that with his tired lungs sends him into a slight coughing fit. He can hear Logan behind, ground being dug up and thrown around, chasing Wade on all fours.

He decides to stand his ground, turning to face Logan whose now a lot closer than he thought. He huffs as he looks at Wade, whose staring him down. "What, you think you can win against me, bub?" He chuckles darkly as he stalks around Wade, circling him.

"Oh I knew this was a losing battle right from the start." He shrugs and puts his hands up, taunting Logan with a wave of his hand. "I just don't plan on going down without a fight."

Logan jumps at him with a fierce growl, and Wade dives in to counter him. Logan's weight and build give him an advantage, and Wade once again finds himself on the forest floor.

He tries to kick and punch at his attacker, but he easily blocks. Plus Wade only had the one arm.

He grabs Wade's arm, large tanned fingers wrapped firmly and tightly around a thin and pale wrist, and holds it against the ground. He fully sits back on Wade's stomach, leaving the man beneath him to squirm around. His expression is absolutely feral, one of demented joy fueled only by blood lust, a predator whose finding a bit too much joy in toying with his prey. "That all ya got?" He scoffs as he glares down at him. He lets his body relax under him, a slight disappointed sigh coming from Logan.

"No." Wade quickly leans up, bashing his forehead into Logan's.

"Fuck!" He growls, letting go of Wade to press his hands to his head. "God damn it!" Wade lets out a pained laugh as he lays back, his skull pounding with a headache. Damn Wolverine and that adamantium coated skeleton. "You fuckin-"

Logan stabs his claws right below Wade's shoulder, fist jammed into him. His claws dig into the ground beneath him. "Hey, hey! You already took o- A-Ahh!" The man above him twists his hand then tears his claws out. "You asshole!"

Logan leans in close to Wade, growling in his face. He can feel a bit of spit splatter on his face. And fuck that's an erection digging into his stomach right now, isn't it. "You deserve it." With Logan's hardened dick pressed up against him and the proximity so close that Wade can feel his breath and see the glistening of saliva on his teeth under the moonlight, Wade, he can only manage to keep a groan in through a shaky exhale.

"Are you getting fucking aroused by this?"

"Oh, aren't you one to speak." Wade laughs and tilts his head back a bit. "Like you aren't itching to dick me down real good right now~" He rubs his hips up against Logan's, giving him a smug smile as he watches Logan try not to let a sound escape those pretty lips. "Come on, I know you wanna fuck me like the wild beast you are."

Logan exhales, looks away and mutters something Wade can't make out, then looks back down at Wade. "Get your shorts off." He makes no motions to move off of him.

"Uh I would love to but-" A hand is wrapped around his throat tight, choking him.

"I said take them off, not talk back. Got that?" He growls, only loosening his grip when Wade nods.

He tries to get his shorts and briefs off as quickly as possible, but it's a challenge with only one arm and when he can't move. He’s also painfully aware of Logan watching him, staring him down. It’s making Wade harder than he thought he could possibly get and that really doesn’t help.

But soon enough, Logan gets fed up with waiting. He growls and unsheathes his claws once more, skillfully sliding them beneath the fabric and tearing it apart. Thank god Wade had brought along something to change into. He just thought it would have been out of dirty clothes, not shredded ones.

The hand resting on his throat slides up to his jaw, fingers against his lips and pressing down. Wade understands immediately of course, and opens his mouth, taking in his fingers and licking at them. He looks up at Logan, who's watching him so intensely, biting at his lip.

Wade lifts himself up slightly, grabbing at Logan's hand and runs his tongue around each other. "God, do you give blowjobs like that?" Logan mutters, his breathing a bit unsteady.

He drags his tongue against the fingers in his mouth before releasing them. "Oh I give blowies way better than this, peanut.”

Logan reaches his now wet hand down, first resting on his inner thigh and then trailing in, fingers leaving saliva in their wake. Wade bites at his lip, breath getting shaky, as fingers rub at his entrance. "You're gonna have to prove that to me some day."

He pushes two digits in, starting at a slow pace but dear Marvel Jesus Christ does Logan know how to use his hands. "F-Fuck... Deal, deal."

He scissor his fingers, slowly thrusting them in and out in a way that leaves Wade whimpering and whining. He presses his fingers as far in as he can, slowly dragging them out until Wade's hips jerk up with a low, drawn out moan. "There we go." Logan murmurs and slowly rubbing at that bundle of nerves that drives Wade crazy.

He grinds his hips down against that wondrous hand, finding the slow pace so torturous yet absolutely so delicious. Logan rubs his thumb up against that space right between his taint and balls, and Wade just does not have the willpower to stop himself from thrusting up into the air as he comes, letting out a shaky curse.

Logan continues to stretch him out for a few moments more, before finally pulling his fingers out. "D-Do you have like- a-a PhD in fingering or something?" Wade breaths out shakily, drool running down from the corners of his mouth and down the sides of his jaw.

"With my years of experience, I guess ya could say that." Logan replies in that same joking tone Wade likes to speak in as he lifts one of his legs up from his hip to his shoulder.

“You are really fucking hot, you know that?” Wade whispers out as he watches Wolverine— the Wolverine! —stripping for him, seductively sliding down his sweatpants and briefs. Honestly it’s kind of unfair Logan keeps to keep his clothes intact, but Wade bites his tongue. He does not want to ruin this.

Logan presses up against Wade’s entrance, lining himself up, and grabbing his legs. He pulls at his hips as he thrusts forward, Wade letting out a quiet whine at the penetration.

Logan’s face scrunches slightly, canines digging at his lower lip, clearly trying to hold back. As he starts to pull in and out, Wade reaches up to grab at him, pulling him close. Logan rests his forehead against Wade’s, looking into each other’s eyes. “I thought I told you to fuck me like an animal.” Wade whispers as he pulls him closer, just brushing their lips together.

Logan sits up a bit. “You sure?” His voice is nearly a growl, and his thrusts stutter slightly.

“Yeah.”

Logan fully stops, and Wade’s worried for a moment he said something wrong and he’s going to be left in the forest like this. But then Logan brings Wade’s legs up around his hips, and starts moving against him with a rough pace.

Wade’s back arches up as he pants and moans, legs locking around the other’s waist and pulling him in closer. “This animal ‘nough for you?” Logan growls down at him as he grabs onto Wade’s hips and pulls him in closer.

Wade vigorously shakes his head. “No-No…” He glances up at Logan through his half-lidded eyes. “You’re still h-h… Holding back…”

Logan half laughs, half growls, and his hands hurry to Wade’s neck, pressing down hard, as his pace becomes absolutely brutal. Wade can’t breath at all, speak. He can’t really make any noise beyond the strained gasps for air, and he’s actually foaming at the mouth. Logan’s glaring at him, growling with every thrust, cock filling Wade so well and brushing past his prostate with every thrust.

It’s fucking better than any other sex he’s had before. Sure, he’s been fucked similarly before, but nothing on this level. No one’s ever fucked him this viciously or actually choked him to the point he might actually die, and it feels absolutely amazing.

He feels high. His head is all dizzy and his vision has started to get blurry. He can just barely raise his hand to grab at Logan’s. As much as he would love to be killed by those skillful, sexy hands, he’s pretty sure it the mood would also be killed.

Logan gets the message at least through that animal brain of his. He removes his hands from his neck, but is quick to place them elsewhere. One slips under his shirt, sliding up from his hip and resting on the small of his back, pulling him closer. The other is at the back of his head, holding him tight in place. The touch alone has Wade on the edge. But then his jaws come down on his neck, first dragging his tongue along the side of it, then biting down. It pushes him over. Wade pushes himself up against Logan as much as he can, fingernails digging into his shoulder as he comes between himself and Logan.

He can feel Logan’s grip on his throat tightening. And the base of his dick swelling up. “W-Wolvie-?” He wraps his legs tighter around Logan’s waste, pulling him closer. “Do you- Is-…” Shit. He can’t get a proper word out like this. Well, if that is a growing knot like he thinks he is, Wade’s not gonna complain. This is the kind of freaky fanfic stuff he really enjoys and there is no better way than this that he could find out.

Logan’s thrusts are getting erratic and his teeth dig into Wade’s flesh. That swelling is getting bigger and Wade is determined to have it inside of him. He leans his head back into Logan’s hand, begging with a repeated string of ‘please.’ And to Wade’s pleasure and joy, it seems to work.

Logan fully bites down as he stills deep inside Wade. He can feel the blood running down his neck while Logan comes inside him, filling him. He holds him tight, the two staying like that for a minute, catching their breath. Logan gently laps at the wound, then nuzzles into his neck.

“So…” Wade looks down at Logan, reaching his hand up to run it through his hair. “Is that a…”

“Yeah… Sorry, bub.” Logan, sweet sweet Logan, apologizes.

“Oh, don’t apologize! It’s a welcome surprise, really.” He plants a soft kiss on his forehead, smiling at the way Logan leans into it, and dear god, Logan actually fucking purrs. Wade is going to have a heart attack. “You’re just full of all sorts of surprises, hm?” Logan just grumbles in response, hiding his face in Wade’s neck. He’s so cute.

When they can finally separate, Logan carries Wade back to where their stuff was, changing into fresh clothes. Wade calls Dopinder while they walk back to the parking lot, and of course that absolute angel on Earth has already arrived by the time they get their. Or maybe he just never left in the first place.

He drives them home, where Mary is waiting right behind the front door for them. She circles around them, nearly tripping Wade a few times as they make their way to the couch. He puts something on the TV for them to just pass the time. Logan cuddles up to his side and Mary just squeezes herself between them.

The two guys agree this is how they should resolve all future arguments from here on out.

[tgmsunmontue]

Wild fields of forget-me-nots - 2/? WIP

During the training for the mission Jake has an accident which results in him losing 10 years of memories.

A lot has happened in ten years. Bradley broke up with him. DADT was repealed. He got and air-to-air kill and a new callsign. And he doesn't remember any of it.

PART ONE

PART TWO – 2017 cont.

                Bradley feels on edge. Having Jake nearby always does that, tends to bring out the worst in him now when it used to bring out the best. But not knowing if he’s okay makes him feel ten times worse. Coupled with the tension from dealing with Maverick he’s ready to either knock his head against a wall or drink himself into unconsciousness. He won’t do either of course, but he can still think about it. Also the certainty now that he’s going to be flying the mission with Jake completely out of the running. Fuck. He didn't want things to be this way.

                His phone vibrates, it’s after midnight, gone into sleep mode but the recognizable face of Coyote pops up, photo well over a decade old now. He answers it. There’s no other option. Coyote would never call him unless he really had to. They’re not friends. Not anymore.

                “Hello.”

                “You need to come the hospital.”

                His stomach plummets like it’s in freefall, bile rising in his throat in response like a pendulum swinging around and his hand holding his phone is shaking.

                “What? Why? Is Jake…”

                Alive?

                Asking for me?

                Okay?

                “He’s alive. You just… get your ass up here Bradshaw.”

                Bradley nods, mumbles that he’s on his way, because Coyote can’t see him and he knows he lost this particular friendship when he and Jake broke up.

                It’s fine.

                He throws a shirt on over his tank, slips his feet into shoes, glad it doesn’t take more than that. Drives on autopilot and lets his mind race through all of the different cases of why he needs to get to the hospital. The roads are empty, and the guard on base recognizes him and his Bronco, waves him through without even needing to check his ID which would normally annoy him for the lapse in security, but tonight he takes it for the small convenience that gets him to where he wants to go a little quicker. He parks and heads inside, not surprised to find Coyote waiting for him.

                “Coyote. What do you need me for?”

                “Bradshaw. Good. You need to go in there and break up with him.”

                It’s the last thing Bradley expected him to say. Clothes or food or a ride… there were so many things he’d thought might be asked of him. So many things he would do instantly without question. This had not crossed his mind. He licks his lips and takes a breath, wonders if he’s maybe misunderstood. It’s late and he’s very tired. It’s possible.

                “What?”

                “He thinks it’s 2007 and that you two are still together.”

                “What?”

                “He…” Coyote starts, and Bradley waves a hand, his brain finally having caught up.

                “No. Wait. Just… he’s… got amnesia?” Bradley asks, because that must be the explanation.

                “Yeah. Ten years’ worth of it.”

                Bradley is pretty sure that’s not how amnesia works, but he’s also not a subject expert.

                “So he…”

                “He thinks you guys are married.”

                “What?”

                Amnesia is when people forget things, not invent completely new lives. Married?

                “What the fuck do you think he’s going to think? The last he remembers you two were all loved up and making long-term plans despite the whole Don’t Ask Don’t Tell…”

                “But why would he think we got married?”

                At this Coyote at least looks a little awkward.

                “I… maybe told him that DADT had been repealed.”

                “You told him that but didn’t tell him that we’d broken up?”

                “Fuck you Bradshaw. I am not doing your dirty work. I’m going to have to pick up the pieces of his broken heart for the second time so get in there and get on with it…”

                Bradley realises his hands are shaking and he’s not sure whether it’s the shock of everything, of knowing Jake is okay, of being told he has to go and break up with Jake… the one thing he doesn’t think he can actually do.

                Not again.

                Fuck.

                He sucks in a shuddering breath.

                “But… where’s his boyfriend. Girlfriend. Or husband. Wife?”

                Coyote is looking at him like he’s stupid.

                “He kind of got fucked over by this guy. You might know him?”

                “He hasn’t…”

                “You’re an idiot Bradshaw.”

                Bradley is pretty sure Coyote doesn’t know the half of it because yeah, he does feel like a real idiot right now. He’s never asked because he couldn’t handle knowing. And now he does know and it’s a different sort of pain, because clearly Jake hasn’t moved on.

                “Come on. He’s through here…”

                He’s hooked up to machines, has bandages on his head, across his chest and his left arm and hand. The room is dimly lit, and he suspects that they’re following concussion protocols. Jake’s asleep.

                Or at least resting with his eyes closed and Bradley can’t help it as Javy watches him with a slack jaw and wide eyes as Bradley sits beside Jake and brushes his hair off his face, fingers feather light. Jake stirs against the caress, eyes blinking open and Bradley’s heart stops, breath caught in his throat as Jake looks at him. Instead of the hard dismissive glare that has flavored so much of their past interactions since Bradley broke up with him, Jake is looking soft and happy and Bradley swallows roughly, fights against the welling up of emotion.

                “I’m sorry baby, I didn’t mean to scare you…” Bradley lets out a humorless huff, shakes his head but keeps his mouth shut, doesn’t even know what to say. “Where were you?”

                “Debrief… went home to shower and change. Shit. Uh. You probably want something to change into…”

                “It’s fine. Feel better seeing you…” Jake says, and his eyes are searching Bradley’s face like he’s looking for something, or maybe just noticing all the differences. “How did you get hotter? Wait. Did I get hotter too? Pfft. Of course I got hotter.”

                “Nothing wrong with your ego, that’s for sure…” Coyote mutters, and Bradley glances his way, and Coyote is definitely glaring at him, clearly waiting for him to just… break Jake’s heart again apparently.

                “Wait. Where’s your wedding ring? Javy said we’re married…”

                “No I didn’t!” Coyote objects.

                “Pfft,” Jake says, hand waving in his direction. “You didn’t need to. Wait. Our rings… oh shit. Where’s mine? Did I… did I lose it in the accident?” Jake asks, and he’s trying to sit up, struggling a little and Bradley presses him back into the bed with a gentle hand, mindful of the bandages but still notes Jake’s wince of pain.

                “No… no the rings are safe and sound at home.”

                Coyote snorts at that and Bradley’s eyes flash to him, because his temper is already short, he doesn’t need an excuse. Coyote is staring at him like he doesn’t believe him, but jokes going to be on him.

                “I’ll bring it in tomorrow, if it’s what you need. What you want.”

                “Yeah. Please. And some clothes too…”

                “Of course. You should probably be resting… I can stay if you want though.”

                “Nah. Go home and get some decent shuteye. I’m not going anywhere. They want to do some more scans. Ten years is a lot you know…”

                “Yeah…” Bradley says quietly. “I know.”

                He stands to leave, bends down to press a kiss to the middle of Jake’s forehead and watches for a moment, the soft smile at the corner of Jake’s lips as he drifts off. When he turns Coyote is pissed and all of his fight has just seeped out of him with seeing Jake just drop off to sleep. He lets Coyote manhandle him out of the room, glances back once for a final look of Jake and then Coyote is whirling on him.

                “You’re a real piece of work Bradshaw,” Coyote hisses. “Why didn’t you tell him the truth, huh?”

                “Why didn’t you?” Bradley snaps back.

                “I am not going to be the one responsible for breaking my best friend’s heart.”

                “Yeah well… I’m not prepared to do it again. So.”

                “So. What? You’re going to just… lie to him?”

                “Like you’ve been so truthful?”

                “Fuck you Bradshaw…”

                “For all we know he wakes up tomorrow with all his memories… just. He’s happy right now, right? Needs to rest?”

                “Yeah.”

                “Then why fuck him up even more with…” he waves his hand at himself, not sure how to voice how bad it all feels inside him right now. Javy doesn’t say anything, his mouth twists with displeasure and he sniffs, dismissive.

                “Fine. But good luck finding fucking wedding rings in the middle of the night…”

                “Fuck you Machado. You don’t know shit.”

[d1xonss]

What if…The World Never Ended?

✧ Pairing : Daryl Dixon x Rose

✧ Era : No Apocalypse AU

✧ Word Count : 3.4k

AN ~ To the annon that sent me the question about how Daryl and Rose would’ve met if the apocalypse didn’t happen; thank you for inspiring me. If you’re new here, this is a oneshot based off of my fanfic called Desert Rose which you can find in my masterlist. Meaning this isn’t just any reader oneshot like I occasionally post. But obviously you’re still free to read even if you aren’t following along with the series as this was just written for fun:)) xoxo

“Shit, shit, shit!” Rose exclaimed, hitting her hands on the steering wheel of her car that was currently sitting on the side of the road. She knew she should’ve filled up before leaving the hotel she was staying in, but a part of her was just too anxious to wait any longer. After all, meeting up with a friend you hadn’t seen since high school, it tends to make you just the smallest bit nauseous. And apparently, it makes you forget to gas up your car too.

Because the woman had lived in the boring state of Ohio all her life, she wasn’t quite used to the bigger cities she found herself in currently. Hell, there wasn’t even a time where her family took a vacation other than camping at their regular sight with their regular RV. It was way out of her comfort zone to get out on her own in the city of Atlanta of all places, but she figured life was too short to live with the fears you held. Only now that motto was biting her in the ass, seeing as she didn’t have a cell phone to call anyone for help. Much like her father, she didn’t like the idea of them, figuring she would never need one that was off the chord. But now that was ironically biting her in the ass too.

With the heaviest of sighs, Rose slowly peeled herself out of the vehicle, the heeled boots she wore clicking on the side of the two-laned highway where cars continued to pass. Locking the door with her car keys, she glanced both ways to figure which direction to go, before beginning the dreadful walk toward civilization. She didn’t know exactly what she was looking for here; a phone, a tank of gas, a shooter of vodka. Maybe all of the above. But whatever the case may be, being late to the dinner that was planned was now inevitable. So, really it made no sense to rush now. 

The weather was surprisingly cool given summer was just around the corner, a nice breeze passing every now and then to distract from the sun that was on its way toward the west. It almost surprised her that so many people had driven by without stopping to offer some help, but then again it’s not like she necessarily expected it either. Even the smaller town she was from, the people around weren’t all that nice and friendly, and apparently here it was worse. In fact, they all just stared as she did the walk of shame, she didn’t even need to look up to know. It was like she could simply sense it.

It felt like she had been walking the length of a marathon, her eyes searching for that finish line that she prayed for. All that she had come across thus far was a few run down houses and an old trailer park that sat within the trees. And it seemed as though it wasn’t that big of an emergency where she felt comfortable enough to knock on someone's front door. Though she figured there had to be a grocery store or even a fast food restaurant close by considering the amount of neighborhoods popping up in the area.

And then, suddenly she spotted it. A small, beat up Shell gas station just sitting on the corner of the highway, where she assumed people bought snacks and gas before heading out for road trips. Breathing a sigh of relief, she picked up her pace the smallest bit in hopes this would have the three exact things she was looking for. The place was just slightly busier as people came and went with their needed necessities, but she could hardly pay them any mind. The moment she spotted a payphone sitting just outside, she made a beeline for it.

Her hand reached for her jean pocket to fish out some change, putting the coins in the slot and holding the phone up to her ear, ready to punch in the number she had repeated to herself the whole way here. Though all she was able to hear was silence coming from the phone, not a sound of the usual dial tone she was used to which caused her to place the phone back, before picking it up to try again. Yet the outcome was still the same, causing her to try and dial the number instead to see if that would get her anywhere.

Though she was so focused on the task at hand, she didn’t even notice the man leaning against the side of the building, his gaze occasionally flickering toward her.

“Wonder if she knows it’s broken,” he thought to himself, his eyes diverting again from her as he instead picked at his thumbnail. An anxious habit he had since he was a kid. Really he wanted to light up a cigarette as he hadn’t had one in about two hours, but he knew better than to do that. Some other assholes would light up right here without a care in the world, like his brother for instance. But again, he knew better.

The bell then rang, signalling someone’s departure from the convenience store. Speak of the devil.

“Come on, little brother.” he called, his hands full of lighters, Marlboro reds, and beer. “I promised Jim we wouldn’t be late, you know the guy needs his shrooms.”

The other man nodded his head wordlessly, beginning to head over to where their truck was parked up front. Though he couldn’t help but glance back over at the woman whom was still trying to use the phone, feeling a nagging pull like he should say something.

He heard his brother open the driver’s door, tossing the things occupying his hands carelessly in the back before glancing over the vehicle at him, “Aye, Darylina.” he mocked, “The hell you doin? Get in.”

Daryl grunted, shaking his head from his thoughts before opening his own door, but it was then Merle realized what he had been staring at. He scoffed, “Lady!”

The woman’s head spun around at the sound of his loud shout, her eyes slightly wide from the fright, “Damn things busted, yer gonna have to try yer luck somewhere else.”

She blinked a few times before slamming the phone back down in frustration, waving a hand in his direction as if to silently thank him for sparing her from any more embarrassment. She looked stressed as if she needed some help, and Daryl noted she came here on foot. Walking for who knows how long. He didn’t even realize he was still staring at her as she made her way into the gas station to try her luck in there, his gaze catching with his brother’s which ultimately caused him to focus on the ground instead.

“If ya need some pussy that bad, I’ll pay for a hooker.” he offered sarcastically.

The younger Dixon made a sound of annoyance, rolling his eyes, “Just looked like she was in trouble.”

“So is everyone else,” Merle clapped back, “We got better things to worry about than some stuck up girl throwin a hissy fit.”

Daryl didn’t know if it was the sound of his brother's mockery, or the fact that he didn’t have an ounce of sympathy left in his body, but whatever it was it caused him to snap. No longer caring about the places they needed to be, they always seemed to benefit Merle rather than him anyway. So without a word, Daryl made a beeline over toward the entrance to take the highroad, something that was rare for him. Ignoring the calls of his name from behind his back.

The bell jingled on top of the door as he entered, his eyes briefly scanning around for the woman. Though he heard her before he saw her.

“No, you don’t understand, this is an emergency. My car is stranded and out of gas back a few miles on the highway and I need to make a call.”

His ears perked up at the sound of her situation, and the fact that the guy behind the counter clearly wasn’t letting her use the phone was only frustrating her even more. Though before any kind of fight broke out, Daryl stepped in, cutting in front of her in line.

Her eyes widened in disbelief, “Hey, I was-”

“Gimmie twenty dollars on pump four,” Daryl interrupted her, not even looking in her direction as he reached back for his wallet, “I’ll take one of them gas cans, few of them scratchers right there too.”

“Now, wait just a damn-”

“You need anything else?”

Her eyebrows raised in surprise, suddenly realizing that he was helping her instead of being an asshole like she originally assumed. Now she just felt like an idiot. As for his question, she didn’t answer. Not verbally anyway. She stood there silently for a moment, her eyes glancing off to the side, before grabbing a small pack of powdered donuts and setting them down on the counter.

The bell on top of the door rang out again to signal their departure, the duo heading towards the selected pump that Daryl had already put money into, wordlessly getting to work on transferring it over into the gas can. Rose stood there awkwardly holding onto the plastic bag, not knowing what to say to the random stranger that just decided to help her out of the blue. She should’ve been thankful, but instead she only felt the slightest bit of suspicion. 

“You didn’t have to help me…”

The man grunted, “I know.”

She swayed awkwardly on her feet, watching the numbers on the gas pump as she began to overread the situation. “I really could’ve handled it on my own. Called my friend to come save my ass instead of burdening you.”

“I know.”

A sigh of frustration left her lips at his default answer, “My point is, you didn’t have to go out of your way-”

“M’ not goin out of my way,” he interrupted her, “I wanted to. And for someone who was bout to be stranded out here without no phone to call for any help, ya don’t seem all that grateful.” he grumbled as he finished up, tightening the lid closed.

“I am grateful.” she defended, “I just- I don’t want to owe anyone anything.”

“Yeah, well, I reckon you do owe me a little something. Some silence.” he said before jerking his head for her to follow him, “Come on.”

Her mouth dropped at his bluntness, her feet stomping on the pavement as she kept up behind him, “Hey!” she called out to get his attention, “First of all, it’s that way,” she directed over her shoulder, “Second, I thought you had a truck. You really expect us to walk all that way back?”

“Nah, my brother has a truck. The same asshole who told ya the payphone was broken, and the same asshole who peeled outta here the second he realized I was gonna help ya. Can’t exactly pull another car right outta my ass.”

She shook her head, “But-”

“Woman, you got two options. You can either come with me to get yer car started back up. Or you can sit your ass here and wait for me to bring your car to you, after I loot all the valuable shit you got for my troubles.”

His tone was dry, an only indication for her to know he was being sarcastic about the last part. But still, it managed to get her to shut up. Wordlessly beginning to walk beside him toward the right direction where her vehicle was stuck. The man didn’t strike her as some kind of criminal, but she also wouldn’t put it past him if he robbed her just out of plain spite.

There wasn’t a word uttered between the two for about half of the way there, mostly because he said he wanted silence in the first place. But it also gave Rose time to think. She couldn’t seem to shake the familiarity that came with him, the way they argued alone proved that they were both equally stubborn and thick headed. That was something they had in common, along with enjoying the quiet rather than wanting to squirm away from it. Perhaps they were soulmates in another life or something. But that was a crazy thought to have, right? They had only just met, yet she felt as if she somehow already knew him. Maybe that’s why she trusted him enough to be alone with him in the first place.

Though the further they walked, the guiltier she felt for reacting that way when he was only showing her a simple act of kindness, one that no one else seemed to offer. Sure she was weary of the unfamiliar place, but she may have jumped the gun when it came to questioning his intentions.

She looked over at him for a moment as she munched on the powdered donuts he had bought for her, wordlessly extending the package as a silent offer. Daryl glanced down at her hand, scoffing quietly to himself before taking one anyway, popping the whole thing into his mouth.

“Thank you…for helping me.” she spoke up quietly, “I…I wasn’t trying to come off as a bitch. I’m just not from around here,” she tired to explain.

“Ya don’t say.” Daryl muttered sarcastically.

Her eyes narrowed a little, “I’m trying to be heartfelt here, can you just listen for a second?”

“Right, sorry.” he muttered, nodding for her to continue as a ghost of a smile appeared on his face.

“I’m not from around here, and I guess new places make me anxious. Especially since I’m alone, and people around here don’t seem too helpful. So, can you at least try to understand why I was weary?”

He nodded again, “Nah, I get it. Bein cautious…it’s smart.”

She nodded in return, thankful that he somewhat understood from her perspective. While he on the other hand was relieved the tension was out of the way, not wanting her to think he was just some dick. “So, where are ya from? I don’t hear no accent.”

Rose noticed his attempt to keep the conversation going. It was refreshing, “No, I’m not from the South, that’s for sure. I live in Ohio. The most boring state you could probably think of.” she informed as her nose scrunched a bit.

He chuckled quietly, “Eh, I dunno. Kansas, Nebraska…I think they got Ohio beat.”

“Well, that’s a relief at least,” she laughed a little as well.

“So, what brings ya all the way down here then?” he asked, seeming genuinely curious.

“I’m here to see a friend I’ve known since grade school. Apparently he’s living larger than I am.”

Daryl chewed the inside of his lip, “He an asshole bout it?”

“I don’t know,” she answered honestly, “I haven’t really seen him in years, and I know people can change over time. But I hope it hasn’t changed him too much…he’s sorta the only good friend I had.”

There was a moment of silence after she said that, the weight behind her words hitting her only after she’d spoken them. It felt a little pathetic, the fact that she was a grown adult and didn’t have many people she could count on. Not many people she could even call a friend. But surprisingly, Daryl understood better than she realized.

“Well, he don’t gotta be the only friend ya got.” he muttered quietly before gesturing to himself.

Rose couldn’t help but smile, “Don’t say that just because you feel bad.” 

“I ain’t,” he promised, “Hell, I know the feelin. I only really hang out with the assholes my brother brings back to our place. Most of ‘em are already high the second they walk through the door. Can’t say m’ too fond of ‘em.”

She blinked, “Okay, I’ll pretend I didn’t just hear that.”

Daryl scoffed, “What, are you some cop or somethin?”

“Yes.”

He paused for a moment upon realizing she was serious, “Oh, shit…”

“Relax,” she laughed softly, “There’s nothing I can do about it here anyway. Plus you’re doing me a favor.” she said before popping another donut in her mouth.

He let out a small breath of relief, knowing Merle would absolutely murder him if he found out he had accidentally slipped up in front of a cop. Especially one he was trying to help out. Or…at least that’s what he was telling himself. Not wanting to admit that he was actually enjoying this a little. He too felt a sort of simplicity when he was around her which was odd considering his disinterest in meeting anyone new. But he found he liked her presence, seeing they had the same kind of humor that made them sort of click in a weird yet natural way. Like the universe had somehow pushed them together.

“Well, anyway…m’ just sayin I know what it’s like to not have a lotta people in yer corner.”

She nodded slowly in understanding, “You’re…not close with your family? Besides your brother, I mean.”

He huffed softly, quickly shaking his head, “Nah…you?”

“No.” she answered just as simply as he did, both of them knowing that subject was a can of worms neither of them wanted to open. As victims of abuse, both physical and mental, it’s like they both silently knew without even having to admit it out loud.

Rose then cleared her throat, “I appreciate the offer…you sure you wanna befriend someone like me?”

“Hey, you ain’t bad.” he said, a small smile growing on his face.

Her eyes softened as her eyes lingered on him, feeling flattered that she had made such an impression. But maybe he was just feeling the same connection.

It didn’t take long then for them to find where he car was parked off to the side, the conversation that flowed really helped time move faster. They filled the car with gas and heard it roar to life, feeling like a weight had been lifted off Rose’s chest now that everything was in working order. And of course, she insisted on giving him a ride home considering how fast his brother seemed to bail on him from the utter impatience he held. Daryl tried to decline, but she wasn’t taking no for an answer, not after how much he had helped her when really he didn’t have to give her the time of day. She could see right past his rugged demeanor, noticing his kind heart and gentle nature despite him putting up a front for others to see.

He navigated her through the streets, getting stuck in traffic in certain intersections with how bustling the city always seemed to be. But that only gave them an excuse to spend more time together. And suddenly, she wasn’t so worried about being late to meet up with her friend, finding she was having much more fun with him than she would’ve at dinner.

Though everything has to come to an end eventually, feeling a hint of mild disappointment when they finally rolled up to his run down apartment complex.

“Thanks…for the ride.” he mumbled as he unbuckled his seatbelt, only wearing it because she scolded him to.

She smiled, “Thanks for everything else.”

He nodded in return, a small smile crossing his face before he hesitantly exited the vehicle, his slow movements only showing that he was just as disappointed as she was. Rose watched as he walked toward the building, wanting to make sure he got in safely. But he surprised her when he suddenly stopped in his tracks and turned around, making his way back over to the driver’s side door. With her curiosity peaked, she rolled down the window with an anticipation for him to speak. 

He cleared his throat, “I just, uh…if yer ever in town again to visit, and wanted someone to show ya around…” he trailed off, as if scared to say what he really wanted to say. Nervous as if she would reject the offer.

A slow smile was brought to her face, like somehow she had a good feeling about this. “I’d like that…”

~ Thanks for reading!